Chapter 24: The Wedding

Thranduil stood at the foot of the stairs to the royal chambers, waiting for Lindomiel and her family and remembering when he stood here to greet them a year and a half ago. Could it be such a short time? How could it seem such a short time and such a long time at once? He was certain that the next few hours would stretch into an eternity as well. He had looked forward to this evening for the last year. Now that it was here, it seemed that the ceremony was simply one more event to be endured before he could finally begin completely sharing his life with his wife. Thranduil was anxious to simply return to a normal workday and the associated private moments with Lindomiel.

Finally, he saw his mother coming down the path from Lindomiel’s flet. He wondered idly what she had been doing with Lindomiel for the last few minutes. Dieneryn smiled at him broadly as she approached.

“She will be coming directly, Thranduil, and you had better prepare yourself. She is absolutely stunning.”

Thranduil returned her smile warmly. “So are you naneth,” he said, kissing his mother on the cheek.

Dieneryn laughed lightly. “You have a smooth tongue, Oropherion. I wonder where you got it.”

“I am sure I came by it honestly,” he quipped. Then his eyes fell on the group approaching from the direction of the guest quarters. “Holy Valar, you did not exaggerate,” he whispered, eyes fixed on Lindomiel.

Even Amglaur was smiling at Thranduil’s expression when their families finally joined one another. Thranduil took Lindomiel’s hand and kissed it and then impulsively leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “You are indescribably breathtaking,” he whispered in her ear before he stood back.

She blushed slightly and smiled at him, twining her arm around his. When she did, Thranduil noticed the mithril ring on her left finger. His eyes widened and he stared at it a moment. Then his gaze flashed over to his mother.

“Naneth, I do not know what to say to this…” he whispered.

She smiled at him and kissed him on the forehead. “Let us go eat so that you can marry your queen, ion nin,” she replied, also in a whisper, voice heavy with emotion.

The families walked out of the courtyard and to the river. They could hear the music playing from their flets, a bright and festive tune. It seemed that hundreds of tables were set up on the riverbank, all filled with revelers. The elves, in their finest clothes, almost served as decorations themselves, but there was no need for that. Everything that could be decorated with flowers or ribbons or candles was so adorned. The tables were laid with fine linen clothes—green and yellow the colors of Eryn Galen. Down the center of each table ran flowers of all colors and the table surface was strewn with flower petals. The area for the feast and dancing was marked off by lanterns on poles. The poles had garlands twisted around them and draped between them. The entire riverbank was alight with candles and lanterns—on the poles, on the tables, in the trees and even floating in the pools in the river, appearing to reflect the stars above.

By the shore, was the High Table. Flanking it were the standards of the Kingdoms of Eryn Galen and Lothlorien. When Thranduil and Lindomiel approached, all stood and the musicians struck up a lively tune. Thranduil and Lindomiel led their families to sit at the High Table and the servants began to serve the feast. There was roast pheasant, geese and capons. Wild boar, slowly cooked over the last week in huge pits, was the main course. Along with the meat was the rare treat of breads, cakes and pastries requiring finely milled grains. For dessert were fruit pies, tarts and custards. And naturally, the Dorwinion flowed freely.

As the guests ate, the musicians played festive tunes and sang romantic tales. Most of these were lovely stories from elven lore, but when requested the minstrels were all too happy to sing more bawdy songs as well. These made Thranduil laugh because, for once, Lindomiel was actually reduced to blushing.

It seemed very late already to Thranduil when the dining wound down and the dancing began. It was a sight to see. The entire Woodland Realm and half of Lorien had turned out for the royal wedding. It seemed the lines of dancers in colorful costumes stretched on for miles, occasionally creating such a tangled mess that all gave up the dance and collapsed instead in laughter. Thranduil and Lindomiel danced the first dance together before she was immediately dragged away by a series of partners. The first was Aradunnon who claimed his brother’s bride for the second dance with a wicked smile and sparkling eyes. Thranduil recognized his brother’s intent instantly and, casting a playfully scathing look at Aradunnon, he resigned himself to the fact that he probably would not see Lindomiel again until the ceremony began. This suspicion was confirmed when Thranduil saw each of his advisors, including his uncle, approach Lindomiel in succession. By the time she had danced through his entire council, a large group of her friends from Lorien surrounded her and he saw her settle down on the in the grass under a tree to speak to them excitedly. Thranduil smiled her and lost himself in the celebration, allowing one of the ellyth that wove in his mother’s workshop to draw him into the dancing as well.

