Aragorn shifted slightly in his sleepiness, finding he was lying on his back; this was strange in itself, as he never slept this way—too open for attack. As a Ranger, you would never present your heart in such a way as to be a target. It could mean a quick death, though, he supposed that he had nothing to fear in his own bedroom. He felt her there beside him, the warmth of her pressed against his side, her foot and knee resting over his leg as she lay, curled into his body, the pressure of her head against his right shoulder. She was awake; he need not open his eyes to know that as her fingers were tracing along his collarbone, touching the skin of his neck and chest where the tunic was open. He breathed slowly, enjoying the feel of her hands. This was the way to come back to the world from dreaming.
He did not move again, but she knew by the way his heartbeat changed that he was awake. She smiled; he knew by the way her muscles moved against him. She did not stop her tracing against him.
"Today is the day," she said. He sighed with pleasure at her musical voice.
"Indeed it is." His arm tightened a bit around her back, holding her more closely to him.
"The sun is glorious."
"Ilúvatar is good," he said reaching over to bring a hand through her thick hair. "I have asked for this day for Legolas since I first knew him. It is a blessing that they have found one another."
She lifted her head slowly and pressed a kiss against the center of his chest; his hand still winding slowly through her hair. "I love waking you up," she murmured, looking up at him from that place on his chest. "Watching you respond to me, even in sleep…giving you good dreams…"
"Very good dreams," he added in the same voice.
She brushed her lips to his chin and then he tilted his head a bit more so she could kiss him tenderly without changing her position too much. "Claiming the first kisses of the morning…"
"Mmm…you do so like to be the first though seldom are," he reminded her gently. "The one morning I remember you woke me, you were singing so beautifully…"
She smiled. "You remember that well. Perhaps when I wake with a song in my heart I will share it with you again. You so often do with me.
"You make my heart sing."
Arwen settled her head back in the crook of his shoulder. "It is early yet," she said, "and it will be a long, beautiful day."
"We can lie here a little while longer," he whispered as she slipped her arm over him and curled more firmly against his body, "and enjoy the silence…"
"Enjoy each other…the feel of you beside me."
"I love weddings," he sighed and she smiled.
"What the One has joined let no man come between."
He closed his eyes then, and remembered who was in the other room, opened them again. "Have you heard Erumar this morning? Is she awake yet?"
"Yes," she replied, her voice quiet, "for a little while. Thranduil has made her some tea."
"She will be…all right?"
Arwen nodded, setting her hand once again in the center of his chest as she felt him tighten as if he were going to rise. "She needs to collect herself from last night before she sees us, otherwise she will only break down again. Give her some time…close your eyes." She lifted her hand and stroked her long fingers down across his face.
He trusted her judgment and obeyed.
The two of them had remained beside the Anduin that night, holding each other into the early hours of the morning. Legolas found that Aragorn had been right: one of the most beautiful things in his life was to watch the sun rise on Enguina's face and the sunlight comb through her hair, to watch her slowly wake to the dawn, to see the smile form on her lips when she found him watching her. Yes…this was what he lived for.
He could have said in that moment, in complete honesty, that he had never seen anything more breathtakingly beautiful…and that his heart was so completely hers it was no longer in his chest—it was within her hands for eternity.
"You have my heart," he told her softly.
"It is too early to be awake," she whispered back, her voice full of sleep. "You have been awake for quite a while and I…want to go back to sleep."
"We have a bit of a ride back," he said, a smile on his face.
"Oh," she murmured, blinking sleepily. "We are not in the guesthouse…I forgot."
"Guin…"
"What, my love?"
"We are getting married in seven hours."
She closed her eyes blissfully as his lips touched her forehead, and then sighed. "Mmmm…how wonderful. Do you think the others are awake and waiting for us?"
"Erumar is doing your hair, yes?"
"If she will consent."
"Then she is definitely awake. Arwen is awake out of nervous energy, Aragorn is awake because she is…my father is wandering about the garden. Gimli is snoring. Does that cover everyone who has a part in preparing you?"
She giggled. "Gimli does not have a part!"
"No, but he is the best dwarf. He is coming with me."
