First Meeting, First Parting
1. First Meeting
“Anancaul!” she hailed the mounted warrior riding towards her. “How fare they?” she asked, gesturing back the way he had come.
“They are well, My Lady. Their burdens lighten as the journey draws to an end. Do you wish to lead our people through the gates?” he questioned, his face blank. “Celleth asked me to ride back and inquire.”
She grinned wryly, “No, I think perhaps Celleth ordered you to produce me forthwith. He can handle the details of our arrival. I would rather see the last of us safely arrived. Celleth is very capable of greeting the king on our behalf. She laughed, “Actually, his silver tongue is suited for just such a purpose.”
Anancaul gave a long-suffering sigh, turned his horse and rode back up the path. Several elves waved merrily as he rode by. All were looking forward to the end of their journey. They had given up their homes deep in the forest in exchange for the King’s protection against the darkness. War was coming and it saddened their hearts and spirits.
At last the journey was complete. She glanced around upon entering the stronghold with the last of the stragglers and viewed organized chaos. There seemed to be a great deal of work involved with making room for the newcomers. A rather officious looking she-elf approached her group with Celleth and another in tow.
“Mae Govannen, My Lady,” the elf bowed. “ The king asked that I deliver his greetings. He sends his apologies; affairs of state keep him from welcoming you personally. I am called Lamathen. Please allow me to assist with any needs you may have."
She nodded in response. “Mae Govannen, Lamathen. I thank you for your assistance.”
“If you would follow me, My Lady,” Lamathen began, “my assistant will show this last group where the rest of your people are settled.”
She waved her people on and then turned and followed her guide, Celleth falling into step at her side. She heard him take a deep breath and knew she was in for a step-by-step recounting of his day. The only thing Celleth enjoyed more than hearing his own voice, was hearing his own voice tell of his exploits. What saved him from being completely unbearable was his kindness and the joy he found in helping her manage their small settlement. She always imagined that was how it felt to have a younger brother.
She let his words wash over her as she studied their new home. The trees were happier here; they still felt the encroaching darkness, but not to the extent as those closer to her home. There the darkness had become oppressive, but here there was still the light of hope.
"Lamathen!" called a young she-elf as they passed near the training ground. "Sorry to disturb you, but we need your help."
“Forgive me, I shall return shortly,” Lamathen said with a look of resignation and apology as she followed the young elf.
After Lamathen departed, she subtly maneuvered Celleth near the field where the warriors were training. One pair in particular caught her eye, and she found her attention turning to them again and again. They were sparring, their movements poetry in motion. They moved with lethal grace, and the site enthralled her. One warrior fought with a set of long knives, while the other wielded a sword. The noises of the day faded away as she beheld the blades flashing in the afternoon sun. She no longer heard Celleth’s voice, nor the sounds of the city. She heard nothing but the chink of metal as the two blades met and the sound of her heartbeat in her ears.
Her field of vision narrowed to one warrior, the knife wielder and her heartbeat quickened. She could feel the blood rushing in her ears and was entranced, seeing only him as if from far away. She grasped the trunk of the slender tree next to her, to steady herself as her heartbeat thundered and the pressure in her ears became pain.
The warrior met her gaze from across the field, and in an instant she felt her world dissolve and time stop. The pounding in her ears ceased, and in its place was a song, the song of her soul. She stared at him in wonder, shock and confusion. She remembered tales from her parents of the joy they felt when they found each other, but their words were inadequate to describe the joy she felt; and this man a stranger, no less. She had no idea who he was, or how this could have happened, but she knew he was the other half of her soul.
The warrior stared back at her, letting down his guard momentarily until his sparring partner drew his attention back to the fight with a well-aimed blow. With his gaze no longer on her, she felt she could move again and breathed deeply, surprised by the intensity of her feelings. She gave herself a quick shake and took the opportunity his distraction afforded her to look upon him. He was tall and lithe, like most of their kind, but he was also more solidly built, more defined than most. The sheer power she could see in his arms was arresting. He moved and she returned her gaze to his face, only to realize he had returned his attention to her. He had removed his helm and his hair seemed to run over his shoulders like liquid gold. He was smiling broadly as he held his arms and turned in a circle, like goods on display. She was mortified, but not enough to not enjoy the view, for as he turned his back toward her, she felt her whole body react. Her fingers twitched and muscles she didn’t know she had tightened. She began wishing she had skill with prose, for the tight well-sculpted backside presented was a thing worthy of sonnets.
