Aniarel sat on the steps by the Mirror, watching the children play. She
loved to sit here, letting the memories wash over her. Another time she
would have been down there, playing with them, but she had been told that
the wedding party had been sighted and would arrive at some point today.
Her spirits were low with stress. Coeil was sat beside her.
'Have you ever seen the prince, Coeil?'
'Never, Aniarel, though I have visited Mirkwood many, many times,' her friend told her, knowing why the talk had turned to such things.
'What if he doesn't like me?' Aniarel whispered, looking frightened. Coeil laughed and captured her friend's hands in her own, turning to look into her eyes.
'Aniarel, in the time you've been with us, I don't think you've met a single elf who didn't like you,' she grinned. 'Even Haldir goes weak at the knees when you smile at him,' she added, sighing theatrically.
The two girls giggled wickedly. Haldir was the captain of the elves that guarded Lorien, and had been the one to carry Aniarel home from the orc encampment. He had been constantly at her side since she had awoken, and she knew him better than any other did. She also knew that Coeil had fallen for him, but could not pluck up the courage to speak to him. She couldn't even meet his eyes without blushing.
A step on the stair behind them made them turn. Haldir smiled grimly down at them, bowing to Aniarel. Coeil blushed and ducked her head.
'My lady, Legolas of Mirkwood has arrived.'
Her heart clenched in fear. With no outward sign of her tension, she rose softly and thanked him, allowing a small smile to play on her lips as she heard him say,
'Weak at the knees, Coeil?'
Aniarel ran up the stairs of the Great Tree, determined to catch a glimpse of Legolas before she had to face him. She saw the families of the Fellowship crowding around Celeborn. The dwarf must be Gimli, and the dark haired elves, Elrond, and his daughter, Arwen. But she could not see any sign of the elf described to her.
Galadriel coughed gently, drawing the girl's attention back inside the room. Aniarel curtseyed, trying to quell the rising panic that threatened to overwhelm her. The Lady came forward, resting her hands on the girl's shoulders.
'Will you come with me to greet them, child?'
Aniarel sighed.
'I may as well get it over with,' she smiled, a hint of hysteria in her eyes. Galadriel led her down to the happy group, who turned and bowed to them.
Aniarel gasped lightly, her eyes wide with shock. Legolas stood beside Gimli, there was no mistaking him. His tall frame was bent in a deferential bow to the Lady of the Wood, his eyes downcast. Pale blonde hair fell about his shoulders, tied and braided in the way of the Woodland Elves. She had never dreamed he would be so handsome. She felt her stomach sink. How could someone like him ever want someone like her?
Galadriel smiled at her guests, remaining a little way in front of the reluctant bride.
'Arise, my friends, there is no need to stand on ceremony,' she bade them, watching as they straightened. 'You have come to us to celebrate a joyous occasion, one that should not be marred with formality.'
Thranduil strode forward and kissed her hand, his blue eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth.
'Well then, my lady, where is she? My son is almost frantic for news of her.'
Galadriel smiled, and stepped back a little way, revealing Aniarel.
'This, my lord, is Aniarel of Lorien.'
Legolas' eyes fell on the small figure standing behind the Lady. His breath caught in his throat, as she looked at him with clear green eyes, that shone with an unearthly light. Dark hair tumbled in heavy ringlets about a delicate face that seemed unable to look away from his. Not that he would wish her to. He felt a deep calm descend upon him as he gazed at her, pushing all his doubts aside.
Aniarel blushed, her fair skin burning with embarrassment. She was more beautiful than he could have imagined, and yet, there was a childlike air around her, a feeling of innocence he had never encountered in an elf before. He felt his fists clench as he noticed a large bruise on her cheek. She curtseyed gracefully to him, her willowy form bending like the boughs of a tree before the wind.
Gimli nudged him sharply in the thigh, and he dropped into a bow, his cheeks crimson with shame for having forgotten. He was vaguely aware of Galadriel speaking, though what she spoke of, he could not tell. His attention was fixed on the vision before him. Thranduil clapped him on the shoulder, smashing into his reverie.
'Come along, Legolas,' he said, pulling his son away from the little she-elf, 'we should get settled. Bring your packs. You can speak to the young lady later.'
