Elessar and Evenstar Tie the Knot
By The Last Evenstar
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Chapter Eight: A Testament of Hope
Elrond sat up slowly. His mind felt as if a heavy fog was lifting from its depths. Slowly but steadily, a stream of memories worked their way into his head. Within a few moments, it was done, and the elf stood up, shocked. I've ruined Arwen's wedding! How could I do this to my only daughter? He glanced at the sky. The sun was almost overhead; the wedding was to have started an hour ago. And I've concealed the groom in an untraceable location!
He turned and began to run. These are the last few days I'll ever see my daughter again, he realized. And thanks to me, they'll be miserable for her! Whatever could have possessed me to do such a thing – and for that matter, what could possibly have brought on such a fit? I'm an elf; we're immune to things like heart failure . . . what happened the night of the parties? He shrugged it off, picking up speed. Arwen will explain to me soon enough. But first, I need to save her wedding!
Aragorn collapsed against the wall. It was no use. The bloody wedding was an hour ago, he realized. I've missed it. He sank to the floor, his heart full of dread and despair. I've missed my own wedding. I've let Arwen down. The thought was too much for him to bear. He groaned under the combined pain of his hangover and his breaking heart.
"Arwen!" The king's senses sprang to alert when he heard the call. "Arwen!" He recognized the voice of his foster father – but instead of the half-crazed jargon of before, Elrond's voice seemed to have returned to normal.
He leapt up and pounded on the door once more. When no answer came, he collapsed, shaking his head in frustration. Why could no one hear him? "Help!" he cried, with the sense of foreboding that nothing mattered; it was all lost anyway. "Help me!"
A sudden noise shook the chamber. A loud snapping sound; Aragorn could feel it pulling the magic away from the door. It was opening, he was found –
And there was Arwen, bearing down on him like a gift from the heavens. She knelt and he took her in his arms, her sheer beauty and radiance absolving his pain.
"Oh, Estel!" she whispered, gazing at him was transparent relief. "Estel, I was so worried! It's been the most terrible morning –"
He broke her off with a deep, passionate kiss, a kiss they were lost in, not wanting to be found. She broke away with a smile. "Not such a terrible morning after all." She wrinkled her nose playfully. "Of course, the wedding has been cancelled, the guests irritated, the food missing, and my dress torn, but . . ." She paused, lost in his eyes. "Why do I feel as if none of it matters in the slightest?"
He kissed her again, short and sweet. "Because it doesn't?"
She laughed, trilling musically. "That would be the obvious answer." She rested her head against his shoulder, content to stay forever in his arms.
"Ahem." The lovers looked up, startled, to see Elrond standing in the doorway, most embarrassed. "I believe the term Elladen used last afternoon was 'get a room.'"
Chuckling, the King stood, his lovely bride on his arm. "We're ready to go."
Merry looked at Pippin, wondering if his friend was just tired or merely stupid. "Pip, the reason they have no food for the banquet is because of US!"
Pippin gasped. "You mean we took that much?"
"The fact that it filled half your room was somewhat of an indicator," Sam cut in.
"But we only made six trips . . ." Pippin protested.
Frodo looked sternly at his cousins. "Return the food, or you shall feel the wrath of Nine-Fingered Frodo."
"And Samwise the Brave!" Sam chirped up.
Merry rolled his eyes. "Alas, I have defeated the Witch-King, the head of the Nazgul, but ultimately cower before a lame hobbit and his gardener!"
Sam looked insulted. "I like to think of myself as an Agricultural Monitor," he said.
Pippin seemed to be struggling. "All right, we'll return the food," he conceded. "But only because it's Strider's wedding. Don't expect it to happen again."
"All right, Pip!" Merry said cheerfully. "Why don't YOU go tell Galadriel it was us that took it?"
"What's this?" A bemused Galadriel stood over four whimpering hobbits.
"Please, Lady!" Merry piped up. "The Took took it! I am a Knight of Rohan!"
"Oh yeah?" countered Pippin. "I'm a Tower Guard of Gondor! I have a uniform and everything!"
"Please, young hobbits," Galadriel cut in smoothly, "do not seek to place the blame, but rather to rectify the situation." At her words, Merry and Pippin nodded, and ran off to retrieve their stash.
"Let me out!" Eowyn screamed, banging with all her might on the door of the broom closet. "Faramir! Faramiiiiiiiiir!"
She sighed and slumped over in frustration. She'd been alone in the broom closet for at least two and a half hours, and it had given her time to reflect on her actions. Everything Galadriel said came back to her. "He respects you, surely, but he gave his heart away a long time ago . . ." So perhaps I was a bit hasty in my judgment. So maybe it was selfish to try and break up Aragorn and not-so-bad-after-all Arwen. She frowned at the nagging voices in her head. All right, all right, so I was completely mean and self-absorbed! She sighed miserably. I don't deserve to be let out of this broom closet.
"Eowyn? Eowyn!" She perked up at the sound of Faramir's voice, followed by her brother Eomer's.
"Do you know where the powder room is?"
Faramir responded, equally baffled. "Do you know WHAT a powder room is?"
"I'm in here!" she shouted. "In the broom closet!" Why couldn't they hear her?
All of a sudden, the door burst open and she went careening out into the hall, practically knocking over the two men searching for her.
"Eowyn! What on earth happened?"
She opened her mouth to relive her traumatic tale, but over Faramir's shoulder she saw Galadriel looking at her pointedly from a distance. She closed her mouth, resolving to start thinking before she ever opened it again. "Nothing. I was, um . . . powdering."
Eomer ducked his head inside the closet. "So that's a powder room!"
Faramir grinned and shook his head. "I think the wedding is back on. I'll go save us seats."
As he left, Eowyn turned guiltily to her brother. "Was it off before?"
Eomer gulped and took a breath. "Eowyn, you're my sister and I love you, but I just can't go through with this scheme of yours to ruin the wedding. Aragorn's friendship means too much to me."
She smiled as he regarded her warily. "No need. I've worked out my issues – and I may just give Faramir a shot after all."
He grinned. "Just so long as he maintains a three-foot radius at all times."
"Eomer!"
It was his turn to look guilty. "He did promise on threat of death."
As Aragorn and Arwen walked down the hallway, they ran abruptly into the two young hobbits, unfortunately carrying large bowls of pudding. "Oh, no!" Arwen cried as dark chocolate custard began to stain the front of her dress.
Pippin stuttered an apology. "I– I- I'm SO very sorry, my lady!"
Aragorn looked concerned. "Do you want to go change?"
Arwen laughed gaily and waved the hobbits away. "I've waited long enough for this; I refuse to be detained further. The King and Queen of Gondor shall be marry in royally filthy clothing."
Galadriel smiled as they approached the chapel doors. As Aragorn made his way to the front of the church, Galadriel turned to her granddaughter. "When you walk out of those doors, Arwen, you will be a married woman."
Arwen only smiled serenely. "At long last," she said.
Galadriel grinned at her. "Most of the guests from far away have left already, and you have no bridesmaids. Does that upset you?"
"Are you joking? Those wretched girls? Why, I'm glad! Now I won't spend the entire reception debating the fine points of Dwarven stoneware!"
The music began to play. Arwen took a deep breath and stepped down the aisle.
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