AN: Happy 20th chapter, everybody! We're reaching the end of the beginning! And then... the Fellowship.
Chapter 20: Wedding Bells, Grima Smells
Arrangements had been made for a newly married couple in the Westfold to take care of the farm during the wedding, so the entire extended O'Connell clan was miraculously able to make it. Even Stevie had the strength to spare, though he stumbled down from the seat of a wagon rather than a stirrup and was immediately taken inside to rest.
Hugs were given all around and Rosie began to relay all the fantastical stories Beornraed had told her over his nights resting in the tower. Things like elves and dwarves, and she was especially enthralled with the valar, who I supposed were like angels or demi-gods in this world.
"How strange, you'll have to tell me the stories fully later," I told Rosie. A pang went through me when she shook my hand off her hair; she was growing up too fast.
Then Pitaajee appeared, pouting. "You got married without me?" he asked.
"It was an accident. If we stay together, you'll be at the ceremony," I assured him and opened my arms for a hug.
He grinned and squeezed me near to death.
Comforted, I breathed in the spices that somehow always managed to linger on Pitaajee under the smells of person and horse. "You're great," I whispered to him.
He patted my cheek clumsily, black eyes a bit shiny, before he nearly bounced over to Dezzie.
"That was your father?" Boromir asked, right behind me.
"Step-dad, yeah. He made the wonderful mistake of marrying my mother." I smiled as my slightly elder sister bawled into Pitaajee's shoulder. I wondered if he regretted all of this, and us with it.
"Ah." Boromir didn't get the chance to whisper any further, because Cressie appeared right in front of me, glowing and grinning.
She visually raked me over, then what she could see of Boromir, and snickered. "So, I heard the two of you got hitched." She paused to waggle her eyebrows at us. "How does it feel?"
Awkward in the face of one of her bubbly moods after so many months of snappishness, I fumbled for words.
"Strange, yet… pleasant," Boromir replied diplomatically.
"Not complaining," I finally went with and tossed my hands up.
Briefly an assessing look passed across Cressie's face, but it was soon overtaken by bemused cheerfulness. "Good luck sorting out living arrangements," she told us, then went to congratulate the three brides.
"The woman with the axe is your mother?" Boromir questioned, discreetly pointing into the mob.
I couldn't see who he was talking about, but there was only one woman in the family who had a big old axe. "Aunt Libby. The woman who killed herself was my mother," I corrected bluntly.
An awkward pause. "I'm sorry," he said sympathetically. Gently he touched my shoulder, offering comfort.
"That makes one of us," I replied and shrugged him off, "Anyways, that was Cressie we just spoke with, if you need a quick reminder on names."
I felt motion near my shoulder and out of the corner saw a subtle nod.
"By the way, who told everybody our full names?" I asked casually.
"Andy," Boromir replied.
Now I knew who to give a stern look to later. "Thank you for still using the short forms," I told him, a bit tightly, "Dezzie and Electra don't mind so much, but I hate my full name."
A little questioning hum. "Why, when it flows so well?"
My lips curled unpleasantly before I corrected it. "That's a longer story than we've got time for right now," I answered.
As if to illustrate that, Mackey waved me over to where she was speaking with Anahera and Aunt Libby. Both of them looked shocked to pieces and suddenly, Aunt Libby seized Mackey in a bone crushing hug; I was pretty sure Anahera was crying. "Save me?" I requested in a hasty whisper.
"From what?" he asked, suddenly wary. I felt him tense beside me.
"I don't want all the fucking feelings-"
"Do you mind if I borrow you for a few moments?" Godiva asked suddenly, daughter on her hip and son trailing at her apron. Already she looked exhausted, and the children were antsy as only tired little ones are.
Bless her to Bree and back. "Anything," I told her, blatantly facing her in a signal to not be interrupted.
"It's Grima," she said scornfully and hitched her daughter up, "He's overreaching himself again, with the wine merchant this time."
