Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of J. R. R. Tolkien, nor any of the various dramatic incarnations thereof. No profit is being made from this work.

Hello, and welcome to this story!

Marriage is, to me, one of the most interesting of institutions. I have a great deal of respect for two people who promise to share the rest of their lives with each other, blending their different personalities and insights on life into a whole that, ideally, is stronger than either one of them. I admire people who can do that for their courage and their openness. I also think that weddings are ridiculously funny, and better entertainment than anything the Ringling Brothers ever dreamed up. Go figure.

Have fun with the story, and I'll see you at the end.

"Ah, my Lord Elrond, there you are!"

Elrond looked up from the map of the lands between Imladris and the Bruinen, which he had been studying with Glorfindel. He smiled wryly as Erestor walked into the room, and nodded towards a chair. Erestor sat down.

"I apologize for my tardiness, my Lord, but I had not known that this meeting had been moved until I arrived in our normal place."

"And found it overrun, no doubt," Glorfindel said with a smirk. "How much of your house have you surrendered thus far, Lord Elrond?"

Elrond turned to glare at Glorfindel. "I have surrendered none of it. When this business is over, I will reclaim the territory which is mine by right."

It was Erestor's turn to grin now. "That," he remarked, "is what you think, my Lord."

Elrond raised an eyebrow. "Your tongue could be put to much better use, Erestor. Tell me what has become of my accustomed council porch, since you have seen it this day."

"It would appear that that porch has become headquarters for the day. The Lady Galadriel herself was there, supervising the gardeners as they planted flowering irises and hyacinths and hung great pots of other blue flowers."

"Blue flowers." Elrond dropped his head into his hands. "After this is over, I will be happy if I never lay eyes on anything blue for a hundred years. Imladris is a lovely house; I made sure of that when I built the place. I do not understand why it must be transformed into a sea of blue simply for my wedding."

Glorfindel and Erestor exchanged an amused glance. Glorfindel reached over and cheekily patted his Lord's arm. "I had thought that your years of service to Gil-galad would have taught you to see great events in their proper perspective," he said. "The occasion is not your wedding. It is the Lady Celebrían's wedding, and Lady Galadriel is determined that everything about that occasion should be perfect, down to the smallest detail. You are merely the bridegroom, one among many other details."

"I am well versed in the customs of marriage," Elrond retorted. "It is supposed to be an equal partnership."

"And it is," Erestor assured him. "However, that is marriage. This is the wedding. You would do well to learn the difference."

"Erestor," Elrond said, "you are meant to be my counselor. You are meant to be at my side, giving me advice on escaping such crises as may arise in life."

"And that is precisely what I am doing," Erestor said. "This is a wedding. You cannot escape it by force or by cunning. All you can do is surrender gracefully in the knowledge that the immediate storm will come and go, and then you may embark on your marriage with the Lady Celebrían."

"Erestor's words are wise," Glorfindel put in. "You would do well to heed them."

"I am married myself, after all," Erestor said. "I have not forgotten my own wedding. I have been in your position, and I think I know some of what you are experiencing."

"The commanding nature of your lady's mother combined with the color blue?" Elrond snorted.

"No. For my wedding, it was pink."

Elrond stared at Erestor for a moment, then collapsed back in his chair. His head fell back, his shoulders shook, and after a moment, Glorfindel and Erestor realized that their lord was laughing.

"Pink!" he gasped. "Oh, that is too rich. Oh, Erestor, how I wish I had seen that! Tell me that you did not have to wear it."

"My cloak. It was of lovely rich silk, exquisitely embroidered in gold about the hem. . . but, alas, it was indeed pink."

Elrond laughed helplessly. Glorfindel grinned. "That you would wear such a thing speaks to me of true love, my friend," he said. Erestor smiled wryly at the memory.

Elrond took a deep breath and brought himself under control. "Thank you for telling me that, Erestor," he said. "If nothing else, it will help me to put my own current woes in perspective. Let us now return to the business at hand, lest we spend the entire day in council." He brushed several stray papers from the map of the valley. "Just before you arrived, Glorfindel and I were discussing the benefits of expanding our pasturage to the west."

"This was the area you were considering?" Erestor asked, brushing his hand over a particular section of the map.

"Yes," Glorfindel said. "I was just telling Lord Elrond that —" A tap on the doorframe broke his concentration. The three Elves looked up to find one of the young smiths of Imladris standing in the entryway. Elrond sighed and motioned for him to enter.

"Come in, Mírdan," he said. "What is your errand? We are in the midst of a council, so this must be brief."

Mírdan bowed. "I apologize for interrupting, my Lord. I am charged by Lady Celebrían to show you these rings I have crafted. The Lady asks that you select one to be your marriage ring." He took a small flannel pouch from his belt, and shook its contents into one hand. Laying the pouch on the table, he placed three slender bands of gold upon it, each one subtly carved and shaped.

Elrond considered the three carefully. The first, made in the shape of two intertwining threads, seemed both fragile and likely to cut into the finger that wore it. The other two were engraved solid bands. One had a verse from one of Maglor's love songs. That connection to his childhood tempted Elrond, but the ring's similarity to the agent of Isildur's fall sent a shudder down his spine. Mírdan noted his reaction and smiled mirthlessly.

"I thought you might not care for that one," he said. "The Lady Galadriel liked it, and indeed it is a style from the earliest Age of the world. However, I believe that people may find poesy rings less than desirable after. . . recent events." He twisted his own marriage ring, a nervous habit that he had acquired after his son's death at Dagorlad and his wife's sailing for Valinor a few years later. Elrond reminded himself to sit down with Mírdan after the wedding and determine the extent of his recovery from his loss, then turned his attention to the third ring on the table.

Like the other, it was a solid golden band, but instead of poetry, it bore an engraved pattern of flowers and leaves. "This is lovely," Elrond said. "It is an appropriate design with which to begin a new family and a new Age." Mírdan nodded approvingly.

"Then I shall deliver it to Lady Celebrían for safekeeping until the ceremony and melt the others. You will be pleased to note that she requested a similar pattern for her own ring. I will deliver that to you when I have finished engraving it." He scooped the three rings into their pouch.

Elrond smiled at the smith. "Thank you, Mírdan. I am glad to know that my choice meets with the approval of my lady." Mírdan bowed and turned to leave, but Elrond caught his arm. "I meant what I said about the rings, Mírdan. They are truly beautiful, all three of them. You could do worse than to turn your talents to fashioning lovely things of gold."

