Chapter Fifty-Five
SUMMARY: . Rhian has a blast at her Hen Party, but her poor fiancée will need some time to recover. And we have a wedding!
…followed by a wedding night, in which both Rhian and Daeron receive a wonderful gift.
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"The thrill of falling in love is often the thrill of being loved; the thrill of marriage is the thrill of loving someone for the rest of your life. Each day - and year - that passes is a triumph of this act of loving."
― Susan Waggoner, I Do! I Do!
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City of Dale, 10th of May 2944 T.A.
Bain had seen Da and Ada leave the Castle earlier that evening, which was nothing new, but when hordes of females and giggling little girls descended upon his home, Bain's eyes widened, and he fled.
He went to find Rhys, who was also at loose ends, so the two of them headed over to Bowen's house. Daffyd and Powell were off with their wagon, and Anna was with the rest of the women, so Bowen was babysitting. Once Maddox and Owena had been put to bed, the boys spent the evening whittling, or taking turns playing Stratagem.
Bowen had just taken Rhys' knight, when he shook his head. "I don't get it. I mean, I know what the men are doing at the Inn, but what do girls do, when they get together?"
Rhys made a derisive noise and gave the other boys his expert opinion on the matter. "What else? Sit around with their knitting and talk about recipes. Or they do their sewing. You know, junk like that."
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One of the large receiving rooms at the Castle had been pressed into service to accommodate all the Women, Ellyth and Dwarrows, who piled in to help their friend Rhian celebrate her last hours as a single woman.
Those who thought these ladies were having a sedate, dignified and demur affair, would've turned around and headed for the hills (or at least to the pub, to join the others).
Tilda couldn't stay for the entire party, but while she and her friends were in attendance, all was proper, to respect their young sensibilities. Then, at nine o'clock sharp, Galion came to collect them, because their Tithen Pen was going to have a sleepover in her room!
Once the youngsters were gone, things got a bit …earthier.
There was the traditional drinking game, when married women of the group took turns raising their glasses to offer their wisdom regarding love, marriage, and successful wedding nights.
"Do it for the Northern Kingdoms, Rhian." Hilda deadpanned. "Just lie back, and think of Dale," and this tidbit which was met with catcalls and giggles.
Hannah was next. "Never go to bed angry," she winked. "Stay up and fight all night!"
"If you are concerned whether Daeron is well-endowed," Elénaril lifted her goblet, "as his personal Healer, I can promise you will be pleasantly surprised." She wiggled her eyebrows, "Very pleasantly surprised!" Then she winked. "But if you saw my husband, you'd be jealous!" A general "oooooh!" swept through the room, Rhian blushed a deep crimson, and took another drink.
Catrina, the Innkeeper's wife, lifted her cup. "You want to know how I get Rod to do something? I tell him he's too old for it!"
Seren was next. "You know you're married when you don't mind it when he farts in bed!"
"If you get into a fight, feed him." Darla offered. "He can't argue, when he's busy stuffing his face!"
Queen Dilna had an offering of her own: "May your wedding night be like a kitchen table, all legs and no drawers!"
When Enid, the baker's mother-in-law stepped up, no one expected the graceful, white-haired matron to say, "A good wife is a 'lady' in the kitchen, and a 'whore' in the bedroom!"
The mother of the groom-to-be took her turn. "All jokes aside, marriage does not require a great deal of compromise, but a good and loving marriage does. Talk to each other, Iellig, respect each other, but most of all delight in all the good qualities you find in each other. If you do that, love will remain."
"Awww…" Everyone smiled, as Rhian got up and kissed her cheek, amidst a round of applause.
Indis, Aunt of the groom (and Idril's identical twin sister), took her turn. "I second everything my sister said, with just one addition." Her grin was wicked. "The tips of an Elf's ears are very sensitive!" Rhian covered her mouth and giggled, as she continued, in a loud whisper, "Try sucking on them - it will drive him insane!" Everyone gasped and roared, as the bride-to-be hid her face in her hands.
By the time the ladies were finished bestowing their advice on the new bride, Rhian's sides hurt from laughing, and it was time for gifts, of which there were many: Beautiful embroidered linens from the Elves, yards of sumptuous fabric from Lynne and Mona, some silver candlesticks, and a lovely brush and comb set. The Queen under the Mountain gave her a lovely pair of earrings, and Hilda and Hannah presented her with some lovely embroidered nightgowns. There was one particular one earmarked for her wedding night, and Rhian held up the white, sheer gown, with thin straps, everyone "oohed and aahed."
"It's so beautiful…" She gasped, as she examined the tiny, hand-embroidered flowers along the neckline. "It's so delicate, I'd be afraid to wear it."
