“Thranduil, this is a very important meeting. Look at how dressed up I am.” Thaladir lifted his arms out to his sides, displaying fully the richly embroidered robes. “Your father will not be pleased if you show up to great the delegates from the other realms in that – look, you’ve got a smudge.”
“Where?” asked Thranduil, looking at his appearance in the mirror.
“Right here,” answered Erestor, touching the back of the tunic the young elf wore.
Thranduil peered over his back, trying to get a look in the mirror. “Damn.”
“Here.” Thaladir pulled the robes that had been brought in earlier by Thranduil’s mother. They were newly made, in the vibrant golds and greens of his house. Thranduil had turned his nose up at them, frowning at the heavy fabric and long sleeves that came nearly to the very tips of his fingers. The hem brushed the floor as he walked, and he had pulled them off in favor of a neatly pressed tunic and pants. “Wear these.” There was an accompanying sleeveless vest that hung past the robes and trailed behind, and Erestor tossed this atop the robe Thaladir held out.
“I hate wearing new clothes when I meet people for the first time,” he grumbled as he took the garments into the adjoining room to change. While away, he missed Erestor wiping the ink from his fingers that had produced the last minute smudge on his tunic. Thaladir was sighing silently in relief as Thranduil returned. “What’s the matter now?”
“Nothing, only that we are late,” answered Thaladir sternly. The trio left the household and turned in the direction of the council rooms when Erestor snapped his fingers.
“Shoot. I forgot something in my office. Thranduil, we need to get there right away,” he said in reference to himself and Thaladir. “Can you go to the offices, and get the small wooden box that is sitting atop my desk?”
“Yes, of course,” said Thranduil, more preoccupied with tugging on his collar as he went to find the box. Erestor and Thaladir watched him go for a moment before hurrying on their way.
“You don’t think he suspects, do you?” asked Erestor.
Thaladir shook his head, and smirked.
- - -
To say that Thingol’s Great Hall was full was an understatement. It was packed, nearly wall to wall with elves, except for the narrow aisle that led up to an altar at the front, where a veiled elleth stood between Finduilas and Celeborn.
“Welcome to your wedding.” The sound of his father’s voice nearly made Thranduil jump. “I realized that the moment I gave my permission for you to marry her, you would. So, I give you my consent. May you be blessed with a strong, loving marriage.”
Thranduil blinked. “I was tricked,” he whispered. “There is no great meeting here, no grand delegation of the elven realms, is there?”
Oropher couldn’t help but to smile. “No, but there is an entire room full of elves here to see you get married.”
“I cannot believe you are making me do this on such short notice,” he joked, as if this was a great inconvenience. Looking over his shoulder at the awaiting mass, and specifically to the front of the room where his bride stood, Thranduil turned back to face his father. “We should be promised to one another for a year first, should we not? Not that I mind- and I don’t have a ring, or-“ Thranduil paused as his father took the box from him and opened it, then showed the contents to Thranduil. A pair of identical rings, both made of a braid of silver and gold, caught the light and gleamed brightly from within the box.
“If you prefer an engagement, I doubt anyone will be disappointed in that.”
Once more Thranduil looked down the aisle, and this time his eyes met Avisiel’s worried gaze. “Who knew?”
“That you would be tricked into getting married?”
“That I would be so lucky as to find someone so special, and have such supportive friends and family.” Thranduil took the rings from the box and placed them into his pocket. “With your permission, sir?” Oropher nodded as Thranduil walked proudly to the front of the room. As he came to the altar and took his place beside Avisiel, he slid the rings discretely to Celeborn, no longer a gangly tag-along youth, but a regal-looking young elf, whose mind showed great promise. Finduilas took the bouquet of flowers from Avisiel, smiling brightly. Nearby in the front row sat a grinning young elf, paying attention only to Finduilas, winking to her when she looked his way. Beside him, his brother Gelmir, and closer to the aisle, Thingol and Melian, and then, Thranduil’s mother, who was joined a moment later by his father.