He completed his turn and met her gaze once more an invitation in his eyes. She was positive she was blushing. His expression intensified as he beckoned her to him. She made to take a step when a voice brought her snapping back to the real world. Celleth was calling her name.
“…are you listening?” Celleth asked.
“I…” she finally turned her gaze away from the warrior. “Well truthfully no, I apologize Celleth, what were you saying?”
“It is not important,” Celleth replied, a hint of uncertainty in his voice, “I suspect I was rambling. This place is so different from home, and yet very much the same. Ah, Lamathen is returning; we should go.”
“We will find our place here, Celleth,” she said, as she took the arm he offered. She gave him an encouraging smile, hoping to reassure him. As they walked away, the weight of her responsibility descended once more onto her shoulders like an old well-worn cloak. There was much to be done. She glanced back at the warrior one last time and her eyes met his once more. She shivered at the intensity of the look. There was a promise in his gaze: a promise that he would find her, and woe to anyone who stood in his way. She smiled as she contemplated the possibilities and then turned her attention again to what Celleth was saying.
The afternoon sun waned as she finished up the important tasks with Lamathen. She pleaded travel fatigue, and left Celleth to deal with the minor things that could not be left until the following day. He seemed a kindred spirit to Lamathen and she no longer worried for him. The hours had passed with agonizing slowness and she could no longer subdue her impatience. She had found the other half of her soul and he was close. Now all she had to do was find him again.
She looked near the training grounds, and then wandered the grounds, but did not see the handsome warrior. She turned to the path leading to the king’s halls. There were warriors there, she mused. She could go and ask after him there, but the absurdity of the query stopped her. She could just envision it now, ‘Excuse me; I am looking for a warrior who was out on the field this afternoon. Tall, long hair, great behind.’ She stifled a laugh at the thought. She shook her head, and wondered if Lamathen and Celleth could help her, for the desire to find him was quickly overcoming her reluctance of sharing this new discovery. She turned to leave, and nearly ran into the one she was seeking. She glanced up and once more their eyes met; the intensity of the look causing the blood to rush to her face and her breath to catch in her throat.
“I have been searching for you.” He said, ghosting his hand over the curve of her face.
He moved his hand as if to brush back her hair, but he never touched her. She longed to move her face into his touch, but she felt frozen in place by his gaze.
“And I for you.” She replied breathlessly.
The object of his desire was standing before him, and though he could feel the heat from her skin and the warmth of her breath, he feared she was not real. He had left the training fields to follow her as soon as he was able; searching among the recent arrivals. He had nearly given up hope of finding her, nearly convinced himself that she was but a figment of his imagination but the song his soul still sang belayed that fear. Hearing her voice confirmed that she was stunningly real.
“I...I am uncertain how to ask this, but I need to know. Do you feel it too? This...joy and...” he trailed off with a look of almost desperation in his eyes.
“Completeness?” she finished. “I did not know it happened this way, but from the moment I saw you, my soul sang for you.” He saw the joy and tears in her eyes and the tightness around his heart eased.
“Mine as well” he replied, and then he chuckled softly. “Much to the consternation of Maiel,” he paused at her questioning look, “my sparring partner from this morn. I am rather afraid you distracted me enough that I forgot to block him. He had to pull his blow at the last minute. He was rather unhappy with me. I suspect he thinks I have gone a bit mad.”
She smiled with a combination of consternation and amusement. “I know I should apologize for distracting you,” she explained, “but I am not sorry at all. I cherish every movement you made, every moment you were in my presence. Perhaps we have both gone a bit mad?”
“ Then let us be mad together,” he offered. “Will you walk with me? I wish to know more of you.”
“I would be honored,” she paused, glancing around. “Which way?”
He gestured to a small but well tended path that meandered around the palace grounds. He began to offer his arm, but quickly pulled it back. He longed to touch her, but was not entirely sure of the wisdom of even the most innocent of contact. So they walked, side by side, on the darkening path, trading stories of their childhoods and tidbits of their adult lives. It was not long before he felt he had known her his whole life. With each smile or small motion, the desire he felt for her grew.
