Chapter 58 - Old Habits
Legolas watched as Vezely carefully poured the piping hot green liquid into three small clay cups; his legs already starting to feel slightly seated on the floor at the lowered table. Being the youngest she was obligated by Rhunic standards to pour the tea once it brewed. She informed him on their journey there not to speak until it was poured, tasted, and their host spoke first. All Easterling etiquette she knew they would be expected to perform.
They were given invitation to the abode of the Blue Istari, Pallando, or Romestamo as he was known in Rhun. It was their opportunity to humbly request his presence at their wedding and, Vezely hoped, have him preside over the Easterling tradition of hearth lighting.
Tall and thin, with a long white goatee and matching thin mustache, and bushy white eyebrows, Romestamo was an unassuming specter as many of the Istari were, though one could see in his eyes the wisdom of the ages. These same eyes continued to interrogate the blonde-haired ellon that Vezely brought with her; unintentionally making Legolas uneasy. But it did not take him long to speak after sipping the bitter brew. "I have heard tales spoken and ballads sung in praise of Legolas Thranduilion," he announced while holding his cup before him as if about to take another sip, "Brave and true, friend of all races, the greatest shot of the Third Age, the most tireless of the Fellowship..." Legolas ducked his head in humility as Romestamo listed the traits he was renowned by before saying in consideration, "But they do not speak of his patience."
Legolas returned his eyes to the Istari, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. "Patience, my lord?" He politely inquired of his meaning.
Romestamo took another sip of tea and placed the cup on the table before responding assuredly of his meaning, "The patience you must have to deal with the one beside you." Vezely smirked and resisted rolling her eyes, knowing it was Romestamo's character to ridicule her when given the opportunity. "Frankly you need all the patience in Arda if you intend to wed her."
A glance at Vezely's current disposition made Legolas realize his words were not ill-taken but expected, much to his relief. He cracked a half-smile as the Maiar continued his thoughts, "We always intended to send her westward, hoping she would meet one of her kin and thus see with her own eyes their ways. Of course, she thought we were sending her into the lion's den with the little she knew of Elves."
Vezely crossed her arms, deciding to defend her past misunderstandings. "I had every reason to believe my crimes warranted death and the West would deal it to me, regardless of going as your messenger," she stated sardonically of the task she was sent on; the reason she found herself on the edge of Fangorn Forest. "I did not think Elves were so soft or that Rohan would not want my head on a pike to adorn their banner strung halls."
Stroking his thin beard, Romestamo groaned as one slightly annoyed with an untrained puppy. "Yes, patience."
Legolas found himself trying to imagine their past interactions; knowing Vezely must have continually tested the Maiar's patience when she resided in his home in Rhun.
"At least your Sindarin is sounding less guttural then when you left," he added, this occasion being the first time hearing her use it. "You should have seen her resistance to learning it, saying it was impossible," he informed Legolas.
"My native language is Rhunic and the books you expected me to learn from taught Sindarin through the West's Common Speech. Of course I ran into difficulties," she informed back sounding annoyed.
Romestamo groaned again, placing his empty cup down only for Vezely to dutifully refill it for him. "I am surprised she is even marrying. And to an Elf of such repute no less," he directed his speech to Legolas again.
"I am not one for following expectations," Vezely replied dryly, placing the teapot down. Their banter reminded her of their past relations when she was a guest in his home on the edges of Rhun's greatest desert. Even back then she was expected to pour his tea.
"A statement I can agree with," he noted equally dry. Despite Vezely's ability to bring out the curmudgeon in him, Romestamo had grown fond of the uncouth youth entrusted into his care after her rescue from the dungeons of Dol Guldor. "Now what have you journeyed the day away to ask me? For a wedding invitation can be sent by carrier..."
The request to preside over their wedding ceremony was well-received, just as Vezely expected. And from the brief visit Legolas learned quite a lot about Vezely and the transition she experienced in those years just prior to meeting him on the edge of Fangorn. It was a strange twist of fate that brought them together, he thought, and an even stranger road that led them here in the lead up to their wedding.
They rode back to her family's chateau that evening, stopping momentarily at where their home had started to be built. The moon and stars seemed to exude more light in Valinor that the land about them was softly illuminated and the foundation just laid was easily seen.