Mírdan paused, an unreadable look on his face. "For you, my Lord, I will work in gold. For myself, I will work in steel. By your leave." He nodded politely and left the room. Elrond and the others watched him go. Erestor sighed.

"It is a shame. I remember when he was yet merry and light of heart."

"He was sorely wounded," Elrond said. "And the deepest wounds leave scars. I apologize for the interruption, my lords. Where were we?"

"In the midst of our land plans," Glorfindel answered. "And you were under the illusion that you were still the master of this house."

Elrond chuckled. "That illusion is already fading under the harsh glare of reality. But let us work while the last shreds still remain."

The rest of the day was long and trying for Elrond. By sunset, he had not completed the list of tasks he had set himself for that day, having been interrupted on a regular basis by someone involved with the wedding plans. As much as the interruptions irritated him, Elrond could not find it in his heart to resent them fully, for he appreciated the fact that his opinion on various matters seemed to have some value.

As the sun set over the Bruinen, Elrond gazed dully at the empty jars on his work table. He had made a list of fourteen tisane mixtures that he wished to prepare that day, and he had only managed to complete eight of them. But he found that he did not have it within him to finish the remaining six. Deciding that the dried herbs would not spoil if left unmixed for the night, he cleared his supplies away and resolved to start afresh the next morning, after carefully barring the door.

Briefly, Elrond considered the prospect of dinner. He was vaguely hungry, but was not in any mood to rouse himself to go to the dining hall. His household would simply have to dine without him that night. He doubted that they would mind. Instead, he went to his private suite and flopped down on a couch near the window in his sitting room.

Now that he had no tasks to occupy him, his mind insisted upon returning to a conversation he had had with Galadriel earlier in the afternoon. It had left him with an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, one of crushing inadequacy combined with an edge of grief. He was fairly certain that Galadriel had meant no harm in what she had said, and it was, after all, something that needed to be discussed. He forced himself to consider the issue, and bit back a cry of grieved anger.

Someone knocked at the door, then entered without waiting for permission. Elrond looked up and was cheered to see Celebrían gliding across the room towards him. He sat up straighter on the couch to make room for her, and she sank down next to him, winding her arms around his neck and giving him a soft kiss. Almost immediately, his mood began to lighten.

"Mmm," he said, when Celebrían pulled away. "You may come in."

"Why, thank you." Celebrían snuggled closer into his embrace, wriggling to find the most comfortable position, a habit that Elrond found strangely endearing. "I had originally come to ask if you were planning to come to the dining hall, but this is much more entertaining."

"I am not hungry this evening," Elrond said. His stomach rumbled treacherously, and he hastily amended his statement. "That is, I am not hungry enough to endure the company of others."

"Am I intruding on your privacy?"

Elrond amended his statement again. "I am not hungry enough to endure the company of anyone except she who is almost my wife." Celebrían rewarded him with a small kiss on his jaw, then rearranged herself in his arms.

"I also came to apologize for my mother. She can be overbearing at times, and you have been marvelously accommodating these past few months, but I could see that her words caused you pain."

"She did not intend them to do so," Elrond said. "I am not angry with your mother. In truth, I am more upset with myself. It was a legitimate question, and one that I fear I have been avoiding for far too long."

"She could at least have spoken more diplomatically," Celebrían said. "She could have asked you if you had considered who would stand for your father in the wedding ceremony rather than simply asking that you send your choice to the tailor to be fitted for his robe."

Elrond shrugged. "I guess that her way is diplomacy of a sort. The answer to your version of the question is, no, I have not given the matter much thought. However, your mother's version reminds me that I cannot delay thinking about it much longer, and I had better come to a decision soon, no matter how painful it may be to think about."

"Is it that you cannot bear to have anyone stand in place of your father?" Celebrían asked. "If that is the case, we can alter the ceremony."

"It is not that." Elrond buried his face in Celebrían's hair and inhaled its fresh scent deeply before continuing. "I never really knew Eärendil, so it is not precisely grief that I feel for him. Rather, I am angry."

"At Eärendil?"

"Yes," Elrond said. "But not Eärendil alone. If the question of who would stand in place of my father were that simple, I would not be in the state I am in now. Celebrían, there have been so many people in my life who have loved me and cared for me. There was Eärendil, my birth father, and Maglor, who raised me. There was Gil-galad, who fostered me when I was a youth. And there was Elros. Any one of them could have stood by my side on my wedding day. But they are no longer here. Elros and Gil-galad are dead. Eärendil sails the sky far above, and only the Valar know what has become of Maglor."

Elrond paused and took a deep breath, willing his insides to stop churning. Celebrían stroked his face with her cool hands and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her and clutched her tightly, crushing her against him.

"Oof," Celebrían said. Elrond laughed shakily and loosened his grip on her.

"I am sorry. This subject is a difficult one for me."

"That much is plain." Celebrían patted his arm. "But it seems to be one we must discuss sooner or later. You said you were angry at Eärendil. Are you angry at Maglor and Gil-galad and Elros as well?"

"Yes." The word came out as a choked whisper. "I loved them. And they left me alone. Each one of them. I loved them, and they went where I could not follow, and I remained behind to mourn their passing. Even Gil-galad left me in the end. I do not want to be left alone any more, Celebrían."

"Oh, Elrond." Celebrían took his hand in hers and kissed it. The tenderness of the gesture made Elrond's eyes fill with tears, and Celebrían brushed them away. "Do not weep for your loneliness. In a few more weeks, we will be married, and then you will never be alone again." She gave a shaky giggle. "My mother is formidable and commanding," she said, "but she has already taken you into her heart. She and my father will love you as their own son. You will be part of the family."

Elrond smiled through his tears. "I am glad to hear that. But before that happens, there must be the wedding, and someone must stand in my father's place for that."

"So we return once again to the source of our discussion." Celebrían pursed her lips in thought. "Is there no one here who could fill that place? A dear friend? One of your counselors, perhaps?"

"I am the Lord of this valley," Elrond said. "I am friendly with most of its inhabitants, but I do not know that there are many I would consider to be close friends."

"There is Glorfindel. And there is Erestor. You spend much of your time in their company."

Elrond shook his head. "They are colleagues, and they are both important and valuable to me. Glorfindel was a friend of my grandparents in Gondolin. But I cannot ask either one of them to do this. I . . . well, I do not feel that I know them well enough to ask such an honor of them."