The king danced several dances and then spoke at length with the guests from Imladris and Lindon, sincerely enjoying the opportunity to hear news from these far away kingdoms. When at last they drifted apart, Thranduil decided to seek out his bride.

He finally found her sitting amongst a large crowd of elves, some of whom he recognized as members of his staff. The others he did not recognize and he assumed they were from Lorien. A minstrel was singing to the group and everyone else, including Lindomiel, was laughing uproariously. Lindomiel’s eyes were wide and bright and her face was flushed. As Thranduil walked closer , he realized why—they were teasing her by making up burlesque ballads about silly things they knew that she had done in the past. The elves—both her friends from Lorien and the king’s staff—were whispering stories to a pair of minstrels who quickly composed them into exaggerated songs. They were so engrossed in bantering with their soon-to-be-queen that no one noticed Thranduil’s approach. He stood back and listened for several minutes before finally walking up to the group.

“Did any of that actually happen?” he asked in between songs, his rich voice rising over the laughter. He had an incredulous look on his face that he directed at Lindomiel.

The elves around the bride sobered somewhat, surprised to see the king. They looked at him a little sheepishly and those from Greenwood made to stand. Thranduil shook his head, indicating for them to stay where they were. He seated himself next to Lindomiel, still looking at her with an expectant expression.

She looked away and laughed. “Well, I suppose it is true after a fashion,” she said dismissively, notably refusing to elaborate. The elves around her joined her in laughing softly.

Thranduil was looking at her with a mischievous look. He was certain that it would not be very chivalric of him to encourage this to continue—indeed, it might be somewhat improper—but it certainly seemed entertaining. He made a mental note to have much more thorough conversations with his staff in the future. No source of information that he might use to arm himself with ammunition against Lindomiel’s teasing attacks on him could be ignored.

Lindomiel took in his expression and returned it warningly. “Careful, my lord, or I will ask them to sing a few stories about you. They have known you for much longer than I. They must know some amusing tales.”

Thranduil laughed lightly as the elves from Greenwood tried not to squirm at that idea. Thranduil doubted they would feel especially free to make up more songs about Lindomiel in his presence. He would never believe they would tease him in such a manner. Only Lindomiel and Aradunnon had the nerve to do that. It suddenly occurred to him to be pleased that the staff felt so comfortable with Lindomiel as to sit with her and create silly ballads to joke with her.

Feeling a little playful himself, he smirked. “It is you that had best take care, my lady, lest I decide to sing something. I can think of a few stories about you myself that everyone here might find interesting,” he threatened.

As Lindomiel cast a stunned look at Thranduil, not expecting such a response from him, the elves around them laughed, slipping again into the relaxed atmosphere that had surrounded them before the king’s arrival. That had been his intention. Even after a yén Thranduil was still struck by the fact that the same people he had a much more informal relationship with as Prince Thranduil, now behaved so stiffly in his presence.  He knew it was to be expected but there were still times, like this celebration, that he would have preferred his former camaraderie with them.

“You would not dare,” Lindomiel responded when Thranduil’s expression did not change. Her tone was light but plainly surprised.

“Oh, never challenge me, my lady,” Thranduil warned with dancing eyes. “I find it very difficult to back down from a challenge.”

Several of the elves laughed quietly at that. They knew it was true.

Lindomiel smiled. “That could be useful. I will have to keep that in mind,” she replied. “But I still do not believe you will sing anything about me. Not here.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows and their audience looked between the king and his bride in anticipation. After a moment’s thought, Thranduil did begin to sing.

Oh, I have searched for you my lady,

for three thousand years,

Now that I have felt your arms around me,

Tis too wonderful to have you near.

I have seen your eyes sparkle,

Your lips like sweet, red wine,

And I have seen the way your smile,

makes the sunlight always shine…

Lindomiel’s eyes had widened when Thranduil began to sing. She certainly would not have minded if he sang about one of the many silly things they had done. She teased him often enough and she would be happy to take her just deserts from him. But she did not expect it. He treated her with far too much deference publicly for her to believe he would join in this game. When the song focused on more romantic themes, Lindomiel's expression softened to an indulgent smile. By the time Thranduil finished singing, the subject of his song—her smile—shone brightly on her face and tears glistened in her eyes.

