Dedication: This one's for Eärengil (who made up the beautiful Sindarin inscription on the sword) and for Ellenflower. Gwend!

86. Brydealu

No matter how much you enjoy the journey, no matter how fine the weather is and how wonderful the company, after two weeks on horseback, you are rumpled, grumpy, achy and smelling rather strongly of horse.

That was how we arrived at "The Bridge Inn", the guesthouse at the bridge across Snowbourne River, some two thousand feet from the city's walls. We would spend the night there, to give me and the other ladies a chance to get pretty for the brydealu, the wedding ceremony and the wedding feast which would be held when I entered the city.

The sun was already low when we followed the road on the banks of the Snowbourne south towards Edoras. The white peaks of the mountains of the Westfold gleamed in the last sunshine, and the roof of the Golden Hall of Meduseld glittered golden above the grey and brown thatched roofs of the city. My heart went wide at the sight of the dike and the city's walls sheltered by the slopes of the Irensaga and the Starkhorn. For a moment I wished we could have ridden on, right up to the Hall of Meduseld. I reined in Mithril and looked at Edoras lying there before me in the light of the evening sun. For a moment I thought of the peace and quite of the small chamber with the stained glass windows which had been mine when I had stayed in Edoras before. My heart gave a thump. I would never return to that small chamber. I swallowed hard, finding a flurry of butterflies had taken up residence in my stomach once again. When I returned to Edoras, it would be on Hiswa, in Éomer's embrace, as his bryd, his bride.

"Are you nervous, Lothy?" Éowyn had guided her Brego next to Mithril. The horses rubbed their heads against each other comfortably. But they were impatiently swishing their tails. They knew they were almost home, and it was beyond our poor horses' understanding why we did not simply gallop into Edoras and to their stables. I sighed and tightened my hold on Mimi's reins. Then I chanced a glance at Éowyn.

Faramir's love and understanding had changed my friend. She had relaxed in a way I would not have thought possible when I first met her. She was still fierce and formidable, and always would be, but the desperate tension that had been one of her most striking traits was gone. She had found her place in life.

As she looked at me now, she wore an expression that was caught somewhere between a smile and a grin. "Are you afraid what my brother will do to you, come tomorrow night?" Her eyes sparkled. The smile was now definitely a grin. "Or why are you hesitating?"

I frowned at her. I'm no good at witty repartee when I'm thinking deep thoughts about home coming and love. After a moment's consideration I replied, "Well, I do hope that your brother's worth it: waiting one year and a day. Or two." I pressed my lips together to suppress a sigh. Or three… "Actually I was thinking that Edoras looks beautiful in the evening sun. And that it actually feels like I'm coming home. That's a good sign, isn't it?"

Éowyn's grin turned into a soft, sweet smile once more. "It is a good sign, leof min, my friend. Don't worry, Lothy. You will be beautiful and it will be a lot of fun. Rohirric weddings are wonderful feasts."

I nodded and inhaled deeply. My heart sped up nevertheless. Tomorrow I would finally be married to the man I loved.

I clucked my tongue and nudged Mithril to turn around and walk towards the others who were about to enter the yard of the guesthouse.

I got to share the room with Elaine and Sorcha. But it was Sorcha and Ini who prepared the bath for me with the help of two maid-servants of the inn. There was no way to get two real baths in as many days, even if you are the bride of the king. I did not want to go to sleep in a real bed after two weeks on horseback, covered in the dust and the grime of the journey. So I got my bridal bath late in the evening of the 29th of Yavannië.

But I think perhaps it was even better that way. I don't think I have ever appreciated a hot bath the way I enjoyed this one. It was a big bathtub, made of tin or something like that. Anyway, I really fit in that tub completely. It was actually the first bathtub in Middle-earth that I fit in completely. When the maid-servants departed after having emptied the last bucket with steaming hot water into the tub, I was completely submerged in hot water. Sorcha added a fragrant mixture of oil and blossoms to the water and stirred gently. Elaine had gone down to see about dinner. I was grateful for that. I had learned to be at ease around Sorcha and Ini when I am naked, but I feel awkward in the presence of Elaine. And not only when I am naked.

"I think we don't need you at the moment, Ini," Sorcha said in a friendly manner. Ini smiled her shy smile and bobbed a small curtsy. Then she left the room. Sorcha turned back to me with a smile on her lips. "Should I leave, too? You know that I should stay with you according to the Rohirric customs, but –"I shook my head. "No, please, stay. I like having you here!" And I did.

