Chapter 57 - Little Adjustments
"I have something I have been waiting to give to you," Legolas guided Vezely by hand to his room; taking her swiftly up the narrow stairwell that was one of many connecting the large flets in the trees of the dense forests where Oropher and his people dwelt. The outdoor atmosphere was a far cry from the cavernous halls of Mirkwood or Menegroth, and Legolas mentioned the place reminded him more of the dwellings in Lothlorien than of his home. Vezely just wondered why Woodelves had an affinity for building their dwellings upwards, seeing as she preferred to be on solid ground.
It was her first journey into the forests situated behind her family's chateau and her first introduction to the largest population of Elves in Valinor who had heard of her, perhaps not by name but by rumor. She rode with him there, crossing the Fallow Stream which marked the borders of her house's estate. They discussed a possibility of building their home in the middle of that crossing, to live in the forests but also close to the coastline. Memories of Ithilien ran through Vezely's mind, even if these forests far surpassed the beauty of any that grew in Middle Earth.
After dismounting their horses, Legolas took her the back way, desiring to postpone formal introductions until later in the day. Sans the relaxing ride there, they had yet to have adequate time alone.
His spacious room was more of a small residence, with several rooms within: a study, a changing room, a rest area. It was decorated in earth tones and from the ceiling hung stained glass lanterns, which when lit would illuminate the space in a soothing, yellow light.
He slid from the corner an old cedar trunk, and kneeling in front of it, he opened its latched lid to find the object he had stored for her within.
"General Cyane entrusted this to me," he explained while pulling out the gold embellished Rhunic sword.
"My sword," in one breath the realization of what he held came to her and she quickly knelt beside him, her eyes in disbelief scanning its scabbard, her hands shaking slightly as he moved it into her grasp. "Cyane brought this to you?"
"Yes, with your rings, and a soapstone box that contained your..." his speech stopped as he found himself unable to say it.
"My ashes," Vezely gently spoke the uncomfortable word for him, providing him a consoling smile before accepting the hilt he held before her. She closed her eyes after she gripped it, feeling its balanced weight after he released his grasp; also in preparation for her ears to focus on the familiar sound of the click it made as she pulled the blade from its sheath. "This sword," she stated in full realization, holding it up, "It holds the memory of my men. Within its steel I can see their faces." The glint of light cast from the open windows onto its blade reflected her eyes. She spoke softly as she remembered, "It felt different this time, as a general. Not only because the difficulties I faced far exceeded the scruples of commanding legions for Sauron. Squashing rebellions seemed like a field day to the plague and politics Rhun found after the war. The main change, I suppose, was what we were fighting for." She re-sheathed the sword and settled it in her lap, her hand still on its hilt and yet staring forward in contemplation, she added, "Pride, I held it Legolas Not for myself, but for those in my legions who persevered so that one day peace would find our lands. And Cyane," a faint smile stretched across her face, "I am so glad she lived to see it."
"She became general of the New Rhun Defense Forces, and helped established peace between the Easterlings and both Gondor and Rohan..." he told her carefully what information he collected of the warrior woman who rode into Ithilien that day; the one who changed everything for him.
A proud look stretched across her face as she locked the sword fully into its sheath, the click also finding her ears pleasantly, "I knew she would."
Legolas watched her reaction closely, finding it endearing to see this side of the bond he gauged existed between her and the warrior woman he met only briefly in Ithilien, leading him to relay the message she had requested of him that day, "She wanted me to tell you, that you were more than a mentor to her."
Vezely turned her concentrated stare to his, and a faint smile found its way to her lips, "And she was more than a child unexpectedly placed under my vigilance. Her parents, they were my closest confidants. Kor; a Variag who survived Pelennor Fields and Faramir's prisons. There are few warriors I would trust my life with, and he was one of them. And Samsara; her village was destroyed when the People of Dark Lands marched through her homeland, and she came to the sword to keep it from happening to others. Stubborn, but she had a fierceness in her that all respected. Their unborn child was forfeit under Coalition law, but I overlooked it, for Kor had just been killed during the Agasha Dag's succession and Samsara...well, the child was all she had of him. Cyane; her name means 'hope' in Easterling tongue and that is what she was. Hope that Rhun could move past the war and again find its stability." She took a deep calming breath, realizing it was so. Then adding grateful, "I knew I could entrust her with my personal effects, though parting with them proved trying." She looked at the two rings on her left hand, and the sword in her other. She suddenly felt physically balanced again.