As he concluded the song, Lindomiel leaned forward, kissing Thranduil lightly on the cheek. “That was beautiful, meleth,” she whispered.

Thranduil smiled back at her and took her hand to kiss it. As he did, the elves around him began to cheer. His eyes widened slightly in alarm when he realized not only those immediately around him were applauding, but also all those in the general vicinity. They had fallen silent to listen to their king. He shook his head and laughed lightly, accepting their accolades with a nod and encouraging the minstrels to sing again. 

Lindomiel grinned at him. That was better than any song someone might have sung about him.

*~*~*

After the dancing and gaming had carried on for a good while, the parents of the bride and groom, seeing their children quite anxious to end their wait, signaled the minstrels to stop playing the dancing music and play another tune that indicated the ceremony was about to begin. The air now charged with anticipation, the guests returned to their seats and the wedding party took their places.

Normally, the mother of the bride and father of the groom officiated the wedding. As Thranduil’s father was with Mandos, Engwe, took his place along side Limmiel. The older elves joined Thranduil and Lindomiel’s hands and blessed them, Limmiel naming Varda and Engwe invoking Manwe. Then Thranduil and Lindomiel returned to one another the silver betrothal rings and exchanged slender gold bands, placing them on their right index fingers. When this was done, Engwe recited a final blessing calling upon Eru’s name.

Once he finished, a cheer rose from the crowd and the musicians began to play again. The rest of their families and friends came forward to congratulate them but Lindomiel and Thranduil neither saw nor heard anything. Thranduil leaned forward, hands cupping her face, and kissed Lindomiel with a kiss that began soft and tender and became passionate. Finally it was their laughing friends that pulled them apart.

As the rest of the revelers returned to dancing and gaming, Thranduil and Linomiel found themselves surrounded by family and friends near the High Table. Everyone was anxious to offer their congratulations.

Engwe was the first to speak. “Well thankfully that is done.” He looked at Lindomiel. “Welcome to the family, Lindomiel and may the Valar have mercy on you. You have taken on quite a bit with this one. A more recalcitrant elf could not be found on the face of Arda. He is lucky to have you.”

Ignoring her father’s amused snort, Lindomiel blinked. Engwe was the last person in Thranduil’s family that she expected to tease her. She looked at him with surprised amusement.

Thranduil only shook his head. “He calls me recalcitrant. That must be a joke. Mind your manners, uncle. You are speaking to the Queen of Eryn Galen.”

“Indeed,” he said dryly before looking back at Lindomiel. “Eryn Galen is lucky as well.”

“It certainly is,” Dieneryn said, coming forward with a smile and hugging Lindomiel.

Lindomiel returned the embrace warmly and then turned to receive another from her friends. “I am so happy for you, Lindomiel. I truly believe you and Lord Thranduil are perfectly matched,” Amoneth said happily.

Amglaur turned his head to hide the grimace that sprung to his face at that assessment.

Seeing that, Aradunnon laughed lightly and took his turn embracing Lindomiel. “You most certainly are wonderfully matched. I also could not be happier for you and Thranduil. You are exactly what he needs.” He looked at his brother mischievously. “Having Lindomiel here will take some of the burden of torturing you off me. Her high spirits seem to keep you busy enough, muindor nin.”

Thranduil smirked at his brother but Lindomiel looked at him slyly. “We both know why you are so pleased with this news, Aradunnon. And your own high spirits are the issue there, are they not?” she asked with a knowing air. Amoneth giggled in response to that, looking at Lindomiel with wide eyes. Aradunnon threw Lindomiel a pleading look but her comment was lost in the excitement of the congratulations.

Hallion had stepped forward and placed his hand on Thranduil’s shoulder, unable to keep the paternal smile from his face. “Congratulations, my lord,” he said quietly. Thranduil turned to him, also smiling warmly, and pulled him into an embrace. Hallion returned it. “This may be the best decision I have seen you make, my lord,” he whispered into Thranduil’s ear. Thranduil laughed at that as he pulled away from Hallion.