"Your father does not either."
"Again, with me."
She lifted her head. "Eru in Heaven, we are getting married. Today."
"In six hours and fifty-seven minutes."
She giggled again, pulling herself up level with his face so she could kiss him. "And to think, it is tradition that the bride and bridegroom are not to see one another on the morning of the wedding. Here we are, lying on the banks of the Anduin in each other's arms."
"Well, we are nothing at this point if not tradition-breakers," he laughed. "We must spend at least the next hour or so together as we have to ride into the City." He stroked her hair and she turned her head to kiss his hand and then his wrist and then whatever else was within lips' reach. "Guin..."
"I know, I know," she murmured, but it appeared she had a very difficult time pulling her face back to kiss his face and not his arm. He smiled.
"We probably have…" he rolled his eyes, thinking and calculating, "about seventeen hours before we are allowed to even think about any more private celebration."
She groaned, rolling onto her back and away from his chest. "May Ilúvatar rescue me from this long, terrible wait." She rubbed her face with both of her hands.
He laughed aloud, sitting up. "My dearest, I thought you were nervous?"
"I will be then…but at the moment…" she sighed, pulling her hands down, "I am ready for it, ready for you…ready to love you so completely."
"Ready, hmm?" he said, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes," she said firmly. "Ready."
"And you said that without even a bit of a blush. I am impressed."
"You should be. It is probably because I am not entirely awake yet."
"Good," he said, "because I wrote something about you on this wedding morning."
"You did not," she asked, and he leaned down and kissed her again.
"Yes, and I am going to sing it for you."
What a glorious morning!
Eru's sun is rising high
Shining bright through the sky
Happiness upon me without warning
Delight, utter joy fills my heart
To stand in this place so dear
To know the day is finally here
A whole shall be made of two parts
One part of a gloriously designed love
One part of a soul's peaceful wish
A pledge that will be sealed with a kiss
I shall be wed to my dove.
There she walks upon this morn
Her golden hair, her soft green eyes
O! to touch her now, my hand, it tries
But here I know I have been warned!
To touch the bride before we wed
On the morning of cannot be done!
Though she glistens like the sun
Even looking on her is not right, it is said
But what can be done as here I remain
I still try to catch her eye
I cannot speak but still I sigh
For bare my desires are now lain
She looks my way and meets my gaze
And to me she walks, my love of all days!
She laughed and wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, now sitting up beside him. "Oh, Legolas, but I am not walking!"
"I know," he said, smiling back. "It is only a song, my dove."
"I love everything you call me," she whispered. "I know we are not supposed to be together the morning of the wedding. You are supposed to wait to see me."
"I will have to anyway," he said. "You are not going to be in your dress in the next few minutes or after we ride into the City. Do you think they will be upset we stayed out here all night?"
"Honestly, I think they all know us well-enough by now not to worry."
"Except when we were both taken."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Legolas, except for that."
He ran his fingers through her hair. "One last kiss…and then we should go?"
She smiled as she tightened her fingers around his neck. "Maybe a few more. Then we can go."
Thranduil walked into the sitting room bearing two cups of steaming tea and a wet towel. She had made a place for him beside her on the divan so he could sit, the blankets moved. She was sitting there much as she had been on the wall the previous morning, legs tucked to the side, hands in her lap, dirty thumbs rubbing her dirty fingers. Again, the movement distracted him and drew his eyes directly to them. Her face was still filthy from dirt and her tears from last night, but she either did not know or she did not care how she appeared at the moment.
He sat down beside her and held out the mug. Erumar had been completely silent so far, doing no more than nodding or shaking her head. He wondered if she could speak, or if her throat was too sore to make sound. She took the cup and held it between her hands, though he thought it was a bit hot to being doing that.
"Thank you," she said. Her voice was soft, but at least it did not sound painful. He nodded as she studied the swirling liquid and her filthy hands and nails. "I…"
"No," he said gently. "It seems I must beg your forgiveness again. You cannot be held for anything that happened last night. I…did not know. I would never have taken you there."