"I am glad they are returned to you," he found comfort in hearing this tale, of knowing of those whose time she shared during their separation.
They were yet kneeling in front of the trunk and while looking down Vezely caught a glimpse of another object it contained. "You kept it?" Her surprise was unhidden and her mouth agape as she set down her sword and pulled out the plum colored garment.
Legolas blushed slightly, for it appeared overly sentimental of him to keep the garment for so long, but he was brave enough to admit his reasoning, "I would not be parted from it, not when it was declared that you would wear it again someday."
A smile of remembrance lit her face before she jumped up, the folded gown falling to its length as she did, "And how about today?"
"Today? Now?" the speed of his words were no match for her quickness, as she had already made her way to the changing room, appearing not two minutes later in the Rhunic gown.
"To think I had disdain for this gown when the ones currently in my wardrobe are ten times more elaborate," she remarked smoothing the front of it out, "It is fraying in some areas, and there are several threads lose, but for its age..."
The vision of her in that gown; the one he had in his possession for so long and would pull out on occasion from the trunk when he desired to remember her wearing it, to have his memory now manifested in reality, left him speechless.
"Legolas?" She called him softly, realizing by his entranced gaze that his thoughts were far away, so she went to sit by his side once more. "Too long," she murmured gently taking his hands in hers, "We have been apart for too long."
"But you appear exactly as I remember," he replied quietly, his eyes now roaming her face.
"Not exactly," she returned with a faint smile, and she turned slightly to reveal what the dress did not cover; her upper back which was missing the runes once tattooed on it. "And my hands," she lifted his and overturned hers within it, so her palms were facing him, "They are soft. As if I have never held a sword." She stared at them, and while she made these remarks for amusement, she betrayed her discomfort.
"Then make it not so," he retrieved her sword, placing the hilt back into her grasp. "You are Vezely, and you remain a warrior, even without your markings." He brought his fingertips to her shoulder, and ran it down to her bare collarbone where he remembered it held the tracings of seagulls. They exchanged a warm smile that expressed without words Vezely's gratefulness of his acceptance of who she was, and Legolas's sincere desire to remind her. "I think," he moved his fingertips to the gown's shoulder hemline, finding the threading loose. "This dress is no longer suitable to wear."
Hearing regret in his voice, Vezely responded with a hopeful idea, "Maybe it can still serve a purpose. Mother is taking me to a seamstress in Alqualondë tomorrow to design a wedding gown," she explained with slight wryness, for this was a strange errand to attend to. "This gown could provide the designer some ideas on how to incorporate Easterling style into it. That is," she looked at him slyly, "If you are willing to part with it," causing him to laugh slightly at her tease.
"Lord Legolas," a knock and a call from his entryway stalled his own witty reply.
"Yes," he returned dryly, sharing with Vez a look of mild annoyance at the interruption.
"Lord Oropher requests your audience," the messenger called back.
"Inform him we will be there soon," he called back.
"I better change," Vezely remarked about to stand up when Legolas held onto her hand, causing her head to tilt in curiosity.
"He can wait," he told her, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, for he desired to look upon her wearing that dress a little longer.
"My my, Mannish sword making has improved over the ages," Dior declared impressed as he felt the balance of the slightly curved blade he held in front of him. He requested to see Vezely's sword when he found her carrying it through the house upon her return from Oropher's colony. "It is well balanced, but less ornate than my preference," he considered further, silently reading the Elvish inscribed on it and finding himself curious of the Rhunic script alongside it.
"It is not for decoration," she reminded him bluntly.
He laughed, "I suppose not. This is a sword for a...?"
"A general," Vezely answered forthrightly as he presented her the hilt, providing a polite duck of his head in gratitude for sharing.
After watching her sheath it in one stroke, he betrayed his ignorance on the subject of her past, "You were general of what exactly?"
She wondered of his interest, but answered anyway, "Once of the Easterling forces under Sauron, and more recently of the Reunited Easterling Coalition."
"I would very much like to hear your tales as general." The request caused her to look upon him as if she heard wrong. "I have two sons, neither are warriors," he explained crossing his arms. "Our house instead is known for being the fairest. While beauty is indeed a blessing, it is rather dull, don't you think?"
Vez smirked forgoing her own thoughts on the subject. At least her grandfather would not be adverse to hearing tales of warfare, though she knew not what other members of her family would think if she talked so openly of her past trade.
