My Elvish is still shaky—I'm working on it. For the Elvish translations, look at the bottom of the page.

The Same Woman

By Rose-Arwen-Padme

Wedding Bliss

Arwen quickened her pace, eager to reach the smiling Aragorn in front of her, and the little girls holding the back of her train up hurried to keep up with her. Her cheeks were straining as her smile grew larger and larger. She was onlyfocused on Aragorn, and the hand that he had extended towards her.

She gracefully swept a loose strand of silky, dark hair from her face. As she neared him, she extended her hand towards his.

She couldn't wait to feel his callused skin against her own. It seemed like so long since she had touched him!

I'm going to marry Estel today! I shall truly be his lady, and he my lord!

Her step faltered as her hand and his grasped one another.

It wasn't his skin. It wasn't his touch.

"Arwen?"

It wasn't his voice.

It wasn't Aragorn.

Her vision seemed to clear and to blur at the same time—but one thing was for certain, she suddenly realized. Aragorn was not in front of her, giving her a look filled with question, confusion, and some annoyance. It was Glir.

She had imagined the man she had truly wanted to see; the clean, brown hair; the shaven, smooth cheeks—not that Glir was unshaven, it's just that those weren't Aragorn's cheeks that she had nuzzled in several times before. But worst of all, she had imagined the eyes! Those beacons of love and worship, those pools that she lost herself in countless times... all were a figure of her apparently very active imagination.

"Arwen?"

Valar! She immediately plastered a smile back on her face, though she knew it couldn't possibly be anything like the one she had proudly worn a moment ago. She only lost her grip on herself for one more briefmoment. Her eyes flashed up to meet Glir's.

"Yes," she nodded, "I am fine. I suppose I was just overcome briefly by the endless amounts of perfume put in my hair." She prayed he would believe the bad lie. "Too many herbs."

She never thought he would be dense enough to believe it, but evidently he was. With a short nod, he looked over her shoulder. "Ahh, you have forgot something, Arwen."

Arwen's head darted to look in the direction Glir was implying. There, a few feet away, her father stood expectantly.

In her rush to get to "Aragorn", Arwen had forgotten Elvish wedding traditions! She was supposed to go to her father before her groom, so that she might receive a formal blessing and the short ceremony of a father giving his daughter away.

"Oh," she stuttered, and she blushed madly.

Glir beamed as he turned to the guests seated in front of them, and he exclaimed proudly, "It seems my bride was so excited to be marrying me, she lost her head for a moment!"

The pleased laughter from around the room echoed throughout the hall and in Arwen's ears.

Glir came to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Evidently," he continued to the crowd, "True love does blind the lover—literally!"

The guests sang with laughter once more.

Arwen wanted to smack him—or even better, run him through with a sword.

She offered a wide smile, and forced herself to reply, "What can I say? I am anxious to be married."

Married to Aragorn, you slimy orc.

'Slime' was a slang term that she had picked up from Aragorn's influences. She had never wanted to use the name, calling it vulgar and barbaric. Now she was proud to use it.

She gave the balconies above her a few short glances. There was no doubt Aragorn could see her face right now, and he knew her well enough to know what was going on in her head. He's probably smiling right now... Arwen thought to herself with mock anger, which overlined her true amusement.

Arwenhad no idea that Aragorn was in fact trying to decrease the sound of his chuckle as much as possible.

"Then let us not delay the maiden any longer!" Glir returned to his position by the holy man, after literally giving Arwen a push towards her father. Luckily, the wide wedding gown hid her slight stumble.

The crowd of onlookers quieted into arespectful silence, and Arwen watched her father approach her. All smiles had vanished as father and daughter looked solemnly upon each other.

Following tradition, they both did as expected. First, Arwen curtsied low to her father, signifying his authoritative role in her life. She leaned forward to take his right hand, and brought itto her lips briefly. She kissed it once before letting go.

"Ada," she asked, timidly. "Lothron im gar galu?" Half of Arwen wanted him to say no.

Elrond paused before he answered, taking the time to lightly brush his fingers across Arwen's cheek. Arwen sighed as she leaned into his hand. She remembered her father stroking her like this as she fell asleep when she was a child. The soothing motion brought up memories of bedtime stories and fond kisses good-night on the cheek "Garnin galu, elleth, iell."

As Arwen offered a timid smile, he leaned forward now, and placed a long, stationary kiss on her forehead, signifying a father's last act of love as the biggest male influence in her life. Afterwards, he stepped back from her and bowed low before her, signifying his silent proclamation of her as a woman, independent, and free to make her own choices. She was no longer a young maiden, but a mature woman.

Now, Glir approached the father and daughter. "Einior," he said, bowing respectively. As he rose, he centered on Arwen. Arwen turned towards her "dashing" groom and placed her hand in his extended palm. He pulled her closer to the holy man as Lord Elrond stepped away.

"Meleth," the holy man started. "Meleth has brought us to this place, and it has brought these two to this moment. It is eternal, it is wonderful, and it is a home in their hearts."

Arwen forced herself not to roll her eyes.

"Ever is thy sight a joy. Glir, son of Egerlio and Irenil of Rivendell, a mighty warrior, has chosen noble Lady Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Lord Elrond Peredhil Half-elven and Celebrían, Evenstar, Elelómë the Fair, Princess of her Elven people, to be his wife. Before this beautiful union commences, if someone, with good cause, reason, and sense, has a reason stating why these two should not be wed, let them speak with volume and wisdom."

Silence met the request.

Thinking no more about it, the aged holy man continued, "Well, if none—"

The voice broke through the holy man's word loud and crisp, as if the speaker had been waiting to say the words forever. Their voice rang through the great hall and echoed.

"I object."

As the words died on the source's lips, everyone turned to stare at the speaker in absolute shock.

"Father," "May I have (your) blessings?"

"You have my blessing, elf-maiden, daughter."

"Elder,"

"Love,"