This chapter was originally planned to go up in the story 'Journey through the Dark'. ...Due to circumstances somewhat under my control, it went here instead. I'm putting this up because I want reviews!

YOU HEAR? I WANT REVIEWS! I'm hoping to get to a hundred sometime soon. But make them nice reviews...none of this ' that was gr8' bunk. BIG THANKS to Rosin Dubh to pointing out one error I fixed in this revision.

Rhoswen looked at her lady in waiting, beaming with amazement and mirth as the maids attending her tied the last knot for her headpiece on, handing her the bouquet of flowers, running with white roses in plenty, and stepping back to see the effects of their handiwork. Rhoswen put a conscious hand on her heavy dress, ivory-cream damask brought from her father's fiefdom especially for her long sleeved wedding dress, sewn so long ago, it seemed.

"Maire! You knew! You knew he would say that! And you laid everything out...why does no one tell me anything?"

"The Lord Aragorn swore us to secrecy. He did not even tell the Lord Boromir. The look on your faces was priceless. Come, marriage waits for no one. Not even those with fearful hearts."
On the other side of the hall, closed off from the main room in the process of being beswagged and garlanded with flowers and veils, Boromir paced. He looked very uncomfortable in his new surcoat, embroidered in gold and silver threads outlining the Tree of Gondor.

"Are you ill, Boromir? Shall I send for a healer?" Aragorn looked concernedly at his friend, pacing back in forth in a very agitated way.

"Why must you torment me as if we were boys? You planned the whole thing!"

"I believe cunning is one of the many attributes used to describe me."

"Aragorn, I can't do this!"

"You love her?" Aragorn looked at his friend, a strange truth in his eyes. Boromir cocked an eyebrow.

"More than life itself. What has that to do with anything?"

"Than you can marry her. Boromir, I've heard enough about this woman to think I'd grown up with her by my side. You love her, and that's enough. Now as your king, I command you to put on a smile, and stand there without further back thought."

"It will be as my lord commands." Aragorn smiled, and clapped the nervous man on the shoulder.

"Good man. You must remember also that it is my wedding day as well, and it would not be fitting to have both king and steward appear nervous." Boromir looked at Aragorn in wonder.

"You are nervous? My king jests, surely."

"I do not. Now come, the hour of our fateful new beginnings approaches fast."
Rhoswen looked as her maids shuffled her off into a chamber outside the grand hall, giggling as they prepared the bridal bower. She turned from the hastily closed doors to see Arwen looking out the window. Rhoswen stood for a moment, entranced. She'd seen her earlier, but closer now, the loveliness of the future queen of Gondor. Truly was this woman the most beautiful creature on the waking face of this earth. The elf turned, and Rhoswen dropped a curtsey.

"You need not stand on ceremony for my account, Rhoswen of the Langstrand. It is my hope that we will be good friends, starting in this ceremony of joining. I am not acquainted with the customs of Gondor; how goes this ceremony?"

"Well, milady-"

"Just Arwen will suffice. We are to be sisters, and I would have you address me as such."

"Arwen, then...well...one of the parents will say a blessing, and gifts will be exchanged-all of them very symbolic. And then the bride and groom clasp hands and tell of what they wish in their life. Then the bridal ale will be drunk, and then...we feast! It is not complicated, but deeply rooted in tradition. Many gifts will be given, and the celebrations will last late into the night." Rhoswen looked at her queen, framed in light form the window.

"Tell me, if it please, mi-Arwen...how do the ceremonies of the elves go?"

"I have witnessed many, and all of them different. But enough of weddings. What is life here in the city like, sister?"

"It can be noisy, and sometimes you wish for the house by the sea in the summertide, but I am well loved by the children, who bring me flowers in the spring, and there are poets at court who sing praises to the most beautiful of women, and...well, I cannot think of any city that has felt more like home. When war is not upon them, the people here are most hospitable." The elf nodded sagely, looking out the window, her slender hands resting on the stone sill.
The grand hall was cathedral silent as the two brides walked down the aisle made by the crowd of people, the air filled with the smell of roses and lilies. Down aside the thrones, two men waited, one in sable and the other in ivory. Behind them, an elderly man in pure white waited, arms clasped in front, smiling. Both women, veiled in cloth of silver, came and stood by their lovers, hands filially holding flowers, which both passed to maids waiting at the sides.