"I suppose you could stand alone, then. It is not so unusual these days. Many people lost their fathers in the war."

"Do you really think that Lady Galadriel would allow me to stand alone in her perfect ceremony?" Elrond laughed. Celebrían blushed. Elrond shook his head. "It is possible that I could persuade her to do so, but the truth is that I do not want to. I know that I have complained loud and long about your mother's organizational skills, but I do appreciate her efforts to make this a proper wedding. I confess that I am somewhat of a romantic at heart, and I would like to have someone at my side to give me away to my beautiful bride."

"Somewhat of a romantic?" Celebrían giggled. "I think that you are far beyond merely 'somewhat.' I suppose that I could not lend you my father? He will be arriving soon with Thranduil, and I am sure he would not mind."

"It is a kind offer, but I cannot accept it," Elrond said. "He is your father, after all, and not mine."

"That is true," Celebrían sighed. "It was a thought."

"And a kind one. But, alas, impossible as well. I do not know what I will do." Elrond's stomach chose that moment to rumble, breaking the tension in the room. Celebrían smiled and rose from the couch.

"You will come with me to find some dinner," she said. "I will not have my bridegroom waste away before the wedding. For one thing, the clothing which my mother has so carefully selected would not fit him very well."

"Oh, the horror."

"You!" Celebrían swatted at Elrond's arm. "After we have eaten, I will go seek out my mother and tell her what we have just been discussing." She laid a finger on Elrond's lips to forestall any protest. "She is wise and clever, and she has already put so much work into this wedding. Let us put some of her enthusiasm to work on an issue that will truly mean something to you." She gave Elrond one last kiss and left the room.

"I knew there was a reason I loved you," Elrond said as he followed her out.

Elrond was engrossed in his tisanes the next day when a knock came at the door. He rolled his eyes and set down his measuring tools. With a groan at the interruption, he pulled away the bench he had used to bar the door and opened it.

"May I come in?" Galadriel herself stood in the doorway instead of the expected member of what Glorfindel had begun to call "the wedding tribe." Elrond's jaw worked silently for a few moments before he collected himself and found his voice.

"Of course," he said quickly. "Do sit down. There is a chair in that corner." He waved his hand vaguely. "Is there anything I may offer you?"

Galadriel favored him with a radiant smile as she seated herself. "No, thank you. I have come for two purposes. The first is to apologize. I fear that I may have become overly zealous as of late. Celebrían came to me last night and informed me that I had wounded you with my request of yesterday. I am sorry; I did not mean to reawaken painful memories."

"It is nothing," Elrond said. "As I told Celebrían, your words forced me to think about an issue that I had too long ignored."

"She told me about your problem." For an instant, Galadriel's eyes seemed to pierce Elrond to the core. "It would not disrupt the ceremony if you stood alone," Galadriel went on, "but since that would distress you, then you should have someone at your side. I agree with you that my husband is not an appropriate choice, and I understand why you are reluctant to choose among your friends here for the honor."

"That leaves me where I began," Elrond said. "My family, such as it is, is no more."

"Do not fear. This problem is not without a solution." Galadriel clasped her hands together in front of her, and Elrond caught a glimpse of the Ring of Adamant sparkling on her finger next to her wedding band. "The solution is hidden from us at this moment, but I assure you that it will be found ere your wedding day arrives. When Celeborn the Wise arrives in Imladris, I will take counsel with him. Together, we will find the solution that will ease your heart and bring you joy."

"Thank you, my Lady." Suddenly, the prospect of the wedding seemed like a glad thing, no longer merely a nightmare of details and blue flowers.

As the day of the wedding drew closer, the hours of effort that Galadriel and Celebrían had put into the event began to show some result. The blue flowers that Galadriel had planted around the former council porch took root and spread out. The rawness of the new plots gradually disappeared, and in its place, Elrond began to see a lovely arbor that would be a perfect setting for a wedding ceremony. Celebrían and Galadriel spent much time closeted together with the seamstresses who were sewing Celebrían’s gown. Wedding guests began to arrive from as far away as Gondor, and Elrond had no more time to be anxious or irritated about the preparations for the ceremony.

Two weeks before the wedding, the entire household was involved in making candles of beeswax dyed blue with woad. Elrond had just poured another pot of molten wax into a candle mold when the deep, mellow sound of Elvish horns announced the arrival of more wedding guests. Elrond quickly washed his hands and went to the door to greet the new arrivals.

A great company of riders bearing green and gold banners followed a covered wagon slowly up the path. From behind Elrond, there came a great cry of "Father!" and Celebrían pushed past him and flew across the grass to meet Celeborn’s party. Celeborn cried out in delight and signaled the party to halt. He dismounted hastily and caught his daughter up in his arms as she reached him.

Elrond hurried after her and bowed graciously to Celeborn when Celeborn had released his daughter. "Welcome, my Lord," Elrond said. "I trust that your journey was uneventful."

"Indeed." Celeborn reached out and pulled Elrond into a one-armed embrace. "You need not be formal with me, Elrond. We are very nearly kin to one another. Our journey was quite comfortable, in fact. Thranduil traveled to Lothlórien and we set out together for Imladris. The hardest part was in taking the wagon through the mountain pass, but we managed that easily."

Elrond raised his eyebrows. "Dare I ask why you had need of a wagon? Surely you did not need to bring very many things with you that I could not provide here."

Celeborn smiled. "The wagon is not mine. It is Thranduil’s. You may ask him about it yourself."

Thranduil climbed down from the wagon seat and sketched a polite half-bow before giving Celebrían a quick, firm embrace. "Congratulations, cousin," he said. "This is indeed a joyous occasion. Lord Elrond, you may count yourself incredibly lucky to have the privilege of marrying my cousin here." He grinned cheekily, and Elrond was pleasantly startled to find such a contrast to the grim, grief-stricken warrior who had barely pulled himself and his ill-equipped people through the terrible war against Sauron.

"Welcome, King Thranduil," he said. "I am honored to see you here in Imladris. You are looking well."

Thranduil’s smile faltered for only a moment. "Much has happened since last we met. Life in Greenwood is beginning to improve somewhat."

"And it shows," Celeborn said, clapping Thranduil on the back.

"Why are we simply standing here on the lawn?" Celebrían asked. "No matter how easy the journey, it was long, and you must be exhausted. Elrond, we should escort our guests to the house. We can talk on the way."