"I do not even know what happened," she said. "I do not remember very much…"
"Here," he said, extending her the towel and reaching for her cup after setting his down, "give me that and clean your hands. I should have given you this first." She gave him the cup—he had no idea how she had been holding it that way, it was far too hot—and began wiping her hands; the nails would have to be done later. When she was finished there, he nodded towards her. "You can wash your face as well."
She did, slowly. She could not see what she was doing, but she managed to get every last bit of dirt as if she knew where it was. Dropping the towel beside the divan, she reached back to take the cup again. She felt a bit more awake now, the warm water helping. The muscles in her face hurt…in fact, muscles everywhere hurt, which told her she had spent too much time frozen and stiff. The ache in her chest was the worst, but there was nothing that would take that away.
"You are still tired," he told her. "Perhaps you should sleep a bit longer."
She lifted her head and looked around for the first time. "This is not the guesthouse."
"No, we are in the King's House and they are still sleeping in the other room. When you…fell last night, I sent for them. I did not understand at first; then I understood."
"What time is it?" she asked.
"Plenty of time before the wedding, I assure you," he said. He could sit here and let her dwell on this all morning long, or he could change this day for her, for them, starting now. He weighed his options, wondering what her response would be—then he made his choice anyway. "I was thinking about making some breakfast cakes, and I am now sure I would like to do it. Would you like something?"
"Kings do not cook."
He laughed. "When they are in the wilds they do. I grant you I have not made them for many years as too many other people choose to cook for me now, but…there it is. Would you like some? They are the perfect breakfast before a wedding."
She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. It was clear she knew what he was doing. "How would you know? How many weddings have there been in the Greenwood in the last few hundred years?" He did not waste time thinking about it.
"It is a new tradition I am beginning right now," he said, taking to his feet. "Breakfast cakes with…pecans, and possibly maple syrup if I can find some in this strange kitchen, but…you stay there and drink your tea." He turned towards the kitchen as he began walking, glancing over his shoulder and giving her a devious little smile. "I will be in here…making as big a mess as I choose."
He was taunting her, and she could see it for exactly what it was he was really doing. He left the room and she watched after him, staring at the empty doorway. When she heard a fire being lit and a pan or two, she swung her feet to the floor, set down her mug, and got to her feet.
"Here, Thranduil," she said, sighing as she entered the kitchen, "let me at least help you figure out this strange kitchen."
Today is the day.
Today is the day!
Legolas stood staring at his own reflection in the mirror of his old room. Dressed in the silvery blue tunic he had finally chosen, he had to admit that he knew Enguina would think him handsome. He was expecting with little doubt that the dress Enguina would be wearing would leave him breathless. He could only hope that he began to breathe again after he had seen her. He would have to mention that to Aragorn when they arrived at the church so he could remind him to breathe if he forgot.
He would be marrying Enguina in little over two hours. His heart raced and soared! When they had finally returned from the Anduin, they had come to the King's House to find his father cooking a very lovely version of Arwen's pan cakes while laughing with Erumar. Aragorn and Arwen were not even out of bed yet. When he had asked his father about the pecan cakes and what had brought them on, he had replied that he had wanted to make something special. His father had not cooked those cakes for him since he was a young elf, and so amazed was he that he could think of nothing else to say. Enguina had told him, in no uncertain terms, that they were delicious. It was the perfect morning.
Enguina would be getting her hair finished soon and then dressed. She was to process down from the seventh level to the church on the fifth, and the anticipation was killing him. She would be so beautiful! His heart was soaring! If someone were to speak to him right now, he would barely be able to respond with functional words! He was marrying the woman that he had longed for his entire life; but no, that was no true…she was far more than he had longed for, than he had ever expected. Ilúvatar was so good.
I praise you, Father! I praise you for the gift of this day! I pray that everything will go exactly as you choose, that everything will happen according to your will, and that bride and bridegroom will rejoice with exceedingly great joy over one another! This is the day that you have made for us. This is the day that I will give myself to my love for the rest of my life; that I will think of her first always, that I will care for our children, that I will make her a home and love her and cherish her. Oh! This is what I have longed for! Make me a blessing to her for eternity!