Vezely's grandmother, Nimloth, and her mother greeted the esteemed Telerin seamstress as if they were the oldest and dearest of friends. Though Vezely assumed the chumminess was more because they were important and wealthy clientele. On the ride to Alqualondë her grandmother touted her as the best designer this side of Aman; saying there was no one else the House of Dior would entrust with 'a most important task.'
Designing a wedding gown seemed about as frivolous a task as any Vezely could have been involved in.
"...One only wears the very best on their wedding day," Nimloth explained on the ride there.
"If that is true, then why can I not wear the best armor?" Vezely asked pointedly, knowing the request was her simply acting petulant.
Rovian and Nimloth exchanged a look of consternation before Nimloth replied calmly, "Now that would be most inappropriate, even worse than your current desire to carry that sword at your hip."
Nimloth would undoubtedly continue her concern over Vezely's new accessory. Granted, her general's sword looked slightly out of place adorning any of the elaborate gowns currently in her wardrobe, but a warrior should not be without her weapon. And it was not uncommon for lords to wear their weaponry in Valinor, even if the instruments were to go unused.
...The seamstress turned to greet the just introduced young elleth, but in lieu of a pleasant welcome she stammered in surprised honesty, "My child, what in Valinor happened to your hair?"
Vezely's eyes narrowed on the elf before her. "Why? Is there something wrong with it?" She asked sternly, and unintentionally her hand moved to the hilt of the sword that hung at her hip, causing the seamstress uncertainty of further response
"Her hairstyle is common of the culture she hails from," Rovian quickly interfered, stepping in front of her daughter and mother-in-law, who looked appalled that yet another exchange over her granddaughter's chopped hair was occurring. "And it is also related to why we are here to ask for your services in designing a cross-cultural gown for her wedding."
"Cross-cultural? I was not aware Silvan populations have started to cut their hair as such," the seamstress queried Rovian, still fixated on the prior topic of Vezely's hair.
"No, the cultures I refer to are of the Edain and Eldar," Rovian corrected her. And trying again to bring the subject back to the wedding, she took from her daughter's hand the old Rhunic gown, displaying it to her and afterwards pleading for its style to be incorporated into the gown they desired commissioned.
"...It is not impossible, of course," the seamstress bragged of her abilities after being asked if this was too difficult a task for her skills; a means for Rovian to goad her into complying. "...I will provide several designs from which you can choose..." Despite the seamstress's confusion as to the nature of this request, she would not deny services to one of the wealthiest and well-known families in Valinor.
"Two weeks and you will be wed," Rovian mused cheerfully while sitting next to her daughter on the seashore; both were barefoot and digging her toes into the warm white sand. They had spent the morning gardening, much to Rovian's delight to have her company. "...It is perhaps the most significant event in the life of an Elf. Your father and I did not have a ceremony, but one is not necessary to become husband and wife."
"Remind me again why I have to have one," she remarked sarcastically, provided her mother a cheeky half-smile after. She understood quite well why it was important for their House's social standing.
"Keep thinking of it as a celebration for your families," Rovian told her again, adding with some optimism, "And the wedding night is for you. It is only when you lay together that you become wedded in the eyes of Eru."
"Yes, I know," Vezely confirmed her understanding bluntly, remembering when this same information was relayed to her by Legolas in Minas Tirith, much to her unpleasant surprise back then.
"It is an...unusual act," Rovian started uncertain, but thinking it her motherly duty to speak of the wedding night with her daughter, as her own mother once did with her.
Considering what she meant by 'unusual' rather than realizing Rovian was attempting to prepare her for something that should have been new, she replied assuredly, "I suppose it seems that way at first, but it's all rather instinctive."
Rovian stared at her daughter curiously for it seemed a strange reply; her sudden silence caused Vezely to turn her gaze.
"You speak as if," Rovian queried still in thought, but not believing her thoughts, she called off her concern, "Oh never mind."
"Oh." Vez suddenly realized her gaffe, diverting her eyes. "Well," she grimaced slightly, feeling remiss in forgetting the culture she now found herself in.
Rovian placed a hand over her open mouth, and her eyes wavered on her young daughter in disbelief.
This reaction led Vezely to explain defensively, "I was raised by Men, mother. And I spent my entire life in the militia. It would have been unusual to not have taken men to my bed."
Rovian shook her head worriedly, speaking as if short of breath, "You must not speak of this. It could forfeit your marriage."