"Is it ‘we’ already?" Thranduil laughed. "This marriage certainly cannot happen too soon." He turned back to the wagon. Elrond followed him.

"Before we go on, you must satisfy my curiosity. I meant to ask you what you could possibly have had to bring that would not fit on a pack horse."

Thranduil’s eyes sparkled. "I suppose I cannot keep this a secret. Come, Elrond, Celebrían. It is early yet, but you shall see your wedding gift." He pulled aside one of the lightweight green curtains draped over the wagon bows. Celebrían peered into the wagon, squealed, and clapped her hands. Elrond looked in as well and gasped.

There in the wagon sat a dozen young beech saplings, their roots carefully bound up and wrapped in muslin. A pail sat in the corner of the wagon bed, and the root balls were damp; the baby trees had been well cared for during their long journey. Elrond reached in to touch one of the leaves and found it soft and fresh. He turned and looked at Thranduil, too overcome to speak.

"They are from Greenwood," Thranduil said. His eyes shone with delight. "There was so much death around us when we parted company, Elrond. When I heard that you two would wed, I decided to give you a gift of new life." His face flushed red, and he looked at the ground. Celebrían threw her arms around her cousin.

"Thank you, Thranduil," she said. Elrond reached out and swiftly clasped his hand.

"It is a lovely gift," he said. "You do us great honor."

Thranduil smiled shakily and ruffled Celebrían’s hair. "You are most welcome. Now, let us continue to Imladris. If nothing else, the trees would appreciate being planted soon." He grasped the harness of the lead horse, and the party set off across the lawn to the house.

"They are beautiful trees," Elrond said. "But alas for the Lady Galadriel, they are not blue."

Celebrían laughed, and Celeborn smirked at Elrond. "My lady wife can be quite vigorous in her pursuit of beauty. I am glad that you have had these months to learn to know the lady who will soon be your mother by marriage."

Elrond groaned. From up on the wagon seat, Thranduil laughed. "Thank you for that, Celeborn," he said. "It was worth the entire journey just to see the look on Elrond’s face." Even Elrond had to smile at that, and the party was in high spirits when they reached the house.

Elrond's duties kept him busy for the rest of the day and the evening. He rose early the next morning and went to the kitchen, to find Thranduil already awake, sipping a cup of tea. "Good morning," Elrond said. "Was your rest pleasant?"

Thranduil nodded. "It was. Traveling in the wagon is easier than riding on horseback, and I am accustomed to rising early in any event. I took the liberty of stoking the fire and making a pot of tea; I hope you do not mind." He nudged the teapot slightly in Elrond's direction.

"I do not mind at all. I intend Imladris to be a welcoming haven for guests." Elrond found a mug in a cupboard and poured himself a cup of tea. "And there are so many guests here at the moment, all for my sake and for Celebrían's. I confess that I am somewhat awed."

"You and Celebrían are well loved. You have kindred and friends who want to witness and share in your joy. I do not see why that should come as a surprise."

"Kindred and friends . . . " Elrond sipped meditatively at his tea and glanced at Thranduil. Although Thranduil had taken up his father's duties as well as his crown after Oropher's death, Elrond had never had the opportunity to get to know him as anything other than an allied commander and casual acquaintance. Thranduil had spent much of his time with Elendil and Gil-galad, and had not had much leisure to spare for Gil-galad's herald. But they had at least become acquainted, and Elrond discovered that this rather tenuous connection seemed to be exactly what he needed this morning. Thranduil was not a stranger to be excluded completely from personal details of Elrond's life, but neither was he so close a friend as to be overly biased in his opinions.

Elrond took another swallow of tea. "I would like to plant the beech trees this morning, before the grounds are overrun with guests," he said. "I selected a location for them last night. Will you join me in this task?"

"Gladly." Thranduil drained his mug and set it in a washbasin. He followed Elrond out of the house to a tool shed, where they collected two spades. Elrond drew several pails of water from one of the wells while Thranduil hitched his two horses to the wagon. The site that Elrond had selected for the beech trees was within walking distance of the house, and Thranduil did not bother to drive the wagon, leading the horses instead. They walked to the site in silence, enjoying the cool morning air.

"Here we are," Elrond said. "I had thought to place the trees in a wide circle, to make a little enclosed grove where they would have room to grow and possibly also to multiply. I thought that it would be pleasant to look down from the house and see a lovely little beech wood here."

"That would be pleasant indeed." Thranduil paced out a circle on the scrubby grass, marking it at intervals with a spade. Elrond laid a beech sapling on the ground near each of the marks. When they had completed this task, Thranduil began to dig the hole for the first of the saplings. Elrond squatted down and began to remove the muslin wrappings over the roots of the baby tree. With his back to Thranduil, he felt more confident speaking.

"Have you plans to wed in the near future?" he asked quietly. Behind him, the slicing noises of the spade paused for a moment, then resumed. Thranduil made a sound that was half a snort and half a laugh.

"The classic bridegroom's question," he said. "So full of his own joy that he cannot wait to share it with others."

"I am sorry. I did not mean to offend."

"You did not. You are hardly the first to ask me this question, however. There have been many marriages among the Silvan folk recently. To answer this question . . . again . . . I have no immediate plans, though I do hope one day to find a bride."

Elrond freed the sapling's roots from the muslin and carried the tree to Thranduil. "There is a problem which has been troubling me recently. If you do not mind, I would ask your advice."

Thranduil set the spade aside and turned an amused expression on Elrond. "This is rare," he said. "Normally, I am the one asking people for advice. But you are welcome to mine, for whatever it is worth."

Elrond placed the tree in the hole and held it upright as Thranduil filled the space around it with earth. "Your father was killed in the war," he began. Thranduil grunted.

"I know. I was there."

"When you do find your bride, who will stand in Oropher's place at your wedding?"

Thranduil stopped shoveling earth for a moment and gave Elrond a look that said that he knew very well that the question Elrond had just asked was only a symbol of the real question in his mind. It was an expression Elrond had occasionally seen on Galadriel's face. For a moment, he contemplated the compelling, if slightly terrifying, idea of an alternate world in which Thranduil bore one of the Three. After a moment, Thranduil smiled at him and resumed shoveling. "Luindil, my seneschal, will stand in my father's place when I marry," he said, "for he was a dear friend of my father's long before I was born."