I gave Boromir a long-suffering look of, "Can you believe this?"
He frowned and turned a little. "Is that not a concern for Theodred, or King Theoden?" he suggested.
Godiva's smile up at him was barely polite. "And yet getting Cass on his tail is the only thing that seems to work," she observed. In the no-nonsense way of an annoyed woman, she looped her arm through mine and led me away at a brisk trot.
Almost, I wished that my relatives got me instead. "Do the dramatics never stop?" I muttered as I began to formulate a not-quite speech. Debate? Just lecturing someone rarely helps- persuasion and a blunt reminder of Grima's place were needed.
"To think, it's only the start of the wedding season," Godiva observed sagely, "This will be quite something to come after."
Indeed it was, which was why Dezzie and Stithulf's little shebang was done quietly within the Golden Hall. Neither quite looked like they could believe what was happening, but were ecstatic for King Theoden to pronounce them married. The spit roasted pig we feasted on that night was a generous gift from the king and the rest of his table was just as good.
The following night Mackey and Matt tied the knot- literally. It took them nearly five minutes to get their hands free afterward, in order to enjoy the grilled mutton and many toasts.
There was a bit of a crisis as to what to do with Gander, since the stablemaster and the kennel keeper wouldn't have him. They were downright unnerved when they approached me about him and the damn Grim myth. Thankfully Freckles and Speckles were at home, and only Gander began to follow me around everywhere. Boromir wasn't a fan of the dog sleeping with us, so we compromised and Gander slept on the floor next to the bed.
To have people avoid me because of my pet was the strangest possible thing. It didn't bother me particularly, and even helped me get errands done in record time; everyone wanted Gander away from them and their property as quickly as possible, and they'd put in effort to make that happen. In the Golden Hall the royals generally swallowed their superstition but of the staff, only Rohesia was brave enough to take care of my room.
Similarly Godiva gave Gander a wary look when we first approached her home, having just escaped Mackey's party the night after Dezzie's. But when he sat on command and only licked a bravely offered hand, she allowed him into the house. The promised brew and gossip was a welcome relief after months of relative isolation, and I drunkenly let Gander guide me back to the room that night.
With every passing hour since the wagons rolled in, excited tension had risen and risen until on the morning of the third day of weddings, I gathered with a few dozen men and half the family to hear the rules of the tournament: the first to be disarmed or yield loses, and fight clean. It seemed almost like Theodred looked straight at me when he mentioned the second part, and I grinned.
Playing dirty didn't even cross my mind for once. This was a play-match for show, so there was no real need for groin kicking or eye gouging, and it was to celebrate my sister's wedding.
No blunt-force weapons were allowed to limit the carnage, so I took a good look at my halberd and decided it would do. Similarly Liam had to switch his mace out for a sword and spent much of the morning practicing with Mackey, who wasn't competing.
"Why go down there and risk getting my ass kicked when I can watch all of you do it?" she had asked cheerfully during a break.
Impressed by that logic, I returned to the ring to watch the next match.
I almost wished I hadn't. Seeing Electra get absolutely clobbered was painful, especially when I remembered it was only the first round. With a sword at her neck she looked mutinous, but gave up by dropping her blade. Her handshake was quick and she trudged away with her face almost as bright as her newly shorn hair.
At the ring side I handed her a damp cloth to wipe her face on. "At least it was Theodred," I said sympathetically.
"Only reason I'm not demanding a rematch," Electra grumbled.
I glanced at the scoreboard and the green horse that symbolized Theodred was moved forward to the next round. Electra's dragonfly stayed where it was.
Right below that, the next match was a black dog versus a rose. "Can I borrow that sword for a minute?" I asked suddenly, pointing at Electra's cutlass-like blade.
She handed it to me, still irritated. "Kick his ass," she told me.
"Cassandra van der Zee and Frelaf son of Brelaf, please step forward," called King Theoden, who was officiating.