“There is something I would show you; a favorite place of my childhood,” he explained he directed their path down a dark little used trail. “This is an old garden that was much loved by the king’s family. It was a favorite play area for elflings, though it is not visited now but by a few who remember.”
She glanced around at the garden and smiled at the image of him as an elfling playing in the trees that shaded the edges of the garden. They stopped in a clearing, almost in the very center and stood in the light cast by the newly risen moon. She turned to tell him how lovely she found the garden, but words failed her as she beheld him.
He was bathed in moonlight. His hair was pale silver, hanging loosely over his shoulders. He stood there, arms at his side, shoulder stiff with tension, his tunic shimmering in the light. He was beautiful to behold and she longed to reach for him, but was unsure. He had not touched her, and she ached for the feel of his hand on her skin.
“It is beautiful”, she whispered, “but the garden is not what I wish to look upon this night. Nor is it what I desire to touch,” she said while reaching her hand up next to his face, mirroring his action from earlier tracing a ghost path along his jaw and ear.
He froze at her words his breath caught in his throat. He watched as she slowly lowered her hand, with disappointment in her eyes at his lack of response. Before her hand had returned her side, his own shot out and wrapped around her waist pulling her to him. He cradled her face in his other hand and marveled at the feel of her skin against his. She melted into his touch. He felt her whole body lean against his. He watched her eyes close, a look of bliss on her face as she nuzzled into his embrace. He moved his hand from her face to her hair and let his fingers dig into the long tresses. He felt her arms go around his waist and suddenly, finally he felt complete. He never wanted to let her go. A wave of contentment rolled over him as her heart beat against his chest. They stood there for several long moments and neither of them moved.
He felt her breath against his neck as she sighed and moved a bit in his embrace. He loosened his hold to allow her more movement and felt her hands caress his back. She almost seemed to purr as she slowly moved her hands down his back to his waist and then further. He jumped as he felt her hands kneading his rear and she chuckled softly. “I have been wanting to do that since the moment I first saw you.”
He laughed and swung her around in joy before setting her back on her feet. “You,” he said as he gently reached out and touched her nose, “are a minx. I have been scared to touch you for fear of frightening you off with my desires and you have been plotting on how best to capture my backside. My father will think you a just punishment, I think, for all the grief I have given him.”
“I have never felt such joy,” he said as he took a step back and enfolded her hands in his “nor such blessed madness. You may think me mad in truth for I have to ask this now. My heart, will you spend your life with me? Will you be my wife?”
He only had to wait a moment to hear the word he craved. His heart cried out in joy while his hand brushed back her hair and moved along her ear and before she could respond his mouth descended on hers.
She felt the softness of his lips against hers and opened her mouth in invitation. He deepened the kiss and pulled her body against his. She felt his hand move down her side and brush past her breast. She groaned into his mouth and felt his lips tighten into an answering smile before he resumed kissing her. She had never dreamed this would feel so good. She desperately wanted to touch him and while his mouth did wonderful things to hers she let her hands roam. They moved down his own chest with only a little bit of fumbling when their arms collided, each on their own quest. She ran her hands once more down his back only to be distracted from her quest when she felt the cool evening air on her breasts. He had managed to get the ties of her dress lose and it had fallen as far as her elbows, exposing her to his gaze and touch. She gasped as his fingers lightly traced the areola of her nipples and they tightened in arousal. She arched into him and dug her fingernails into his backside eliciting an answering groan from him.
She let go and pushed his hands away. She wanted to feel his skin against hers and started working the lacings of his tunic free. He quickly figured out her plan and tried to help while distracting her with quick kisses. Four hands quickly led to a tangled mess and she gave a tangled tie a jerk in frustration, snapping it. His tunic fell open and she pushed it back over his shoulders thanking providence for well-worn ties. She ran her hands down his smooth chest and then pressed herself to him. His hands tightened around her waist keeping her near. The feel of his chest against her breasts was exquisite. She stood there reveling in the sensations while trying to slow her rapid breathing. He seemed equally affected judging by the gasping breath in her ear and arousal pressed against her.