Thranduil tamped the earth down firmly around the beech sapling, and Elrond gave it a splash of water from one of the pails he had filled. They moved on to the next sapling, and this time, Elrond took up a spade to dig the hole. "What of the rest of your folk?" Elrond asked. "You said that there were many marriages in Greenwood, yet you lost many good warriors at Dagorlad. Who stands for all the fathers who died there?"

"Uncles. Grandfathers. Cousins. Friends." Thranduil shrugged and bent down to unwrap the next root ball. "I myself have stood for some of their weddings, both as King and sometimes as a friend. Did you know Menellir, the captain of my guard?"

Elrond thought quickly and came up with a vague image of a dark, silent Elf with watchful eyes who had accompanied Thranduil to most of his conferences with Elendil and Gil-galad. "I did not know him personally, but I believe I know of whom you speak."

"He is a good friend who lost his father in the initial assault," Thranduil said. "Last spring, he wed Doronrîn, the maiden he has loved since they were both children. He did me the great honor of asking me to stand with him in his father's place."

"That is an honor indeed."

Thranduil set the sapling upright in the hole and locked eyes with Elrond through the branches. "There are also those who will have none other to stand in their fathers' places. They invoke the Name on their own behalf, and we do not consider that there is any shame in that. If there is no one who can take your father's place, Elrond, then you need not fill it simply for appearances."

Elrond smiled. "I thank you for your words, Thranduil. They are well meant, and I will consider them carefully. It seems that you read the troubles in my heart."

"Ha! Then my diplomatic skills are improving!" Thranduil cried. "One day, Lord Elrond, I will perfect the art of speaking in circles, never coming out and saying what must be said."

"And when you do, Beren and Lúthien Tinúviel will return to this world to celebrate." Elrond shoveled earth around the sapling. "There is something else I would discuss with you. And I will ask directly this time."

Thranduil went to fetch the pail Elrond had left by the first sapling. "Sweet Elbereth, a marvel has occurred."

Elrond smiled sweetly at Thranduil. "Lady Galadriel has worked day and night to ensure that our wedding ceremony will be pleasurable to all who attend. I wish to ensure that my wedding night is equally pleasurable. Have you any advice on the matter?"

To Thranduil's credit, he simply smirked at Elrond, then dipped his hand in the water pail and flicked a few drops at the Lord of Imladris. "I am unmarried as well. You presume much, Elrond," he said, with a smile to soften the sting of his words.

"I do not think that I presume so much. You have friends who are married, after all. Surely they have spoken just a little to you. And you spent so much time in Anárion's tent during the war. I know what sort of songs he liked to sing."

"Ah. And you imagine that the bawdy songs of Men will prove instructive to you." Thranduil splashed some water over the sapling, making sure to splash Elrond as well. "A curious proposition, but one never knows . . ." He gazed up at the sky, as if seeking inspiration, then grinned. "Perhaps this one . . ." He sang a few snatches of a sweet melody, as if trying to remember the whole song. Elrond had the impression of green meadows, flowers, and rapturous lovers, and was immediately interested.

"Yet with her hand she -- oh, no, that one will not do," Thranduil said. "I have never heard tell of any Elf experiencing the sad fate which befell the poor lad in that song. At least, I would hope that your courage will not fail you on your wedding night."

Elrond's mouth fell open at that thought. With a merry laugh, Thranduil sang a song about a loving lord who tickled and pleased his lady so as to make her cry out lustily at the end of the matter. Elrond giggled helplessly as Thranduil sang the lady's cries in a high, twittering falsetto and finished the song with a wild squeal. Elrond doubled over laughing, and Thranduil, encouraged, launched into a slyly punning song about a lad and a lass who met in the greenwood for kisses that turned out to be surprisingly explicit.

"Truly, the voices of the Sindar are among the most beautiful in the world," came a voice from behind them. Thranduil and Elrond whirled around to see Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel standing next to the wagon. Elrond scrambled to his feet, mortified at his trousers, which were wet and muddy where Thranduil had splashed him. Thranduil bowed deeply, but did not wipe the smirk from his face. "I thought we would find the two of you somewhere around here," Galadriel went on. "We wondered where to find you, and I remembered that my Lord Celeborn had told me about the trees. Erestor showed us a map of the valley and indicated where you had decided to plant them."

"Yes," Elrond said, attempting to gather the tattered shreds of his dignity around him. "The trees needed to be dealt with today, and I thought that it would be a perfect opportunity to . . . to . . . "

"Yes?" Galadriel asked.

"To ask Thranduil for some . . . advice. On a personal matter." Elrond could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. Thranduil swallowed laughter and contrived to look unconvincingly innocent.

"Indeed." Celeborn raised an eyebrow at them, but smiled warmly. "Perhaps we should ask Thranduil's advice more often. I have not seen my young cousin so merry in a long time, and I am glad to see it now. However, I fear that I must interrupt this conference. Thranduil, will you walk with me?" He put an arm around Thranduil's shoulders and steered him far enough away that their conversation could not be heard.

Elrond watched them go, then turned to face Galadriel. He was suddenly all too aware that he was looking at the mother of the lady who would be affected by the advice he had asked of Thranduil. Galadriel regarded him in amused silence for a moment, allowing him to contemplate the fullest implications of that situation.

"As I promised you earlier," she said after a while, "your current problems are not without solutions. I believe that my husband and I have discovered the solution to one of them, though I fear that it is far less exciting than whatever solution Thranduil has been describing to you."

"Thank you, my lady," Elrond choked out.

"And, Elrond . . . " Galadriel gave him a sidelong glance. "If you are truly in need of advice on such matters as may concern your wedding night, I suggest that you ask Erestor. He is a fine counselor and confidant. And, most importantly, he is married, and his advice will be of far more use to you and to my daughter than the singing of a bachelor King, no matter how fine his voice."

"I understand," Elrond said, relieved that Galadriel seemed not to have anything further to say on that subject.

Celeborn and Thranduil chose that moment to return from their private discussion. Thranduil looked ruefully at the ten saplings that remained unplanted. "I am afraid that you will have to find someone else to help you plant these, Elrond," he said. "Unfortunately, I must leave Imladris for a short time on an errand of great importance."

"You cannot mean to leave now!"

"In this very hour," Thranduil sighed. "I will return to the house to pack a change of clothing and a certain amount of food, and then I must depart."