He opened his eyes and his smile was so huge he thought the mirror might crack. He laughed hilariously for one joyous moment and then danced around in a circle, so full of joy he could burst! The mutterings of Gimli fell on his ears and he knew the dwarf must be talking about him to himself, but he simply could not be brought down from the rafters of this place. He wanted to stand on every rooftop and shout his delight!
Suddenly, Legolas stopped and turned to the left, leaning backwards to see the tunic. It was torn. That was impossible! He grabbed the edge of it, flailing fingers missing it the first time before he could snatch the pieces in sheer panic. No! No, it was not possible! He had looked at it just yesterday when he had finished the love spoon and it had been perfect. Horrified, he looked at the sun again. Not two hours before the wedding—could it be mended?
"Gimli!" he yelped in a panic. To think that moments ago he had been dancing around in this room and now, now his heart was in his throat.
"What's the matter with ya, elf?" hollered Gimli, shoving his head in the open door. "First you were laughing, then you were dancing, now yer—"
"Gimli, look!" he said, holding the edges and spinning toward the dwarf. "How could it have happened? I was—I just looked at it yesterday! How could this be?" His last words were a moan.
"Probably you're dancing," Gimli said gruffly, but Legolas could not bear to laugh at his teasing.
"What am I going to do?" he asked. "How can I wear this when—"
"Keep yer shirt on, laddie," the dwarf said, coming closer to inspect it. "That's not even on a seam. Not sure if they can fix that one."
"What?" Legolas cried, his heart plummeting towards his toes. "B-b-but this is the tunic! This is the one, Gimli! Call the tailor! How can I wear anything else?"
"I'll go get them, but I really don't think it can be mended. I'm sorry, lad," he said, looking quite sad. "You're bound to have something in there that's good eno—"
"Good enough?" echoed Legolas, looking abashed. "There is no such thing! This is our wedding! I am not just wearing anything!" Gimli shook his head and turned to look in the wardrobe. "Gimli, I will go naked to the wedding before I wear something from that wardrobe."
The dwarf burst out laughing and turned to him. "I bet everyone in Minas Tirith'd love that!"
He blushed terribly, embarrassed. "Well…" he stuttered, "perhaps not naked. Shirtless?"
"Oh, Legolas, I can't stand to see you so upset! Come 'ere!"
"What?" he asked, confused when the dwarf went into his room. "Why?" He followed him over to find the dwarf reaching into the wardrobe—and pulling out a silvery-blue tunic. "What…what is that?"
"Your tunic," Gimli sighed. "Someone had an extra one made so you'd be in a panic, but I just don't have the heart for it. You were singin' and dancin' all morning and I just can't let you go on like that and toy with ya. Here."
Legolas stood, staring at him. "Someone?" For one irrational moment he was so furious he was going to strangle Gimli then and there…and then he breathed…and then he yelled, "Enguina!" When he was finished calling her name aloud, he sighed loudly and reached for the tunic.
Gimli tugged it out of his reach. "I'm a bit afraid you're going to wreck it if I give it to you right now." Legolas stood still and shook his head.
"Hand it over, ridiculous dwarf. I am hardly going to do anything to the real one."
He smirked at the elf and extended it again. Legolas took it, and Gimli laughed. "It was a good one though, wasn't it? She thought of that one herself."
"I shall destroy you for helping her after the wedding. I want you to see me get married." He said it with such a serious voice too…but Gimli was having none of it. As soon as he stepped out, the dwarf doubled over laughing.
Enguina rubbed the towel along her skin and stood beside the floor-length mirror that was in the bath at the King's House. She was alone at the moment; this was the second bath she had taken today, her hair already finished by Erumar. Staring at it, she had never known when it had looked lovelier—Erumar had outdone herself. Arwen had smiled and nodded when she had asked if she could bathe again, and Erumar had simply rolled her eyes and laughed, heading out onto the porch where Thranduil waited for them. Erumar was getting ready last as she was to braid and prepare Lómë for the processional. Thranduil would be leading her down.
