One
The two hobbits refused to move from their vigil. Perhaps this time her strength would be permanent; she had eaten of the lembas by her bedside. Unfortunately, Legolas could not be with her now. The noble warrior could not watch over his beloved sea maiden while she slept, as he so loved to do. Somewhere in Valimar, the city of the mighty Valar, he knelt humbly before them in the center of Máhanaxar and asked for her hand. Somewhere, he was fighting his last battle for the one thing he still desired with his heart and soul.
"They'll let her marry him, won't they, Mr. Frodo? She waited a hundred years for him, after all. They let her cross the Sea, too, after all that. Strange powerful, these Elves. They healed you and made me young again, just like they did old Mr. Bilbo. They'll let them wed, don't you say?"
Frodo turned his gaze to the sleeping woman, hiding in a pool of dark hair. "I don't know, Sam, I just don't know. But I do hope so." He sighed. "She's so lovely, isn't she?"
"Aye, Mr. Frodo. But not as fair as my Elanor, though," Sam defended his daughter.
The young woman in question stirred and opened her eyes to see the two Halflings watching her. "Oh!" she said. Seveawen sat up quickly and tried to brush the hair out of her eyes. Her face was free, but she only further mangled her hair. "You must be Frodo and Samwise."
"That's us. Begging your pardon, miss," Sam apologized. He tottered across the bed, barely taller standing than Seveawen was sitting. "We weren't spying on you or nothing. It's just that Legolas was gone, and you were so tired—" He settled himself awkwardly on Seveawen's pillow and began to untangle her hair. "You slept hard, that you did. I've two girls back in the Shire, and when they were little, they'd wake up with their locks terrible snarled. Ma and Pa, the wife Rosie and I, we'd smooth 'em straight and put ribbons in their hair, we did."
Frodo laughed at his friend's babbling. "Take a breath, Sam!" he said. "She's just woken up. You'd best not tire her out all over again." His smiling eyes—deep blue, very nearly an Elvish blue—found Sam's patient subject. "How do you feel, Seveawen?"
She considered, drawing her knees up to her chest. "Rather well. I don't know if I'll fall asleep again. But I'm ready to stay awake."
The wise little Ringbearer smiled again. "I was tired, too, when I came. But you've gone through much more than I did, haven't you?"
Seveawen sighed. "I suppose so." His words peaked her interest with the tales behind them. "Please, do tell me about it. I am listening.
So Frodo began, with Sam filling in here and there as they wove their story form the beginning. Seveawen remained awake this time, fully rested and strengthened by the power of the Blessed Realm. Just as they were reaching Weathertop with Aragorn, the Black Riders close behind them, the door creaked open, and long robes brushed against the floor.
Both hobbits' faces lit up. "Gandalf!"
Laughing, the wizard settled himself beside the bed. "I see the Misters Baggins and Gamgee have kept careful watch for the Prince. And you are awake, dear girl! Unless, of course, their tales have tired you out all over again."
More heavy feet scuffled across the floor behind Gandalf. "She's awake!" the gruff voice declared from behind its owner's red beard.
Seveawen stared in shock. Who would have expected this? It certainly came as a surprise to her. She barely knew anyone, but here these complete strangers were eager to surround her and welcome her. Perhaps she had slept so long that they had simply become worried. Seveawen was not used to such a surfeit of positive attention, let alone being at its very center, and it felt odd.
Frodo smiled. "This is just like when I woke up back in the White City," he said. "The last I remembered, we had just cast away the Ring, and Gollum with it. But the nasty little bugger took my finger. Sam and I, we were clinging to a rock in the river of fire, and Gandalf came and rescued us with Gwaihir—"
"An old friend of mine," the wizard explained, "and a very powerful one. He is the mighty Lord of Eagles. But I beg your pardon. Please continue, Frodo."
"We were both exhausted, but poor Mr. Frodo here was slipping away. We were all together when he woke, Merry and Pippin, Aragorn and Gandalf and Legolas, even Gimli. But for the longest time, nobody had any idea if he was going to make it. Mr. Frodo even said so—'I'm glad you're with me, Sam, here at the end of all things.' Didn't he, Mr. Gandalf?"
Gandalf smiled and smoked his pipe in the affirmative. "And here we are again," he said, "at the end of all things. The last of the Fellowship of the Ring have finally departed from Middle-Earth."