Hilda smiled and winked. "You won't be wearing it; not for long anyway!"
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11th of May; 2944 T.A.
The Kings staggered home during the early hours, leaning heavily on each other, and aided by their guards. The Elvenking had enjoyed his fair share of wine, but not much more than his normal limit, so he didn't anticipate any problems.
Except the wine wasn't his normal Dorwinian; it was the stuff Haldir brought. Thranduil thought it was some of the best wine he'd ever tasted, and lavished praise on it at the beginning of the evening, and by the end of the night, he acclaims were long-winded and loquacious.
"I… think…" Bard belched loudly. "I'm drunk."
"I know you are drunk." Thranduil grinned as he staggered, just a little.
"What 'bout you? You're not exactly walking a shtraight line, yourshelff." Bard looked around. "Are we goin' the right way?"
"I do not know. Ivran and Ruvyn are leading us…" he looked to the Guard on his right. "Where is the Castle?"
"Straight ahead, My Lord." Ivran pointed. "Do you not see the lamps?"
"Oh…" Thranduil squinted. "Have they been there the entire time?"
"They have, My Lord."
"Can't see 'em." Bard mumbled.
"It helps if you open your eyes, Meleth nîn."
"Can't. It shpins when I do that… Ooops!" the Bowman staggered to his left, but Ruvyn caught him and straightened him up.
"Thanksch."
"You are welcome, My Lord." The Guard smiled.
Bard stopped. "Oh shit… Percy? Where the fuck's Perssey? Hilda'll kill me if we loscht him…"
"Lord Percy passed out, My Lord. He was taken home in a wagon, along with several others."
"Who did that?"
"Master Roderic arranged it ahead of time. Daffyd and Powell have made three trips so far."
"Awww…." Bard smiled. "Rod's a good egg, he is."
"Do not speak of eggs, Bard!" Thranduil looked down and was not at all happy to see the cobblestone streets undulate in such a fashion. Was this normal? He closed his eyes and opened them again, and still the ground at his feet seemed to ebb and flow, like waves.
This could not be good.
"Lieutenant?"
"Yes, My Lord?"
"I… believe I need some assistance."
"I am already supporting you, Lord Thranduil."
"Yes, I see that." He whispered roughly. "And I thank you. However—"
And then, the tall, graceful Elvenking pitched forward and fell flat on his face.
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"The King has passed out cold!" Ivran picked the Thranduil up off the street and dragged him over to the sidewalk.
"Surely not!" Ruvyn gasped, as he struggled to keep Bard upright. "He is Sindar; he is just a bit dizzy…" Then the Guard looked closer. "Ai, puith! The King has passed out, Ivran!"
"Nothing gets past you, does it?" Ivran rolled his eyes. "Pen-channas!"
"A! I naneth gîn thia sui orch!" Ruvyn scowled.
"Do not insult my mother, Torog!" He gave Ruvyn a dirty look.
"What are we supposed to do now?"
"Drag Lord Bard over here and set him down next to the King." Ivran was trying to prop Thranduil against the wall of a building, but the Elvenking kept listing hard to the left.
"Remind me never to drink anything from Lothlórien; what was in that wine?" Ruvyn groaned, as he wrestled the King of Dale over to the building. "Ai! He is heavy!" Once Bard was seated beside him, they propped the Kings against each other. Then they shook their heads at the sight. Bard was flopped against Thranduil like a rag doll, and the mighty Warrior-King had his head against the wall with his eyes closed, mouth open, and drooling out of the corner of his mouth.
"Not a word of this to anyone," Ivran warned.
"I would never do that!" Ruvyn shrugged. "Besides, who would believe us?"
"Where'm I?" Bard mumbled.
"You are helping your husband remain upright," Ivran said gently. "Now you must sit very still, so he does not fall, yes?"
"'mkay." Bard rested his head back, closed his eyes, and started to snore.
"I will wait here, and watch them, while you go find the wagon." Ivran said. "Hurry!"
Ruvyn went and flagged Daffyd down, then the Kings were poured into the back, joining several others. They were met at the steps of the Castle, by Dior and Nualë, Who helped get them up the steps and to their bedchamber, where they met a flabbergasted Elven Aide, with his hands on his hips.
"Lord Thranduil is out cold!" He gasped in horror.
Ivran gave a Ruvyn a warning glance out of the corner of his eye. "It would seem so, My Lord." He hauled Thranduil's dead weight to their bedchamber and onto the bed. "Put Lord Bard there, Ruvyn."
Galion followed them in, removed their boots and their belts, and threw a blanket over them.
"What in the world were they drinking?" The Aide demanded.