Thranduil’s distraction by the crowd did not last much longer, as Thaladir came around the side of the delegation and stood up on the raised platform, waiting for silence. Thranduil couldn’t help but smile to know his good friend would be presiding over his wedding, but his greatest surprise came as it came time for the blessing. Instead of his father, someone rose from near the back and walked slowly to the front, as if he still was not quite sure of what he was going to say.
“Marriage is a sacred bond,” began Erestor, “shared between two very devoted, loving elves. It is a door – a beginning, and an end. An end to youth, to childhood, and to the frivolous things the younger generations do. But, it is not an end to happiness, nor an end to merriment. It is the beginning of a new journey, a journey together.”
Erestor’s tone changed, relaxing as he continued. “It is highly believed that marriage leads to strict protocols, that as husband and wife, a couple should be the most perfect examples to others, especially their children. It is a world where one should lead by example, but that example should not include the absence of laughter, or of taking joy in simple things. Use the time you have together wisely, do not assume that marriage is an end to courtship. Continue to live each day as if it is the first day you met, and treat each kiss as if it is the first and the last.”
A number of the elves began to look oddly at one another, and at Erestor, but the wedding party continued to listen to each word Erestor said from their places before the altar, knelt in respect of what they were doing, of the pledge they were making. Thranduil could feel Avisiel’s nervousness, knowing she had never grown comfortable in crowds, and especially not as the center of attention. Reaching over, he squeezed her hand, and smiled to her, and she to him. With a calm, happy sigh, Thranduil turned his attention back to Erestor.
“May the Valar take witness upon this act, and bless your choice. May they bestow upon you happiness and harmony, and may your love ever and always be pure for one another.” Erestor stepped away from the podium amid an awkward silence before Thaladir stepped forward for the final prayer and the vows. Even he looked a bit shaken by Erestor’s words.
- - -
“Tell me, Erestor,” said Thingol as guests began to mingle between dinner and dancing, “is it customary now not to mention Eru, Manwe, and Varda in the marriage blessings?”
“Well, obviously, the Valar are present at every wedding of the first born, in one capacity or another,” explained the scribe. “To name one or another specifically, when perhaps it is another who will give his or her blessing to the couple, seems quite presumptuous.”
Thingol did not seem to agree. “It seems presumptuous not to mention them by name.”
“Elu,” Melian said, sliding her arm around her husband’s waist, “the blessing was lovely, and the wedding was simply perfect. Don’t spoil it for the happy couple,” she said, leaning against him, and smiling to Thranduil and Avisiel.
“Thranduil, what is your thought on the blessing?” asked Thingol. Erestor rolled his eyes, unseen by his lord, and sipped his champagne.
“I thought it to be very original,” Thranduil said, and bowed out of the matter by saying, “If you shall excuse us, we must thank the others who helped in planning this occasion.” Leading his blushing bride away from the argument, he came upon the rest of the wedding party, along with Gelmir and Gwindor. “You scoundrels,” he said to them in a hushed voice. “How long did you manage to keep it secret?”
“Long, long time,” answered Gelmir, holding out his hand in congratulations. “It seems as if everyone eventually knew except you, though.”
Giving a nod, Thranduil said, “I’ve been so busy, between my shift on guard and my appointment to the financial offices, I’ve barely been able to see what was being done right under my nose!”
“Oh, you loved it,” grinned Finduilas.
“I admit, I do like a good surprise now and again. But my wedding?” He shook a finger at Celeborn and Finduilas. “I’ll get the two of you back for this,” he promised.
“Me?” squeaked Celeborn. “It was Fin’s idea!” he said, waving accusingly at Finduilas, who simply stared up at the ceiling and nodded as she smirked. “Along with Thaladir.”
“I merely planned it,” Thaladir answered, holding his hands up in redemption. When Thranduil turned his wicked gaze upon him, Thaladir added, “But truly, Master Erestor and your father deserve the majority of the credit.”
