Author Notes: Sorry it took so long. I hope it was worth the wait, my friends! This chapter was finished with the help of Mercury Gray. Thanks, babe!
Chapter Summary: The wedding…FINALLY!
Shout Outs:
Mercury Gray – Glad you helped me out so much with this fic. I love it that you and I think so much alike that we can do that.
Dread Lady Freya – Roflol. You haven't seen NOTHING yet, love.
Roisin Dubh – Well…here it is!
Silmarien stood in the small ante-chamber, trying to remember to breathe. At last, the day had come. At last, the summer season had arrived, and Denethor smiled upon Glorfindel's exuberance as the wedding preparations went underway. It was to be a ceremony in the fashion of his people, for Silmarien would become one of them.
Silmarien smiled and smoothed out her silken gown. King Elessar had declared her innocent in the previous accusations and instructed her servants to make her gown white as snow. Denethor was greatly pleased, for the last of his children would be well cared for in a good match. He'd watched Glorfindel beadily these last months, with a father's exacting eye, trying to find some small error to convince his daughter that perhaps this was not the right man for her. But her heart was set. Denethor smiled sadly - did she know of the elves and their lifespans? Of course she did. His daughter would not forget a thing like that. It pained him to think of a day when she might die, but, then...
At least she will die happy, as I will. My children are married, and their children remind me I am old, Denthor thought with a small smile.
He took her hands in his and kissed them, then kissed her cheek before drawing the veil over her face. Denethor blinked back tears as he looked upon his daughter, now a bride to be given away.
"Come," he said at last, holding out his hand, palm down for her, "it is time."
Silmarien gave a slight nod of the head, softly placing her hand upon his. And so, Denethor escorted her outdoors through a small corridor, unaided by a cane, though he still had a slight ache in his knees. He had vowed he would not use the now hated thing at his child's wedding.
Glorfindel stood on the stone stair, where Aragorn had been crowned king. Lord Elessar stood at the doorway into the King's Hall, a few steps above him. Though the ceremony would be mostly Elven, the tradition of the king marrying the couple would be kept, in honor of Silmarien's people.
Glorfindel waited patiently for the presentation of his long-awaited bride. The assembly who had gathered was large, but he recognised several faces nearest him. There was Lady Lothiriel, near the banner of Dol Amroth. She had grown very beautiful indeed. Boromir stood nearby with his lady wife, Rhoswen, as well. Lord Faramir had returned from the preparations of a fort in Ithilien, and was smiling in whispered conversation with his wife, Eowyn. There was King Eomer, who stood across the aisle from the banners of Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth. Glorfindel took note that he was gazing in the direction of the Dol Amroth banner with an absent-minded, foolish grin that the Elf lord recognised.
Smoothing out the silvery wedding attire he wore, Glorfindel softly sighed, and then immediately heard Elessar's friendly chuckle. "If you think one year is a long time to wait, try waiting for sixty-eight years, my friend."
Had there been time to reply to such a remark, Glorfindel surely would have made a comment. But at that moment, he saw the woman to whom his heart had been given, approaching upon the arm of her father. Even through the white veil covering her head, he could see that she was nervous, perhaps frightened. His heart softened, and he wished he could go to her to comfort her. Then he realized that very soon, that would be his right, his duty toward her as her husband.
Glorfindel descended the stairs to greet his father-in-law with a bow, and receive the precious gift he was giving away. As he bowed, the King spoke.
"Lord Denethor, do you give unto him, Lord Glorfindel, thy daughter to be bound to him forever in marriage?"
"Aye," Denethor replied, loud enough for all to hear, as he offered Silmarien's hand to Glorfindel.
Silmarien was so nervous, the ceremony passed in a blur of words. The only moment she remembered clearly was when Elessar commanded that Glorfindel hold out his hands, and that Silmarien place her hands palm up in his, and pledge the oaths of marriage. Silmarien would always remember the weight that came upon her then, as she took a breath.
