'For crying out loud, son, stand still!'
Legolas stopped pacing the hallway and looked at his father, his face a mask of panic. He had not had a chance to speak with Aniarel since seeing her earlier that day, and was anxiously awaiting her now. Haldir had come to him, requesting that he and his father join the lady and Elrond, who was to be acting in place of her father, at the doors to the Great Hall.
Legolas had been saddened on hearing of Jenien and Licomias' deaths. They had seemed so excited and proud of their child, when he had agreed, on a whim, to marry her when she came of age. He hoped he was worthy of her.
They were to enter together and speak the words of betrothal before Celeborn and Galadriel. The wedding itself was to be in a week's time, to let them get to know one another a little. He ran his hands over his dark blue tunic in panic. What if she didn't want him?
Voices drew their attention to the base of the Great Tree, Thranduil grasping his son's shoulders to keep him still. Elrond led Aniarel across the grass, feeling her grip tighten on his hand as they neared the waiting elves. Legolas swallowed, and bowed to her, extending a hand toward her. Aniarel took it, smiling uncertainly up at him. Clothed in a gown of pale blue, she looked radiant, if a little scared. He smiled down at her, feeling her tense slightly. As the doors opened, Elrond and Thranduil fell in behind them, hiding their smiles.
The elves sang an ancient song of joy, as they made their way up onto the dais. Holding each other's hands, Aniarel was surprised to feel Legolas' hands shake a little as he began his betrothal vow. She gazed up into his deep blue eyes, wondering how she was going to survive being married to him. He was obviously a handsome man, and the thought that he would remain loyal to someone like her was laughable, so she thought. He would take other lovers, and Aniarel felt that it would tear her apart.
Despite these melancholy whispers, she found that her voice was quite steady, belying a frightened child in a woman's body. She was, after all, only nineteen, and Coeil had mentioned that Legolas was over five centuries old. He must have seen her fear in her eyes, since he leant forward slightly, and murmured,
'Uuma dela, lirimaer [don't worry, lovely one].'
Aniarel started, and would have fallen from the step on which she was stood, had he not caught her, his hands grasping her about the waist. She had understood him! How? She didn't know Elvish . . . did she? Lovely one? Legolas was gazing down at her, the concern in his eyes mirrored in the faces of the elves gathered with them. She shook her head with a smile, and pushed away from him, facing Elrond and Thranduil. Together they laid the blessing on the match, and the summons was given for the meal to begin.
Elrond drew Aniarel to her seat beside Galadriel, where the Lady filled her in on some of the finer points of her memory, like her ability to understand and speak most elven dialects, having understood what had made her small companion stumble off the dais. Watching the prince of Mirkwood as he laughed with his friends, keeping one eye on his new fiancé, Galadriel gave Aniarel a little advice.
'You have a saying on Earth, 'don't judge a book by it's cover', yes?'
The young elf nodded, her eyes wide. Galadriel smiled.
'You should apply it to the prince,' she said, noting the shock on Aniarel's face. 'He may not take another lover, child. There is always the chance that he will love you. Do not let your heart be troubled over matters that are out of your hands.'
She ran a hand gently down the girl's cheek, willing the fear to pass. Aniarel smiled gratefully at her, and returned to her meal, casting shy glances at the table opposite, where Legolas and Frodo were engaged in a lively discussion.
He must have felt her gaze on him, as he threw her a dazzling smile, causing her to blush scarlet and duck her head. Galadriel and Thranduil exchanged glances, turning away with smiles of their own.
*~*~*
Legolas watched the dancers, feeling more at peace than he had for the last week. He still couldn't believe that the marriage he had secretly feared for the last nineteen years was only a week away, and the doubts that had plagued him had flown. He smiled as he watched his father swing Aniarel around the dance floor, keeping that shy smile on her face with his cheerful talk.
Legolas had already danced with her, several times, and sighed at the memory of her held in his arms, smiling up at him. She had relaxed somewhat after he'd stumbled over his own feet, laughing at himself for not concentrating on the steps. He could still feel her tiny hands clutching his tunic sleeves, her arms not being long enough to comfortably rest her hands on his shoulders. They hadn't spoken, simply gazing into each other's eyes as they swayed in time to the music.
The music stopped, and Thranduil returned his partner to Galadriel and Celeborn, laughing with his old friends, as Aniarel slipped away. She was breathing deeply, her cheeks flushed from her exertions. A smile came to her lips, as she remembered some of the stories Thranduil had told her about his son. He really was very charming. Each member of the Fellowship had danced with her, even the hobbits. She had spoken at some length with Arwen and Eowyn, both of whom had promised to speak with her again before the wedding, having sensed how frightened she was. Now she felt just a little overwhelmed by it all.
