Elessar and Evenstar Tie the Knot

By The Last Evenstar

Chapter Nine: Whispers in the Pews

Arwen glanced briefly at the people seated in the chapel. All that remained of the hundred guests there had been this morning were her and Aragorn's faithful friends, the ones who cared enough to stick around no matter if the wedding got called off. As she began her trip down the aisle, she caught sight of Aragorn, standing at the front of the chapel and grinning broadly. From then on, try as she might, her eyes could not turn away from the handsome man waiting for her.

She reached the end of her journey and handed her bouquet to a bridesmaid. She felt Aragorn take her hand and she looked into his eyes, succumbing to the happiness his smile radiated. She knew she must look quite a sight; her dress stained with custard and her wrinkled from hasty running. No, it wasn't her dream wedding. But as the priest began to speak, she realized something. The circumstance may not be ideal, she thought, grinning blissfully at the man across from her, but I can't say it's not my dream wedding. After all, here I am, about to be joined forever with the man I love.

Pippin fidgeted and squirmed in his seat. "Merry!" he whispered. "Merry, I can't understand what they're saying!" A ceremonially dressed elf was speaking importantly and gesticulating vehemently at Strider and his bride.

"They're speaking Elvish, Pip," put in Sam, his eyes very wide.

Merry, however, was not as enthralled. "She's wearing that stained dress still? I would have at least changed."

"I wonder what happened," Frodo mused. "Why they couldn't find Aragorn."

"He probably got cold feet, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, still watching intently. "You know how it is."

Frodo laughed. "Do you think you'll get cold feet before your wedding, Sam?"

"M-my wedding, Mr. Frodo?"

"Yes! Just imagine, soon it could be us standing up at the front of the church!"

Sam's eyes spilled over with happy tears. "Do you mean that, Mr. Frodo? Really and truly? Us?"

Frodo watched Aragorn and Arwen, the happy picture playing in his mind. "Of course, Sam. Rosie will be a beautiful bride. You would have me as your groomsman, wouldn't you? I was silly to assume –"

"Of course, Mr. Frodo!" assured Sam, his heart breaking in two.

"Will this be much longer?" groaned Gimli. He looked over at Legolas, who was watching rapturously and sobbing heavily into a large white handkerchief.

"Shhhhh, Gimli! Respect, please!" cried the elf. "This is a beautiful ceremony."

Gimli let out a great huff. "You're not fooling anyone with that crying of yours, Master Elf! Come on, put down the handkerchief!" Gimli sighed with annoyance as Legolas kept the cloth plastered to his face. "Oh . . . did you get another zit?" the dwarf asked kindly.

Eowyn listened to the Elven priest drone on and on. She had given up on trying to follow his words, and instead was heavily contemplating her situation. Aragorn is happy and getting married this very instant, so I cannot interfere with that, she thought miserably. But it hurts to give up like this. It really does hurt.

She looked at Faramir sitting beside her, his attention torn between the ceremony and the lovely maiden next to him. It was terrible of me to string him along like this, she realized. I thought I was sparing him from the pain, but in truth I was building it up. It's not fair to him; I have to break it off. She shuddered at the thought, but knew it was the right thing to do. That doesn't make it any easier. She liked Faramir; she enjoyed the security and comfort that came with their relationship. She enjoyed talking to him; laughing with him. To end it all would be yet another great loss – all in one day.

But I have to, she admonished herself, because I mut be fair to him. If I care about him, then I owe him that.

Elrond watched stonily as the priest said the final words. It was done; his daughter was gone from him forever. I gave her up. I gave her up to a man whose lifetime will pass as quickly as she is used to counting years. Why? Through his pain and through his doubts, Elrond knew he had done the right thing. She would have been miserable, he consoled himself, not a maiden at all, but an empty shell. I thought before that to separate them was to spare her from the pain that I know only too well. He remembered when his wife, Celebrian, had sailed out of his life like a passing breeze. I could not have done that to Estel. I could not have done that to Arwen.

Galadriel, sitting beside him, gave her son-in-laws hand a squeeze. "Do not worry," she said, not moving her lips but speaking directly into his mind. "You have dine right by her."

Arwen trembled as the priest turned to her. "Do you," he asked her in Sindarin, "do you, Arwen Undomiel, bind yourself to this man, forever, in love and in anger, in sickness and in health, come times of good or times of darkness? Do you promise to love, honor, and cherish until death do you part?"

She hesitated for a fragment of a second upon seeing her father's face in the crowd. But looking back at Aragorn, she saw the rest of her life; a life of pure happiness and undying love. "I do," she said, her dulcet words ringing throughout the hall and echoing in her ears.

The priest repeated his question to Aragorn, who looked at Arwen with a light in his eyes she had never seen before. "I have from the moment I first saw her face," he said, causing Arwen to flush red with joy, the congregation to sigh, and Legolas to sob out loud into his handkerchief. "I do."

Sorry for the short and boring chappie, but it had to be done before we could get back to the good part!!! Coming up next ~ What havoc will be wreaked at the reception? Will Eowyn open her heart and discover that the answer she'd been searching for was sitting next to her the whole time? Who will give the sappiest, most drunken speeches? And, most importantly – will there be enough custard to go around?