Vezely jumped from her horse, moving to inspect what had been finished in the day they had spent visiting Romestamo. She circled around a large square inset in the ground which would become the home's center and its hearth; something they both decided to incorporate into the plans. Looking down upon the perfectly smooth masonry and polished stone, an Elvish rendition of a nomad's hearth but a hearth nonetheless, she confessed quietly, "It is hard to believe. I will have a home. A real home." Officers do not have homes, she thought further. Their homes are their obligations, the oaths they swore, and the men whose lives they are in put in charge of.
Instead of replying to her shared introspection, Legolas stepped behind her and wrapped her in his arms. She never knew one could feel safe in the arms of another, nor did she ever seek such a place to escape to. But with him, she could let the feeling of calm overtake her; she could give herself over to that feeling of protection. She fell slightly back into his embrace, closing her eyes at the pleasure that came from feeling his strong chest against her back and the warmth beginning to circulate between them.
Her hair smelled of jasmine with a slight hint of smoke. The latter because she enjoyed some pipe weed with Gimli earlier that morning before their departure; much to the distaste of other Elves who were less inclined to inhale the fumes of burning leaves. When the occasion called for it, or in this case when Gimli invited her saying it was the last she'd probably ever see of the Shire variety, Vezely had no qualms in partaking in the activity. For Legolas, the scent reminded him of cherished company; of his Middle Earth companions who all smoked a pipe from time to time.
She turned her head and greeted him with a thoughtful smile, adding warmly, "Our home." In two weeks time they would begin their married lives living on the edge of his grandfather's colony, but close enough to the coastline where in the evenings they could hear the waves crashing on the shore in the distance.
"Our home," he repeated words whose actualization he had always desired; to one day find someone to share a home with, a bed with, and a life with. The years witnessing his friend's deaths had broken him, made him listless, and uncertain. After Aragorn's death, both his father and Gimli prodded him to sail, and he did so only with allowance of Gimli by his side. In truth, Gimli would not have left Middle Earth if not for worrying about his friend. Gimli knew Legolas's fear well; that in Valinor she would not be there. If he could consol him through that transition, to be there for his friend one last time, then he would brave the waters and cross over to foreign shores. This fear was now a memory, along with much of his pain. His gaze remained locked on the starlit ones below him; through her he regained a will to live.
She slowly brought her hand to the back of his neck and traced her fingers forward along his jaw line; beckoning ever so slightly for him to move his lips closer. Her light touch was enough for him to comply, as he first inched his nose to touch the tip of hers. They had not had the chance to fully rekindle the physicality that their relationship experienced prior Vezely's departure. There were simply fewer opportunities to be alone.
She pressed her lips against his gently, and turned slightly in his hold, his hands yet upon her waist. The softness of her lips and the feeling of her movement against him immobilized him momentarily, for kissing her still felt new. But the spell on him broke when she inched back, the tip of her nose touching his once again.
"We should return before they question our whereabouts," Vezely whispered, her eyes yet closed though she made no movement. Her grandmother remarked upon leaving that morning to not elope on their journey, but she said it not for levity's sake. And having taken a longer route back, exploring the trails in the mountains nearby, it was already past the time they should have returned.
"We should." He knew her meaning, and he had similar expectations placed upon him but he did not loosen his embrace. Instead he found her soft lips again and kissed her as he desired to prior, causing her to turn to face him and while there she rose slowly up on her tiptoes pressing herself closer into him, and his hands found their way farther down her backside. She was wearing trousers which unlike a gown did not impede the feeling of her shape underneath them. His mind flashed back to Ithilien, recalling the glimpse he had of her leaving the lake where they swam; her thin white sheath soaking wet and clinging to her body. He also pressed her closer to him.
Unimpeded by propriety, Vezely savored him touching her somewhere new. Her fingers tangled in his long hair as they moved down to his neckline, tracing the high collar of his thick robes. Her palms stopped on top of his chest as her mind imagined him without his garments. She desired to unclasp the butterfly broach he wore at his throat, and to undo each of the clasps below that kept his tunic on. It would be so easy, she thought as she kissed him deeper and opening her mouth slightly more to explore. She was surprised to find him accepting of it and it was then that she forced her hands back to the sides of his face, trying to avoid her strong desire of disrobing him.