When Thranduil looked back to Finduilas, she poked Gwindor in the shoulder. “He persuaded me to do it; he practically forced me to present the idea to your father.”
“He got me drunk,” Gwindor replied, motioning his thumb in his brother’s direction.
Before Gelmir could come up with his own defense, Thranduil started to laugh. “Traitors, the whole lot of you! But, t’was for a good cause,” he decided, and once again his gaze fell to his newly wedded wife.
“So then, really, thanks are in order,” pressed Gelmir playfully.
“My thanks to you will be not to seek revenge. Could none of you have given me a clue? A hint? A blatent explanation ahead of time?” Amid the laughter, Thranduil felt Avisiel tense, and discretely he stepped behind her to bring her protectively in front of him. The mirth died down as Erestor approached and stepped into the empty spot created in the circle.
“My apologies for earlier,” he whispered to Thranduil below the noise of the crowded room. “The musicians request the presence of the happy couple so that we may begin with the dancing,” Erestor stated to the group. Playfully, Gwindor made an attempt to drag Finduilas to the open part of the gardens where lanterns had been hung and the harpers tuned their instruments. Gelmir grabbed his brother by the arm and spun him back around, while Celeborn made a sweeping motion with his arms that Thranduil and Avisiel should pass them by.
- - -
Few dances had passed before the bridge and groom had gone off to retire for the evening – for the week or more, some had jested. A small but adequate apartment within the caves had been furnished for them as a wedding gift from the lord and lady, and with a delighted grin upon his face, Thranduil had carried his shy bride over the threshold and into their new home.
“Well.” Once the door was closed behind them and Avisiel situated with her feet upon the floor, Thranduil looked around, slightly unsure of how she expected him to proceed. He watched her nervously glide across the room to the large bed that was there. Her fingers lightly touched one of the spiraling poles that supported the canopy, pulling them away abruptly.
Thranduil frowned to himself, and then joined her across the room. At the end of the bed, the canopy had been pulled back, and he sat down upon it slowly. “I’m a little shaken myself,” he admitted as Avisiel turned her attentions to the fabric that hung down around the bed. “We don’t have to sleep together tonight, that is, we can sleep, we don’t have to...” he trailed off as she smiled to him and he smiled back. “Besides, we should break this mattress in,” he said playfully, testing it with one hand. “Jump up and down on it a bit, have a pillow fight or-“
Avisiel put her fingers against Thranduil’s lips, and he took her hand in silence and kissed it as she spoke. “I want you to make love to me,” she told him softly as he reached her wrist. “But I- I’m not ready to bond with you, yet.”
Pausing a little ways up her arm, Thranduil coaxed Avisiel over to sit on his lap, worry etched into his face. “Why not? What have I done?”
“Not you, you’ve done nothing,” she said rather quickly, stumbling over the words. Her hands found their way around his back and she hung onto him as he held her. “But when we bind our souls together, you will know about me, about my past- and about... about him...” Her voice was so low that Thranduil had to strain to hear it, his eyes darkening with jealousy.
“You had another...lover?” he guessed.
“No!” Clinging tighter, Avisiel promised, “There has only ever been you. But... there is something else. Something dreadful. And I must tell you of it.”
- - -
“With all due respect,” said Thaladir, “you have got to be joking.”
“Nay, and you know something this serious is not something I would ever jest about.” Thranduil stood beside his good friend and confidant just outside of the caves, in an alcove of sorts. No one took note of them with all of the merriment that continued. Thaladir’s eyes scanned the crowd, falling upon the one they spoke of. “You still do not believe me,” said Thranduil.
Thaladir kept his eyes focused on the figure that moved through the crowd. “I do not wish to believe you. But if she believes this, it would explain much.”
“What is to be done?”
Slowly, Thaladir turned to face Thranduil. “We must know more, and tell no one. But you know as well as I do that this will culminate in a confrontation. If she is correct, it means our doom. If she is not, I fear we may not forgive ourselves for our error.”
Thranduil nodded in agreement, and the two entered into the caves, unseen by all but one.