"Apparently it was that vintage the Marchwarden brought from his personal cellars."
Galion scowled. "That stuff could fell a Mumakil. What were they thinking?"
Ruvyn shrugged. "Beware of Galadhrim bearing gifts."
Ivran gave his friend a scathing look. "Penig ind?"
"Ai…" Galion rolled his eyes, shook his head, then went back to bed.
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Bless Galion for having a Healer on hand first thing in the morning, or the Elvenking would not have left his bed. Perhaps forever.
Still, all he and Bard could manage for breakfast was weak mint tea and dry toast, and they nibbled that with as little noise as possible.
"Where are the children?" Bard whispered to Galion.
"Sleeping. Everyone had a late night, and I do not expect them to wake for another hour or so.
"Not even Hilda?" Thranduil was amazed. She had always been an early riser.
"Especially not Hilda." Galion smiled.
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Bard decided to sit quietly and read until everyone got up, while Thranduil went to check on the prospective groom, and see if he could be of any aid.
"What happened here?" he asked as he saw the staff cleaning up all the debris. "It looks like we were attacked by Wargs!"
"The ladies had a very good time, My Lord," Greta curtsied with a smile.
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Admittedly, he didn't much care for the bright, late-morning sun, as he walked through Dale, but he took some comfort in seeing numerous people who were also suffering. There was a bit of a crowd outside the Healing House, hoping for some relief. He sympathized, and decided not to ask Haldir what was in that wine, because he would never drink anything made in Lothlórien again.
He went to Daeron's and Tur's apartment and knocked, then chuckled when he heard the miserable moans come from inside. It might be fun to play a bit of a prank on the groom-to-be.
A few minutes later, when Daeron opened the door, he decided it was not.
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City of Dale, 13th of May; 2944 T.A.
Turamarth peeked through the doors of the anteroom and saw afternoon sun through the tall, stained-glass windows, reflecting their colors on the guests seated in the Ball Room of the Castle.
"Is everyone here?" Daeron paced nervously, and checked his armor for what must have been the twentieth time.
"Stop fidgeting, Gwador; you look perfect."
"How are my braids in the back?"
Tur gritted his teeth. "They are also perfect, since I did them myself."
Daeron looked in the mirror and patted along the back of his head. "Are you sure?"
"If you do not stop, I will cut them off..."
"You would not!"
"No. I would not." He said with a smile. "Not today."
Daeron turned toward him, and they gave each other a long, meaningful look. "I know things will be different, Tur. I am happy to be marrying Rhian, but part of me feels… like I am sacrificing you, and our parents, and…" he swallowed.
"You must follow your heart, Gwador." The Guard put his hand on Daeron's shoulder. "Do not make it sound like you are throwing me away, because I am not going anywhere. I am not losing you; I am gaining thousands of free, home-cooked meals at your wife's table. I am also gaining a nephew, and I plan to spoil him terribly. I will fill him up with sweets and teach him how to curse and tell filthy jokes in Sindarin—"
"Turamarth!"
"…and I will be doing the same for all the rest of your children." He grinned. "You will be sick of the sight of me."
Daeron embraced him. "But it will not be the same." He said quietly.
"No," Turamarth closed his eyes and swallowed, "it will not be the same..."
Daeron's voice was raspy. "Ci vellon nîn n'uir, Gwador."
"As are you, Mellon nîn." Tur admitted. They tightened their hug, then he patted Daeron's shoulder. "No tears. This is a happy day."
There was a soft knock, and Galion stuck his head in. "It is time."
"Thank you." Turamarth nodded, then gave his cousin an encouraging smile. "Your life is waiting, Daeron."
The rest of the Royal Guards were lined up and looking every bit as resplendent as they did at the Coronation. At the front, King Bard was wearing his formal uniform, with his blue-and-crimson cape, with his circlet upon his brow. Thranduil was stunning in his burgundy robes, and his sapphire-and-diamond crown.
Tur and the groom went to stand before the Kings. "My Lords," they saluted.
"Are you ready?" Bard smiled.
Daeron looked at Turamarth, who gave him an encouraging nod.
"Yes, My Lord."
Thranduil waved his hand, and the sound of Elven harps filled the air. The doors opened, and Indis and Ómar gracefully entered, followed by Idril and Adamar. They kissed their son and nephew, and took their places to the right, followed by Lady Hannah who was escorted by Prince Bain, and went to the left.
The bridesmaids had flowers in their hair, and wore dresses of light green. Lady Tauriel was first, then Princess Sigrid and both were beaming as they carried long bouquets of pink lilies and purple Irises. Princess Tilda was the flower girl, of course, and this time she had no trouble coordinating herself. Everyone smiled as she glided gracefully down the aisle and tossed the flower petals with ease.