He knew she was experienced. Perhaps it made him feel slightly inadequate for he feared he could not please her. Yet he trusted her to lead him into these new territories without such expectations; that her past mattered not to their future union.
She pulled her kiss away slowly, but made his bottom lip linger between hers, leaving him to moan at the feeling. Vezely looked upon his face, finding his eyes yet closed in rapture of the sensation she provided. It felt good to please him.
Slight embarrassment by his vocalization slowed the opening of his eyes, and when he did he found her looking upon him alluringly. She tucked a strand of his unbraided hair behind his ear before dancing her fingers over his butterfly clasp at his collar. "Two weeks," she said keeping her eyes on the silver jewelry, "Two weeks until," she bit her lip before looking back into his eyes. Legolas blushed knowing what she referred to and the pink now appearing on his cheeks brought an endearing smile to her face. Hoping to relieve his embarrassment, she added with a smirk, "And there is much to do before then."
He laughed slightly, "I am looking forward to it."
"Are you?" Vezely returned in disbelief, "The preparations, the rehearsals, then having to parade ourselves in front of everyone?"
"Not that," he brought his hands back around her waist, and pulled her close again "I am looking forward to seeing those flowers in your hair."
"Oh, are you now?" she raised an eyebrow, saying cockily, "I have not yet decided what I will wear in my hair that day, since the bride does have some choice it seems."
"Flowers," he told her sternly, bringing a hand gently to her cheek, "And I will not let you remove them until the sun rises the following day."
Some heat rushed to her cheeks at the thought of that night, and she added in amusement, "As long as I don't have to keep the rest of my wedding attire on."
Unable to hide his embarrassment, he ducked his head down slightly. She lifted his chin with one finger and waited until his eyes found hers again.
That moment, of sharing affection through their gaze, held remembrance of those nights in Minas Tirith when their time together was short and every minute precious; when they feared thinking about the future. But now, forward thinking thoughts brought them only joy.
Their pupils also reflected the sparkling stars above and eventually Vezely rested her head on his shoulder, as he rested his own aside hers.
"The stars still shine," Legolas whispered the familiar phrase softly into her ear.
"And there is no more darkness to veil them," Vezely returned softly, her eyes still closed. The appreciative thought brought small smiles to each of their faces as they held each other a little longer before returning home.
"Now that was unsportsmanlike conduct," Dior cried foul at the tactic Vezely used during a friendly sparring match that landed him on the ground and her sword at his throat.
"It matters not to a dead opponent," Vezely remarked while removing her sword and offering him her hand after; the same hand which unbalanced him in a fighting style unknown to the Eldar.
Dior smirked, accepting her assistance and afterwards began straightening his fancy tunic and fixing his long hair which had become disheveled. The esteemed ellon was inspired to dust off his own ancient collection of weapons and proudly display them to her, much to Nimloth's disapproval. But during the exhibition he also discovered an urge to wield them.
Vezely sheathed her sword and picked up one of the short swords Dior had brought out, thrusting it forward to feel its balance and thinking about how it would be good for shielded infantry.
"That is from Doriath..." Dior explained the journey of the sword that a former captain of his guard returned to him after he sailed.
"...You desire to hear stories of the wars of Rhun, and I desire to hear tales of the battles of First Age Beleriand. Of Melkor and Angband," Vezely mentioned while her eyes were still inspecting the intricately etched blade.
"And for those you should ask the Noldor involved," Dior told her directly while replacing the gold cufflink he removed prior to sparring, "I can give you no more detail than what has been written."
Vezely turned towards him, asking in a tone betraying her deeper interest, "Those responsible for your death and for father's kidnapping, do they walk these lands?" She had been wondering if the sons ofFëanorwho sacked Menegroth to reclaim the Silmarils were released from the Halls of Mandos as she.
"Aye, though they lead rather recluse existences if you seek an audience," he replied, now gauging her interest.
"I do not, just curious," she turned again to place the sword down and move on to the next weapon in the line. Vezely could not help but wonder of those like herself; of Eldar who also needed pardon from the Valar to live in the Blessed Realm and their adjustment after. To her, their crimes seemed insignificant but then again she did not have full understanding of the Silmarils or the First Age.
