Guess what this chapter is about...? :-) Can you hear the wedding bells a-ringing? Just a note to anyone who might feel things jumped too quickly from proposal to wedding; we have a LOT of ground to cover as far as the arrival of Sauron in Dol-Goldur, the birth of Legolas and the eventual tragedy at the end... So needless to say, as much as I would like to linger we do have to keep the pace moving. Enjoy!
"There now, how does that feel my lady?"
Cautiously, Anthelísse revolved atop the ottoman on which she stood to face herself in a full-length mirror. She had just spent the past hour being laced, buttoned and otherwise sealed into the gown she would wear to be married.
It was a beautiful creation to be sure, lovingly pieced together by the most skilled seamstresses in the entire Woodland Realm. The bodice and train were of white silk, so pure that Anthelísse almost could not bear to touch it for fear of marring its perfection. Lace met the border at her collarbone, covering her shoulders in a spidery pattern of surpassing delicacy. The translucent sleeves were so long and gossamer, they fluttered as if catching an unseen breeze with every move that Anthelísse made. Even in her years living in Nargothrond, never had Anthelísse ever worn such a dress. Nor did she imagine that the occasion would ever arise to do so again.
Aislinn had dressed her long golden hair with an attention to detail that would have shamed a dwarven jewel-smith. Twisting the strands of hair so they shone like golden ropes, Aislinn had woven them together into a cascading whole that fell down to the small of Anthelísse's back. At her brow they had set a circlet of pure platinum inlaid with a multitude of tiny white gems; one of the last heirlooms Anthelísse had of her house.
Looking herself slowly up and down, Anthelísse felt almost afraid of the being she saw before her. There was an air of such majesty and such fate about the reflection in the mirror that she was sure Aislinn would comment. 'I look like a myth come to life' she thought. 'Some great heroine of an epic drama'.
"Anthelísse?" Aislinn sounded concerned. Standing at her side, the raven-haired handmaiden was likewise dressed in her finest. In less than an hour, they would all be in the palace gardens of Emyn Duir. In less than an hour, Anthelísse would be speaking the vows that would bind her to King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm before the eyes of all.
Shaking herself out of her reverie, Anthelísse smiled and reached for Aislinn's hand.
"You've outdone yourself, Aislinn. Whatever would I do without you, mellon-nin?"
Aislinn gave Anthelísse's hand a squeeze. "You'd manage I'm sure. Perhaps with less well-kept hair and in plainer garb, but you'd manage."
A knock came at the door, and Aislinn went to answer it. Meanwhile Anthelísse stepped down off the stool, careful to hold up her long train to avoid stepping on the unblemished cloth.
It was the queen. Nellas was resplendent in a dress of royal cloth-of-gold, with many twisting leaves and branches embroidered along the sleeves in glittering thread. In her hands she carried a slim wooden case. When she saw Anthelísse, Nellas smiled softly.
"My son once told me he had fallen in love with the sun itself." Nellas said. "Now I can see what he spoke of."
"Lady Nellas." Anthelísse curtseyed, as she had always done in deference to the queen. Nellas stopped her with a swift gesture this time though.
"Nay, Anthelísse. No more shall you greet me thus. From this day on we shall be as mother and daughter, you and I." The queen's green eyes shone, many emotions shimmering beneath their surfaces. "Never before have I had one to call 'iel-nin'."
Anthelísse moved to grasp the older elf-woman's offered hand. "Then I shall be glad to call you 'naneth', Nellas of Doriath."
As if remembering why she had come, the queen held up the wooden box she carried. "Speaking of Doriath, I have a gift for you. I know it is the custom of the Noldor that the mother of bride gives a jewel to the bridegroom, and likewise for the father of the bridegroom to the bride. I therefore act in trust for Oropher in giving you this..."
Opening the lid on the case, Nellas offered forward what lay on a bed of black silk within. It was a necklace, a necklace of surpassing beauty and craftsmanship. White gems of pure starlight winked at Anthelísse from their silver nests. Without a doubt, this was an heirloom of immense worth, an heirloom of the Sindarin people of Doriath.
"My la...Naneth." Anthelísse gasped, scarcely daring to breathe. "This is..."
"These jewels belonged to Oropher's mother and her mother before her. They were mined from the breast of Arda and cast in silver by the dwarves of Belegost, ancient partners in trade with King Thingol and Queen Melian of Doriath. Oropher's family purchased this necklace from the dwarves before the fateful coming of the Silmaril and the death of Thingol." With Anthelísse still watching with wide eyes, Nellas lifted the jewels from their bed. "It was a gift, a promise of love from Oropher's grandfather to the elf lady who would become his wife. I give these stars, the Elemmíre to you who are about to become the wife of Oropher's son."
When Nellas lifted the necklace over Anthelísse's head and lifted her hair to fasten the catch, Anthelísse felt the weight of the jewels against the hollow of her throat. Aislinn gasped audibly, her face painted with reflected rainbows cast by the light against the Elemmíre.
"My lady, the Valar themselves would count you as one of their own if they were to glimpse you now." Aislinn declared. Nellas stepped back to admire the effect herself and seemed pleased.
"There." Said Nellas. "Now you are ready to become a queen."
OoOoO
In a sunroom bordering the palace gardens, Thranduil was pacing back and forth with a verve that supercharged the very air itself. Galion had long since given up trying to calm his lord and king, and instead hovered in the corner watching. Even the sunlight streaming in through the curtained windows and the distant music of harps did nothing to soothe the young bridegroom.
That was how Gurithon found Thranduil when he came to check on him. Standing in the doorway and feeling the wave of anxiety roll over him from within, the Captain of the Woodland Guard laughed aloud.