"How long will you be gone?" Elrond asked. "There is but a fortnight until the wedding. I had hoped for your presence then."

"Do not fear. I will return in time for your wedding." Thranduil bowed low. "My Lords. Lady Galadriel." Then he turned and walked off towards the house.

"Do not look so distressed," Celeborn said. "He will return."

"And in the meantime, I will send Glorfindel to help you with the trees," Galadriel added. "They are indeed a lovely gift and should receive the best of care."

"No!" Elrond said hastily. "I will ask him myself. I . . . would not want to add any inconvenience to your day, Lady Galadriel." He hoped that he had not sounded as desperate as he felt.

Fortunately, Celeborn seemed to understand. He placed an arm around Galadriel’s waist and winked at her. "Let us instead tour the grounds together. You have had several months to accustom yourself to our daughter’s future home, but I have not. Will you show me the place?"

"Certainly." Galadriel and Celeborn turned and walked down the hill together. With a sigh, Elrond reminded himself yet again that he would resume being master of his own fate after the wedding, and set off for the house to locate Glorfindel.

Glorfindel helped Elrond finish planting the rest of the beech saplings. They looked small and frail in their ring, but Elrond decided that the grove would be lovely when the trees grew up. He admired the ring from his window and tried not to worry about what had become of Thranduil.

Galadriel and Celebrían were engrossed in the final touches for the wedding. One morning, Elrond found that his library had been transformed into a scriptorium. All of his scribes and much of the kitchen staff were busily copying romantic poetry onto small scrolls to be distributed to all the guests. The musicians Galadriel had selected met in the Hall of Fire every evening to rehearse. Mírdan delivered Celebrían’s wedding band to Elrond in a blue velvet pouch, which Elrond hung on a cord around his neck for safe keeping. One evening, he found himself staring at his plain silver betrothal ring and imagining a gold ring carved with flowers and vines in its place.

A week before the wedding, Elrond had just managed to steal a free hour from entertaining the growing throngs of wedding guests in his household to look over a new text that one of the other master healers in the house had just written on counteracting poisons. Some of the ideas were refinements of experiments made on the battlefield in the last days of the war, and Elrond was excited to learn what advances had been made to those techniques in the relative leisure of peacetime. He was so engrossed in the text that at first he did not hear the knock on his door.

When it came again, louder, Elrond blew out a breath of frustration and looked up. Deciding that a severe poisoning was unlikely to occur before the wedding, he turned the corners of his mouth up and faced the door. "Come in."

The door opened, and Celeborn walked into the reading chamber, carrying a covered basket and a folded blanket over his arm. Elrond’s smile immediately became more genuine. "Lord Celeborn," he said, rising to his feet, "what may I do for you?"

"First, you may dispense with the ‘Lord,’ Elrond. We will be kin in a week, and we are in your house. Second, it is drawing on midday, and I would invite you to come and take your meal outside with me." Celeborn indicated the basket over his arm. "It is a lovely day."

"I would like that," Elrond said. "Shall I call Celebrían and Galadriel to join us?"

"No." Celeborn linked an arm through Elrond’s. "This is in fact a ritual meal. Only the bridegroom and the father of the bride need be present."

Elrond suppressed a groan at the thought of being confronted with yet more wedding-related ritual and went outside with Celeborn. They crossed a bridge over the little stream that ran behind the house, and Elrond realized, with some relief, that this particular ritual would not entail a complex public event. Celeborn selected a spot underneath a willow tree on the far bank of the stream and spread the blanket for their picnic. Elrond opened the basket and found small crocks containing a variety of cold meats, vegetables and sauces left over from the previous night's dinner, as well as a bottle of wine. "This is wonderful," he said.

"I am glad you think so," Celeborn replied. "Come, pour the wine, and we will drink to the imminent creation of a new family in this marred world."

Elrond poured a generous splash of wine into the two ceramic goblets he found in the basket and handed one to Celeborn. "You are correct," he said. "I had not thought about it much before, but we will become a family, Celebrían and I." He smiled at the idea. "I think I will enjoy living in a family again. I have been too long without."

Celeborn raised an eyebrow. "I do not think that you are as lacking in family as you believe. But it is undeniably true that your family will increase after you are wed. Galadriel and I approve most heartily of our daughter's choice of husband, and we look forward with joy to welcoming you as a son. Let us drink to the increase of family."

"Agreed." Both Elves drank deeply. Celeborn set his goblet aside and turned to look directly at Elrond.

"And now," he said pleasantly, but with a wicked gleam in his eye, "I have something very important to say to you, who are about to wed my daughter. Lord Elrond of Imladris, I am rich in years and experience. There are those who count me among the Wise. I was familiar with Celebrimbor, the greatest Elvish smith of the latter days, and I observed as he made his greatest creations under the tutelage of him whose name we do not speak. I am well acquainted with the power of the Ring which my lady wife bears, and I am also acquainted with the greater power of that which you bear. And I say to you now that all that power will be as naught should I hear that my daughter has taken harm by your hand. Do we understand each other?"

Elrond gulped. "Yes, sir."

Celeborn's pleasant smile never wavered. "Good. I am glad to hear that. Please pass me the basket. I am eager to see what your cooking staff have provided for us to eat."

Shaken, Elrond fumbled behind him for the basket. "That was the ritual?" he asked.

"Indeed it was. It is not part of the prescribed wedding ceremony, but should you have a daughter yourself one day, you will discover that the power of this rite is no less for its unwritten status."

"But you could not have heard such a speech yourself. Unless I am mistaken, you never had opportunity to meet Lord Finarfin prior to your marriage."

Celeborn laughed a little. "I heard an equally vehement speech from my lady's oldest brother, Finrod Felagund. Judging by the forcefulness of his delivery, I have no desire ever to offend his father."

"I cannot imagine Lady Galadriel ever coming to harm by your hand."

"Of course not. She is quite capable of defending herself. Were I to make the attempt, there would be little left of me for Finarfin to punish, should he hear of it across the Sea."

"I suppose that Celebrían will prove to be her mother's daughter in that respect." Elrond opened a crock and offered it to Celeborn. "Cold chicken with herb sauce. That is perfect for such a lovely day as this."