The steward was quickly replaced by Celonhael and Golwon, who flanked Thranduil, also clapping him on the back. “I miss Oropher very much today, as I am certain you do as well. Your adar would have loved Lindomiel, my lord,” Celonhael said, smiling at her. “Indeed she is much like what I imagine a daughter of Oropher would have been like.” He turned his eyes to Dieneryn. “I always thought it was a pity that you did not have more children—particularly daughters.”

Lindomiel covered her mouth with her hand to smother her reaction to that description of her and her eyes flashed to her father.

Amglaur’s jaw had dropped and he stared at Celonhael clearly offended.

Noting his reaction, Dieneryn struggled not to laugh. “Two of Oropher’s sons were quite sufficient, Celonhael, thank you very much,” she said, trying to divert the conversation and prevent Amglaur’s explosion.

Her effort failed.

“And may I suggest that you not liken Lindomiel to Oropher in my presence, Lord Celonhael,” Amglaur said coldly.

Dieneryn raised her eyebrows, impressed by his restraint.

Lindomiel could not resist teasing everyone a bit. She affected a dismayed air and glanced between Thranduil and Aradunnon. “I am not certain you should express such opinions in my presence either, Celonhael. Really, if one of Oropher’s sons is ‘recalcitrant’ and the other is simply a rogue, I cannot imagine that you have paid me a compliment. I suppose I will have to be very vocal in the upbringing of my children to make sure they turn out more properly.” She winked quickly at Dieneryn whose eyes were wide with amusement.

Golwon burst out laughing at that. “Oh yes, you have chosen well, Thranduil. Any one with the courage to attack Oropher in this company will have what it takes to manage you.”

Thranduil, who had been looking at Lindomiel with amused shock, turned to stare at Golwon upon hearing that comment.

Engwe snorted loudly. “Manage Thranduil,” he repeated. “Now that is something I would dearly like to see done.” He looked sympathetically at Lindomiel. “Even his own adar was not the equal to that task, my dear. You have your work cut out for you—I have already told you that.”

Lindomiel smiled sweetly, now thoroughly enjoying this game. “Recalcitrant. Yes. But I will have means of managing Thranduil that Aran Oropher did not have at his disposal. Tell me, my lady,” she said, turning to Dieneryn innocently. “Did you have any trouble managing your lord husband?”

Dieneryn looked at Lindomiel with dancing eyes. “None at all,” she confirmed, suddenly realizing how much fun it would be to have another female in the household.

“Nana?” Lindomiel asked, turning to Limmiel who was shaking her head.

“I am hesitant to be drawn into this, but no. I cannot deny it is quite easy to manage Amglaur when I bother to expend the effort.”

Lindomiel merely nodded serenely. “As I thought.”

The unmarried ellyn in the present looked between Limmiel, Dieneryn and Lindomiel warily and with great surprise. The married ones, even Amglaur, only laughed quietly. When Thranduil’s eyes turned to them, they openly laughed at him.

“She is right, Thranduil. Wives have many means to govern their households and their husbands.” Hallion said softly. At Thranduil’s defiant glare, Hallion continued mischievously, unable to resist joining Lindomiel to torment the king. “If there is no truth to what she says, correct her now. Show us all that you are your own master.”

Thranduil’s brow furrowed in sincere irritation at Hallion’s words and he opened his mouth to speak. Then his eyes fell on Lindomiel’s amused face and the angrily aggressive words he was about to utter died on his lips.

She laughed lightly. “Tis only a joke. No one here believes anyone could control Thranduil Oropherion. Much less would I want to,” Lindomiel said quietly and with a playful tone, taking Thranduil’s hand affectionately. She tiptoed to place a kiss on his cheek.

Thranduil smiled at her and laughed to himself, ignoring Hallion’s knowing gaze and single arched eyebrow. He could not deny that he really would not have said a thing. He did not know why, but he knew it was true. Hearing his councilors’ soft laughter, he glared at them. Golwon and Aradunnon seemed the most amused.

“Laugh now,” he said, looking at his traitorous brother and cousin. “We will have to make sure you are both happily married very soon.”

Golwon laughed harder at that. Thranduil silently noted that Aradunnon only cast a sharp glare at Lindomiel. One that Lindomiel returned with mischievous, bright eyes.

