Sorry this took so long. I've been out of the country and... well... it's a long story.

Enjoy!

Chapter 10

"Be calm, Aragorn," Legolas drawled, sounding rather bored. "She comes as we speak." Dismounting he added, "And this is no wife of mine."

Aragorn?! This was the king? Where was his scepter of power? No majestic robes? Hell, where was his crown? This? Why had he reffered to her as a thing?

Before she knew it, Legolas had slid off the horse. He put his hand on Aragorn's shoulder. Aragorn did the same and the two regarded each other for a moment. To Mari, it looked like a familiar greeting the two had shared before. Both the man and the elf had warm, knowing smiles on their faces. So, they are friends, too? How does this unplesant elf have so many friends? she wondered.

Remembering Mari, he turned away from Legolas and gave a small gentlemanly bow to her. "Forgive me, my lady. I am Aragorn. Welcome to the White City."

Again, Mari didn't understand a word being spoken. Aragorn gave her a strange look when she didn't respond.

"She doesn't speak the Western Tongue," explained Legolas, the somber expression returning to his face. Aragorn looked even more confused.

"Try Sindarian," offered Faromir with a smirk.

Aragorn tried again. "My lady?"

What am I supposed to say to a king? she fumbled for the words to say.

"I… It is an honor to meet you, your Majesty." She added a bow of her head for good measure.

Aragorn smiled. "The honor is mine. But, I am not yet king."

This confused Mari. Why had they all been telling her he was the king?

"His coronation is today," Faromir explained.

Now she was even more confused. "Arwen told me the wedding was today," she said.

"It is," responded Aragorn, a trace of exhaustion in his voice. "Both the coronation and wedding are today."

"And you are a nervous wreck," said Legolas putting a hand on Aragorn's shoulder, a comforting smile coming back to his face.

"I'm fine. Right now I'd like to learn who this lovely lady is."

"This is Mari," said Legolas in a detached manner. "Arwen has invited her as a personal guest."

Aragorn stared at her with inertest. "You must have made quite an impression on my betrothed."

"It is she who has made the impression on me. She is quite wonderful and will make a splendid queen," said Mari, sincerely.

Legolas moved to help her down. He offered her his hand; he did not pull her as he did before. She accepted it, though she wondered why he was not as rough with her as he'd been in the past. When Faromir also dismounted, a soldier came and led both horses away.

"Tell me," Aragorn continued, "How did you come to meet Legolas and the others?"

Where was she to begin? "Well, um…I was, uh…"

Before she could continue, Legolas interrupted. "Her story is of little importance." He put a hand on Aragorn's back and began leading him away.

Of little importance?!

"Right now, you must prepare. Arwen will be arriving soon."

"You're right my friend," said Aragorn. "Faromir, please make sure lady Mari is in good company until the ceremonies are over.

Faromir smiled. "It would be my pleasure."

Aragorn and Legolas began to walk away. Since they had switched to Western Tongue in the middle of their conversation, Mari had no idea what they had been saying again. She began to follow them. Legolas stopped her.

"Faromir is going to escort you for some time. You're to stay with him."

This shocked her and her face showed as much. A shocked expression also fell upon Aragorn's face as well; shocked by the manner in which Legolas had addressed her-- as though she were a child or a pet that was a nuisance.

"You're leaving me here with him?" she hissed at Legolas. She was surprised by the amount of anxiety she felt. Shouldn't I feel relieved to get away from this maniac? she asked herself. Mostly, she just felt like an unwanted rag doll being passed from person to person once they grew tired of her.

"Yes. You shouldn't be worried. He is an honorable man," he responded, growing more frustrated and continuing to walk away.

"But I don't know him." Her voice was now nearly a whisper; her eyes were cast down in defeat.

She then felt someone gently take hold of her chin, bringing her gaze up. The face she saw was that of Legolas.

"I will come back," he said. There was something very haunting about the way he had said it. There was no real comfort in the delivery of his words, but there was an infinity in his eyes that was not usually visible. She could tell he was telling the truth. He stayed holding her gaze for a moment longer before he left to catch up with Aragorn. She watched as the man and elf walked up a set of stairs and disappeared through the large doors leading into the main building of the top level of the city.

"I hope the prospect of spending time with me isn't so upsetting."