"You two are still out here?" Nimloth faked ignorance in returning to check on them, worrying about her husband falling into sword play. But seeing the rip in Dior's garments turned her attention, "What happened to your tunic?"
"Our granddaughter got the better of me," he stated amused.
Nimloth turned her eyes to Vezely who was more interested in inspecting another one of Dior's weapons instead of listening to her. "To think you still keep all those," her tone was one of distaste for her husband's sword collection.
"There is no harm in it," Dior stated unconcerned, "And a friendly match every now and then is a welcome treat, that is if Vezely does not find an elder like me a waste of time;" the deprecating remark caused Vezely to laugh slightly.
"Treat or not, there will be no sparring so close to her ceremony!" Nimloth exclaimed to her husband, and continuing hastily, "The invitations are sent, everything is prepared, the last thing we need is her injured. What would they say if they saw the bride bruised on her wedding day?"
"More likely her grandfather would be bruised," Dior remarked in earnest, providing a respectful nod to Vezely after. "But my dear," he took Nimloth's hand and kissed the back of it with one smooth, fluid motion, "We will honor your wishes. And not to mention, this respite will give me time to practice..."
Nimloth was often the last one ready to depart for family outings and this morning was no exception. Vezely would be returning with her mother and grandmother to Alqualondë to try on the finished wedding gown. Knowing she had some time to waste, she decided to go for a walk on her family's beaches; hoping to enjoy the calming waves and thus calm her mind, knowing the rest of the day was devoted to hectic ceremony preparations.
She wore trousers and a pair of new riding boots, the latter commissioned and couriered to her just the day before. Her sword was at her side, clasped over a plum colored tunic, and she wore a lilac scarf loosely around her neck which she fashioned from a shawl already in her wardrobe. Her garments finally felt familiar again, and she looked forward to the comfort and ease of riding in them.
She forgot that the time she set foot on the sands was right about when Noldorin riders often rode their horses up the shoreline. The sound of horse's galloping alerted her to their presence and she turned to see two riders on large white stallions ascending upon her quickly, obviously trying to show off their riding prowess with their ability to control their horses precisely as they maneuvered them to circle around her.
"See, my friend," Prince Arakano remarked in Noldorin to his companion trotting behind him as he slowed to a leisurely gallop, "It is indeed not a young ellon as you thought, but Lord Dior's granddaughter."
"You have proven me wrong, my friend, and this elleth has proven me surprised! She truly cannot be one from the line of Luthien as you say," he called back in the same tongue, finding her shortened hair and trousers unappealing.
Vezely was already annoyed by their staged approach, but further disgruntlement came at the miscomprehension of their speech. Her hand remained gripped on the hilt of her sword.
"Apologies for the approach, Lady Vezely," Arakano finally acknowledged her using Sindarin, pulling on his horse's reins to stop aside her. "We do not often see many walking these shores during this time. I hope the sunshine finds you well this morning."
Forgoing any pleasantries, she warned him darkly, "You are lucky this is not Middle Earth. For your horses would now be without their front legs and you your head if you were to ride upon me as such there."
"Pardon?" Arakano blinked, now finding himself the one in utter miscomprehension.
"You heard me correctly," she added still strong of tone.
"I repeat what I said prior," his companion spoke beside himself in Noldorin, "Surprised indeed." The remark garnered him her narrowed eyes.
"We of course meant no harm by our approach, my lady," Arakano replied and slightly ducked his head to appear apologetic; not wanting to cause trouble with her, or more so with her family.
"Then your meaning? If you desire to impress me, then step down from your horse, unsheathe that overly embellished sword at your side, and fight me."
"Did she just challenge you to a duel?" His friend asked in disbelief.
She transferred her dark gaze to his partner and the coldness of her stare caused him to shift slightly in his saddle. She extended her offer, "You are encouraged to join him and even the odds."
Arakano laughed uncomfortably, "You should not play with words, my lady. It is unbecoming for one of your stature."
"Oh, I assure you, I do not play with words," Vezely's thumb unlatched the sword from its holder.
