Gilraen paced the tiny chamber in agitation, her dress swishing about her ankles. Her grandmother smiled tolerantly at her.

'What is wrong, my dear?'

Gilraen looked up at her, stricken.

'What if he doesn't come?'

The grandmother laughed.

'Oh, my Gilraen, of course he'll come. Your destinies were joined from the moment you met on the fields. He fought to protect you when he knew nothing of us. I shouldn't think Isildur's Heir would want to lose you now.'

The golden haired girl relaxed, amusement written on her features. There was a knock on the door, and her father peeped around the ancient wood.

'They're ready for you now, sweetheart. You look beautiful.'

'Thank you, father.'

She embraced him, allowing him to lead her down to where the people were waiting.

In their midst stood Arathorn, his eyes shining with such love Gilraen thought she might cry. She had never thought that love would touch her in such a way. Her grandmother was right. Their destiny was joined, and nothing on Middle-earth could tear it asunder.



*~*~*



Does anyone out there think I should keep going with this?