Sorcha had become a close friend. I liked her easy and straightforward manner. The way I could ask her anything at all about the customs and cultures of Arda. She would always answer honestly, to the best of her knowledge. She knew more about ordinary people than any of my other friends and was an astute observer. Her position as my lady-in-waiting was not an easy one. There was resentment because she was a commoner. But Míri, Éomer and I had been in agreement. I needed Sorcha as a lady-in-waiting. I did not need a maid. I needed someone who understood the Rohirric and the Gondorian culture. Someone who could help me in every day life, with nobles and commoners alike. And to be of that kind of help, Sorcha needed to have an official position of influence. I knew that there were days when she came close to regretting her decision. Envy and jealousy are not pretty. But Sorcha wanted the chance the position of her as a lady-in-waiting of the Queen of Rohan would offer her little daughter, Solas. So she clenched her teeth and remained friendly and firm in the face of whatever and whoever came her way.

I looked at Sorcha who smiled down at me, and then settled comfortably on a chair close to the fire. She had tied her red curls into a neat knot at the nape of her neck. Not one stray tendril was in sight, not even after a day's ride and organizing my bath. Her green eyes were a little tired, but still held that sparkle of amused alertness in their depths that I had liked about her from the beginning. "I should lecture you now about your duties as a wife and a queen," Sorcha said. "That's what Helmichis told me should be done while the bride is in the bridal bath. But probably you will get the relevant lecture tomorrow morning by a more appropriate lecturer."

I snorted. I had been told about the custom. "Arwen, Míri and Éowyn will help me get ready tomorrow and I am sure that they will have many wise things to say to me about being a wife and a queen." I was sure about that. What I was not so sure about was my memory. I closed my eyes in bliss as I felt the warmth of the water spread through my body. I was glad that the custom dictating the ritual bath of the bride had been slightly… adapted to fit our situation. I was grateful beyond bounds for this chance at a real, relaxing, peaceful bath. I was probably the first member of our company to get the chance, too. Large thought the guesthouse was I doubted that there were enough tubs for every visiting dignitary or the facility to heat enough water to fill the tubs they did have at the same time. I was aware that I received a royal treatment indeed.

I sighed, closed my eyes tightly and submerged completely. I was warm and wet and comfortable. I felt my hair float around me like a strange species of sea-weed. When I came back up and gasped for air, I was greeted with Sorcha's soft chuckling. "You remind me of little Solas every now and again. You are a brave lady, and smart and all that, but sometimes you act like a child, all cute and care-free. I can see why Éomer finds you so intriguing."

I was hot enough from the bath so that the heat rising to my cheeks at this strange compliment was probably not noticeable. I sniffed and cleared my throat. "Would you help me with washing my hair, please? It's become such a mess."

Sorcha laughed at the abrupt change of topic. But she rose from her chair and picked up a bottle of Elaine's self-made shampoo from the table. My hair had become rather long and prone to impossible tangles I could not sort out on my own without a mirror. And there were not many mirrors around. I don't think there was any mirror at all in the guesthouse.

Sorcha pulled up a small stool behind me and poured a generous amount of the shampoo over my wet hair. With careful, tender movements she began rubbing it into my hair, gently massaging my head. If I could, I'd have purred. As I was not a cat and a cat probably would have objected to all that water, I settled for sighing contentedly. The first rinse was the water in the tub, simply submerging again, swishing the hair about in the water. The second rinse was a huge jug of clear water, kept warm at the fireside. Then my hair was wrung out and piled on the top of my head, with a towel pinned around it.

"How about going to bed now?" Sorcha asked. "Your hands are already wrinkled like the skin of a new-born baby." I looked at my fingers. They were pink and clean, really clean, under the nails and around the callused areas, too. And wrinkled. "Yes, you are right. I guess I should get out of the water, before I change beyond recognition…" Suddenly I felt the long ride of the day catching up with me. I yawned broadly. "And I guess I'm tired."

Sorcha helped me out of the bath, providing towels and my nightshirt. That was ordinarily Ini's job, but she knew that I was more relaxed with only her in here. And tonight was a special night, after all. The night before my wedding.

When I was ready to go to bed, there was a knock on the door, and Arwen, Éowyn, Míri and Elaine entered. They had three bottles of wine with them (Dorwinion red, no less)…

Apparently it was the duty of the female members of the bride's family and her female friends to tug the bride in the last night before her wedding. And that's what they did, eventually.