"Legolas already knows. We worked through it in the past," she quickly confirmed, bitterly remembering that cold event. Rovian's concern, however, did not leave her eyes, so Vezely explained further, "In the culture I was raised, it does not mean what it means for the Eldar. It is just simple pleasure and I was not in love, far from it." She breathed in deeply and turned her strained gaze back to the horizon, declaring, "Regardless of how others view it, for myself, it makes my wedding night no less important."
Rovian did not know what this meant in the eyes of Eru, though perhaps seeing as this was her daughter's new body and she was cleansed in the Halls of Mandos, it mattered less so; or at least that is what she hoped. Copying her daughter's turned gaze, she also became silent, uncertain what else to say and feeling somewhat distanced from understanding her.
Vezely refused to feel ashamed, but she could tell by her mother's unusual reticence that knowledge of her past partners made her uncomfortable. No one else needs to know, she thought further.
"Bellethiel?" Rovian knocked on her daughter's door.
"Come in," Vezely called from within her room, no longer fazed by her parent's use of her Elvish name.
"Hilneth is wondering..." she opened the door to find her with a burning piece of paper in one hand and one of Hilneth's sewing needles in the other, swaying it back and forth over the flame. She then realized a few other sewing needles had been threaded through Vezely's earlobe. "You are not?" she paused, watching her shake the flame out and return to the mirror to stab another part of her ear with the heated needle.
"I'll return them to her soon," she spoke looking at her mother's reflection in the mirrored vanity, unconcerned by the inflicted pain and the look of miscomprehension on her mother's face.
Rovian let it be; accepting it as her daughter's means of adjustment; as was cutting her hair, wearing trousers, and carrying her sword.
Gimli swayed back and forth on the wooden rocking chair, a lush throw blanket was draped over his shoulders and he held onto his cane in front of him. He had spent the better part of the morning under the shady trees in Oropher's colony telling the life stories of the Fellowship companions to Vezely. She comfortably sat before him cross legged on the polished wooden boards of the flet, a scarf characteristically draped over her head as a hood, and her sword lying nearby. She found herself fully engaged in the tales of old acquaintances, asking questions as she had them. Legolas was on a settee reading, and Vezely knew he was only partially following along, as remembrance still stung him slightly. "...I could tell you more of Eowyn and Faramir, that is, if tales concerning the Steward don't give you ill thoughts."
"Well, as one of my many adversaries, his memory is not the most bile inducing," Vezely remarked wryly.
"You do not still hold a grudge against him?" Legolas raised his head from his book. And trying to mediate some reason against it, he recalled, "He spoke only kind words for the hope of your return and our reunion."
Vezely shifted her position, milling through her thoughts which remained foul on the Steward before adding bluntly in his direction, "Well I never ordered anyone to shoot him."
Legolas looked back down at his page and shook his head, finding himself more amused than surprised or even displeased in her unwillingness to let bygones be, while Gimli chuckled quite hardily.
"I just had a most amusing thought," Gimli spoke through his continued mirth, "Your children are going to be most stubborn. Yes, most stubborn indeed. Oh the trouble they'll cause you..."
Vezely's eyes widened and brow furled, as she looked upon Gimli bewildered by the mention of children, a subject she never took time to consider. Legolas kept his face downcast, as he felt heat rush to his cheeks, and he quietly prayed that Gimli would not betray his past musings on the subject of children with her.
"...That I won't be here to see their pretty little faces," Gimli added in a huff, but with a smile still visible under his gray beard. "Now Arwen and Aragorn's three wee ones, they were bright as a clear spring, clever little rascals that is..."
Gimli continued his storytelling, going on to tell of all the children the members of the Fellowship had throughout the years. Vezely would quickly relax her expression, letting the discomfort of the subject as it pertained to her and Legolas pass.
..."There are chairs on which you can sit," Thranduil interrupted during a pause in Gimli's story in order to chastise his future daughter-in-law for sitting on the ground as if she was an elfling.
Legolas looked up from his book, having sensed but ignored his father's quiet entrance into their space.
"Noted," Vez replied indifferent, her gaze staring up at the king, "But I am accustomed to sitting as such."
Thranduil gave her a concentrated stare but forwent a reply, moving instead through the space, having to step over her sword to do so, in order to ascend the steps to another part of the family's residence.
"As I was saying," Gimli continued, "Elfwine was the son of Eomer and the lovely Lady Lothíriel."
"I remember the child's mention," Vezely recalled, "It was by chance I met Aragorn and Eomer in Rhovanion and Eomer spoke of his son being born just that past winter."
