Fight On
I cannot believe it.
This is the day.
My little star has grown up.
I suck a deep breath in as I stare at myself in the mirror opposite me. I am wearing probably my most formal clothes, but Eleniel likes them, and it is her day…
My circlet is on my head, which I have just finished braiding, and my black, polished boots are on my feet.
My robe is a deep maroon. Celebrity bought it for me.
I am ready.
Physically.
Not mentally.
I will never mentally be ready for what is about to happen.
What father looks forward to seeing their daughter marry?
You would think I was used to it. Arwen, Estel, and now Eleniel… no.
My vision begins to get blurry. I am crying, though there is no surprise.
Oh, my Eleniel. Le melin, tithen pen nin, le melin.
Daeron is a good ellon, and I love him, as I do my daughter. I know they will make each other happy, which is all I have ever wanted for her.
My mind will not stop throwing memories at me. I am suddenly remembering my little star as nothing but a small bundle of blonde, a little elfling who would come crying to me if she had hurt her knee, or run into my room after a particularly hard day and brighten my mood just by babbling nonsensically to me about the games she had played with her brothers, or the worm she had found in the gardens.
She is no longer an elfling anymore, however. She is an adult, and she is getting married.
I look at myself in the mirror again and stand up straight.
This will be difficult for me, but I am a warrior, and a warrior learns to fight on.