When I was lying in my bed finally, there was a broad smile on my face and stories of weddings and wedding nights echoed in my mind. I could not but wonder how my wedding night was going to be. My brydniht with Éomer… how would it be? And wondering about that, I fell asleep.

I was woken with a kiss by Míri. She was already dressed. She sat on the edge of my bed and looked utterly beautiful. It felt as if I was kissed awake by the fairy god-mother. Her smile was wide and warm; her grey eyes sparkled with that hint of Númenorean silver. "Good morning, iëll-nîn, my daughter." I blinked at her, for a moment still drowsy with the warmth of a peaceful slumber and happy dreams. Then I shot up in my bed like lightning. My heart was beating like a drum and I felt shivery with excitement. Today was the day. The day!

I was all set to jump out of the bed and into the tub with the hopefully warm water that had appeared in front of the fireplace again. I had acquired a sound sleep on my way from Erlangen to Edoras. And the ability to sleep just about anywhere.

"Stay put!" A bright voice reprimanded me. Éowyn came up to the bed, a tray with breakfast in her hands. "You have to eat something or you'll collapse before you get to serve the bridal ale."

I stayed put. Breakfast was grits, with maple syrup and – real coffee! Real, real coffee! Don't ask me how it got there, but the hobbits brought it from the Shire as a wedding-gift, because they knew how much I missed it. So I sat in my bed, smiling brilliantly at everyone in the room (Éowyn, Míri, Arwen, Elaine, Sorcha and Ini) and felt as if I had been handed the key to paradise. The coffee was… perfect. A light toffee colour. With real milk. And lots of sugar. Real sugar! Imported from Far-Harad and dreadfully expensive. But I did not care. Today was my wedding day. And this was the first coffee since… forever. I could not remember if I had had any coffee in Bree. But I certainly had had none since then. I stared into the cup. I had had no coffee in almost two years! "They are so sweet!" I said to no one in particular. I felt all warm and loved and happy. I was on a real caffeine-high, no doubt. But it made it no less true. I was loved and happy. Éowyn snorted. "Very sweet. Little devils…" But she grinned. She liked the hobbits very much, especially Merry who had shared the horrors of the battle at the Pelennor with her.

Then it was time to get washed and dressed.

Elaine and Sorcha had shaken out the wedding gown as soon as we had arrived yesterday and hung it on a dress maker's dummy to air it and get out any creases. With any normal gown this would have been impossible, after two weeks in a chest. But Darla of the Golden Scissors had kept in mind that the gown would have to be transported to Edoras. She had used green velvet and crinkly, stiff, very beautiful and regal brocade in a colour somewhere between gold and green.

I looked at the magnificent gown. I released my breath in a rather shivery sigh. I stepped awkwardly into the tub and threw my dressing gown over the stool. I felt silly. And I'm sure I looked silly, too, buck-naked, covered in goose-bumps and my cheeks hot with embarrassment. Éowyn looked at me for a moment. I could see how her lips were twitching. Arwen gave me a sweet smile. But it was Éowyn who picked up the jug with the water for the ritual ablutions I had to undergo according to Rohirric law and custom before I could be dressed in my wedding gown. "Remember, you will be queen," Éowyn said her voice stern. "Your responsibility extends to all the people of Rohan, every man, every woman and every child." She upended the ewer. Cold water sloshed down my breast, over my stomach and down my thighs into the tub. A small yelp tore from my mouth. Then I was dancing back and forth in the tub, shivering violently. Then it was Arwen's turn. The queen of Gondor, her expression soft, her belly gently rounded with her first pregnancy stepped to the side of my tub. In her hands she held a bottle of shower gel – well, the hand made variety of it, anyway, a mixture of oil and soap and herbs and probably egg yolk. It smelled heavenly. She allowed it to flow gently across my breasts and my back, before she spoke. "Remember, you will be a wife," she said. "In your hands lies the honour of your husband. In your heart lies his happiness."

When Arwen turned away, Míri took her place. Carefully she poured warm, clear water all over me to wash away the fragrant shampoo. "Remember, you will be a mother," she whispered to me. "Patience you will need and courage. Whatever may come to pass."

Sorcha held out a towel to me. As I stepped into the expanse of clean white linen, Sorcha smiled at me. There were tears in her eyes, but she smiled. "Remember, you will be a lover," she said. "When all is said and done, love is the bond that will keep you alive."

I huddled in the towel, when Elaine walked up to me. The healer of Tarnost looked at me with a serious, intense expression on her face that I could not interpret. She held a silver tray in her hands with a small phial of perfume oil on it. "Remember who you are," she told me. "Because if you forget who you are, not even love will help you."