Slipping out through the great doors, Aniarel heaved a sigh of relief, feeling the warm breeze cool her skin. She walked slowly through the trees, coming to a halt by a waterfall. She had seen and heard so many things tonight, it was almost too much to take in.
But she found her thoughts dwelling on the dance. The way he had held her, so sure of himself. She'd had one bad moment, when he leant towards her. Thinking he was going to kiss her, she'd tried to pull back, but thankfully he had tripped over his own feet, and stumbled upright, his eyes laughing. Her heart began to pound, she was so captivated by him. His eyes were wonderful. They really were the windows to his soul. Every emotion he felt was displayed in them, and broadcast to whoever thought to look.
Aniarel sat beside the pool, running her fingers over the rippling water. A soft step made her look up, and she gasped, standing up so quickly she almost fell. Legolas stepped forward and caught her again, holding her upright as she regained her balance.
'Forgive me, my lady, I did not mean to startle you.'
She gazed up at him, pushing away gently.
'I was lost in my own thoughts, my lord,' she explained, hoping he wouldn't want to know what she'd been thinking of. 'I should have been paying more attention to my surroundings.'
Legolas' eyes softened, and a fond smile played about his lips as he stepped away from her.
'I saw you leave, and wondered if, perhaps, you were unwell?' he asked, his expression concerned. Aniarel shook her head, forcing herself not to stare at him. She gazed at the water instead.
'I am not unwell, my lord. It is simply too much for me to take in, in one day. To meet the Fellowship is an honour I would never have thought would be granted to me, and to be betrothed to you . . . it is all a little frightening.'
She smiled shyly at him, before turning away again.
'I only learnt of my true heritage four days ago,' she whispered, staring at her reflection. 'Galadriel told me of the threat in the East, and our marriage. My parents were killed by the orcs that came for me . . .'
Her voice trailed off, and Legolas could sense that the pain of her parents' death was still strong. She let out a long shuddering sigh, that betrayed her attempts to keep the tears at bay. He tilted her chin up to face him, noticing the unshed tears glistening in her eyes.
'It is not shameful to be afraid, my lady,' he said softly, stroking her cheek gently. 'We live in a hostile world, one where a careless whisper or foolish step can land you in great trouble. You have not lived among us for nineteen years. I can understand why you would feel overwhelmed.'
He kissed her forehead lightly.
'And I will do everything in my power to help you feel at home here,' he added, his eyes burning into hers.
Aniarel felt her resolve crumble, and her tears began to flow freely. Legolas pulled her into his embrace, feeling her sadness wash over him, as she let out all of the emotion she had kept hidden inside for such a long time. The guilt over her parents' death, the terror of the ordeal the orcs subjected her to, the relief at having been rescued.
Legolas couldn't believe how he ached with each sob that wracked her body. He had only known her a few hours, and yet he could already feel his soul binding with hers, something that was only supposed to happen after the marriage.
Slowly her cries turned to sobs, and her sobs to gasps. Aniarel lifted her head from his chest, smiling apologetically up at him.
'I'm sorry,' she began, but he cut her off.
'There is no need to apologise, my lady,' he told her, stepping away as she tensed slightly.
Aniarel thanked him, and sat down again, her legs suddenly unable to hold her weight. Legolas turned to leave, but she called him back.
'I was wondering, my lord, if now might be a good time for us to get to know each other a little?' she asked, her green eyes guileless.
Moving back to the pool, Legolas sat beside her, feeling ridiculously happy that she wished to speak with him.
'Certainly, my lady.'
'But first, I would ask something of you,' she added, frowning a little as Legolas nodded, readily.
'Anything.'
Aniarel wondered at his willingness to agree. She could be about to tell him to run through Lorien naked for all he knew, and yet he still agreed to do anything for her? Quickly she squashed the mental image she had conjured up, knowing it would distract her.
'I'd like it if you were to call me by my given name, my lord,' she said. 'Somehow, I don't feel comfortable being called my lady.'
Legolas smiled fondly at her.
'Of course, Aniarel,' he said, enjoying the sound as it rolled off his tongue. From the look on her face, she didn't mind the way he said her name, either. 'But only if you will call me by mine.'
Aniarel blinked, looking sharply at her companion. He gazed expectantly down at her, one eyebrow raised sardonically. Shyly, she smiled at him, replying in kind.
'Of course, Legolas.'
As they talked, both were totally unaware of the dark figure in the shadows under the trees, watching them. A satisfied laugh escaped his lips, unheard by the young elves, as he stalked away.