Hallion smiled warmly at Lindomiel. “I definitely think that you will be an outstanding addition to the family, my lady,” he said sincerely. Everyone present could easily read the subtext—Lindomiel might actually be able to manage Thranduil and that would be an amusing sight to see. One they all looked forward to.

Amglaur had watched this entire interchange with a delighted look. He nodded at Hallion and put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “Indeed. I was somewhat reluctant to consent to this marriage but I think I might have misplaced my fears.” He looked at Thranduil merrily. “Allowing it may be the best revenge I can still take on Oropher,” he said laughing lightly.

Dieneryn let out a short laugh before biting her lips.

Thranduil smiled and shook his head.

*~*~*

As the king and his family celebrated his marriage by the river, Marti mounted a horse in the woods a good distance down the bank hidden in the shadows. She watched the lantern light flicker through the leaves for a moment and her eyes held angry contempt. The idea that the little interloper from Lorien was now the Queen of the Woodland Realm was repulsive.

Marti knew that she had once again allowed her anger to drive her to foolish actions but she hardly even cared. She saw the little princess storm from the workshop in a fit of furious tears after discovering her precious tapestry. That reaction was sufficient compensation for having to hide for a while. There were other places Marti could live to accomplish her goals and she would be happy to leave and never see Thranduil or Lindomiel again.

As she was about to turn her horse, someone approached her. Marti looked around startled. She knew the city guards were looking for her. She hesitated seeing it was Tulus. He looked at her kindly, stroking her horse's nose.

“You are leaving too?” he asked gently.

Marti scowled and looked away. If he was not here to arrest her, she had no desire to speak to him. Tulus was not likely to be useful to her again so she did not care to waste her time with him. When he did not stop distracting her mount, she glared at him. Then she tried to temper her reaction. She had few enough allies in Greenwood. Perhaps it would not be wise to discard those that remained even if she could not see their immediate use. Marti schooled her features into a more neutral expression.

“How are you, Tulus? What do you mean ‘am I leaving too’?” she asked idly.

He looked at her a little sadly. “You are obviously going somewhere, my lady. So am I.” He shrugged. “Lord Aradunnon and Lord Engwe will not allow me to join the regular patrols since the king dismissed me. So my son and I are moving to another village where I hope to work as a guard. I am not anxious to make my son move but I am a warrior. There is not much else I can do.”

“You are moving?” she asked. “And your son will have to leave his friends. So sad. He is young, is he not?”

Tulus nodded. “Only fifteen.” He smiled. “He says he wants to be a warrior too.”

“What is your son’s name, Tulus?”

“Glílavan,” he replied.

“And your wife? Is she concerned about moving?”

Tulus' eyes dimmed somewhat. “She is not with us. She sailed West a few years ago. She never recovered from the fact that her father and brothers all died in the war. I hoped that Glílavan might help anchor her here but the strain of a young child only made things more difficult for her. I had to send her to Valinor or she would have faded. I would sail myself but I want Glílavan to know Eryn Galen, if only for a short while. It is a beautiful forest.”

Marti looked at Tulus sympathetically. “All the pain the House of Oropher has caused you. It seems a terrible pity that your reward was Thranduil’s dismissal.”

Tulus tried to hide a bitter scowl. “I will be happy as long as I am in the forest. I love Eryn Galen,” he replied firmly.

“So do I,” she affirmed softly.

*~*~*

AN: That is the end of New Journeys. There is an epilogue that I may post here and will certainly post at Open Scrolls. It is adult in nature (though definitely not too graphic), so I want to make sure to warn you not to read it if you would prefer not to. You will not miss any plot if you do not read it.

The next story in this series is called Journeys Perforce. It tells of how Thranduil came to the decision to move to the caves in the north. It is more of an action piece. I will begin posting it after I take a little break for a few days to catch up reading my favorite stories that I haven't had time to read recently. :)

I want to thank everyone who has read this far. I hope you have enjoyed it and will continue to do so. I especially want to thank the people who take the time to review. It makes an amazing difference to hear people's thoughts. It makes me think about what you are seeing so I can improve the story as I post it.

Thanks!

*~*~*

Meleth (nin)--(My) Love

Naneth/nana--Mother/mum

Iell nin--My daughter

Ion nin--My son

Muindor nin--My brother

Adar/Ada--Father/dad

Aran-King