“I suppose this might be a good time to ask for your name, my love,” a wry voice said next to her ear.
She gasped and took a step back, and his arms slid from her. She stared at him in shock, while trying to remember their conversations from earlier. Surely they had introduced themselves. She had told him the name of her childhood friends, her pets, her parents, but never her name? She racked her brain. She knew his favorite hobbies, his mother’s name, but she did not know his name either. She glanced at the condition of their clothes and then returned her gaze to his. It was too much. She clapped her hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, but it was not enough to muffle the giggles. She heard his answering chuckle and soon both were roaring with laughter. Here she was standing half naked in a public garden with a man who had asked her to marry him, when he did not even know her name. They both had to be mad. They collapsed onto the ground and sat on the cool grass until they could look at each other and not succumb to another attack of laughter.
He watched her regain control of herself and did the same. He had not laughed so in a long time and it felt glorious. He reached out his hand to her and she took it and scooted over to sit next to him in the warmth of his embrace.
“So my lady,” he asked with only a touch of remaining levity, “may I have your name?”
He felt her draw breath to reply when they both froze. There were footsteps approaching their location. They glanced at each other and their current state of undress and rose quickly. He watched her fix her dress and he tried to lace his tunic back up, only to discover the broken tie. He glanced at the tie in his hand with amusement. He looked around on the ground nearby and found the other half and tied the two pieces together and then relaced his tunic. He thanked the Valar for the speed of Elven reflexes as he managed to dress himself before they were discovered.
“ I think perhaps this is not the best place to get to know each other after all. Let us find another” He said as he offered her his hand.
She smiled in anticipation and clasped his hand and together they ran from the garden barely escaping discovery.
Her only excuse for being surprised by their destination was sheer giddiness. She had followed where he led. It wasn’t his fault that she had not been paying attention. She had not run free and acted foolish like that since she was an elfling. It had been liberating to run and giggle with a companion to share the situation. Especially a companion that looked as he did. They had run past other elves and through the halls of the building. That the building was the king’s hall did not register. He pulled her down a hallway that was thick with guards and then into an unoccupied room.
“Love, I need for you to meet my father.” He spoke, suddenly serious.
“Now?” she asked incredulous.
The levity slowed faded as she read the seriousness in his gaze. “ I leave at dawn on a mission to the west and I need him to know of you. I do not know how long I may be gone” He explained.
She felt her heart clench at the thought of his departure. She despaired as her mind screamed at the injustice of his leaving when she had only just found him. She had heard of the mission, it had been the talk of the people, but she just had not put the pieces together. She closed her eyes to hide the despair she felt at his leaving, but it was unnecessary for he felt the same, and gently folder her back into his arms.
“ I am sorry. I would stay if I could” he whispered.
She gently stepped out of his embrace and put her hands on his face. “My heart longs for you to stay, but I would never ask it of you. Duty calls and it is necessary that we answer.”
“Beloved, you fill my heart with such joy,” he said as he laid his hand over hers. “Ere I go, I would make vows between us. It is perhaps impetuous, but I crave the binding such words would bring in these perilous times.”
“You asked me to be your wife,” she answered slowly, “and I have answered. I will take such time as we are given and use the memory to comfort me until you return.” She disengaged her hands from his and brushed her them down her clothes to make sure everything was hanging right and then glanced at him. “So, your father?”
He offered her his arm with great dignity and she placed her arm in his. They left the room and walked down the hallway to a wooden door at the end. He nodded to the guards and they opened the door to let them pass. She felt suddenly uneasy. They had still not managed to exchange names. Who was his father that he was tucked away so deep in the king’s halls. She cast her future husband one last uneasy glance and then smoothed out her features into an expressionless mask. She would show no fear. He was the other half of her soul, even if she didn’t know his name.
They walked into a room that was bustling with activity. People moved about the room carrying maps or parchment. They moved about as if dancers in some complicated figure. In the center of the activity, on a carved wooden throne, sat the king. The king glanced up as they walked toward him and smiled fondly. It was a paternal smile, like a proud father, to his son. She felt lightheaded; this she had not anticipated. She glanced back and forth between the king and the elf holding her hand. Yes, there was a resemblance. She momentarily closed her eyes and said a short prayer to the Valar. Then threw her fate to the winds and followed her heart.