"And alas, we are missing four of them here," yet another voice murmured. Familiar hands slipped gently over Seveawen's eyes, long warm fingers and familiar broad palms closing her in a moment of darkness. She stiffened, half in surprise and half in pleasure, as soft lips nuzzled her neck. Strands of fair hair fell over her shoulders form behind. Gentle arms holding her close to their owner's chest, the lips traced their way slowly to hers.
Seveawen blushed to be kissed before such a close audience, but her hands suddenly hungered to feel the soft weight of his hair. She ran her fingers around his neck eagerly. And that delicious swirling aroma of his skin…
"Save it, lad," Gimli mumbled.
Legolas was not finished. He squeezed Seveawen tighter and ran his hands over her back. "Finally," he whispered. "You are strong now. I missed you so—"
"Legolas!" Gandalf barked. He needed the Elf's attention, now. "What are you even doing here? You are not supposed to see her before the wedding!"
Everything stopped and seemed to stare at them. "The… wedding?" Seveawen found herself repeating stupidly.
Legolas smiled at her. He had no need to wonder how Gandalf had known. "The Valar have willed it," he whispered, kissing Seveawen's cheek.
She gasped and threw her arms around him. They would at last be permitted to wed. "Yes," she breathed. "Finally! My hand is already yours, meleth nîn."
"I know. I am holding it now, just as I have held it for a century and then some. I will be waiting." Legolas slipped back down her neck and kissed her skin one last time.
"Go!" the wizard commanded, all but chasing Legolas from the room. "You will have her soon enough." His robes swept the floor as he gestured to the others in the room. "Out, all of you! Let the bride be in peace!" Following his own words, Gandalf left as well.
Two Elf-women watched him go as they slipped inside. One carried something white, the other something blue, flowing fabric draped over their arms. The first smiled at Seveawen. "Oimelissë en-ernil," she said, eternal beloved of the Prince. They were there to help her dress.
Seveawen had merely felt indifferent to her human wedding, as she now referred to it in her memory. But as the white Elvish gown settled over her body, it took her breath away. The cut was just as simple, but far more elaborate and elegant, crusted with what felt like beadwork. She stared at the snowy, swan-like fabric across her breastbone and its drape against the floor. It was all so… graceful. Fair. Glowing. Regal, even. She had long ago accepted the fact that she was attractive, but seeing herself transformed into an Elven bride came as a shock—that, and the ease with which she could move. Seveawen had always struggled to wrangle her layers of homespun peasant skirts. Her legs were completely covered with flowing Elvish cloth, yet the material willingly allowed her to step about as she needed. Even the wide sleeves of the blue robe draped over her shoulders cooperated.
She looked in the mirror. Was this radiant, dark-eyed beauty what Legolas had seen inside of her all along? Human beauty was not supposed to be the same as the fairness of the Eldar. Seveawen had lived her village life in grays, dull blues and dingy-colored linens. She had never envisioned herself draped with glowing white and waterfall blue, but with the Elvish colors settled against her tawny skin, she absolutely glimmered.
Nimble fingers began probing for locks of Seveawen's hair. They quickly twisted and braided the strands into some intricate Elvish work of art before placing a circlet of mithril on her head. It bore a green gem that lay gently against her forehead and further celebrated her beauty. The leaf-jewel from Legolas still hung around Seveawen's neck, fully pulsing and shimmering with warmth.
It was time.
Seveawen breathed deeply, step by step, as the two Elf-women led her along through corridors and halls, past courtyards and balconies. Finally, they came to a terrace above the ocean, crowded with Elves and two familiar hobbits, a wizard and a Dwarf. She smiled. It was so fitting that Legolas could marry his beloved sea maiden overlooking the water.
The crowd silenced as Seveawen appeared, many offering shy, proud smiles of encouragement. Elrond and Celebrian were there, Galadriel and her husband Lord Celeborn, and the rest of the Fellowship. A third hobbit had joined Frodo and Sam—undoubtedly Bilbo Baggins, the discoverer of the Ring.
Fierce blue warrior eyes, soft with love, caught hers and held them gently. Legolas's lips curled into that familiar smile as he watched Seveawen. She was as perfect as she had ever been, and he savored the lovely sight of his bride. A century they had waited, left handing and suspended by time and circumstance, tantalized by Arwen's words of foresight. Now, with the will and permission of the Valar and all the blessings of the stars and Elbereth herself, they were finally ready to join their souls as one.