"Love is the flower than in eternal spring blooms fully. Words shall be spoken, hearts given, and lives bound as one." The servants handed the participants cloaks, which they draped around shoulders.

"Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter to the other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. Now there is no loneliness for you, for each of you will be companion to the other. Now you are two persons, but there is one life before you." Boromir and Aragorn both held out in open hands newly forged swords, and when they spoke, it was with one voice.

"This is my sword-keep it well for our sons."

"It shall be as my husband commands." Rhoswen and Arwen held both with shaking hands, and held hilts first Anduril to Aragorn, and the blade that had served Boromir so well to it's respective owner.

"With this sword, defend out home and uphold the honor of out family."

"It shall be as my wife commands." Aragorn took the thin hands of his beloved in calloused war won ones.

"Welcome, love of my love, soul of soul, my wife and life keeper. Here do I redeem the pledge thou gavest. I pour my heart's flood upon thee in this windless place. Naught but life shall prevail between us. Thou shalt live in a palace of stone and fortitude, love of ages." When he had finished, he slid the diamond- emerald clad ring on the slight elvish finger. Arwen echoed to him.

"Thy enemies shall fall to their destruction, and their fortresses be passed over with mighty winds, and the sand of time shall corrode those friendships which were not pure, and nations shall lie at thy feet... surely well do I know thee. We travel this path together, which my love hath traced for thee." She, also, took a ring, engraved on gold with flowing leaves, and slid it over his hand, letting it rest beside the ring of Barahir, emerald adamant shining. Boromir cast back the silvered veil to gaze into Rhoswen's expectant eyes. With a trembling voice, she said,

"You are my husband. My feet will dance because of you, and my eyes shall weep joy because of you, and my hands shall move gently because your love is pure."

"You are my wife. My feet shall run because of you, and my eyes shall see because of you, and my hands shall fly because you are mine." With one voice, deep and yet soprano, they both said,

"My mind's fields shall flower because you are near, and my heart shall beat in one with yours, because we are one. And I shall love because you walk this earth with me." With their ending, both took rings, one set with diamond leaves, and the other silver etched band, and exchanged them. Boromir studied the band on his finger with some caution, and Rhoswen smiled, biting back the urge to giggle. The elder presiding spoke.

"You are two bodies, but one soul- two hearts, but one love. Now you have been bound by sacred word and heartstrings, and this is a bond that death is only able to break. May you love in war and peace, sickness and health, doing and undoing, until the world release you, or death take you, until the sundering of the seas and the breaking of the sky."

And the two pairs of hearts walked from the hall to the banquet that had been prepared in their honor, the like of which Gondor had not seen in a hundred years, and would not see in another two hundred. Great platters heaped with steaming meats, vegetables cooked and prepared in every way possible, sweetmeats and cakes of every size and design.

Great rounds of cheese specially imported from the Shire and Rohan for the wedding due the summer last lay in golden splendor on platters, and flagons of wine from the coast and specially brought by the elves for the merriment were poured out in plenty. The fine golden white bridal cake sat in white uncut splendor in front of the bridal table. Draped in white cloth, with a canopy of damask over the brides and grooms, the guests came to compliment both brides on their dresses, praise the fathers on their hospitality, and give their best wishes to brides and grooms alike. Denethor, newly out of his bed, hobbled forward with the assistance of a cane and his daughter to congratulate his son. The absence of the influence of the palantir seemed to have aged the Steward immensely, and Boromir feared breaking some fragile bone as he embraced his father. Aerwyn kissed her brother on the cheek, and smiled, nodding her head at Rhoswen, who smiled back and nodded also. Aerwyn curtsied for the King and Queen.

"This must be Aerwyn. We have heard precious little about you. Are all jewels Gondor harbors kept secret by fathers and brothers?" Aerwyn blushed at the king's comment, but knew he meant nothing by it.

"Some are hidden better than others. But, as I can gather, my brother flaunts his wealth when abroad." Aerwyn smiled at her brother, who shook his head.