“Adar, may I have a word in private?” her future husband asked.
At those words, it was as if the music stopped. All the activity in the room ceased and the attention all turned to their conversation.
“We can speak in my chambers. I find I could use a little distraction,” the king said as he rose. He turned and headed for a door near the back of the room and they followed him out. As they walked away, activity and conversation slowly resumed. Then the noise faded as the door closed, muffling the sound.
He had felt her tense as they walked into the throne room, but as far as he could tell, she was doing quite well. He could not read all the nuances of her face, but the thought of having the chance to learn sounded delightful. He escorted her into his father’s chamber and stood next to her as his father settled himself at his desk.
“So what was so pressing”, the king asked, “that you needed to interrupt that delightfully boring meeting?”
“Father, I want you to meet the other half of my heart,” he exclaimed with a smile on his face.
The king grinned as he watched his son and the slightly blushing elf at his side. “So does she have a name, my son?”
He flushed slightly and turned to give her an ironic look
“I have tried to discover her name I swear,” he replied with sincerity belied only by the gleam in his eye, “but the lady is frugal with answers and has refused to share that gem of knowledge with me.”
He turned to watch her reaction and her face lost its impassive mask as her eyes seemed to glow with outrage. She looked like she was about to counter this outrageous statement when the laughter from the other side of the desk distracted her.
“Oh the memory of this I will cherish, my son. Your tongue will get you into trouble one day. Now go see to something while I get to know your lady.” The king said with much amusement as he stood up and came around the desk.
He watched as his father plucked her hand from his and deftly escorted her across the room to a comfortable sitting area. She glanced back and shot him a look that promised retribution and then turned her attention to her future father by marriage. He stood there uncertainly and then turned abruptly and made for the door. As he was leaving, he heard his father ask, “So what is your name, my dear?” He slowed hoping to catch the answer, but he had started through the door, and the guard on the outside closed it behind him. Never had he cursed the efficiency of the guard more. He stared at the closed door in frustration then turned his attention to the overly efficient guard.
“If my father finishes before I am back, send someone to find me,” he ordered and without waiting for a reply took off down the hall at a run.
He reached his quarters and poked his head in. They were fairly clean and smelled fresh and he sighed in relief. He stepped back out into the hallway to see Frediel walking towards him carrying fresh laundry.
“Frediel,” he asked suddenly, “Can you get me fresh flowers?”
“Fresh flowers, my lord?” she asked confused, “Well, yes I suppose.”
“Now?” he asked.
“Not until after I deliver these to your cousin,” she replied.
He eyed the stack, the hallway and then Frediel. “I will deliver the laundry if you will get me flowers, lots of them. I am rather rushed for time. Please?” he pleaded.
He watched her face soften at his plea and she handed him the laundry. “I will leave them in your room, my lord. Be sure you deliver these,” she replied and then turned away with a look of faint amusement on her face.
He thought of what image he offered, begging for flowers and delivering laundry and shook his head at the thought. However, he was on a mission and took off down the hall to deliver the laundry. After stopping in and dropping the linens on his cousin’s bed, and ignoring the look of stunned amazement on his face, he left heading for the kitchens without a word. He found the cook and sweet talked her into putting together a package for him and then quickly returned to his rooms. The flowers were there. He quickly put everything where he wanted it, grabbed a single bloom and then headed back towards his father’s chamber. On his way back he ran into, almost literally, the guard from his father’s door.
“Sir, you asked...” the guard began.
“My thanks,” he interrupted and then increased his speed down the hallway.
There was a new guard on the door, who, upon seeing the king’s son sprinting down the hall, opened the door to the king’s chambers to announce his arrival. The guard managed to clear the doorway before the king’s son, who had pulled up sharply, entered his fathers room with minimal signs that he had just run a short foot race through the halls.”
The king glanced up when the door opened. His clearly besotted son was standing in the doorway holding a single flower in his hand. The king smiled at the tableau before him and was glad he was able to enjoy this moment, both the happiness of the occasion and the oddity of the event. Imagine not even knowing the name of the elf you ask to wed.