"Aran-nin, if you do not calm yourself you shall be in no fit state to attend your own wedding!"
"Such a threat will do nothing to calm me Gurithon!" Thranduil exclaimed, his eyes so wide that Gurithon could easily see the whites around the irises. "By the Valar, the ceremony starts in less than an hour!"
"Your point being?" Gurithon said, striding to the center of the room and grabbing hold of both Thranduil's shoulders. "Tell me Thranduil, what does it mean to get married?"
Thranduil was so startled by the seemingly simple question that he voluntarily stopped his pacing. Galion took advantage of the moment of calm in the storm to rush forward and start pinning Thranduil's long red-trimmed cloak to his shoulders. The elf king had to take several deep breaths before he could answer Gurithon.
"It means...It means to declare your undying love for another before the world, the Valar and Eru himself. It means binding yourself to another for the rest of eternity."
Gurithon smirked. "In a formal sense, yes. But what does it really mean, Sapling?"
Hearing his father's old nickname for him spoken aloud for the first time in years had an enormous effect on Thranduil. At once he remembered Oropher's calm, confident manner of dealing with any and all challenges. Realizing that his father would have chided him for his behaviour moments ago, Thranduil took another deep breath.
"It means becoming a husband, and beginning the rest of your life with the person you love."
With a satisfied smile, Gurithon squeezed Thranduil's shoulders and released him. "Right you are. That hardly seems like so terrifying a thing now, does it?"
"No, no it doesn't." Thranduil managed a weak smile. Galion cleared his throat, and the king allowed himself to be steered into a chair. Once he had Thranduil seated, Galion very nearly pounced with a comb and hair clasps. "What makes you so confident in the meaning of marriage, Gurithon?" Thranduil asked, eyeing the Silvan captain. "You are unmarried and not even courting!"
Gurithon winked rather drolly. "An elf can have his personal secrets, Thranduil."
"Meaning...?"
"Hush and focus on preparing for your own wedding, Aran-nin. Anthelísse might forgive you if you came to the joining ceremony with hair askew and robes dishevelled, but your mother certainly wouldn't."
"Bah, keep your secrets then!" Thranduil laughed. The previous firestorm of anxiety seemed a far distant memory now.
Still, when he stood waiting under the arbor of flowers where Anthelísse would join him, Thranduil felt his heart fluttering like a whole nest of butterflies. Hundreds of elves sat on long benches in the gardens, and the sweet music of harpers filled the air. He saw familiar face after familiar face, but still his mind insisted on prancing about like a nervy deer. Tucking his hands behind the folds of his silvery tunic, Thranduil hoped his palms were not sweating.
Then the tone of the music changed. All rose to their feet, and every head turned toward the arched palace doorway at the head of the long isle. Thranduil's heart felt like it would leap from his very chest for beating.
Then the world fell away, becoming serene and beautiful like a waking daydream. All the voices of anxiety, apprehension and uncertainty fell silent. There was room for only one thing Thranduil's entire soul.
Her.
OoOoO
That evening, Thranduil and Anthelísse sat side-by-side at the head of the wedding feast. Lanterns had been lit throughout the gardens, and tiny motes of light danced in the shadows from the multitudes of gathering fireflies. Hundreds of merry voices carried into the air from the guests, and underscoring everything was the music of the Woodland Realm's best minstrels.
For the hundredth time, Thranduil's gaze slid to the matching rings that he and Anthelísse now wore on their index fingers. She had had another made to match the one he had given her during their proposal. The weight of it felt foreign on his finger, but Thranduil loved it. It was a visible sign of the bond that he and Anthelísse now shared.
When Anthelísse turned to smile at him, Thranduil felt his heart stop as it had time and time before that entire day. With the Elemmíre winking at her throat, she looked like a vision of starlight. She did not wear the crown of the queen of the Woodland Realm; that power remained with Nellas for however long as she should remain in Arda. That did not trouble either of them in the slightest though. For now, all that mattered to Thranduil and Anthelísse was that they could call one another 'husband' and 'wife'.
The various courtiers and nobles of the Greenwood took their turns in presenting gifts to the newlywed couple. Acting in trust for Anthelísse's own deceased mother, Aislinn and the other Noldor presented Thranduil with a blue sapphire on a long twisting chain.
"This jewel once belonged to Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor. We of that folk now give it to you, King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, in honor of your marriage to our lady."
"Thank you, people of the Noldor." Thranduil said as he accepted the pendant. "I accept your gift on behalf of Anthelísse's mother, and on behalf of your people."
It continued on thus for some time, with some offering gifts of poetry, others of music, and many of various valuable treasures. Maechenel gifted Thranduil and Anthelísse with a play, performed by young elves in a plethora of fanciful costumes before all the wedding guests. Erchelil presented them with a beautiful blue rose, thirty more of which she had carefully bred from other species in the gardens of Emyn Duir. Tharnor gave the newlyweds two chalices, one of gold and one of silver. Although the Master of Coin bowed and smiled as he presented the goblets, that smile did not reach his mismatched eyes.
As the evening wore on, Thranduil found himself becoming more and more unable to tear his eyes away from Anthelísse. Anthelísse noticed this, and beckoned him in close with a crook of her finger. Leaning towards his new wife, Thranduil cocked his ear to hear her.
Speaking in a whisper too low for even the sharp ears of Nellas sitting nearby, Anthelísse told Thranduil in rather explicit detail exactly how much she was looking forward to their 'real' wedding that night. Thranduil's eyes grew so wide, they could not have been any bigger without rolling out of his head. When he straightened back up, Anthelísse gave him a shockingly licentious smile before returning to the conversation she had been having earlier.
Suddenly, Thranduil could not wait for the wedding feast to be over.