This whole…procession idea had been Arwen's baby. Mentioned not even a few mornings ago, Enguina had been embarrassed about being on parade for everyone. Arwen had just shaken her head. He will love it, she had said about Legolas. Let him wait for you to arrive…suspense is a good thing on the wedding day. The people will love it, too. They are as excited for this wedding to take place as you are. Enguina was excited; she simply did not want to make a fool of herself. She had never ridden side-saddle before, but Arwen had done it through the City on several formal occasions and told her there was nothing to it. Aside from that, Lómë was being led by her choice, Thranduil. Nothing would happen. Arwen and Erumar were to walk before the horse with Annî and the children of the City dropping rose petals. Éowyn would have walked with them, but being so pregnant she would not be making the long trek. Arwen would watch over Annî. It was perfect…except…
She let the towel fall, dry now, and stared at herself. Yes, her hair was beautiful but…what about the rest of her? She had been laughing this morning with Legolas about being so ready to love him; now, she was not so sure. In little less than twelve hours he would be touching her with his hands, his mouth, kissing her skin…and she wanted that. She did. But…her fingers traced the little dagger scars where Bragolaur had held the knife to her side—they had not quite faded. She could still see the disappearing teeth marks where he had pinched her tightly, most seriously under her left arm where she had her hands tied up over her head, where her skin was very sensitive, and the side of her right breast. Places she had no cause to look in the past days…places out of anyone's sight but her soon-to-be husband's. She traced the mark with now-trembling fingers. Thank Ilúvatar that the bruises on her left hip had faded. If they had not, she would never have let him see her.
But perhaps…perhaps she could beg him to not look at her? She reached up and roughly brushed her eyes, furious at herself for crying. Now? Two hours before the wedding? How in the world would she accomplish that? She could hear herself now: Legolas…can we make love where we cannot see each other, please? Or even better—Can we wait until all of my scars are healed? She brushed the tears away again, getting more upset by the second. Legolas, can we just wait for this? I know I am not ready! I thought I was...I thought I was but I-I—
"Enguina?" called Arwen softly from the bath door, tapping gently. "Have you finished?" She entered, bearing the shift for her to wear beneath the wedding gown which lay on their bed in the other room. "Enguina..." she chided, rolling her eyes, "you are not even—"
Abruptly, and without really realizing she knew what was going to happen before it happened, Arwen dropped the shift and caught Enguina, who had fled across the room and into her arms at the sound of her voice. Flinging herself into Arwen, Enguina buried her face in her neck and the younger elf held her gently.
"Oh, shhh…" she whispered, cupping the back of her neck gently. "Shh…what is the matter? Why are you trembling? Why are you crying, sweet one?"
"I thought I would have accepted this by now," she cried softly into her. "I have not looked at them in days…I thought…I thought they were gone…"
"At them?" Arwen asked, confused.
"The scars…I can see them…that means he will see them tonight…touch them…"
"Oh," Arwen sighed gently, Enguina's pain washing over her. She held her more tightly. "Oh, my dearest…"
"What am I going to do?" she whispered. "How can he touch me when I still…when there are still reminders of what happened, of what he did to me? God, Arwen, help me!"
"Shhh…shhh…" she whispered, stroking the back of her neck. "Enguina, Enguina…these reminders, as you call them…they do not matter."
She choked on her tears. "Yes they do!"
"No, no…they do not. Legolas is not going to see these light marks and think of Bragolaur as you have; he is going to be focused on you. If Legolas does see them he will bypass them in the rest of your beauty. They will not be a thought in his mind, and he would never call them to your attention, and you will forget them in the moments you are with him, beside him, when his hands are on you. Oh, sweet one…everyone has scars, imperfections. Visible or not, Legolas will not call them out to you."
"What if he touches them?" she moaned. "What if he touches them and I—"
"He is going to touch them," she told her and heard Enguina's breath catch as she let out a sob. "He will be touching every part of you, just as you will him. Nothing can stop that; and if you were to ask him not to, he would forget to not do it. He will be so lost in caressing your skin he will be unable to think clearly."
"I am terrified!"