“Good evening son.” He began, but then waited as he watched his son casually nod to him and turn his attention to the she-elf he had just spent the last hour getting to know. His son presented her the flower and her eyes got a little misty. The King cleared his throat before they got too much further down the path they were treading. “You have my congratulations my son, your choice for a bride is lovely. When did you two think to marry?”
“Now,” they replied in unison. Then his son turned to him, “I do not wish to waste a moment, for we do not know what may happen. The darkness has returned and I wish to bring a memory of light and love with me when I leave on the morrow.
“Elves do not marry in such haste,” The king replied sternly. He watched their faces grow guarded and he snorted at the impatience of youth. “However, in light of circumstances, and if you are both sure of your hearts, we may forgo the traditional year of betrothal. Always thought it was a distinctly Noldor tradition after all. My lady, do you have family to call forth on your behalf?”
“No, my king. I am the last of my line,” she replied solemnly.
“Then as representative of your house, do you agree to this joining with no reservations or qualms?” he asked formally.
“I agree,” she answered
“Then make what vows you will this night. They will be between you and the Valar. I would plan, however, on having a nice big celebration when you are reunited. Traditions can be bent when the need arises, but it is always best to placate those most likely to be offended.”
“Go on, be off with you,” the king ordered as their expressions lit with happiness. “I will let it be known, so none will bother you this night. You have my blessing my children, let life lead you where it may.”
The king watched as they turned toward the door, and he remembered his own wedding with fondness. In time of darkness the moments of light were worth remembering. He glanced up as he realized they had stopped at the door and turned back.
“Thank you, Father,” his son said, “You have my love.” Then they were gone.
The king smiled. He stood up and reentered the throne room, calling for everyone’s attention as he did. He shared the joyous news of his son’s impending wedding and after much cheering the business of the realm resumed on a brighter note.
As he walked down the hall, the happiness was almost overwhelming. He felt the need to sing, but could not think of any words to wholly encompass his mood. Then he remembered.
“My love, will you tell me your name?” he asked with chagrin in his voice.
If he had known her better, the look on her face would have sent a shiver of apprehension and perhaps anticipation down his spine. As it was, the look she graced him with was enigmatic at best.
“No, my love,” she responded.
“No? We could exchange, for I realize I have not told you my name,” he wheedled.
She chuckled merrily, “Who does not know the name of the golden haired king’s son? I know your name my love.”
They had reached the doors to his chambers and he was just reaching around her to open the door when she laughingly answered him. He narrowed his eyes and instead of opening the door, pinned her to it with his body.
“So what do I have to do to earn your name?” he asked with a silky edge to his voice.
Her eyes widened at his tone and her merry grin turned into a seductive smile. “Earn? Earn? What a marvelous idea. The task is clear,” she purred moving her mouth up next to his ear and placing her hand atop his on the door latch. “All you have to do.... is please me.” She nipped his earlobe and then opened the door and pulled him into the room by his tunic.
She marveled at her sheer audacity. She had never done anything this insane before, but oh, her body thought it was grand. He cooperated until just inside the door, then he stopped. She reluctantly let go suddenly unsure of herself. He closed the door and then leaned back against it and waited. She glanced at him uncertainly, and he gestured into the room his face curiously blank. So she turned and observed her surroundings. It was his room, she had no doubt of that, it smelled vaguely of him and ...her nose twitched. It smelled of flowers and fresh bread. She looked around and scattered throughout the room were vases of fresh cut flowers. Laid out on a table at the far end of the room was a selection of bread, fruit, cheese and wine. She smiled at the thoughtfulness, her desire momentary forgotten.
“It is wonderful! She exclaimed and turned back toward him. She felt like dancing and spun around in a small circle in delight. “Is this what you did while I spoke with your father?”
Her question finally got a reaction out of him. “Indeed, I am glad you like it.” He moved away from the door and stalked her as he might his prey of a day’s hunt. She watched him, suddenly wary. “I have but one question for you then, does it please you?
He watched her glory in the small deeds he had done, but her words kept echoing in his head, so he had asked the question, and he watched her eyes darken with desire in response. She watched him move toward her and he thanked the Valar for her response.