"Huh?" Mari had almost forgotten that Faromir was still standing beside her. "Oh. No. I don't mind your company. I'm not sure why I was upset just then."

"Good. I'm sure I shall enjoy your company as well. Shall we?"

He led Mari through the same door Legolas and Aragorn had gone through. Beyond the doors, she saw for the first time what was the Great Hall atop the White City. Within, there was much commotion. Men and women were rushing back and forth, carrying food, drink, chairs, leafy garlands with white flowers and a number of other things she could barely begin to guess the use of. Apparently, Aragorn and Legolas had moved on to another room, for they were nowhere in sight. As she looked around, she noticed that at the other end of the hall, in the center, was a giant marble pedestal that stood at least fifteen meters high. There were stairs leading to it's top where a tall throne made of steel, stone and wood sat. At the bottom of the pedestal, to the right of its stairs, was another throne of similar style but fewer majestic qualities. Above the more prominent throne at the top of the pedestal was a large wrought iron chandelier shaped as what could only be interpreted as a crown. This, she assumed was the throne room of this palace.

"Faromir! Faromir," Mari heard a feminine voice call.

Towards them came a beautiful woman with long golden hair that was tied back, revealing a bright and graceful face. Her sleeves were rolled up and she looked flushed, perhaps as though she had been helping with the preparations going on in the palace.

"Eowyn! Has any progress been made?"

"Everyone is so excited; they can hardly get any work done! I believe everything will be ready in time, though. Who is this?"

Mari would have responded to this, had she understood any of it. Instead, Faromir answered for her.

"She came with Legolas. She is a guest of Arwen's. I've been appointed by Aragorn to see to her needs until the ceremony begins.

"Her needs? And how could you satisfy the needs of any woman?" she jested.

"My lady, you wound me, but to answer your question, she only speaks Sindarian and I am one of the only semi-fluent speakers available."

Though Mari had no idea what it was they were saying to one another, she could tell it was lovers' banter. The small smiles and subtle gestures said it all to her. She guessed that these two would be the next to marry after Arewen and Aragorn.

"Mari, this is a friend of mine, Lady Eowyn. Lady Eowyn, may I present Mari."

Again, Mari stammered the words she had been taught.

"Hell-oh."

Though there was little the blond haired woman knew to say in Sindarian, they communicated easily enough through gestures and the few words she did know. She was kind and patient enough to deal with the language bariar between them, which was really enough to form the foundations of any relationship. As Faromir had business to attend to, Mari spent her time being toured around the palace by her.

The palace was quite extensive. From what she was able to understand, Eowyn was somewhat new to Minas Tirith herself. That considered, Mari was surprised by how much of the palace she was familiar with. Perhaps, given a year, Mari thought that she might be able to find her way around without a guide.

At the end of their tour, Eowyn took her to a modest sized room. After some inventive use of sign language, Mari understood that it was to be her room during her stay in Gondor. This pleased her greatly. Through the window she could see the a court yard in one of the lower levels of the city. Though, for a place where she guessed there would be a great deal of daily activity, the court yard was remarkably empty. In fact, she noticed, the entire city was empty, though she could hear the sound of a crowd coming from somewhere.

Just as she was pondering this, trumpets sounded loudly from outside. Again, she could not tell where the sound was coming from or why they were being sounded. Eowyn, however, seemed to know their exact meaning. She gave a shout that startled Mari, then grabbed her by the sleeve, yanking her out the door and down the many corridors. As they sped through the halls, Mari tried her hardest to remember her way back to her room. She wasn't sure if she would ever find it again.

She realized that they were ascending through the castle. Halls and doors began to resemble those from the beginning of the tour and before she knew it, Eowyn had brought them back to the throne room. Rows of benches and tables had been assembled along the length of it. The white floral garlands that she had seen before hung upon every wall, their delicate scent filling the hall and soothing her mind. The throne room, too, was completely devoid of people. The crowd she had heard, though, was very near.

"Come," Eowyn called to her, the most perfectly pronounced Sindarian word she had said thus far. She was beckoning Mari to follow her out a side door at the opposite end of the hall, to the right of the main doors. "Come," she repeated franticly.