"Aye, we remember the news Aragorn brought of your meeting lass. Bad business it was out there on those borderlands, though it was," he stroked his beard a bit considering.
Vezely straightened her posture, remarking sardonically through narrowed eyes as if still a general, "The enemy and their games. The burning of those fields kick started the inevitable war. Shame I could not have met them under better circumstances."
As Gimli continued his tale, Legolas remembered the letter she had written after that chance meeting; the one Aragorn returned with, along with his own words of concern for what he witnessed in her dark manner while there. It was the only correspondence he had during the length of her absence. The letter was yet tucked away in the same trunk that carried her sword and gown; having been forgotten in the pages of a book of poems. Though the feelings it evoked were easily remembered.
Thranduil handed his son the novel he just finished, believing he might find interest in it as one of the many titles that Valinor's vast libraries held. The former king had already fallen into similar routines as before the journey West, but he found joyful renewal in being with his wife.
"...I am one less enthusiastic about the swiftness of this ceremony," he bluntly brought up the only topic ailing him while looking out upon the cascading light falling through the tree tops. "Is it not wiser to reacquaint yourself with your betrothed before committing?"
Legolas set down the book on the nearby table, foregoing an answer until his father was done lecturing.
Thranduil continued stoically, "Our memories serve us well, but even we can falter in remembrance of one another when time changes us also."
"Perhaps both of us have changed," Legolas considered, "But the bond we shared upon first discovered, it remains. Even another hundred years apart could not change the feelings I have. I know she is not the wife you envisioned for me and that is why you desire me pause."
Thranduil knew his son could see straight through him, "She remains...unusual."
"And for that I am glad," Legolas stated assuredly, a smirk present as he grabbed an apple from the bowl nearby, "Her unusualness is what drew me to her in the first place." Then remembering how Vezely also liked the fruit, he asked mirthfully, "Could I take two of these?"
Looking upon his son, Thranduil noticed something he had not seen in some time; the shadow once cast about him had broken and he seemed to breathe the life he remembered of him so long ago. He looked younger, if that was even possible for an Elf, and carefree, as he once was in his youth.
"Father?" Legolas noted his father's thoughts were distanced.
Thranduil waved his hand, acquiescing to the request for the fruit and turned his eyes away.
Legolas let it be, and before leaving, added, "Her parents will be here soon. Please be kind."
Rovian and Eluréd stood aside their trouser-clad daughter, who was holding a basket of persimmons and figs. As Vezely offered it to Thranduil's wife as a polite gesture of goodwill, Rovian explained, "These are from our family's garden, harvested by my daughter and I just this morning."
Legolas looked at Vezely in disbelief, speaking out of turn, "You gardened?"
Vezely sneered at him before Legolas's mother had even taken the basket from her hands. Her bright eyes shifted from her son, who was now trying to contain his laughter, back to their guests, who looked just as unsure of a response. Vezely had not removed her glare from him. But being poised, his mother offered them gratitude for the gift.
It was to be an important meeting between their parents; one of many pleasantries that customarily took place before the ceremony. And both sides desired to present themselves properly. Of course, Rovian and Eluréd confessed more nerves in this matter, seeing as they were once subjects under King Thranduil in Mirkwood.
"...If you would follow us," she requested of Vezely's parents, leaving the couple there.
Legolas smirked and Vezely crossed her arms, her eyes yet narrowed upon him. He pulled from his robe's pocket the apple he took from his father's fruit bowl just prior. "Peace offering," he said handing it to her. A smile lit her face as she recognized the fruit, for she enjoyed eating them in Minas Tirith, especially during her second breakfasts with the hobbit clan.
Making a move to grab it, Legolas swiped it away and swiftly took a bite of it himself, a smug expression appearing on his face as he chewed.
Her mouth momentarily opened, but remembering his prior offer of peace, she remarked slyly, "So we are at war then?"
He smiled at her with a twinkle in his eye, "Maybe."
"Oh. Careful now," she teased, raising an eyebrow, "I am well versed in that."
"On second thought," he pulled a second apple from his pocket and took her hand to place it in it, "I would not want to anger a general and a gardener."
"You are lucky I would rather eat this than throw it," she remarked wryly, though she found herself overly amused and glad to see him in such a bright mood.
A smile yet present on his face, he offered her his hand, "Come on, we have work to do today."
They would be helping with the construction of their home, out on the borders of the colony. With some luck and some Elvish precision, their residence would be ready in time to move in after their wedding.