Legolas stopped pacing the hallway and looked at his father, his face a mask of panic. He had not had a chance to speak with Aniarel since seeing her earlier that day, and was anxiously awaiting her now. Haldir had come to him, requesting that he and his father join the lady and Elrond, who was to be acting in place of her father, at the doors to the Great Hall.
Legolas had been saddened on hearing of Jenien and Licomias' deaths. They had seemed so excited and proud of their child, when he had agreed, on a whim, to marry her when she came of age. He hoped he was worthy of her.
They were to enter together and speak the words of betrothal before Celeborn and Galadriel. The wedding itself was to be in a week's time, to let them get to know one another a little. He ran his hands over his dark blue tunic in panic. What if she didn't want him?
Voices drew their attention to the base of the Great Tree, Thranduil grasping his son's shoulders to keep him still. Elrond led Aniarel across the grass, feeling her grip tighten on his hand as they neared the waiting elves. Legolas swallowed, and bowed to her, extending a hand toward her. Aniarel took it, smiling uncertainly up at him. Clothed in a gown of pale blue, she looked radiant, if a little scared. He smiled down at her, feeling her tense slightly. As the doors opened, Elrond and Thranduil fell in behind them, hiding their smiles.
The elves sang an ancient song of joy, as they made their way up onto the dais. Holding each other's hands, Aniarel was surprised to feel Legolas' hands shake a little as he began his betrothal vow. She gazed up into his deep blue eyes, wondering how she was going to survive being married to him. He was obviously a handsome man, and the thought that he would remain loyal to someone like her was laughable, so she thought. He would take other lovers, and Aniarel felt that it would tear her apart.
Despite these melancholy whispers, she found that her voice was quite steady, belying a frightened child in a woman's body. She was, after all, only nineteen, and Coeil had mentioned that Legolas was over five centuries old. He must have seen her fear in her eyes, since he leant forward slightly, and murmured,
'Uuma dela, lirimaer [don't worry, lovely one].'
Aniarel started, and would have fallen from the step on which she was stood, had he not caught her, his hands grasping her about the waist. She had understood him! How? She didn't know Elvish . . . did she? Lovely one? Legolas was gazing down at her, the concern in his eyes mirrored in the faces of the elves gathered with them. She shook her head with a smile, and pushed away from him, facing Elrond and Thranduil. Together they laid the blessing on the match, and the summons was given for the meal to begin.
Elrond drew Aniarel to her seat beside Galadriel, where the Lady filled her in on some of the finer points of her memory, like her ability to understand and speak most elven dialects, having understood what had made her small companion stumble off the dais. Watching the prince of Mirkwood as he laughed with his friends, keeping one eye on his new fiancé, Galadriel gave Aniarel a little advice.
'You have a saying on Earth, 'don't judge a book by it's cover', yes?'
The young elf nodded, her eyes wide. Galadriel smiled.
'You should apply it to the prince,' she said, noting the shock on Aniarel's face. 'He may not take another lover, child. There is always the chance that he will love you. Do not let your heart be troubled over matters that are out of your hands.'
She ran a hand gently down the girl's cheek, willing the fear to pass. Aniarel smiled gratefully at her, and returned to her meal, casting shy glances at the table opposite, where Legolas and Frodo were engaged in a lively discussion.
He must have felt her gaze on him, as he threw her a dazzling smile, causing her to blush scarlet and duck her head. Galadriel and Thranduil exchanged glances, turning away with smiles of their own.
*~*~*
Legolas watched the dancers, feeling more at peace than he had for the last week. He still couldn't believe that the marriage he had secretly feared for the last nineteen years was only a week away, and the doubts that had plagued him had flown. He smiled as he watched his father swing Aniarel around the dance floor, keeping that shy smile on her face with his cheerful talk.
Legolas had already danced with her, several times, and sighed at the memory of her held in his arms, smiling up at him. She had relaxed somewhat after he'd stumbled over his own feet, laughing at himself for not concentrating on the steps. He could still feel her tiny hands clutching his tunic sleeves, her arms not being long enough to comfortably rest her hands on his shoulders. They hadn't spoken, simply gazing into each other's eyes as they swayed in time to the music.
The music stopped, and Thranduil returned his partner to Galadriel and Celeborn, laughing with his old friends, as Aniarel slipped away. She was breathing deeply, her cheeks flushed from her exertions. A smile came to her lips, as she remembered some of the stories Thranduil had told her about his son. He really was very charming. Each member of the Fellowship had danced with her, even the hobbits. She had spoken at some length with Arwen and Eowyn, both of whom had promised to speak with her again before the wedding, having sensed how frightened she was. Now she felt just a little overwhelmed by it all.