Turamarth quickly glanced over at the Kings, who both looked misty-eyed at their daughters and son, but it was a shining moment for them to see their youngest so healthy, thanks to Daeron and Galadriel.
Then music changed, and the assemblage stood and waited for the entrance of the bride.
"Here she comes, Gwador." Tur whispered with a smile.
Daeron was full of nerves, then his breath caught, and his mouth dropped open.
Lord Ben, City Planner of Dale, entered with his daughter on one arm, and his grandson balanced on his other hip. His smile was shaky, and he didn't look like he was ready to lose them, but as he escorted them toward his new son-in-law, everyone could see that Daeron would love and protect them with everything he had.
Lady Rhian of Dale was dressed in their favorite color, designed and made by Feren's wife, Glélindë, and it was perfect. It was done in Elven-fashion, in deference to her husband-to-be, and was made with yards of sheer, lavender chiffon floating over dark purple silk, and her bodice was embroidered with golden swirls accented with thousands of tiny jewels and pearls. Her tight purple sleeves were long, tapering to graceful points on the back of her hands, adorned with sparkling accents, and over them were long, sheer trumpet sleeves that reached to the floor.
The top portion of her thick curly hair was swept up, and held in place by Marchwarden Haldir's gift: two golden combs adorned with gemstones and diamonds, and there were murmurs of how lovely they were. Small curly tendrils framed her face, while the rest cascaded to her waist. But it was her face that was the loveliest of all, for her green eyes were shining, her cheeks were glowing, and her smile was sure and full of love.
She was absolutely breathtaking. So much so, that Tur glanced over at his cousin and nudged him. "Thuial, Gwador," he whispered, and was relieved to see Daeron inhale.
She reached the Kings, then Ben handed Darryn to Hannah. Then he turned, and kissed his daughter. "I love you, sweetheart."
"I love you too, Da," she sniffed.
He shook hands with Daeron and placed her hand in his. "Look after my girl, yeah?" his voice was rough. "Look after both of them."
"You have my word, My Lord." Daeron said, sincerely, then looked into his bride's eyes. "Hind Calen, he breathed, "you are so beautiful."
Ben cleared his throat, stepped back, and the ceremony began.
After Bard and Thranduil said a few words in their native languages, Idril brought forth the ring for Daeron's bride: a plain gold band. He kissed it, then placed it on her finger, and he repeated the vows the Kings recited: first in Westron and the traditional Elven vows in Sindarin. Then Hannah stepped forward and handed Rhian an identical ring, and she did the same.
"At this time, the groom has asked to present his wedding gift to the bride." The King of Dale nodded to Turamarth, who handed him a diamond ring surrounded by amethysts, made to look like a small flower.
She gasped when he placed it on her finger next to her wedding band. "Oh! It's beautiful!"
He grinned. "It matches your dress, I see."
Thranduil smiled, and said, "It is custom among our people for the mother of the bride to present the groom with a gift, but today she will help Darryn present a special gift for his new Adar." The Elvenking nodded. "Lady Hannah?"
The woman smiled, placed a small pouch in the little boy's hand, and carried him over to the bride and groom.
"Go on, sweetie," she urged. "Do you remember what we practiced?"
"Here Ada!" Darryn grinned and said loudly.
"Thank you, Ion nîn." Daeron's voice broke, as he called the boy "son," for the first time. He took it from the child, drew open the strings and when he took out his gift, he couldn't talk at all. It was a golden cloak pin, bearing his and Rhian's monogram, and large Amethyst.
Daeron managed a misty smile at his mother-in-law, then held his new son, while his mother-in-law fastened his pin for him. "I love you very much, Darryn." The Elf kissed the boy's hair.
"Lalu, Ada!" The baby grinned, gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Hannah kissed him too, wiped her eyes and took him back to stand beside the Princesses.
The fathers of the bride and groom presented their silk cords and bound the couple's hands together, then Ben and Adamar placed their hands on top as their blessing. The Kings' right hands were placed on all of them, then everyone bowed their heads as Bard offered prayers to the Valar, and lastly, the Elvenking invoked the sacred name of Eru Ilúvatar to finalize this union.
Then the harps began to play, and Turamarth looked on with bittersweet joy, his cousin and best friend kissed his wife for the first time.
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The Wedding Feast was held in the Great Hall, of course, and Cook and his staff had outdone themselves. There was plenty of music, from the soft and soothing Elven harps to the fiddles and drums of the Dwarves, and the brass instruments of the musicians of Dale. The party spilled out into the courtyard, and many were dancing out there in the cool spring sun.