Seveawen felt something brush against her dress and touch her fingers. She looked down in surprise to see Frodo at her feet, not even as tall as her elbow. "Let me take your hand," he said. "I will walk with you."
She did, and with countless eyes upon them, the Ringbearer slowly escorted her along. Many smiled to see a Halfling guiding so stunning a human bride toward her Elven bridegroom. Across the terrace, under the small tree that stood guard over the Sea, the lords Elrond and Celeborn waited beside Seveawen's husband-to-be.
Seveawen finally dared to look at Legolas. He shimmered in the cool sunlight, his silver-blue tunic nearly as alive as those eyes. Oh, he was so amazingly beautiful. A breeze played with his hair, fanning it across his shoulders and scattering strands form the braids behind his years. Just as when she had seen him amid the misty birch trees that wondrous morning so long ago, he left her speechless with his grace, his kindness, his intensity and devotion as she stopped beside him. In just a matter of moments, she would be his.
Frodo smiled up at her, squeezed her fingertips, and backed away.
Celeborn took Legolas's and Seveawen's hands and joined them under his. He spoke solemnly in Quenya High-Elven, and Legolas softly translated the words in his bride's ear.
Ta ná indomië en-Valar i-Ainur
Enta vesta-ner-lyë.
Nailye almárëa al melmë ar-alassë
Sailye o-linyenwa halya.
Lai melmë, vanda ar-oifeaverë
Tenn'oio helye macavára nilda
Ar nië alya Ilúvatar Eru ar maranwë i-eleni.
Naihanya nelye oilehtyë
Ta ná indomië i-Valar.
It is the will of the Valar, the Holy Ones,
That you are wed.
May you be blessed with love and joy,
May you have many long years together.
Praise love, promise and forever soul-bond,
Always hold one another lovingly,
And be blessed by the All-Father Creator and the stars.
May it be known that you are joined forever
It is the will of the Valar.
Elrond stepped next to Seveawen and translated for her as Legolas began to speak his vows.
Vanden esseva Ilúvatar ar-Ainur:
Ile velen
Ar oi-ahyen.
Indo nîn nyare ile ne raxë i-qualmë
Melë Eldarinwa indo nîn
Ar engile selyen.
Meldeiltë nildë,henyen nelye ile marta
Maruvelye an etulessë ar voríma indo
Lartaë, láhehtaë.
Nólë, voronwë, afelmë, méla, vanessë ilë
Merë, vandal ar feaverë nîn, melissë sinquelë.
Nalye airë nîn, taurë nîn, adúnelen nîn.
Nie vessë nîn, an oiharye melmë.
I swear in the name of the Creator and the Holy Ones:
I saw you and I changed forever.
My heart said you were in danger of death,
My loving Elvish heart,
And that I must save you.
Beloved friend, I knew you were fated for me.
You awaited my return with a faithful heart,
Enduring, never forsaking.
Your wisdom, loyalty, compassion, affection, beauty
My desire, promise and bond, my beloved.
You are my sea, my forest, my Evenstar.
Be my wife, for you forever have my love.
It happened very quickly, but Seveawen then noticed the ring on her hand. She had not even felt it. The green stone, suitably leaf-shaped for Legolas's namesake, glittered in its setting with tiny strands of mithril swirled across it for the waves of the Sea. On either side, white gems glittered like the stars above, so highly beloved by the Elves. She expected to see a similar band on his hand as well, engraved with the pattern of the tide, the stone an arrowhead for his home in the woodland realm. But the ring he wore as a symbol of her heart was not jeweled or even of mithril for a prince. It was the iron ring she had given him at their parting. Different and beautiful in its storm-grey simplicity, it was much more fitting for a hunter, a warrior, and a Walker of the Fellowship. The swirls perfectly captured the allure of the Sea, the Sea he saw within her. It was a reminder of the sacrifice they had both made for the sake of their love and their chance at union, a reminder of a century past. He still wore her heart on his hand for all to see.
Legolas tenderly brushed away a tear that fell down Seveawen's cheek. He did not want to see her cry, not today of all days, not now when he gave her his heart with joy. "Le melon," he whispered in Sindarin. "Do not cry. I am here, Seveawen."