Slipping out through the great doors, Aniarel heaved a sigh of relief, feeling the warm breeze cool her skin. She walked slowly through the trees, coming to a halt by a waterfall. She had seen and heard so many things tonight, it was almost too much to take in.
But she found her thoughts dwelling on the dance. The way he had held her, so sure of himself. She'd had one bad moment, when he leant towards her. Thinking he was going to kiss her, she'd tried to pull back, but thankfully he had tripped over his own feet, and stumbled upright, his eyes laughing. Her heart began to pound, she was so captivated by him. His eyes were wonderful. They really were the windows to his soul. Every emotion he felt was displayed in them, and broadcast to whoever thought to look.
Aniarel sat beside the pool, running her fingers over the rippling water. A soft step made her look up, and she gasped, standing up so quickly she almost fell. Legolas stepped forward and caught her again, holding her upright as she regained her balance.
'Forgive me, my lady, I did not mean to startle you.'
She gazed up at him, pushing away gently.
'I was lost in my own thoughts, my lord,' she explained, hoping he wouldn't want to know what she'd been thinking of. 'I should have been paying more attention to my surroundings.'
Legolas' eyes softened, and a fond smile played about his lips as he stepped away from her.
'I saw you leave, and wondered if, perhaps, you were unwell?' he asked, his expression concerned. Aniarel shook her head, forcing herself not to stare at him. She gazed at the water instead.
'I am not unwell, my lord. It is simply too much for me to take in, in one day. To meet the Fellowship is an honour I would never have thought would be granted to me, and to be betrothed to you . . . it is all a little frightening.'
She smiled shyly at him, before turning away again.
'I only learnt of my true heritage four days ago,' she whispered, staring at her reflection. 'Galadriel told me of the threat in the East, and our marriage. My parents were killed by the orcs that came for me . . .'
Her voice trailed off, and Legolas could sense that the pain of her parents' death was still strong. She let out a long shuddering sigh, that betrayed her attempts to keep the tears at bay. He tilted her chin up to face him, noticing the unshed tears glistening in her eyes.
'It is not shameful to be afraid, my lady,' he said softly, stroking her cheek gently. 'We live in a hostile world, one where a careless whisper or foolish step can land you in great trouble. You have not lived among us for nineteen years. I can understand why you would feel overwhelmed.'
He kissed her forehead lightly.
'And I will do everything in my power to help you feel at home here,' he added, his eyes burning into hers.
Aniarel felt her resolve crumble, and her tears began to flow freely. Legolas pulled her into his embrace, feeling her sadness wash over him, as she let out all of the emotion she had kept hidden inside for such a long time. The guilt over her parents' death, the terror of the ordeal the orcs subjected her to, the relief at having been rescued.
Legolas couldn't believe how he ached with each sob that wracked her body. He had only known her a few hours, and yet he could already feel his soul binding with hers, something that was only supposed to happen after the marriage.
Slowly her cries turned to sobs, and her sobs to gasps. Aniarel lifted her head from his chest, smiling apologetically up at him.
'I'm sorry,' she began, but he cut her off.
'There is no need to apologise, my lady,' he told her, stepping away as she tensed slightly.
Aniarel thanked him, and sat down again, her legs suddenly unable to hold her weight. Legolas turned to leave, but she called him back.
'I was wondering, my lord, if now might be a good time for us to get to know each other a little?' she asked, her green eyes guileless.
Moving back to the pool, Legolas sat beside her, feeling ridiculously happy that she wished to speak with him.
'Certainly, my lady.'
'But first, I would ask something of you,' she added, frowning a little as Legolas nodded, readily.
'Anything.'
Aniarel wondered at his willingness to agree. She could be about to tell him to run through Lorien naked for all he knew, and yet he still agreed to do anything for her? Quickly she squashed the mental image she had conjured up, knowing it would distract her.
'I'd like it if you were to call me by my given name, my lord,' she said. 'Somehow, I don't feel comfortable being called my lady.'
Legolas smiled fondly at her.
'Of course, Aniarel,' he said, enjoying the sound as it rolled off his tongue. From the look on her face, she didn't mind the way he said her name, either. 'But only if you will call me by mine.'
Aniarel blinked, looking sharply at her companion. He gazed expectantly down at her, one eyebrow raised sardonically. Shyly, she smiled at him, replying in kind.
'Of course, Legolas.'
As they talked, both were totally unaware of the dark figure in the shadows under the trees, watching them. A satisfied laugh escaped his lips, unheard by the young elves, as he stalked away.