The day remained lovely, but that night, a storm rolled across the valley, and the rain continued intermittently for three days. When it finally stopped, the Bruinen had become a swollen, rushing flood. King Valandil of Arnor and his party found themselves trapped on the western bank, unable to locate the ford. They blew loudly on their horns to announce their presence. The foresters who heard them carried word back to Elrond, who rode down to the river. Though he had long since established his mastery of the land around Imladris, it took all the power and skill he possessed to calm the flood so that Valandil's party could cross.

Valandil bowed to Elrond as one Lord greeting another, then swiftly embraced him. "Thank you for that timely rescue. I could not bear to miss my foster-father's wedding, but I had begun to fear that I would wait many days before the river went down. But I see that I will not have to miss seeing your joy in your bride after all."

Elrond snorted. "Do you think I would leave any of my wedding guests stranded at the river? What sort of a host do you take me for?"

Valandil simply laughed at that. "You should post a guard at this spot for the next few days; there will be at least one more party of guests coming by this road. We passed a company in the woods where they had taken shelter from the rain."

Elrond stood back and eyed the bedraggled King of Arnor. "And you did not think to join them?"

"I chose to give up the immediate, dubious shelter of the forest for the prospect of better shelter with you."

"Then come along to the house now. I would most certainly be remiss as a host if I were to keep you wet and muddy on the river bank any longer." Elrond mounted his horse and escorted Valandil to the house and the guest rooms prepared for him. Then he called Glorfindel to his side and asked that a guard be set at the Bruinen to receive the last guest.

The day before the wedding, Imladris was in chaos. Galadriel stood at the center of a maelstrom of activity, directing Elves bearing flowers, candles and drapery, all in attractive shades of blue. Celebrían had spent much of the morning closeted with the seamstresses, who were putting the final details on her wedding gown. Elrond had completely given up the pretense of working on anything unrelated to the ceremony. He had just finished giving Valandil and his party a complete tour of Imladris when a page trotted up and knelt before him. "Lady Galadriel requests your presence on the ceremony porch."

Elrond gave a tight little smile. "I will be there shortly. Valandil, I must apologize for breaking this short, but —"

Valandil nodded. "I understand. From what I have seen of your bride’s mother, she will not be denied. Go to her. I will find my own way from here."

Elrond strode through the corridors and came to the porch. The blue flowers surrounding it had taken root and were blooming brightly. The wedding canopy had been raised, and Celebrían, Galadriel, Celeborn, and Erestor stood beneath it, all dressed in everyday work clothes. Galadriel beckoned to Elrond.

"Good. You are here. Let us rehearse the ceremony, so that it will go smoothly tomorrow evening." She motioned Celebrían to stand at her side at the far end of the porch. "Celebrían will start here, with me. Elrond, you will start on the other side of the room. Erestor will stand in for your father for this rehearsal."

Celebrían frowned. "Mother, Elrond has chosen no one to stand for his father. I do not understand. Elrond, I thought you had decided to walk alone."

Elrond shrugged, equally puzzled. "I thought I had decided that, too."

"Nonsense." Galadriel’s voice was firm. "I know your thoughts, Elrond, and it is important to you that someone stand at your side in your father’s place. Someone will stand there tomorrow evening. Now, the musicians will begin to play. . . "

Celeborn mimed playing a harp, and the others walked through the motions of the wedding ceremony according to Galadriel’s directions. Elrond looked a question at Erestor, but Erestor only shrugged. One glance at Celeborn told Elrond that he would not reveal Galadriel’s secret. Elrond sighed and hoped that this mysterious father figure would arrive before the real ceremony.

An hour after the rehearsal had concluded, the guard Elrond had set at the Bruinen dashed up the hill to the house. "Lord Elrond!" he cried. "King Thranduil waits on the far side of the river. There is a company of Elves with him. They are dressed in gray, and their banners bear the image of a great silver ship."

"Círdan!" Elrond hurried down to the river, with Celebrían in tow. Galadriel and Celeborn followed close on their heels. This time, the river submitted more easily to Elrond’s commands and quieted swiftly. Even before the ford was completely exposed, Thranduil galloped across, his eyes shining with excitement. "Lord Celeborn!" he cried. "I have brought the father of the bridegroom!"

"What?" Elrond had only a moment to be shocked, and then Círdan rode across the ford, dismounted and pulled Elrond into his arms.

"It is good to see you again, Elrond. My congratulations to you on your marriage."

"Thank you. I. . . Círdan, I do not understand. I had invited you as an honored guest. You do not need to stand up with me."

Círdan raised his eyebrows at Elrond. "Do you wish me not to stand with you, then?"

"Oh, no," Elrond said quickly. "I wish very much that you would stand at my side. You gave my parents safe haven in Sirion. My earliest memories are of playing with Elros and my mother in your drawing room. And you were ever at Gil-galad’s side. How could I not wish for you to stand with me at my wedding?"

"Well then," Círdan said, "I will stand with you and give you away to your lovely bride."

Tears stung the corners of Elrond’s eyes. He turned around to find Celebrían staring in delighted shock. Thranduil sat on his horse looking tremendously pleased with himself. Celeborn and Galadriel smiled radiantly at Elrond. "You arranged this," Elrond said slowly. "You sent Thranduil to ask Círdan to . . . "

"You had other business to occupy your time," Thranduil said. "Lord Celeborn did not want to wait until Círdan had already arrived to ask this of him. I could be spared for such messenger duty."

"The first night that we spoke about this problem, I knew what your heart truly desired," Galadriel said. "You desired someone to stand with you who loved you not merely as friend or Lord, but as the youth who grew to be the Lord of Imladris. And you felt that you had no right to make such a request."

"I thought that it was impossible. Those who had had a hand in raising me are dead or gone. I am fully grown, a Lord in my own right. I am responsible for the fortunes of this valley and those that dwell in it. I —"

"Elrond. Dear child." Círdan laid a hand on Elrond’s shoulder. "The little boy who played in my drawing room has grown into as fine and honorable a Lord as I could ever have desired. But that does not mean that you have surrendered your right to be loved and cared for by your oldest friends. You need never hesitate before asking my assistance, especially in such a matter as this. There are still those in the world who love you and would not see you in distress. Should you be in need, you have only to call one of us, and we will aid you if we can."

"I suppose it was foolish of me," Elrond admitted. "I felt that, after asking you to come so far, a further request to stand with me would be too much of an imposition. I could not bear to ask it of you."

"That much was clear," Celeborn said. "And that is why Galadriel and I decided to ask on your behalf."