Absently I ran a hand over my hair, making sure it was still in its french braids. My stomach jolted with sudden nerves- I've never fought for show before. Only to defend. Form wasn't being judged and there weren't any points, but when I shook hands with Stithulf's friend, I hoped I'd do well.
He nodded encouragingly and we took our three paces back.
King Theoden began to count down.
My blood rose.
"Begin."
There was no real thought behind the fight, at least not for me. Block here, parry there, dance around him like a ballerina. I wasn't sure whether a boot to the stomach would be considered dirty here, so I simply pulled my blade to the side and spun away when he tried trapping my borrowed blade.
It ended when I forced his own sword out of his hand, nearly ten minutes later.
He picked his sword up and we shook hands again, relief making my smile a little loopy as I clapped him on the shoulder. "Good fight, mate," I told him as we looked at the scoreboard.
"Very good," he agreed, watching the black dog be moved up to face an as of yet undecided opponent.
I didn't know the name of the man who chose the blue star, but upon seeing him, I remembered that he was Madhav's friend. He easily dispatched his opponent, a fellow palace guard.
However, I noticed that he really liked to keep his right foot a bit forward.
The rest of the matches in the first round progressed as I expected- everyone in my family made it forward except for Electra, who had sulked in the bath for about an hour after my match. Theodred, Boromir, Eomer, and Stithulf had also gone forward.
Lunch was a rowdy, happy affair, besides the sulker's corner. Eowyn was angry about not being allowed to compete, Electra was still sore about losing so early, and Rosie wasn't allowed to watch, so the three of them made a cold and unwelcoming part of the table. Everybody else was having the time of their lives. Lots of good tasting food, fighting without the threat of death, and a royal wedding in the evening? There's no better combination.
Following the meal the second round went on and it was so strange to get the time to watch people fight who I knew. There was never any time before, always orcs to smash. But now I got to look at Aunt Libby swinging her axe with her whole body, or Madhav's deadly grace as he took Stithulf out of the competition. Some things we needed to work on, I noted when I saw one of Anahera's heels slip, but she recovered from it and managed to win.
When I faced Madhav's friend in our second round, he didn't know quite what hit him. He had only ever seen me use a sword, so he had no idea what I was capable of with a halberd. Our battle ended with the pike of my weapon against his throat.
Again, everyone I knew went forward. Only Stithulf remained behind, nursing an unfortunate cut on his back from Madhav's war scythe. To think, I thought as I examined the weeping line on his skin, it was laughed at for being a converted farm tool.
"It seems that I always get injured when you're around," Stithulf joked, then hissed through the cut being cleaned.
"Good thing I can fix it," I snickered while I wrapped a good deal of bandage around him.
An awful feeling wrenched my gut and I wondered for a moment if I was going to be sick. I wasn't sure why it was, but something about what we said- something was wrong. Trying not to let anything on, I patted him on the arm and told him that he was free to go.
Third time's the charm.
I suddenly felt cold.
While the tournament was going on and taking up most people's time, the staff of the Golden Hall were run off their feet. Is the butcher done yet? Are the flowers arranged right? Where are the bride's hair clips? There was barely time to breathe and just looking at any of them made me even more tired.
I retired to the pub during the afternoon, right in time to hear about a betting ring. The bartender looked stunned when he put down my take: ten silver that Boromir was going to the semi-finals but fifteen that Theodred would win.
"Not going to bet on yourself?" he asked, eyebrows shooting up as I produced the offered coins.
"They've been using swords and all since before I was born. That would be stupid," I declared bluntly, "How much is a drink here?"
"For you, one silver," the barkeep answered with a gap-toothed smile.
I squinted at him, not so sure about this. "Why for me?" I asked suspiciously.
"You're related to Theoden King now, you've shown skill in the tournament so far, and my wife wouldn't hear of making a Gondorian's wife pay full price when so far from home," the barkeep listed off, then paused. "Assuming it's true that you've married Boromir of Gondor."
