Thanks to Alassante for the couple of tweaks.

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My hands tremble so that I must have someone else braid my hair. I am nervous and giddy with my love for this one who has become so dear to me. Today, at long last, we shall wed.

I am no stranger to love and I am no stranger to marriage either. I have lived both once before. But after so many years alone, do I not deserve to be happy again? Would Eru have allowed love to come back into my life if He did not intend for me to be with this person?

My first love died leaving me alone, so very, very alone. I struggled for so long to survive on my own, desperately hoping for my beloved to return to me. I grew strong facing the tempest of life alone with just my son to comfort me. But I grew bitter as well.

Why was I abandoned by the one who swore to love me best?

Why did my love choose to never return from Mandos? Was it selfish or selfless to make such a decision?

Why was I never considered in this choice? Were we not one once? Are not elves bound together forever by our fëar in marriage?

After so much time in solitude, though, a flame has kindled near me again and I have drawn close to it for the life it promises and the warmth which it brings. And I, at last, can shine once again and bring warmth and joy to someone again and bring forth new life once more.

The thought of my lover makes me smile in spite of myself. Since Cuiviénen I was admired though I did not realize it. Even in Valinor this dear one watched me from afar, wishing me joy in my marriage and praying for me in my despair when I lost my spouse. Yet I did not realize it until on Taniquetil I finally beheld this new love of mine. Now we are inseparable.

There will much for us to consider and struggle through. The Eldar frown upon second marriage even though it so rarely happens and requires commitment from both parties: both the housed and the unhoused spouse from the previous marriage. How much scandal will arise from this union among noble houses with one spouse previously wed? How will our children be treated when they are added unto our house? How will my son from my previous marriage react to new siblings?

However, as I adjust my clothes before my mirror and turn this way and that to make sure that my beloved will be most pleased with me on this day, I am excited about this new marriage.

“You look wonderful!” my son reassures me. “It heals my heart to see you so happy. You deserve this! You have been denied joy for too long.” He embraces me fiercely yet tenderly, too.  “I love you and I wish you and your new spouse much joy.”

“I love you, too,” I whisper in his ear, for he still holds me close. “And thank you, my child. Thank you.”

Drawing away, he kisses my cheek and smiles, his eyes a little nervous and perhaps a little sad, too, for by my actions today, he will never see his other parent again. I nod my understanding of what he has not said, but we both know. Then, drawing a deep breath, I follow him from the room.

My son and I have discussed this many times over the years of waiting, and I know he understands for he can hide nothing from me and I know I have his blessing for he has said as much many times.

I know I am ready for whatever may come. Taking my arm, my smiling son leads me proudly to the place of weddings where my marriage will take place. When we arrive, I see my family waiting beside my love’s, and my beloved dressed in the noble white and gold of the Vanyar, golden hair tossed a little in the breeze, beautiful face beaming for joy.

My son walks me forward and places my hand into that of Lord Huoro. Pausing briefly, my Arafinwë, my only surviving son, grips Huoro’s shoulder and whispers, “Take good care of my amillë.”

“You know I will,” Huoro quietly reassures. “I swear I will.”

As Arafinwë walks away to take his appointed place, I look into Huoro’s eyes and he looks into mine. I feel a nervous tear escape and immediately he extends his hand to brush it away.

“Indis, my beloved,” Huoro whispers passionately. “At last, at long last, you are going to be mine. I shall treasure you forever.”

I smile back, desperately wishing to throw my arms around him and kiss him in return. I love the way he responds to my kisses.

He sees my longing for he whispers in reply, “Soon, my most beloved, soon.”

He squeezes my hand and I squeeze his back.

My brother Ingwë leans toward us and quietly asks, “Are you ready?”

I look at Huoro once more, then we turn to my brother and I nod.

“Yes,” my dearest Huoro replies for us. “We are ready.”

And so it begins.