She laughed softly, rocking her gently. "It is all right! He is, too; he has never stood before a woman…he has his own fears about what you will think, that you will see him, and his scars…what you will see in his imperfections…"
Enguina shook her head fiercely. "He does not have imperfections!"
Arwen laughed again, tears in her eyes. "Whether they are imperfections to you means nothing; that is what they are to him, just as yours are glaring to you. He will not even see these little scars…I promise you."
"How can you…how can you promise such a thing? How can you know?"
"Enguina, would you see a hair out of place in a beautiful drawing?" she murmured. "Would you feel a speck of dirt on Legolas's hand when you touch it?"
"No," she whispered, sniffing, confused by the question. "I am trying to hold his hand. I would not notice a speck of dirt."
"He is going to have all of you, to touch and explore and love. He is not going to stop at one tiny mark…no matter how large they seem to you. You are a masterpiece, and he is going to be made breathless by you."
"Do you promise that, too?" she whispered, lifting her head.
Arwen smiled and kissed her on the forehead. "Yes. You wait and see." She laid her hands on Enguina's face and gently wiped her tears. "Everything is going to be all right, dearest." Enguina nodded, trying to gather herself.
"What if I cry the whole time?" she whispered, ashamed, when Arwen handed her the shift she picked up from the floor. Enguina took it to the table and began putting on the undergarments as Arwen drained the bath.
"Enguina, I cried through much of my first time with Aragorn…so did he."
"Truly?"
"Yes."
Enguina glanced over at Arwen; she, too, was not wearing her dress yet. "Arwen, is that…is that how you felt with Aragorn?" she asked, pulling the slip over her head and adjusting it correctly.
"Is what how I felt?"
"That you could overlook the little scars and focus on…him?"
Arwen hesitated and then chose to be honest. "No. Aragorn has been wandering in the Wild for over sixty years, Enguina; he has so many scars that I…I cried when I touched him, when I ran my hand over his back the first time." She closed her eyes at the memory. "The things he had suffered…I had no idea. There were so many things that he had never told me, still has not told me, that he does not wish me to know the truth of. I cried because of what he had experienced, not because I pitied him. I cried because I wished I could have spent the last sixty years loving him instead of him going through trials by fire. We had waited so long to be together."
She opened her eyes, saw Enguina standing beside her and reached out to touch her cheek. "Legolas knows your scars, Enguina…you have nothing to hide and nothing to fear. And though I hope you will have settled that in your heart about your scars before you cross that threshold tonight…I know very well that you will be afraid, even if only for a few moments. It is frightening to offer yourself to another person; he will be feeling it too."
If we are afraid, then we will be afraid together. Enguina sighed, hearing his words in her head. "I hope I do not feel it…but at least I will be ready for it." Her eyes flooded again. "I would never survive this without all of you."
Arwen leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Come, and let us get this dress on you."
There was the sound of a throat being cleared and both of them looked to the door to see Erumar poking her head inside. "Honestly, I know that it is customary for the bride to be a bit late, but do you not think this is bordering on the ridiculous?"
"What time is it?" Enguina practically squeaked, and Arwen laughed.
"Let me worry of the time," Arwen said laughing and taking her by the hand to escort her from the room. "Let Erumar worry about Lómë. And we will let you worry about putting on this dress."
"He is ready and waiting for the bride…as is Thranduil…and the bridegroom is probably already in fits," Erumar pointed out, following them. "Arwen, let me help her with that. You need your dress on as well."
"Oh, all right."
Enguina turned to look at Erumar, beautiful in her own right wearing a dress the color of morning glories. "Shame on me for not realizing you were dressed already! You are beautiful, Erumar, and that dress is perfect."
"Thank you," she replied, scooping Enguina's dress off the bed. "And you are going to be absolutely gorgeous in this dress. No one is going to be able to stop looking at you."
"Ugh, please do not say that. I am nervous enough!"
It took Enguina a few moments to get the dress to lay correctly, and by that time, Arwen was beside her, finishing up the buttons on the back of the dress and making sure everything was in place. She added a few more sparkles to Enguina's hair and then she and Erumar stood back to look at her; there were tears shining in their eyes when they did and Erumar covered her mouth with her hands, unable to speak. She turned away and left the room as Arwen just smiled.