I have no idea which part of the advice I was given was traditional Rohirric advice to young brides. I had no time to really think about it either, just then, although I have thought about everything I was told that morning many times since then. But then and there, I could only daub the perfume oil on my wrists, between my breast and behind my ears and sit down, to allow Sorcha to brush out my hair, and to allow Míri to do my make-up: soft powder and some rouge, kohl for the eyes and a glittering green-golden powder for the eye-lids, and a paste for the lips that was a deep earthen red.

Éowyn helped me into the cream coloured shift. Then Elaine adjusted the light-green under-skirt around my hips. Míri was responsible to get me into the dress of green velvet. Arwen and Elaine were both necessary to drape the gold and green rustling brocade over the velvet and drape the train the way it was supposed to look. Sorcha spread my hair over my back, using a brush drenched in a spicy hair tonic to make it well behaved and shiny. Arwen fastened the golden necklace with the green elvish jewel around my neck and giggled like a teenager at the – for an elf – unusual task of securing the beautiful, tear-shaped golden earrings inlaid with the tiny green beryl-stones in my ears. Gimli had not promised too much. The jewellery he had fashioned for the precious elvish beryl was more beautiful than anything I had ever seen before. Somehow the dwarf had managed to combine the art-nouveau feeling of elvish jewellery with the down-to-earth Celtic style of the Rohirrim. The result was beautiful, intriguing, and breathtaking.

Suddenly everyone stepped back and looked at me, with smiles all over their faces.

I was ready. Under the ministrations of my friends I had grown almost calm and relaxed. Now, ready to go, my nervousness returned twofold. I swallowed dryly, and my stomach dropped sickeningly. But my adoptive mother gave me a brilliant, reassuring smile. Éowyn winked at me. And the most beautiful woman alive sighed appreciatively and said softly: "You are so beautiful, Lothíriel!"

I wanted to hug them.

But my first movement was greeted with panicky cries of what I might and might not do, do that in the end I simply stayed where I was, unmoving. At that moment there was a small knock on the door. The door opened, and little Solas entered, almost hidden behind a crown of gold and blossoms. The tiny girl curtsied prettily and offered the bridal crown of flowers to me. I bent down as carefully as I could and accepted the crown, trying hard not to cry. Solas' eyes were big and round and blue, and she was biting on her lower lip in intense concentration. "Thank you, Solas," I said, my voice trembling like my hands which now held the crown of flowers that was supposed to cover my head today. The flowers were yellow and white, with leaves of the same deep green colour of my velvet dress. I recognized the blossoms as a plant closely related to the flowers called mallos which bloom on the meadows of the Lebennin. But I did not know the name it went by in Rohan. They had sweet, faintly spicy scent that reminded me of vanilla.

Míri finally took the crown of flowers from me. "It's in you name, you know," she said softly, when she placed the crown on my head. "Lothíriel means 'maid crowned with blossoms'. Your mother would be so proud." I thought of my mother, her eccentric ideas, her waywardness, her vagueness, how she would drive me crazy with her determination that fate held something special for every one of us. I clenched my teeth and widened my eyes, attempting to prevent any of my emotions turning into tears. I nodded to Míri. "I think she is." I said hoarsely. "I know she is."

Then it was time to leave the guesthouse. This time I was accompanied only by my women friends and female relatives. My adoptive father had passed over his guardianship to Éomer at the brydgifu, so he was only allowed to wait and watch along with the other men riding with the entourage. In the yard Hiswa was ready to go. Blossoms had been braided into the stallion's mane, and tiny golden bells were attached to his reins and bridle. The saddle was cream coloured leather embossed in gold. Hiswa was beautiful. And he knew it. He held his head high; his liquid dark eyes were sparkling. When I left the house a cheer went up from the waiting men and women of our entourage as well as from the gathered onlookers – the staff of the guesthouse, the guests and the simply curious. Hiswa tossed his head, just lightly, as if he knew that he should not dislodge the flowers from his mane. But he neighed loudly. A proud, challenging neigh. Then someone who had been standing behind the meara stepped around it and came to the front. My breath caught in my throat. Éomer! Éomer King! In green and gold and red, splendid, tall, muscular, golden mane like a lion just touching his shoulders, his dark eyes blazing – king, hero, rider! He did not smile. He only looked at me. That deep, dark look.