Turamarth was sitting at a table with Ivran, as they watched Ruvyn and Nualë enjoy a dance. "You will be next, Mellon nîn." He said to his friend.
It was true. Lieutenant Ivran and his family was slated to leave with the visiting Wardens to marry Cwën, an Archer from the exchange program, and would be bringing her back to Dale to live. Ruvyn would go as his groomsman.
"I look forward to it; I have missed Cwën very much." The Guard looked at Tur with some concern. "Good things are happening, Mellon, but with the sweet comes the bitter."
"That is often the way of things." Turamarth shrugged, glanced over to where their parents were seated. "We are happy that Daeron has found his One, and look forward to many years in their company," he sighed. "But when we sail, he will not join us, and I fear our parents will feel great pain at our parting."
"I know," Ivran said. "But they will both be blessed with a long life, and as with our friendships with Men, we must appreciate every day."
"You are right." Turamarth sat up straighter and collected himself. "Now is not the time to think of such things." Then he saw the group of Galadhrim laughing with Daeron, Elion, and his betrothed, Airen. "Who is that?"
"Which one?"
"The blonde one."
"Which blonde one?"
"I mean the Elleth standing next to the Marchwarden?"
Ivran turned his head to see where Tur was pointing. "I believe that is the sister of one of Daeron's colleagues; I cannot remember her name." He turned back and raised his eyebrows with a smirk. "She is beautiful, is she not?"
"Oh? I had not really noticed." Tur averted his eyes.
In truth, the Guardian had noticed her the other night at the Inn, before Tauriel came to pick her up, and during the wedding, his eyes wandered in her direction a few times. But he had been too busy with other matters to give her much thought. Or so he told himself.
"Why do you ask?" Ivran's mouth curved into a smile.
Tur shrugged noncommittally. "I was just curious. She is probably with Haldir anyway." Then he hid his expression in his glass of wine.
"There is only one way to find out her name." Ivran stood. "Come along, Tur; you have never been shy a day in your life, and you are not about to start now." He grabbed Tur's arm dragged him over to the small group.
"Suil, mellyn!" He greeted them with a grin. "I am sorry we have not had the chance to be formally introduced, but there has been so much activity since your arrival." Ivran smiled. "Turamarth and I have met Haldir, but I do not believe we have had the pleasure of meeting the rest of your party?"
"Mê le 'ovannen, Mellon Ivran." The Marchwarden saluted the Guardians. "Allow me to introduce my brother and second-in-command, Orophin" Haldir indicated a black-haired Elf. "This is Penlod, a Healer from Mithlond, currently serving under the Lord and Lady."
"Ni veren an le ngovaned," Ivran said, as he and Tur gave them a formal salute.
Daeron smiled, "And this is Orlin, another colleague I had the pleasure of working with, and his lovely sister, Evranin."
They greeted the two with the same politeness, and when she offered her hand for Turamarth to kiss, he looked into her deep brown eyes, touched her hand…
…and felt like he'd been kicked in the chest.
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"Did you see what happened when they met?" Ivran grinned at the groom, as they watched Tur and Evranin dancing and talking together. "I think he was hit by the Ehtë Raumo, would you not agree?"
"Perhaps…" Daeron's eyes narrowed. "Ivran? Was Tur scheduled to come with you to Lothlórien for the wedding?"
"I do not believe so…" A slow grin appeared on the Guard's face. "Then again, should not King Thranduil make sure our guests and my family are well-protected?"
The groom grinned. "I admire your diligence, Ivran; one can never be too cautious." Daeron set down his drink. "Please excuse me," and went speak to his King.
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Once that was settled, the Guard captured his new wife from her group of friends and took her out on the dance floor for a slow waltz.
"Hello, my wife." He grinned down at her and held their joined hands over his heart.
"Suil, Hervenn nîn." She grinned up at him, then laid her head on his chest.
He kissed her hair and leaned his chin on her head and closed his eyes as they danced.
"Are you happy?" She asked him.
"Completely." He answered, and he meant it.
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Soon, the evening was upon them, it was time for the bride and groom to leave for their honeymoon.
"It's a popular place," Bard grinned, as he handed over the keys to their Hunting Lodge. "It's yours for an entire week, and we don't want to see your faces before then!"
The couple hugged their parents and Turamarth, and kissed little Darryn repeatedly, until Ben and Hannah took the baby from his mother, "He'll be fine; go enjoy yourselves, and let his Granny and Grandad spoil him, yeah?"
Two horses were saddled and ready, but only one was ridden to the Lodge. Daeron told Aegis where to go, and the other horse followed, as he held his wife in his lap and kissed her all the way there.