"I declare you my lord and husband, whom I shall follow forever. What you command, I shall obey. Where you travel, so shall I. Where you live, I shall live. Nor shall I depart from you, or follow after another. This I swear until the ending of the earth, or death take me."
Glorfindel smiled at her comfortingly before he made his own vows. "I declare you my lady and wife, whom I shall guide forever. Whenthou hastpain, so shall I have pain. Where you live, I shall live. Nor shall I depart from you, or follow after another. This is my promise, until the ending of the earth or the sundering of the seas, or the death of my body."
Their eyes met, and each of them understood the vows, and the great possibility that Silmarien would be the one to lay down to rest in death's arms before her husband could follow. Mari looked down at her hands, which rested palms up in Glorfindel's. They seemed so small compared to his, so much more inexperienced in work than he. And she wondered if she could be the wife he would need. Would she grow, and learn to shoulder the burdens he carried?
But his hands took hold of hers, and it was not a fear she felt, but a great love. "I shall help you," he seemed to say, "We are here to help each other. You will help me where I am weak, and I will help you where I am strong." And Silmarien could not help the tear that ran down her cheek to land in her palm.
Elessar bid the two turn toward him and they knelt before the King. He placed a hand on their heads and blessed them with good health and fortune, unity against troubles and long life in love.
"Rise, Glorfindel and Silmarien," he said at last. Aragorn removed the veil from Silmarien's face and smiled comfortingly at the young woman, who seemed to be frightened out of her wits, gently turning her to face her husband.
Glorfindel didn't need the prompt to know that he could kiss Mari out in the open without being reprimanded now. And that was exactly what he did. Elemmire had to purse her lips to keep from laughing with delight for her friend. When the kiss ended, the King's voice rose.
"I present to the assembly this lord and his lady, Glorfindel and Silmarien, bound in marriage."
There was a thunderous applause, and flower petals were cast upon the aisle as they made their way to a side door into the great hall.
"I'd much rather skip the feast, dearest," Glorfindel said softly with a smile, and Mari could not help blushing.
"That would be very improper," she said quietly, making sure not to trip on her way over the stone steps up to the hall.
"What's to be improper," he smiled roguishly. "You're my wife now. I can do what I please."
"We may do what we please." Mari added with her own little grin, and Glorfindel almost laughed aloud. He rather liked this wicked side of Silmarien, and wondered how much he could draw it out.
"They will expect us," Mari said. "Tongues will wag if we're not present at our own wedding feast."
"In the manner of my people, it would not be improper," Glorfindel reminded her. "And you are my wife now, and one of my family and blood."
"That may be true, my love," she smiled. "But we are still in the presence of my own people. And they are prone to gossip, maliciously I might add. Behave just a little while longer, if you can."
And to his credit, he tried, to be certain. But his hands were impish, seeming to have their own mind, pinching her and petting her through her dress. He drove her mad, the tantalizing thought of being with him just beyond her reach.
Glorfindel noted the way she pursed her lips as he made such impudent, though hidden, advances toward her. The way her blush deepened just slightly on her cheeks. The way her eyes would dart from him to her plate as she fought to control herself.
When the celebration was gaining momentum, and the wine was flowing freely, Silmarien could almost take no more of his touches. She begged with him, and he smiled.
"We may leave now. I doubt they'd notice," he whispered, kissing her ear.
Rhoswen had to smile at the exasperated look her sister-in-law hid quickly after being accosted by yet another friend of her fathers, wanting to congratulate her. At last it was Glorfindel who bid the man good night a little hastily, as he directed him toward the wine barrell. Rhoswen almost laughed out right at how fast they ran through the door.
"A little anxious, those two," Boromir remarked to his wife with a smile.
"You don't seem to remember our wedding night, do you?" Rhoswen asked with a smile. Her husband laughed and kissed her cheek.
"Oh, I do."
The End…?