I melted towards him in a rustle of brocades and a soft swish of velvet. He caught me in an embrace that was just as deep as his eyes, and warmer than the sunshine. "It's time, my love. My Lothíriel. Are you ready?" I tilted my head back, relaxing in his arms. "Yes," I replied and grinned at him. "I'm ready for just about everything!"

This time Éomer mounted first, and Elladan and Elrohir put in a joint effort to have me seated in front of him without getting a wrinkle into my gowns. I think they managed to accomplish this almost gracefully, and if they did not, it was certainly not their fault. Anyway, suddenly I found myself up on Hiswa's back, with Éomer's arm holding me tightly against him. My gown billowed around my legs and Sorcha hastened to fasten the train to the saddle.

Elladan and Elrohir stood at either side of Hiswa. Their long, almost raven black hair flowed in the breeze, their cool silver eyes sparkled. "Galu en eldar no go·len! The blessing of the Eldar may be with you!" "Thank you, my lords," Éomer said and raised his hand in salute to the elves. "Thank you," I echoed. "For everything!" They smiled at us and stepped back to let us pass. "Let's go!" I cried and tried to turn around so that I could look at Éomer's face. "Stop fidgeting," my bridegroom growled, tightened his hold on me and then spurred on his horse. With a sound between a snort and a neigh, Hiswa jumped forwards and galloped from the yard of the guesthouse, leaving the cheers of entourage and onlookers to die away behind us.

The ride to Edoras passed in a blur of speed and rushing air, and the feeling of Éomer holding me tight. Then we were through the gilded gates of Edoras and the hooves of Hiswa were like drum beats against the cobbled stones of the pavement. Once inside the city's walls, Éomer reined in Hiswa and slowed him down to a walk. Behind us our entourage of friends, guards and guests was in hot pursuit. The ground was shaking from the rhythm of the many hooves following us from Snowbourne River.

Before us the streets of Edoras were decked out festively with flowers and garlands of leaves and many lanterns waiting to be lit for a whole night of celebrations and festivities. The streets were lined with people. It was impossible that the people gathered at the sides of the road and at the windows were only the inhabitants of Edoras. There were simply too many of them. I had the impression that everyone who could rider or walk to Edoras had done so for this occasion. Of course that's impossible, but it certainly felt as if every man, woman and child for hundreds of miles around had turned up in Edoras today. Any other horse would have bolted and run. Not Hiswa. Proud and beautiful he walked up the streets towards the golden hall of Meduseld, accepting the applause as his due.

I saw a blur of many golden heads, some lighter, some darker, and smiles. Smiles wherever I looked. And flowers. As it had been in Minas Tirith, flowers and fragrant herbs were everywhere: in the air, on the ground, braided into the golden hair of cute little girls dropping into deep curtsies as we passed them by. It was dizzying. It was unbelievable. I clutched at Éomer's arm and I thought my heart would burst with the excitement and the exhilaration of the moment.

Then we had reached the bottom of the stairs leading up to the terrace in front of the Golden Hall of Meduseld. Éomer dismounted with practiced ease, in a single, fluid movement. Once on the ground he turned towards me. "You have no idea how long I hade dreamed of this moment," he said, his voice almost hoarse with intensity. I had to blink back tears, but succeeded. A panicky thought flashed through my brain. How to get off that horse without ruining my dress? "Can you get at the train of the dress?" I whispered, remembering at the last moment that the long train had been fastened to the saddle to keep it safe. Éomer grinned at me and loosened the train with an easy gesture. He carefully spread out the train of my gown, and then he extended his arms to me. "Come, my love! I will catch you!"

But I noticed that he was a little pale, and his gesture was not as exuberant as I had seen it a year ago. I inhaled deeply. Now it was time for me to throw myself into his arms and his life once and for all. A leap of faith…

I was in the air, and then I was in Éomer's arms again before I had time for another thought.

I felt Éomer shiver slightly before he released me. I realized that Éomer King was just as nervous as I was. That was not a comforting thought. Keep calm, Lothy! You survived Moria and orcs. Getting married can't be that bad. I looked at Éomer. He was pale. His dark eyes seemed huge in his face. Then Éomer offered me his arm, to lead me up the stairs to the terrace in front of the Golden Hall where we would exchange our vows.

We climbed the stairs very slowly. The hem of my dress touched the ground and was pretty heavy, too – to say nothing of the long, rustling train trailing along behind me. Every second I expected to step onto the hem of the dress and tumble back down the stairs, taking Éomer with me… landing in a heap of torn clothes and dust in front of Hiswa and the cheering (jeering?) crowd.