The whole pub must have been listening as I sheepishly admitted, "In the traditional way." My hand automatically went to my neck but those marks had long since faded to green-yellow, barely visible.
A little giggle left the barkeep. "My wife is going to be thrilled- she's Gondorian," he added.
For a long while we talked between him getting orders, mostly about his family and his wife's. It gave me an unexpected glimpse into a kind of instability I hadn't seen here yet. When he spoke of his in-laws fleeing Ithilien after Mount Doom, I had far too many questions. But this wasn't the time or place to talk of Mordor and evil things like that, the barkeep declared, like the mere name of the place sparked some fear in him.
Topics switched but I couldn't shake my new concern about Mordor. During the ride here, Boromir had spoken of it like the main concern in his life. I've seen and fought their orcs, but what could be so evil and strong as to make people this far away afraid?
It was put to the back of my mind when, like most of town, I drifted out to watch the resumed tournament. Everyone was good, but I was particularly impressed when Eomer dispatched Matt.
"Losing your touch, old man?" I teased, beating lightly on his back as he exited the ring.
"Old man, my ass, I'm only 34," he answered, "He's just that good."
My own match against one of Theodred's captains was tiring, and difficult, but by some miracle the staff of my halberd held against his sword. His own weapon almost hit someone when it was forced out of his hand and flew into the gathered crowd. Thankfully it was a near-miss and a little boy very happily brought it back to its owner with no injuries.
Again everyone progressed, except for Matt. The scoreboard was put away as the light faded entirely; talk around town only got more intense. Good soldiers were tossed out on their butts while three women progressed, and that will always create rumors.
With the wedding ceremony only an hour away, Rohesia was sent to frantically try to make me presentable. "The dress should fit, but you have a very different body frame than usual," she explained as she had me put on the linen shift and wool gown, then began to fold places where the fabric was loose. Notably at my waist and hips, which I felt the need to apologise to the seamstress for. My hips were still absurdly wide and my waist was soft, but not quite as much as when we first came through.
Awkwardly I stood still and tried to keep from sucking in my stomach. "It's all good. I don't think I've worn anything this nice since I was a teenager," I confessed and stroked the soft fabric.
I had only worn my class A's when required, and that just didn't feel the same as a pretty dress. I think the last one of those was the gown I wore during my senior prom.
"It is a lovely dress," Rohesia agreed, "It'll be even lovelier when it fits perfectly. If you'll get into a bath, Miss Cass, I'll put in a few stitches."
To have a full bath, that involved several burly men manually filling a big copper tub with water off the fire, and that just didn't feel right. I simply asked for two pots, a cloth, and whatever soaps were available around here. A sort of sponge bath would do me just as good here as at home.
The flowers in the bath oils and herbal soaps I was given were incredible. The scents burst and the room smelled heavenly while I scrubbed myself; the sort-of-cinnamon smell of the oil for my hair reminded me of chai.
Using perfume oil as a detangler is both fabulous and bothersome. It took at least fifteen minutes to be able to get a comb through my ridiculous curls and Rohesia spent a further ten arranging it to her liking. I didn't mind her deciding my hairstyle; she knew what was fashionable here and it reminded me of when my sisters and I would do each other's hair.
There was a knock on the door during all the braiding and pinning and whatnot. "Cass? Are you still in here?" Boromir called through the wood.
"Finishing with my hair," I answered, "Go on ahead, I'll meet you in the hall."
There was a pause and then I thought I heard footsteps leading away.
When Rohesia was done, I was sure it would take help to get it all unfastened at the end of the night; when I touched the many braids and knots, they held sturdily. "This is magnificent," I declared, despite that I had no idea what I looked like.
"With the dress, you'll look even better," Rohesia suggested.
