13
Another Race of Kings
"Human."
"Elf."
"Human."
"Elf."
"Human."
"Elf."
"Bow."
"Sword."
"Bow."
"Sword."
"Would it kill you two to stop talking for a little while?"
"Bow."
"Sword."
"Bow."
"Sword."
"Human."
"Elf."
"Myraneth! They're doing it again!"
It was the eve of my wedding, exactly a week after we had arrived in Eryn Lasgalen. We were no longer in the Wood of Greenleaves, but back in my home, in Rivendell. Three days before this, Sam had awoken, and then Frodo, the next day. Both hobbits had a haunted look around them. I knew this aura would never go away.
Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Frodo were eager to return to their homes, but they had conceded to stay for my wedding. I myself would depart with them the day after Eryn and I were to be wedded. Riku and Cassan would be coming with us. Eryn and I would delay our honeymoon until after Casanovia was born.
As the last days of breeding season had drawn to a close, Riku and Cassan had mated. Now, Riku was expecting around the same time as I was.
Majesty's March arrived only an hour after we had. I found her nipping at her brother, and just all around acting like the foal she carried.
"Myraneth!" Rainelle cried, running across the courtyard towards me, "You must come! I have it ready!"
I jumped off the bench. I was breaking my usual rule of not wearing a dress for my wedding. I had charged Rainelle with getting it ready for me. Hurrying after her, I cried a brief farewell to everyone, telling Estel and Leaf to be quiet with a single look.
Arwen and Eryn met us just inside. I grabbed Eryn in a short kiss, and then allowed Arwen and Rainelle to pull me off.
"Arwen, Rain, my dressing room is that way!"
Arwen laughed, "We know, silly. We're going to Mother's. It's a special occasion, and you will not change our minds."
Hesitantly, I sighed but let them drag me to the other room. Everlas was waiting for us there.
I found myself wishing that the Fellowship of the Ring had had another female member. Another woman who had been there from the start.
"—that would make this so much easier." I muttered.
"What was that?" Everlas asked.
I shook my head, "Just thinking out loud."
Arwen pushed me behind Mother's screen, where Rain was waiting to relieve me of my breeches and leggings.
"Myraneth! Your breastband's a mess! By Valor, what did you do to it?"
Wordlessly, I pointed at Riku. Riku grinned, her tongue lolling out between inch-long fangs.
Rain pulled a mass of pale green fabric over my head. As I looked in the mirror concealed on the back of the dressing screen, I realized the dress literally had no shape.
Arwen, Rainelle, and Arwen's maid Toraanna advanced on me with shears.
"Oh no," I breathed.
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I was this close to running and cowering in a corner. I had marched on the Black Gate, face down the fire in my veins that heralded the return of the Dark Lord, but I couldn't stare down my sister with shears.
Go figure.
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"Myraneth, you can stop squeezing your eyes together now, we haven't got the shears anymore," Rain told me, gently prying my hands from the death grip they held on the rail in front of the mirror.
"You went to Mordor," My sister scoffed, "Yet you cower when we try and fix up your wedding dress. As you would see, had you opened your eyes, it is ready."
The mass of pale green had been pulled into shape, that was for certain. The full-length sleeves hugged my arms until my elbow and after that; they billowed out in two elegant loops ringed in gold.
The main body of the dress hugged just off my shoulders and my breasts and my waist. At my waist, it flared out into a forest green skirt decorated with embroidered leaves and a rather large white fabric blossom of an eleanor flower, with a pale everlas flower sewn at my left hip. I was still fairly small in terms of the baby bump, and the dress hid it well. After tomorrow, I would no longer hide it.
"Arwen, you're a genius. All of you are. But if you ever try and cut up a dress again, while I'm wearing it, I swear I will tell Estel every embarrassing thing you've done since you were eight."
She paled.
"In fact, I may do so anyway."
"You would—"She caught sight of the slightly maniac gleam in my eyes, "You would. You do know, sister, that I have never seen you like this. It's like a new light has come alive inside of you."
I shook my head quickly and then allowed Rain and Tora to fix upon it the circlet of eleanor and everlas and wood and green leaves, "Not a new light, Arwen, but one that had been overshadowed by the darkness in my mind. That shadow dispersed the moment the Ring was destroyed." And it had. I had not told anyone the vision of my Nanneth I had experienced—that was mine and mine alone. But Arwen had a right to know that my incurable illness had passed out of my system. I was completely, for the first time in my life, totally Myraneth.
"There is a fire in your heart, Myraneth," Tora told me, "I have always seen it. But you have always been laced in the Shadow, and now that is almost completely gone."
Arwen frowned, "Tora, why is it not completely gone? The Necromancer is now dead."
Tora smiled, "If every one of us lost all the Dark Fire we carry, then we would not be able to live. Myraneth has achieved, finally, the balance that most of us are born with." Arwen spontaneously hugged me, careful not to wrinkle the dress.
Tora was one of the few Elves left in Rivendell that was older than me. Tora had been Mother's maid and Arwen's nursemaid. Her own son, Otoraan, was about the same age as Arwen.
Otoraan, as in Eryn's Father. No, that could not be right, as Eryn's Father was a Fairy, and Eryn was almost the same age as me.
"Tora?"
"Yes, Myraneth?"
"Do you know of Otoraan Lasgalen?"
"Is that a relative of Eryn's? If he is, then it has spread far indeed. Otoraan is the name of a hero in my favourite children's story. Otoraan the brave. I gave Tor than name in honour of him, and because the name is so close to my own. Do you not remember, Myraneth, when you and I used to read that very story to Arwen and later on Elladan and Elrohir?"
Now that she had mentioned it, I did remember it. Otoraan and his brother, Cassan, had gone on a quest to rescue their sisters, Otoraanna and Casanovia. In a shower of heroics the two brothers had fought to their sisters' side. Otoraanna and Casanovia had already managed to free themselves from their captors, but were locked in a chase with them. When they had seen Cassan and Otoraan, they had turned and stood and fought, slaying all who had tormented them with the help of their brothers. Still, the battle had killed Casanovia. She died glorious, throwing herself in front of an arrow meant for her twin brother, Cassan. Distraught, Cassan had honoured her, creating the Winged Horse constellation in the night sky.
It had only been later that I had found out the story was true. Casanovia had a young son when she had died. That son, whom she called Lengolasas, became the first Lord of the Pegasi. Lengolasas (for that was indeed the primitive spelling and pronunciation of the name Legolas. Lengo had become lego over the years, just as lases had been shortened to las) sired a race of Kings, a monarchy which would end with King Legolas and Queen Everlas.
"For as much as Elves and Fairies dislike each other, we seem to have many similar practises," I mused as Tora and Rain pulled the dress over my head.
Arwen smiled, "It is time for you to sleep, Myraneth, so rest well."