Hiking up her skirt, Mari ran to catch up to the other woman. Her intention was to run through the doorway, but when her vision reached the space just beyond the door, she slid to a stop. There was the crowd. Truly, the whole city must have been crammed onto that stone court yard. They were cheering wildly. She wanted to turn around and go back inside. Having spent most of her life avoiding the general polulous, large crowds like this made her uneasy. Eowyn, however, grabbed her by the sleeve again and pulled her outside.

In the middle of the crowd, there was a straight path cleared. It was lined with guards and other important looking people and stretched from the doors of the palace to the gates leading to the lower levels of the city. Eowyn pulled her to a spot near the cleared path.

"We meet again, Mari," she heard a familiar voice speak softly. Looking up from smoothing out her dress, she saw the kind face of Faromir. She smiled at him.

"I am glad to see a familiar face," she said to him, with the most sencere gratitude. "And to hear a language I understand!"

"Yes, I imagine that to be a great relief. I trust Eowyn was hospitible toward you."

"Oh, yes. Very much so."

"That's only because you're new. Trust me, once you get to know her..."

"I can't understand much, but something tells me you're talking about me," Eowyn chimed in.

"We've been caught!" joked Faromir.

Mari laughed briefly before collecting herself. "What are all these people doing here?" she asked. "Is the wedding starting?"

"Almost." He pointed toward the stair leading to the entrance of the Great Hall. "First Aragorn must be crowned."

Just then, trumpets once again sounded from all around. The giant doors leading to the throne room opened and out came Aragorn, dressed in beautiful, shining armor. A tall, old man followed behind Aragorn. Mari did not know what it was, but there was something about this old man that caught her attention. It might have been that he was dressed competely in white, but there was something more that grabbed hold of her senses. She decided to find out who he was and seek him out later. Her intuition was telling her he could help her.

Once the doors had shut, the trumpets stopped and the crowd silenced. Aragorn kneeled on the steps, facing toward the doors, in front of the old man. A guard came up to the old man and held open and elaborately decorated box to him. The man in white reached in and pulled out a large silver crown, decorated with plates of silver that resembled the long and wide feathers of a seagull. With great care, the man lowered the crown onto Aragorn's head. He spoke.

"Now come 'The Days of the King.'" He smiled warmly at the man kneeling before him. "May they be blessed," he added, quietly.

A wind came from seemingly out of nowhere, sweeping over the crowd, blanketing everyone in flower pettles from the white tree that stood before the stairs, the same tree as was on Arwen's banner. King Aragorn rose and climbed the last few steps of the stair. When he turned, the crowd errupted into shouts of joy.

I guess that must have made him king, Mari thought.

When the crowd died down again, Aragorn addressed his people. "This day does not belong to one man," he began, "But to all. Let us together rebuild this world, that we may share in the days of peace."

This time the aplause was deafening. Silence came more suddenly, though. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something.

And then he sang. Aragorn's voice in song was something unreal to her ears; it was not human and yet something so extrememly human about it touched her very soul. Mari was captivated. It was a strange dialect of the ancient tongue. She was able to roughly interpret the words as meaning: "Out of the Great Sea to Middle-earth I am come/. In this place I will abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world."

There was no applause after his song. All seemed to be basking in the solemnity of the occasion.

She watched as Aragorn walked down a path lined by armored men and those who appeared to be nobles of Gondor. She, Eowyn and Faromir were indeed in these lines. This all made her feel even more out of place than she already was.

Upon his approach, she was able to get a closer look at him. He seemed different than when she'd met him earlier; before he'd been quite approachable, now she felt slightly intimidated by him. He was every bit a king in spendor with his armor and robes. The way in which he carried himself added to his royal stature, much in the way Elrond was distinct from the other elves, (though not nearly as deeply). Yet, as he passed, an air of calm spread through her. There was an elven grace in him; this much she could tell.

At the end of the path, Legolas met him. Mari noticed the silver circlet around the elf's head. Probably signifying his royalty, she supposed. Indeed, like Aragorn, he looked a good deal more royal than he had before. He had removed his weathered traveling cloak, displaying a long silver tunic that shone as brightly as the circlet on his head. He and Aragorn greeted each other in a manner that had earlier, as if in some sort of ceremony, each solidly grasping the other's left shoulder with his right hand. She now thought that it seemed a rather formal gestures considering the two appeared to share.