Legolas stumbled along with his father, casting glances over his shoulder at Aniarel, who watched him go with an awed expression. Galadriel wrapped an arm about her shoulders and drew her away, leaving her with Coeil to prepare for the evening banquet.
'Have you ever seen the prince, Coeil?'
'Never, Aniarel, though I have visited Mirkwood many, many times,' her friend told her, knowing why the talk had turned to such things.
'What if he doesn't like me?' Aniarel whispered, looking frightened. Coeil laughed and captured her friend's hands in her own, turning to look into her eyes.
'Aniarel, in the time you've been with us, I don't think you've met a single elf who didn't like you,' she grinned. 'Even Haldir goes weak at the knees when you smile at him,' she added, sighing theatrically.
The two girls giggled wickedly. Haldir was the captain of the elves that guarded Lorien, and had been the one to carry Aniarel home from the orc encampment. He had been constantly at her side since she had awoken, and she knew him better than any other did. She also knew that Coeil had fallen for him, but could not pluck up the courage to speak to him. She couldn't even meet his eyes without blushing.
A step on the stair behind them made them turn. Haldir smiled grimly down at them, bowing to Aniarel. Coeil blushed and ducked her head.
'My lady, Legolas of Mirkwood has arrived.'
Her heart clenched in fear. With no outward sign of her tension, she rose softly and thanked him, allowing a small smile to play on her lips as she heard him say,
'Weak at the knees, Coeil?'
Aniarel ran up the stairs of the Great Tree, determined to catch a glimpse of Legolas before she had to face him. She saw the families of the Fellowship crowding around Celeborn. The dwarf must be Gimli, and the dark haired elves, Elrond, and his daughter, Arwen. But she could not see any sign of the elf described to her.
Galadriel coughed gently, drawing the girl's attention back inside the room. Aniarel curtseyed, trying to quell the rising panic that threatened to overwhelm her. The Lady came forward, resting her hands on the girl's shoulders.
'Will you come with me to greet them, child?'
Aniarel sighed.
'I may as well get it over with,' she smiled, a hint of hysteria in her eyes. Galadriel led her down to the happy group, who turned and bowed to them.
Aniarel gasped lightly, her eyes wide with shock. Legolas stood beside Gimli, there was no mistaking him. His tall frame was bent in a deferential bow to the Lady of the Wood, his eyes downcast. Pale blonde hair fell about his shoulders, tied and braided in the way of the Woodland Elves. She had never dreamed he would be so handsome. She felt her stomach sink. How could someone like him ever want someone like her?
Galadriel smiled at her guests, remaining a little way in front of the reluctant bride.
'Arise, my friends, there is no need to stand on ceremony,' she bade them, watching as they straightened. 'You have come to us to celebrate a joyous occasion, one that should not be marred with formality.'
Thranduil strode forward and kissed her hand, his blue eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth.
'Well then, my lady, where is she? My son is almost frantic for news of her.'
Galadriel smiled, and stepped back a little way, revealing Aniarel.
'This, my lord, is Aniarel of Lorien.'
Legolas' eyes fell on the small figure standing behind the Lady. His breath caught in his throat, as she looked at him with clear green eyes, that shone with an unearthly light. Dark hair tumbled in heavy ringlets about a delicate face that seemed unable to look away from his. Not that he would wish her to. He felt a deep calm descend upon him as he gazed at her, pushing all his doubts aside.
Aniarel blushed, her fair skin burning with embarrassment. She was more beautiful than he could have imagined, and yet, there was a childlike air around her, a feeling of innocence he had never encountered in an elf before. He felt his fists clench as he noticed a large bruise on her cheek. She curtseyed gracefully to him, her willowy form bending like the boughs of a tree before the wind.
Gimli nudged him sharply in the thigh, and he dropped into a bow, his cheeks crimson with shame for having forgotten. He was vaguely aware of Galadriel speaking, though what she spoke of, he could not tell. His attention was fixed on the vision before him. Thranduil clapped him on the shoulder, smashing into his reverie.
'Come along, Legolas,' he said, pulling his son away from the little she-elf, 'we should get settled. Bring your packs. You can speak to the young lady later.'
Legolas stumbled along with his father, casting glances over his shoulder at Aniarel, who watched him go with an awed expression. Galadriel wrapped an arm about her shoulders and drew her away, leaving her with Coeil to prepare for the evening banquet.