“Not enough, my love, I want more,” she whispered huskily.
“Then you shall have it,” he replied and then pounced.
He pulled her into his arms and brought his mouth down hard on hers. He waited for her reaction to this onslaught, afraid that maybe this was not the best way to start, despite his body’s wishes. His fears vanished when he felt her fingernails dig first into shoulder and second into his rear. He slowly pushed her back towards the bed not letting up for a moment. He stopped when they were a hairsbreadth from the edge and grabbed her shoulders and lightly pushed her away from him. She took a step back to catch her balance and instead her calves hit the bed and she toppled onto it. He watched her sprawl on his bed and one word kept echoing in his head as he watched her try to calm her breathing: Mine. She was his and on this night that was all that mattered. He put one knee on the bed beside her and then slowly pressed her back onto the bed with his weight. She looked a touch uncertain, but welcomed him anyway. He was pinning her legs, but supporting his upper body on his elbows. She took the opportunity this position afforded her to untie the top laces of his tunic while they exchanged quick desperate kisses. Suddenly she growled in frustration.
He stopped kissing her and laughed, oh but he could not help it. She sounded like a thwarted beast whose prey had gotten away. She shoved him and he rolled off her so that they were lying side by side. She hit him once more for good measure while he managed to get his laughter under control.
“I am sorry love, but you sounded....” he started laughing again. When he finally managed to pull himself together he realized she was sitting up, her legs crossed under her, watching him. She was smiling, which relieved the momentary fear that he had offended her.
“I am...” he tried again to apologize again, but she stopped him with a finger across his lips.
“You do not need to apologize, but if you ever make a sound worthy of my laughter, you will rue the day you laughed at me.” She promised with a sense of both chagrin and mirth.
“Would it please you love, to start again?” he asked with just a touch of mirth.
“No, not yet.” She replied and then tucked her legs under her and rose up on her knees. “Sit up.”
Comprehension dawned on his face and he matched her position. He reached out a hand to her face and then dropped it back to his side and then met her gaze.
“Would that we could do this properly....” he began..
Her hand reached out and rested over his heart. “This is as proper as we need,” she replied.
He racked his brain for words to say, he vaguely remembered the last wedding he had attended but the formal words would not come to him. He was on his own, but a poet he was not, and he hoped she was not expecting eloquence. He covered her hand where it rested on his chest and took a deep breath and spoke.
“You have my heart, soul and body. My heart beats for only you, from now until eternity.” With his words he grasped her hand brought it lightly to his mouth, kissed her palm and returned it to her. He wondered how many times he would stand on a precipice waiting for her response to the things that were important to him. She did not disappoint him this time. She was quick in her reply and there were tears in her eyes.
“I accept your gifts, and give unto you my heart for safekeeping. All that is mine to give is yours, from now to eternity.
He closed the space between them and kissed her gently and she wrapped her arms around him. Suddenly she giggled. He quirked an eyebrow at her, as she once again retreated from him.
“Somehow I just never envisioned getting married to a half dressed, royal elf in his bed without so much as a witness.“ she explained.
He shook his head at the thought of anyone else being here at the moment. He certainly didn’t need any witnesses. They would want to toast them, and offer congratulations, sing some songs and hear histories. No, now was definitely not the time for witnesses. He looked quickly around the room with sudden concern. He jumped out of bed and checked to make sure the door was fastened and secured. Then he checked the windows and balcony door for the same. He pulled the curtains shut tightly and then turned back and saw the look of shocked amusement on her face.
“Trust me when I say,” he began to explain, “that we do not need any witnesses for the rest of the evening.” She glanced around the room and burst into more laughter.
“You forgot to check to see if anyone was lurking under the bed or in the cabinets!” she managed to get out between gasps of breath and laughter.
He walked back to the bed and sat down next to her and waited until she had regained her composure.
“My apologies, I have dreamed of this day for years and I never imagined it would hold so much laughter.” She explained, “I do not think I would have it any other way, but I am rather nervous and impatient. I look at you and I want so much, but I do not know how to ask for it.”
“Then lets start again, small steps, for I have not done this either. Tell me what you want?” He replied and pulled her lightly into his arms.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.