Aragorn's back was to her, but she could see Legolas's face. He gave the king a knowing look just before gesturing behind himself with a nod of his head. Behind him stood the rest of the prcession of elves; Iflaim, Milhir and the rest. Beyond them Mari saw the banner that Milhir had given Arwen the night before, the one with the Tree of Gondor. Slowly, it moved aside, revealing the elven princess behind it. Shyly, she bowed her head and curtsied to Aragorn.

Who is this woman?! Mari wondered. This was not the proud, royal elf-maid she had come to know over the past few days. She had spoken about Aragorn with such passion and adoration. Where had that passion gone? Now she seemed almost afraid to look him in the eye, much like many of his subjects. She changed, though, when he lifted her chin to look at him.In an instant, her eyes brightened. There was little time to see this since Aragorn pulled her into a searing kiss. Sounds of amusement circled quietly through the crowed and got much louder when their king lifted his future bride and twirled her in the air.

When he settled her back on the ground, she saw something else catch his attention. Together, he and Arwen continued into the crowd. Leaning forward, she could see the king had stopped in front of four children. She squinted to see more clearly, and upon this closer observation, she saw that they were indeed not children, but four small men. She had once known a dwarfed man named Fillipe who had travelled with her family about six years ago. He was a musician and a bit of a magician, as many travelling folk are. He had left their caravan when they reached a town that was being visited by a circus and joined those performers since he knew he'd be able to get some steady pay. He was different though, with a large head for his smallish limbs and torso. These four, however, were quite averagely proportioned, except for the fact they were small. As she wondered what was so special about them, something remarkable happened.

The four small men began to bow, when suddenly, Aragorn stopped them. She could not hear what he had said, it was a mumble as far as her ears could tell from where she was, but it appeared to shock the four men. The newly crowned king then bent down, he instead kneeling to them. Without hesitation, Arwen and Legolas followed his example, gently falling on both their knees befor the four men. Then rapidly, like a wave, everyone knelt before them. When the wave reached her, she felt Eowyn give a slight tug on her sleeve, indicating she too should kneel, in case she didn't already have a strong hint.

After a bit of time, Aragorn rose as did everyone around. What followed was perhaps the fastest wedding Mari had ever seen. The same man who had crowned Aragorn presided over the marriage. It was quite simple; he laid his hands on each of their heads, blessing them, then Elrond bound Arwen and Aragorn's hands together with a thin leather strip. They kissed again, this time officially as husband and wife, sending the crowd into an uproar once again. Trumpets blew, signalling that the large doors of the throne room be opened, allowing as many people as could manage to pour into the palace.

At this point, the level of noise was so great, Mari became slightly disoriented. While the trumpets still sounded, a new set of instruments had begun to play inside, (a band that would play well into the night). People were chanting loudly in rythem, a cheer, Mari guessed, in celebration of the event. The rumbling sound of barrels filled with drink being rolled into the hall was met with even louder cheers. All this sound was echoing around the stone interior of the palace, sending it all rushing back at the crowd, fueling their excitement.

In the rush to enter the palace, Mari had been seperated from Eowyn and Faromir. Where had they gone? Where were the elves? She couldn't understand anything anyone was saying. The noise and size of the crowd was starting to get to her. All the sound and movement: she felt herself growing warmer and dizzy. As quickly as she could, she made her way to the side of the hall. Sumbling a bit as she pushed herself out of the edge of the crowd, she caught herself against the giant pedistal of a statue. A brief sense of relief washed over her as she took a deep breath. Resting her head against the cool marble surface of the pedestal, she began to cool down. With her eyes closed, every deep breath brought her further away from dizziness. Now, having collected herself, she felt ready to enjoy herself, perhaps find someone who could translate for her, or at least learn how to say "ale". Yet, this marble pedestal was feeling very comfortable after the extremely long day that looked like it was nowhere near its end. Just a few more moments and she'd have her second wind... Hands on her shoulders pulled her out of her relaxed state.

"I told you I'd come back."

Legolas.

A few days ago, she may have jumped away from his touch. Now though, she merely acknowledged him with a turn of the head, not even raising her eyes to him.

"Yes," she said. "You did."

There was a long pause before he pulled her away from the piller in an easy, flowing motion, that managed not to startle her.

"Come," he said, though it didn't sound like as much of a command as she would have expected of him. "Iflaim has been looking for you," and he led her back into the crowd.