"I am glad that you did so. Thank you both." Elrond smiled, and Círdan squeezed his shoulder.

"Now that we have revealed all our secrets, may we proceed to the house? You are correct in one thing, Elrond. It has been a long journey, and there remain still some tasks before the wedding."

"Of course. The house is this way." Elrond took Celebrían’s hand, and together they led the small party up the hill.

"Turn around," Círdan said the next evening in Elrond’s suite. "Let me look at you." Elrond had just donned his wedding garb for the first time. The feast would begin in a few minutes, followed by the ceremony just before sunset. The new trousers fitted Elrond perfectly, and the crisp blue tabard set off the soft white sleeves of his shirt. He pulled a flowing blue cloak around his shoulders and fastened it with a silver clip, then stood before Círdan for inspection.

"You are almost perfect," Círdan said. "Here is what will complete the picture." He opened a box he had brought with him and withdrew a delicate silver fillet set with a diamond flanked by two sapphires. This he bound around Elrond's brow, then stood back to admire the effect. "It is similar to one that your father owned, and it is part of the collection of jewels that is your wedding gift."

"It is lovely," Elrond said, looking at his image in the mirror. "I cannot thank you enough, Círdan, both for the jewel and for your presence here." Círdan smiled.

"It is no more than I ought to do, to ensure your happiness on your wedding day. Do you have your bride's ring?"

Elrond picked up the blue velvet pouch from the night table and tied it to his belt. "Do you have Celebrían's bridal gift?" he asked. The exchange of familial gifts would take place before the feast, in the presence of all the guests, both mortal and not, as only the Elves would witness the wedding ceremony itself. Círdan had assured Elrond that, despite the last-minute nature of his participation, he had indeed managed to find a bridal gift for Celebrían, though he refused to show it to Elrond or even tell him what it was.

"It is in my belt pouch," Círdan said. "You will see it soon enough. Come, now. Your guests await you at your wedding banquet."

The dining hall of Imladris was swathed in pale blue, from the candles in the wall sconces to the tablecloths and the floral garlands and centerpieces arranged on the tables. Guests filled the hall, making gracious conversation. At Elrond's entrance, they let out a great cheer. Escorted by Círdan, Elrond made his way to his place at the high table and stood as the guests moved to their places. All turned expectantly to the doors once more. Two musicians blew a fanfare on their horns, and Galadriel and Celeborn entered the hall, turning to usher in the bride.

Celebrían wore a long, sky-blue gown, which fit closely down to her elbows and hips, then flared gracefully out to end in a short train. Tiny glass beads sewn all over the dress caught the light and shone, and a crown of blue flowers and silver ribbon was on her head. Elrond applauded along with the guests as Celebrían's parents escorted her to the high table, where she took her place beside him.

The guests fell silent as Galadriel reached into a pocket in her sleeve and produced a filigreed silver collar set with a single sapphire. Círdan held Elrond's hair aside as she clasped the collar around his neck. Then she smiled at him and kissed him on both cheeks. "Welcome to our family, Elrond," she said. "You are as a son to us."

Then it was Círdan's turn. He slipped his hand into his belt pouch and winked at Celebrían. "Your gift is incomplete, my dear," he said. "But there is a story to tell that will perhaps make up for that defect. You see, when I set out from Mithlond, I did not know that I would be standing at this table tonight. I had brought a chest of jewels with me as a wedding gift, but I had nothing specifically intended for a bride. When I encountered Thranduil of Greenwood on the road and heard your parents' request from him, I was so appalled at your bridegroom's reluctance to ask for help that I did not even think about a bridal gift for several days. However, when we were forced to take shelter under the trees during the recent storm, I remembered that detail.

"Part of your wedding gift was to be a pouch of loose pearls from the Gray Havens. I took these pearls and distributed them to my companions along with pins and needles from the embroidery of one of the ladies. We passed the time of the storm boring holes in the pearls and stringing them on embroidery thread. Unfortunately, there was no time to finish the necklace, nor any clasp with which to do so. And thus it is that you have as your bridal gift a single unfinished strand of pearls, as improvised as your bridegroom's family, and likewise created especially to welcome you." He pulled the strand of pearls from his belt pouch and moved behind Celebrían to tie it around her throat.

"There are fine smiths in this house," he said. "Have one of them put a clasp on this after the wedding." Celebrían briefly touched the pearls, then turned a radiant smile on Círdan.

"Thank you," she said, "for everything. See how happy Elrond is."

Indeed, Elrond felt as though his heart would leap from his chest at any moment for joy. The wedding banquet which Celebrían and Galadriel had designed was delicious, but he paid little attention to the food, concentrating instead on the sea of guests who had gathered to witness this moment. He was conscious of Celebrían seated at his right hand and Círdan seated at his left and thought that his world was almost complete.

When the feast was over, the Elves withdrew to the porch. Beneath the wedding canopy, Galadriel and Círdan joined the hands of Elrond and Celebrían and began to chant the ancient blessings. The sun had just set, and the first stars were appearing in the east as Elrond stripped off his betrothal ring and returned it to Celebrían. When he had received her betrothal ring in turn, he placed it carefully in the velvet pouch at his belt and withdrew the gold marriage ring. As he placed it on her finger, he caught a glimpse of the star of Eärendil glimmering in the eastern sky and gave her hand an extra squeeze. In turn, Celebrían slid the gold ring engraved with flowers and vines over his finger, then took both of his hands in hers.

"Now we are a family," she said softly. "We are a family not just by blood, but also by choice and by love. That is the best kind to have."

As Elrond took Celebrían in his arms and kissed her, his last coherent thought was that he agreed with whole heart.

END

Many thanks to all who have enjoyed this story. I especially enjoyed hearing about people's own experiences with the Wedding Machine and the attendant craziness. The Wedding Machine is a strange beast, transforming people into alternate-universe versions of themselves and making them do things they'd never dream of doing in real life. I enjoyed the opportunity both to imagine Galadriel as the mother of the bride and to show Thranduil being something other than a wet blanket.

The songs that Thranduil learned from Anárion are all real, dating from the mid to late 17^th century. You may find them, and many others in a similar vein, in The Catch Club; or, Merry Companions, a 1762 compilation of naughty catches for three and four voices, reprinted in 1965. They are also available on The Art of the Bawdy Song, a recording by the Baltimore Consort on the Dorian label.

That's all I have to say for now. Again, many thanks for reading, and I will see you later.