Rhian giggled, as he carried her across the threshold, then put her down so she could look around.
"Oh…" She said. "What a cute little place!"
There was a fire, a cupboard laden with food, and plenty of linens and towels. Candles had been lit in their wall sconces, and the bed was freshly-made with vases full of flowers on almost every surface. She walked to the center of the room and twirled around, with her arms open wide. Daeron was mesmerized as he took in the sight of the layers of her dress swirling and floating around her, then slowly settle down into graceful folds.
"I love it!" She said as she looked around, and he saw her face shine.
Daeron felt joy, but it was mixed with apprehension, as well; the last time Rhian had been with a man, it had been brutal and soul-scarring. As much as his body ached for her, but he had to make sure she felt safe.
"Rhian," He came up to her and took her hands. "I love you." He held her gaze then slowly lowered his lips to hers. She tasted of wine, fruit and sweetness from the frosting of their cake. "I want you to know, Hind Calen, we will not do anything you are not comfortable with. I want our first time to be beautiful, so I will not rush you, all right?"
She looked into his eyes. "Do you want me?"
"More than I have wanted anything in my life, but it must feel right for both of us, not just me. An Elven joining is something very special, Meleth nîn." He brushed the curls away from her face. "When it is right, it is magical, and words cannot describe it. I want you to feel that, Rhian, and I will wait for however long that takes, I promise." He kissed her brow. "I am happy to be here with you, to hold you and know that you are mine."
"Things will be different for both of us, I know that." She considered.
He brought her hands to his lips. "Both of our lives will change, and we cannot go back, this is true. But I knew I wanted this before I even came back to Dale. I want you, Rhian, but only when you are ready."
She turned away from him and walked over to the table and stood still. Despite his words, Daeron's heart sank. He was trying to be brave; he truly was… Then he noticed her slowly reach up and remove Haldir's combs, and gracefully shake out her hair…
Oh...
She shook her hair again, then slowly undid the buttons on her right wrist. With a sidelong glance, she undid the left and now they were hanging loosely off of her forearms, as she arched her back and ran her fingers through her hair with a sigh.
Oh...
She looked over her shoulder with a sultry smile. "These buttons in the back aren't going to undo themselves, you know." She lifted up the heavy curtains of her hair and waited. "Natho nin?"
"Elo…" he breathed.
It took all his strength not to run to the other side of the room. He quickly removed his breastplate and it clanged to the floor. He licked his lips and slowly walked toward her, removing pieces of armor along the way, and tossing it. By the time he was right behind her, Daeron was down to his tunic and leggings. He was also barefoot, with no memory of how he got that way.
His hands shook as he reached toward the back of her gown, and undid the first button, then the second, and the third—
"Ai! How many of these things are there?" he growled in frustration. "It is as if they are fastened with a magic spell!" He stopped and blinked. "Are they?"
Rhian giggled. "No. You're just fumbling because you're eager. Slow down." She said, in that same sultry tone, he was beginning to appreciate.
He blew out a breath and took his time. On all forty-five buttons. "Are all wedding gowns like this, or did you have this made just to tease me?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" She looked back at him and smiled wickedly, then slowly turned to face him, as the gown slipped off her shoulders and fell to the floor. Underneath, she had been wearing a filmy white sheath that left nothing to the imagination. And she wasn't wearing anything underneath it.
The blood pounded in his ears, then moved down between his legs, and he felt himself twitch against the confines of his leggings.
Oh...
"Elo…" he said again. "You look…"
"So, you like it, then?" She asked in mock-innocence.
He couldn't talk, just opened and closed his mouth like a fish.
She kicked off her shoes, then went to him, and held his eyes and she slowly undid the lacings of his tunic and pulled it over his head. He gasped when she touched his chest, and ran her fingers lightly over the muscular plains of his stomach.
"You are so beautiful," Rhian breathed, then teased one of his nipples, which made him squeak and his cock twitched hard again.
"Sensitive, too." She reached toward him and took one in her mouth.
"A!" he groaned loudly. "You are making it difficult for me to restrain myself, Hind Calen," he warned.
"Good." She grinned up at him, and she undid the lacings of his leggings, plunged her hand inside, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
He growled out a laugh. "You are such a tease, woman." Then he captured her mouth in a hard kiss. "Shall we take this to the bed?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
He swept her up in his arms, and carried her over and put her down. He crawled in beside her and looked down at her beautiful face, and all that glorious hair fanning out over the pillow. "I thought you looked beautiful when you were coming to me at our wedding, but now you take my breath away. I do not ever want to forget this moment." He swallowed, when he saw the look of love in her eyes, as she cupped his cheek.