Collecting herself, Seveawen looked up at him and began to speak. With every vow she made, Elrond repeated in Quenya for all to hear and understand.
Vanden esseva Ilúvatar ar-Ainur:
Tenn'oio le melon, lissëharyon nîn,
Meldo nîn, meldielto nîn, mirë ar eressë nîn
Coranen i-haran er maruven
Nar úqua vicana a oirë ar-le
Nira orë nîn nanta
An yes ile oirë hanyan
Hlare óma nîn, chebe quávë nîn, ar iste sa ilë oirë nan.
I swear in the name of the Creator and the Holy Ones:
I have always loved you, my sweet prince,
My friend, my beloved, my one and only.
Those hundred years I waited alone
Are nothing beside eternity without you.
I give my heart willingly,
For it has always belonged to you.
Hear my voice, take my hand, and know that I am forever yours.
The couple having spoken their vows, Celeborn—with Elrond still translating—proclaimed:
The bond shall not be broken,
For they have promised to the Valar themselves.
Now they walk the path of their hearts
The path of never-ending.
Love is a great circle
With no beginning and no end.
Never shall it be broken
Never shall the fire cease to burn
For their love shall never die.
Legolas squeezed her hands gently to guide her. This was something unique in an Elven wedding ceremony that was not done by Mortals—after all, the Eldar did not die as do Men. Falling into his eyes, Seveawen matched the dance-like steps, once around in a circle—the path of never-ending, as Celeborn had proclaimed. Their love had grown slowly, a single spark smoldering until it burst into an undying flame, still burning as brightly as it ever had. Once begun, it could not be undone.
As they completed the circle, Legolas brought his face close to hers. "This is the soul-joining," he explained below even a whisper. "It is the final step. We will then be complete."
"Naihanya nelye oilehtyë," Celeborn repeated, May it be known that you are joined forever.
Seveawen breathed and closed her eyes, feeling Legolas do the same, foreheads touching and noses brushing as if he were about to kiss her. They began to sense a humming between them, golden fire growing and growing and growing. Two heartbeats filled the air that gradually changed until they became one. Seveawen had heard of this, the soul-joining. Only Elves had this power, as they loved, bonded and wedded for eternity. Nothing could ever tear a heart from its soul-bound partner, its other half. The sensation soon became so strong that its sheer beauty filled her eyes with tears. Her cheeks growing wet, she felt Legolas's arm slip around her and embrace her. But his hands still remained clasped around hers. It was the warmth of his soul that she had felt.
Legolas felt his own entwine with hers. She was weeping again, and he wished to hold her tight. Do not cry, Seveawen, he told her. You are beautiful, and you are loved. I am yours forever. Please do not cry. His soul wrapped itself around hers, their hearts now beating in unison. It was so breathtakingly beautiful, so unbearably wonderful to feel the very essence of her spirit alongside his as the tears streamed down his face. They were bonded.
The humming warmth vanished abruptly, startling Seveawen so much that she nearly gasped aloud. But something had changed greatly between them, something she could not even describe but only sense.
She shared his soul now.
The murmurs of the crowd began to grow, echoing Celeborn. "Ta ná indomië i-Valar! Nailye almárëa as melmë ar-alassë! It is the will of the Valar! May you be blessed with love and joy!"
Seveawen smiled as Legolas—her husband, she realized—touched her chin. His skin and cheekbones shone with streaks of tears. "Vessë ar-meleth nîn," he whispered, "ruinlach en'coinin," My wife and love, flame of my existence. "We are wed, Seveawen."
She laughed through her tears. She had been in this place once before, nervous and sick with dread and guilt. But that was all behind her now. She had given her heart away by choice, to the one who deserved it. And they could never be parted.
Seveawen brought her gaze back up to him. The crowd was cheering for them and applauding their union, but they were hinting at something. Was it traditional—acceptable—expected to seal the ceremony with a kiss? But then his hand lay against her back and pulled her closer to the fire.
Legolas breathed deeply the smell of her hair, cradling her as tightly to him as he could. Had her lips always been so cool? He longed to warm them, feel them, taste them, never let them go. She fit perfectly in his embrace, tucked under his chin as his head bent to meet her. Legolas rubbed her back one last time before pulling away. His desire was only beginning, but it had been filled: he had the Sea, and he had Seveawen. They were one.