I had to wiggle it down over the chest in some places, but it felt nicely snug when it was fully on. Over that a robe was tucked perfectly in place under a belt. "It'll be cold tonight," Rohesia insisted when I tugged uncomfortably at the collar.
At least for the first few minutes everyone stays fully dressed, so I left the robe as was. By the end of the night I was sure the beautiful fabric would be tied disrespectfully around my waist.
To my surprise, there was a bit of makeup available. Nothing more than a stick of some black oily substance Rohesia used on my eyelids and lashes, but I felt quite dolled up by the time Rohesia pronounced me ready. This was probably the first time in three years I've used cosmetics and they felt heavy on my eyes.
"You're sure I look good?" I blurted out as I brushed down the linen robe, admiring the pale green fabric over the aquamarine dress. I loved the little knots sewn here and there in silver, sort of shocked that it was actual embroidery rather than a cheap print.
"You look beautiful, Miss Cass," Rohesia pronounced, smiling proudly, "Are you ready to show everyone else?"
My stomach churned with nerves but I nodded. I drew up my chin and frankly marched to the door. When I opened it though, my heart started pitter-pattering a little faster.
Boromir was delicious in formal clothing, I decided immediately. The scarlet tunic heavily embroidered with stars caught my attention but the miracle of seeing him clean was the really remarkable part. He had even done his hair for the occasion, the top half held back from his face and manicured beard.
It was particularly heartening to realize that his smile grew as he looked me over, liking what he saw even when he reached the bits my dress didn't cover. When his eyes met mine, they were bright and happy. "Beautiful," he breathed.
Proud that I managed to knock the breath out of him, I took a few more steps and offered a hand. "You look really good too," I said earnestly, if not as eloquently.
I liked the way our hands fit together, calluses and all.
The main hall was bright and merry and above all busy, servants rushing to finish last minute tasks while the guests mingled. Wine was being mulled near the fire and delicious cooking smells wafted from the corridor that led to the kitchens; my stomach gurgled unhappily.
For a while Boromir and I circulated through the hall, not stopping with anyone very long. I pointedly steered us away from a hearty debate about whether the moon could be walked on, and in return Boromir did most of the talking when Grima seized our attention for several minutes. We much more gladly congratulated Pitaajee and King Theoden on the families expanding.
Then a harp began to play and everyone hastily rearranged themselves away from the ceremony area. I could barely see over Cressie's shoulder and made a face at the lack of a view.
Theodred arranged himself into the perfect picture of an eager groom, so happy he looked half his age. While he wore armor, this set was clearly decorative; no one in their right mind would take a gilded chest piece out to battle. And above all his focus was on the doorway his bride would be coming out of.
When Andy appeared, I couldn't quite believe my eyes. How did they get the gleaming, heavily embroidered dress to be the same bright burgundy as her hair? A dragonfly, rope, and white horse stood out to me among the beadwork on her torso, the story of her life so far. Her hair was pinned and braided and beaded in ways that must have taken at least an hour, and she managed to get cherry red lippie from somewhere. Normally I thought she was beautiful, but now she was… regal.
I glanced at Theodred and he looked like he had been hit in the head. To see a goofy smile take up residence on his usually controlled face was something special and private, meant only for the woman whose hand he took the moment she was close enough.
The ceremony was decently short, only about half an hour despite that it had to be done in two different languages. I barely listened to the words, focusing more on the couple up front and their various expressions: disbelief, excitement, elation.
Motion caught my attention from a few feet away near the end of it. When I craned my neck a little, I saw that it was Pitaajee bawling onto Mackey's shoulder.
My own eyes were misty enough that I couldn't even muster a snicker. The details got a little blurry around the first kiss and my loud sniffle was thankfully hidden under the applause.
"Are you crying?" Boromir whispered incredulously.
"I'm not crying," I lied, "You're crying." To further refute that, I pulled a handkerchief out of my sleeve and dabbed under my eyes.
"I am crying," he admitted.
But for once they were happy tears and so no more was said about them.