"We won't." She promised him. "I won't forget anything about this night, love. Please; I want to be with you." She aggressively grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down to kiss her mouth, which opened to receive anything he wanted to give. He buried his hands in her hair and deepened the kiss with a low groan, until he couldn't stand it anymore and had to pull back.
"Rhian," he panted. "Tell me you want to be one with me. Tell me, please."
"I want to join my body, and my soul with you, Daeron. I want to feel you inside me." She looked deep into his eyes. "I want you. I want you..."
He bent down and pulled down one of the thin straps to nightgown to reveal her full breast and reveled in the dark, pert nipple. He cupped its softness, then took the rose-colored bud in his mouth and enjoyed her moan and she held his head and begged him not to stop.
"Oh, stars…" she gasped. "Oh, that's so good…" she began to writhe with desire which Daeron enjoyed thoroughly.
Then he released her and carefully removed the gown altogether, and drank in the sight of his wife's naked body: the soft curves of her breasts, the narrowing of her waist, the flare of her hips, and the mound of dark hair at the apex of her thighs. In wonder, he reached down to run his hands through the thick curls, and realized they were moist. She truly wanted him.
He bent down to—
"Oh, no you don't." she said in a teasing tone. "Fair's fair. I want to see you."
"As my lady wishes," he grinned and quickly managed to remove the rest of his clothing, and they lay on their sides facing each other.
"You have no hair," she whispered, a bit surprised.
"And you have hair." He whispered back. "I like it very much."
"And I like it… you are…Oh, gods, you're huge..." she reached out and took his hard length in her hand, and Daeron couldn't see after that.
After a moment, he had to stop her. "We will explore ways to pleasure each other, Hind Calen, and very soon. But this first joining, is a true Elven marriage, and we must do it properly, or…"
"Or what?"
He teased her with a grin. "You shall see. Did not Elénaril tell you what happens?"
"She said I had to find out for myself."
Daeron chuckled. "She wanted it to be a surprise?"
"Aye." she giggled. "So, I will like it?"
"You," he kissed her between each word, "Will. Like. It. Very. Much."
"What are you waiting for, husband?" She shifted on to her back, and reached for him.
He leaned down, and took her nipple in his mouth again, and his other hand moved slowly down toward the nest of dark curls and began to tease the small, but sensitive bud with small circles; not too hard, just enough to have her writhing and moaning and soaking wet.
"Oh, gods, Daeron, if you don't take me now, I'll…" she groaned out the rest wordlessly, but he got the idea.
He crawled on top of her, as she widened her legs, then pushed his hand away so she could touch him again, and pumped her hand up and down rapidly.
"Ai, ma! Rhian!" he gasped.
"Like I said," she panted. "Fair's fair."
She guided the tip of his hard, throbbing cock into her entrance then grabbed his hips. Still he was determined to make this moment last, and went slowly, as he watched her face.
"You must keep your eyes on mine, Meleth nîn. Keep them open, and watch me, and you will see what a true Elven joining is like." Then he moaned as he entered her tight heat.
She panted hard, but nodded, "I can't believe how good you feel…"
"A…. Ae! Mae ad limp mi gin…" He panted as he continued to slowly roll his hips towards her. "Ai, ma…. Ma…"
When he seated himself fully inside of her he looked down at her with a loving smile. "We are one, Meleth."
"Yes, we are," she rolled her hips toward him, and finally, he allowed himself to move inside of her, and oh.
Oh...
Never in his life had he done anything like this, and it was so much better than he imagined! He did not know a body could feel this much, and his fëa began to soar.
He never stopped looking into her green eyes. "I love you, Rhian Adamarion. I love you so much." And his eyes filled with tears.
"I love you, Daeron. Oh gods, yes!" she cried out when he thrust in harder. "Oh, Valar! Oh, it's so, so good!"
He went faster, harder, as he began to feel the tremors down his spine, and the muscles around his groin tense and he arched into her as hard as he could. He heard Rhian's gasp of surprise and wonder when he felt the light inside of him begin to glow. Then it was between them, then it entered her, enveloping them both.
They were both crying. Tears flowed from Rhian's eyes that were nearly black with desire, and his own fell freely onto her face.
"I can see you…" she rasped, and her moans became more urgent. "Oh, my… Daeron, I… oh gods! I can see… I see you…"
And he could see her, all of her. In this moment, Daeron understood what making love really was; he saw everything about his beautiful Rhian: her heart, her soul her past and future and hopes and wishes and dreams. He saw it all…
But it was more than that.
He saw it, and he knew it.
Then he gasped in surprise, and his hips stuttered, and he lost his rhythm for a moment.