But then we were suddenly on the terrace, and I inhaled deeply and squared my shoulders, looking around me. The first thing I saw were the great doors of the hall, their golden ornaments glinting in the sunlight. In front of the door two white riders were standing guard, the silver heads of their spears flashing brightly. I recognized them. One was Éothain, a rider of Éomer's company, and the other was Geirolf, Erkenbrand's squire.

To the left of the door was our welcoming committee: Erkenbrand who had had the rule of the Riddermark during Éomer's absence, the Lords of the five provinces and their ladies, and the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel. Bright turquoise eyes met mine; a cat-like smile crinkled the corners of the lady's mouth. A silvery whisper echoed in my mind: And so we meet again, Lothíriel, ranger out of Erlangen. Do not be afraid. It won't hurt. And then she winked at me.

Éomer led me to the right side of the terrace. There we waited for our guests from Gondor. We did not have to wait long. Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir, Éowyn, Imrahil, Míriël and the others must have ridden like the wind. I had just enough time to take in blue skies, golden sunshine and the gleaming white of the mountain tops of the Ered Nimrais to the East and the South of Edoras. Then Aragorn leapt up the stairs to the terrace, followed by a flushed and laughing Arwen, followed by a red-cheeked, slightly dishevelled Éowyn and a Faramir whose expression was caught between a grin and a frown. Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas and Gimli were the next to climb the stairs. Behind them were Imrahil and Míri, and then all the others, Sorcha, Elaine, the boys, Elfhelm…

Finally everyone was assembled. Alerted by some secret signal the bells in the towers of the battlements were struck. Their sonorous, brassy voices echoed through the streets of Edoras. The crowds fell silent. Our guests fell silent. Faces turned towards us, bright with smiles, alight with happiness. Well, most of them. Gimli frowned.

I knew why he smiled the very next moment. Legolas produced a long, straight object – for all that I could see he conjured it out of thin air. But wherever it came from, suddenly the wood-elf held it in his hands: a large and probably heavy sword. Gimli reached fore the hilt of the sword, Legolas kept the tip in his hands. Holding the sword in their hands, elf and dwarf came towards us, and offered the sword to me. Due to the way of its presentation the hilt of the sword was held very low, and the tip and the blade were more or less up in the air. Gimli scowled at me. Legolas was obviously hard put not to grin. I was simply relieved that they had held their promise and made a new sword for Éomer, a sword that be an honour to its wielder, its makers and the one to give it away.

Now, I thought. Now! Curiously enough in Rohan it is the bride who begins the ceremony of the wedding. The bride draws the new sword. Only when the new sword is drawn, the old sword can be offered. As if to give a reluctant bride a last chance to end everything…

I looked at my friends, Legolas (almost grinning), Gimli (still scowling). I felt Éomer squeeze my arm for a second and then he released me. With a pounding heart I took the sword from the hands of my friends, the elf and the dwarf. They bowed to us and went back to the others. The sword was heavy in my hands, and I felt a shivery excitement sweep through me.

I had to draw the sword now.

My left hand gripped the scabbard. The right sought the hilt of the sword. I gripped the sword tightly. It felt good. Smooth, cool, strong. I inhaled quickly and drew the sword almost at the same time. Silver bright it flashed through the air, hissing as if it could slice the air itself.

It was a beautiful sword. It combined the best of elvish and dwarvish smith craft. It was the strongest steel you could find in Middle-earth. It was the most elegant and well-balanced sword that I had ever seen – apart from Anduril maybe. I gasped at the sight. I lowered it slowly to have a look at the blade.

Elvish runes were engraved on the blade, flowing tengwar on one side, bold Cirth on the other. By now I was able to read both scripts quite easily, at least when they were so well executed as on the blade of this sword.

The tengwar read: "Beriaron e·mellyn, dagnir e·gyth." – "Protector of friends, bane of enemies."

The Cirth was: "Lothíriel mec heht gewyrcan, Gimli ge Legolas me macode, Éomer me ah." – "Lothíriel bade me to be made, Gimli and Legolas made me, Éomer owns me."

It was perfect. Utterly perfect. Breathtaking.

I held it out for everyone to see, and then resheathed it in a hopefully fluid motion.

Now our wedding ceremony could begin.

A/N: I know I'm evil. But this kept getting longer and longer and today someone mailed me asking if this was the end… so I thought I'd better give you what I have at the moment.

And I promise:

THIS IS NOT THE END!

But: I have a really busy real life at the moment (did I mention a degree paper?), so please be patient and keep faith. For news check my LiveJournal.