"Good morning, Lord Arakano, Lord Glandur," Eluréd greeted them quickly with his hastened approach, causing Vezely to still her hand. He came down to the beach to tell his daughter that her grandmother and mother were ready to leave when noting the tension brewing in their circle; the hand remaining on her sword's hilt and the body language of the two Noldorin lords becoming progressively more uncomfortable. "Apologies for interrupting," he added after stopping aside his daughter, "But I was given the urgent task of telling my daughter of her desired return."
"It is well to see you again, Lord Eluréd. And you were not interrupting, we were about to be on our way," Arakano responded with a nod, afterwards shuffling his horse's position slightly. "Please tell your beautiful wife, a pleasant hello from me," he then looked down upon Vezely, "And may your day be pleasant, my lady."
Vezely smirked, finding amusement in what she saw as a cowardly retreat from her offer. She forewent a response, causing Eluréd to respond for her.
"And may the breeze be at your backs," the older Elf spoke, ducking his head slightly in respect to the two Noldorin lords.
Vezely kept her narrowed eyes on their shrinking forms as they rode.
"Was there a problem?" Eluréd asked concerned, looking upon the side of her face.
"No," her eyes and demeanor shifted, and with a small smile she added, "I am grateful to hear it is time to depart."
Eluréd did not believe her, but left the situation lie for now.
"What do you think of these?" Rovian stopped in front of a row flowering plants in their garden. The delicate blooms were a unique mixture of white, purple, and plum petals.
"Think of what?" Vezely inquired back unsure of what she was referring, and not finding anything spectacular in the plant below her, or its flowers, which for her were the same as any other.
"These for your bridal circlet," Rovian countered back as if she was daft. "It is an old Silvan tradition for the bride to cultivate her own flowers or to gather them from a place near to her home."
"I thought they were supposed to be white," Vezely asked, forgoing sharing her opinion on wearing them and it was the only other descriptor she heard of the wedding's hair accessory outside of it being floral.
"Well, your gown is going to be white," Rovian slowly revealed her angle, "And I don't see any harm in adding some color. And these perfectly match that Rhunic gown that inspired the design."
Vezely then realized her mother had put some careful thought into this choice and despite her desire to scoff at the accessory or dismiss it, she found herself appreciative, "Alright, these could work." At least Legolas will be pleased, she thought slightly miffed as her mother began detailing more wedding rituals.
Before sitting down, Thalion handed Legolas three more letters that arrived that morning. The Woodland Realm ambassador sailed alongside him and his father, realizing his time had come and knowing Ithilien would not be the same without his childhood friend. Prodded by the smile upon his friend's face he remarked, "I cannot easily recall the last time I saw you in this bright a mood. And I do not believe it is because of the bloated praise you keep receiving from these Valinorians."
Legolas laughed slightly and shook his head as he proceeded to break a wax seal on one of the letters. As expected, it was another request for an audience with him and Gimli. Many who held important titles in Valinor desired to treat with the last members of the Fellowship. He did not expect to have garnered such honor from very distant kin or from among far worthier names. He felt humbled and bit unsure how to mediate it.
"The praise at least distills any possible question of your marriage," Thalion added yet jovial, as he lounged back on the chair. Concern over his marriage seemed nonexistent compared to the surprise it stirred in Minas Tirith upon first announced. "But I did overhear an interesting conversation in Alqualondë yesterday," Thalion stopped and rubbed his chin, gauging his own intrigue.
Legolas lifted his eyes onto his now introspective friends, wary if he needed to be concerned. "And?" He prodded him to continue.
"Well, your wedding is being talked about, and mention of your bride-to-be walking around in trousers and carrying a sword at her hip has also been noted as odd. But, and this is what I find fascinating," Thalion leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, now speaking as if he was relaying a well-kept secret. "When one recalls that she is of the House of Dior, they no longer question it. It is strange, is it not? How that line is considered in quite a different light than it is in Middle Earth, though Lord Elrond is given reprieve of course," he realized suddenly, "And it is not that Luthien is unrenowned, but it seems Lord Dior has garnered quite a different reputation for him and his house in the last ages here and Lady Vezely fits well with it."
Legolas breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief, believing it was about Vezely's past and that it would continue to haunt her. He desired for them to wed only in good faith, and to live their lives quietly. Though looking again at the mass of letters requesting introduction also made him realize his own fame needed to die down first.