"Stop staring," Enguina said, but she could see the love shining in Arwen's face. "I cannot cry again, you know."
"These are good tears. Now…you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." Dressed in white, a train that would follow the dress down the aisle of the cathedral, a few tendrils of hair coming down to her shoulders, Enguina was stunning. "Legolas may stop breathing when he sees you."
"As long as he begins again," she murmured and Arwen laughed, taking her hands.
"It is almost time. Are you ready?"
"I do not know if I could ever really be ready."
"You look ready. Come along?" Enguina nodded and Arwen led her out into the sitting room where Erumar and Thranduil stood waiting. "She is ready," she said with a smile, stepping out of her way, "but she is nervous!"
"By Elbereth, do not tease me! This is difficult enough," groaned Enguina, finding herself thinking Thranduil was more handsome than he had ever appeared before to her; dressed in gold, a crown on his brow, he looked every bit a King. It produced a sudden and strong desire to see Legolas.
Thranduil stared at her; Arwen was still smiling; Erumar was wiping her eyes. "Why are you all doing that?" Enguina asked embarrassed.
"My dear, you better get used to it," Thranduil said gently. Then he had to smile. "And I had better enjoy this sight," he said, looking at the three of them. "Never before have I been in a room with so much beauty. But the bride…" He stepped forward and extended his hands for hers. She slipped hers into his and he smiled. "You are the most stunning bride I have ever seen."
She swallowed, embarrassed. "Thranduil…"
"My dear, are you ready to wed my son?" he asked her softly.
"I am not ready," she gasped, and she tried to blink her tears away, "but I have never wanted anything more in my whole life."
"Enguina," he said, still in that same, serious voice, "I have wanted nothing but the best for my son. I have desired nothing else but his happiness and his safety for years. He has found his life's greatest joy in you. I have come to know you, these past days, and I have come to see what a joy it will be to have you as part of our family, and what a blessing it is to know that you love my son." Enguina choked back tears, but he was not finished. "I am honored to escort you to the wedding and to join your hand in the hand of my son. I am honored to call you my daughter."
He slipped his arms around her and tears fell on her face; she tried to prevent them, to have some control, but there was nothing she could do and it only made the moment worse trying to stop them. After a moment, he let her go and held her back by her shoulders, smiling at her.
"Now, let us get you up on Lómë, hmm?" She nodded, listening to all of the sniffing in the room as everyone tried to pull themselves together, but then she found herself escorted from the King's House and suddenly outside.
There was exclamation after exclamation. She could hardly look up, but she did, finding a throng of people and guards of the White Tree standing along the way, keeping a line of stone open for the procession. She saw Lómë, coat shining, the gardenias Erumar had woven into his mane as stunning to her as the dress she wore. He was so handsome; she reached out and stroked his face once with her hand.
"Take me to Legolas, Lómë," she whispered and he bowed his head to her.
She mounted from the highest step of the porch, Erumar and Arwen, and even Thranduil helping to spread out the gown along Lómë's gleaming coat. Once they were certain everything was arrayed perfectly, Arwen reached up and handed her the gardenia and morning glory bouquet and she stared at them in wonder.
"How—"
"Thranduil found them in the garden this morning and they stayed open for you," Arwen replied and then she kissed Enguina's hand. She found, a little stunned, that Arwen's were shaking as she squeezed her hand tight and then released her. "Oh, enjoy this day, Enguina," she whispered.
"I will," she promised, and Arwen stepped away from her and met Erumar who had Annî's shoulders in her hand. Thranduil untied the stallion and smiled up at her; he said nothing more. There were several other Gondorian children there to help spread the flowers, each of them carrying baskets of rose petals. Annî began, the other children at her side in the joyous celebration and they laughed and tossed the petals into the air. Arwen and Erumar walked, side-by side, both bearing bouquets of the same flowers, Arwen's dress a pale purplish-blue, Erumar's darker. And then, behind them through the exclaiming crowd, walked Thranduil leading Lómë, who, with his head held high, bore Enguina down the cobblestone street to her beloved.