Because Daeron understood: he had known this fëa before, and as Rhian was stared up at him full of love and wonder and astonishment, and he could tell her fëa knew him, too. "Daeron? Is it you? I... It's you!"
Then he realized who Rhian really was, and remembered Lady Galadriel's words: "That which you seek, seeks you also."
"Oh, Daeron!" Rhian panted, "I'm gonna come... I'm gonna come... Oh, I can't believe it..." Her fingers dug into his back. "Oh, Stars...Daeron!"
"A! Ma! Ma, Hind Calen!" He began to thrust harder into her and babbled in Sindarin, "Gi melin, Rhian! Gi melin! A, meleth nîn; telin…"
They both looked into each other's eyes and cried out when she began to pulse around him. He moaned as he felt the strength of her climax, and marveled at how strong and powerful it was. Just as it began to subside, it started again, when Daeron came, spilling his seed inside of her.
At last, they both began to calm, and he thrust through their aftershocks, to their mutual delight, but when they finally became still, he buried his face in his wife's shoulder and sobbed with a joy he'd never thought possible, and she held him tight, kissed his hair over and over, and told him how much she loved him.
He need never wonder again what happened to his beloved Sellwen, because Eru Ilúvatar, the Creator and Father of all, had sent her back to him. His Rhian's fëa was Sellwen. And Sellwen had always been Rhian. And she'd always been meant for him.
He also knew, in that moment, that he would never lose any of the special gifts that Eru and the Valar had bestowed upon him. There would be no sacrifice for Rhian's sake; Eru had given her back to him as a reward.
And with this realization, he was overcome all over again he held her tight and cried even harder, and she wrapped her arms and legs even tighter, because, athough she couldn't put it into words, something in Rhian instinctively knew and understood, and it was a miraculous thing.
When Daeron could breathe more normally, Rhian's eyes searched his. "I didn't know it could be like that. I…felt you, when you…"
"Climaxed?"
She nodded. "It was incredible!"
"And I could feel you, as well." He sniffed and smiled. "That will always be so, but our first time, when our fëas became one, is a true gift."
"I can't believe it," she breathed a sigh, and wiped away his tears. "You… I mean, when we were… Galadriel said something about me looking for you, and I didn't know what she meant, but now…". She put her hand over his heart. "It's like I was coming back to you. It's... you. I know it."
He placed his hand over her heart in wonder. "It is you…. You have always been my One…"
"We found each other. I don't understand it, but I know it's true…"
Daeron's eyes filled with tears, took her in his arms, and told her everything.
"Really?" Her eyes widened. "That's amazing! I mean, you told me about her a while ago, but to think…. I can hardly believe it!" She laughed. "That explains it, then."
"Explains what, Hind Calen?"
"When we first met, I…was terrified, but there was something about you…. And when you kept coming around, you were so familiar, like you'd always been my friend. I'd didn't know what to think."
Daeron turned and held her face in his hands. "This is wondrous news, and a part of me that has always grieved has been healed, but I do not wish to see you as anyone else but my Rhian, do you understand? I want you to know that I will always love you for yourself."
She smiled and stroked his hair away from his head. "I do. I love you, my husband."
"And I love you, my wife." He kissed her again and again, as he did throughout that entire, wonderful week together. They learned about each other, and explored ways to please each other, and shared their thoughts and hopes for their lives.
And to Daeron's great delight, Rhian learned that Aunt Indis was right about an Elf's ears.
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
A! I naneth gîn thia sui orch! – Hey! Your mother looks like an Orc!
A! Ma! Ma, Hind Calen! – Oh! Yes! Yes, Green eyes!
Adar-nauth -Father of the heart
A…. Ae! Mae ad limp mi gin… - Ah…Oh! It's so soft and wet inside you!
Ai puith! - Oh, fuck!
Ci vellon nîn n'uir, Gwador – Forever you are my friend, my sworn-brother.
Ehtë Raumo – (Q.) "Lightning Bolt" (lit. "Storm Spear") Sometimes, when an Elf first encounters his or her bond-mate, they can feel a powerful, emotional response, like lightning.
Elo… - Wow…
Gi melin, Rhian! Gi melin! A, meleth nîn; telin… – I love you, Rhian! I love you! Oh, my love; I am coming…
Mê le 'ovannen, Ivran mellon – Well met, friend Ivran
Mellon nîn – My friend
Natho nin? – Help me?
Ni veren an le ngovaned. – I am happy to meet you.
Pen-channas – Idiot
Penig ind? – Are you insane?
Suil, mellyn! – Hello, friends!
Thuial, Gwador – Breathe, sworn-brother
Torog! – Troll!
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