"We keep this one hidden because her words run away with her sometimes. No man yet has been able to tame the Raven of Gondor." Boromir told the king with a knowing grin. It was Aerwyn's turn to shake her head, and she left, supporting her aging father on her arm.

Per his usual, Faramir stood for the toast, and the hall grew quiet. Pages poured the bridal ale, topping off cups with hearty golden foam.

"I am especially glad that two men that I count as brothers have shared joys today, for joy is made to be that way, shared in every art. I look to my new sisters, and my family, for the guidance that a younger brother wants. I know that these unions will be blessed; I cannot think of no other woman that controls Boromir better, and as for our good king Elessar, I can see that our king's heart shall be full indeed in this new life. It is the eve of Midsummer, and the turning of the year from rise to decline, and I hope that these two unions rise and fall as love sometimes does, but is everlasting, as years go by. My blessings, brothers; May your lives be filled with love, life and laughter." Boromir raised his glass to Éowyn.

"And my hope that you and your White Lady tie your heart strings soon, too, brother. We have waited far too long on the prospect of marriage for you!" The hall roared with laughter, and Éowyn and Faramir could not help but laugh too.

When the platters had been emptied, and the flagons dry, the guests crowded down from their seats to dance on the floor between the wooden 'O' formed by the tables. Laughing, the brides lead their husbands onto the floor for the first dance, a lively light stepping reel.

Towards the end of the evening, as the moon reached it's zenith, and the dancers feet needed resting, a few of the city's bards were called forward to perform. When the third had finished his piece, Boromir beckoned one of the maids out of the hall. She returned bearing a harp case, and knelt with the instrument in front of the Lady Rhoswen.

"We wish the Lady of Gondor to play us something-your talent with the harp is well spoken of." Aragorn smiled, and Rhoswen shook her head.

"I could not..."

"Come now, lady. It is well known that your playing enchanted the lord Boromir- and there are some who have heard you play that say you could charm an elf with your voice. Now it is time to test their theory, as there are several in our blessed company." Aragorn looked at his wife, and inclined his head to his father in law. Rhoswen got up, and took the harp from its case with gentle hands, carefully turning the pegs to tune the instrument. Delicately, she began to pluck the stings, filling the listening ears with music.

"Lay down Your sweet and weary head

Night is falling

You have come to journey's end

Sleep now

And dream of the ones who came before

They are calling From across a distant shore

Why do you weep?

What are these tears upon your face?

Soon you will see

All of your fears will pass away

Safe in my arms

You're only sleeping What can you see

On the horizon?

Why do the white gulls call?

Across the sea

A pale moon rises

The ships have come to carry you home

And all will turn

To silver glass

A light on the water

All Souls pass Hope fades

Into the world of night

Through shadows falling

Out of memory and time

Don't say

We have come now to the end

White shores are calling

You and I will meet again

And you'll be here in my arms

Just sleeping

And all will turn

To silver glass

A light on the water

Grey ships pass

Into the West..." With a flourish, she finished, letting the last note resonate, and looked at her audience. Several of the elves had half pained, half joyful looks, and others looked blissful, eyes closed and faces upturned as if savoring the feel of the sun on their faces.

Boromir swept up behind his wife as soon as her harp was back in the hands of her maid and swept her off her feet, the bridal party following them to the bridal bower.

The wedding party bid the two couples goodnight to their separate rooms, throwing flowers as new husbands carried brides over thresholds, and friends ushered the crowds out for peace in the royal bedchambers.

------

Yeah, I know...you're all going 'Shucks, why didn't she go into depth about AFTER the doors?" I'm not in the 'you know what' writing mood now.

Aragorn and Arwen's wedding vows came from 'DUNE' by Frank Herbert, as part of the traditional Freman wedding. Rhoswen and Boromir's vows came from a wedding blessing.

Leave reviews- do you think I could use some work on how I write ceremony? Do you think I should be slow roasted along with the venison served at the high table of the king for embarrassing Faramir? Or hanged, drawn, and quartered for not letting you in on the juicy secrets of what goes on behind chamber doors? Leave a review and give me some feedback.