"You wouldn't happen to have any requests for attendance in Tirion," Thalion picked up a small pile of envelops and began shuffling through to read who they were from. "I would very much like to visit Lady Adele and if I were to be in your company, it would provide the perfect excuse..." Lady Adele had sailed with her Uncle, Celeborn, a few years after the end of the war. Thalion had not forgotten her.
The snoring progressively rose before faltering off again, continuing in that cycle for some time. Yet neither Vezely nor Legolas had the heart to disturb their slumbering friend. The afternoon had become warmer than usual and Gimli fell asleep while resting his bearded chin on his chest. They had sat down to enjoy an afternoon snack together; some strawberries, baked scones, and fresh honey. A bit of a decadent treat for an ordinary afternoon, but they recently had been given an abundance of food gifts; baskets of goods sent along with required response letters announcing attendance at their approaching wedding.
Vezely had her chair caddied next to Legolas's; they were reading the same book together. She had never taken to reading literature, and her poor handle on Elvish prose required some adjustment, but she saw it as an opportunity to learn a little more about the culture she now found herself in.
Legolas watched her endearingly as she read, having already concluded the same page while she lagged slightly behind.
After finishing, she scrunched her nose, "Why does he not just take it? Kill the keeper, leave through the back entrance..." She inquired of the story's protagonist. It was fiction novel, where the hero was appointed the task of winning back a family heirloom; a jewel his family lost to another family of well-repute long ago.
Surprised she had gotten into the story at all and enough to be riled by it amused Legolas; he half-smiled while yet looking upon the side of her face, "I do not think that trajectory would provide the story with any morals."
"Morals? I do not want my texts providing morals but entertainment," she sat back in a huff, though she minded her tone not to wake Gimli. "I think I'll stick to those history texts that detail the First Age wars," she looked towards the tomes Legolas had gathered at her request.
"The wars are entertainment then?" Legolas asked her skeptically, raising an eyebrow.
She pressed her lips together as she reached for a strawberry. Pinching its bright green stem, she dangled the perfectly red fruit into her purview to inspect, and evading answering the question she added assuredly, "One can learn morals from history as well," her eyes afterwards flicking over to his.
"One can," he agreed with a single nod, then saying playfully, "Though I do not think you intend to look for them."
Forgoing a response, Vezely proceeded to dunk her strawberry into the bowl of honey, despite the sweet fruit not needing any extra indulgence. She observed as the sticky orange liquid dripped off, twirling it slightly to keep it thickly coated and afterwards bringing it to her mouth. She briefly closed her eyes to savor the taste as the edges of her lips curled up. Legolas's eyes remained fixated on her and his mind filled with desire, making him shift slightly in his chair. Pretending she was unaware of his interest, Vezely repeated the task with a second strawberry, swirling it in the honey, and waiting until the excess dripped off. But instead of eating it herself, she turned towards him, bringing the honeyed treat to his lips while her other hand found his thigh under the table.
The seductive look on her face fully revealed her intent and Legolas gratefully received the offering, closing his eyes after to enjoy its taste. She watched him a moment longer before bringing her own lips to his, tasting the sweetness of the honey that remained as she kissed him softly; her hand gripped his inner thigh a little tighter.
Gimli snorted loudly, and began babbling himself awake, "Wha? What? As I was saying..."
Vezely nonchalantly returned her eyes to the book below her, licking off the tip of her finger some honey residue while she had not removed her hand from his thigh under the table. She smirked slightly, knowing what she had done to her partner beside her.
Legolas was a bit clumsier in his transition to normality.
"What was I saying?" Gimli queried, now looking upon the two Elves before them.
"You fell asleep my friend," Legolas finally told him in earnest, "Here," he pushed the fruit bowl towards him, "You should have more strawberries before Vezely eats them all."
Rather than replying to his jest, she slowly slid her hand slightly farther up his inner thigh and looked upon him with a smile, "I am sure that more will arrive, and hopefully with more honey too." Legolas knew the intent behind her words and he swallowed what remained of the sweetness in his mouth, trying his best to contain the heat rushing to his cheeks.
Unaware of their ongoing flirtations, Gimli pulled the bowl closer to him, "That would suit me just fine. I will happily eat to celebrate. That is one thing Elves and Dwarves do the same with weddings..."