Chapter 15 - Wedding Plans

Herenion had to repeat himself twice, thrice and then again, before the . . . combatants in the room noticed he was speaking.  “My Lord, dinner?”

Thranduil finally noticed Legolas’ bodyguard, “Yes, Herenion, I heard you the first time.”

*~ Really my lord, and what about the second time? ~* Herenion kept silent, just nodded in agreement.

“We will be joining the diners soon.”

Herenion seriously doubted that, but at least the three had stopped glaring at each other. It seemed he was not going to get food any time soon.

Thranduil turned back to his son and Rhinure, “We will continue this conversation right after dinner. There are still some matters I would like to discuss with you both.”

*~ No dinner for me tonight. ~* Herenion mentally sighed as he accompanied his prince out of the room

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Thranduil offered his arm to Rhinure, and led her to dinner. He smiled down at her with such compassion that she was highly tempted to refuse to follow him. Legolas could only smile; whatever new insight his father had gained into Rhinure was infuriating her – he must ask his father what is was exactly. His smile grew into a full-blown grin when he saw his father gently pat Rhinure’s hand. The look she turned on him would have felled an orc at twenty paces. Legolas could not decide what was more amusing, the way his father just ignored the glare or Rhinure’s discomfiture that he had.

He kept grinning until Rhinure turned her eyes on him – Legolas has to quickly pull his face into a more sombre expression. It was amazing how much disapproval she could put in one look.

Thranduil chuckled softly at the chagrined expression on his son’s face. *~ It is not so easy to disobey when she glances at you, is it my son? ~* He would have to ask Rhinure on how exactly she did it – it would come in handy next time Legolas was arguing with him.

After quelling Legolas, Rhinure kept her gaze firmly ahead – ignoring the laughter of the King and the shamefaced amusement of her betrothed. She would ignore this childish display, even if it killed her.

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Dinner, naturally, was a long drawn affair. Thranduil was sensibly giving people time to adjust to Rhinure. Seeing her at ‘normal’ tasks, like eating, was supposed to reassure the people – show them that their Princess was an elleth like them.

Herenion watched as people constantly glanced at her, stared at her, whispered about her and he could help but feel a twinge of guilt. It must not be pleasant to be gawked at, no matter how necessary it was. At the same time, Rhinure seemed unfazed by the attention. Her carriage remained erect and proud – Herenion could not help but think that she would make a fine princess.

Or course, she would have to learn to stop frightening people – Herenion sighed as the serving maid dropped another crystal decanter when Rhinure looked at her. That was the third one; Thranduil would have none left at this rate.

*~ I wonder if she does this for her amusement? ~*

Legolas was thinking the exact same thing as he watched Rhinure. He found himself watching her – the way she ate  *~ briskly – not lady-like at all ~*

The way she held her glass *~ I wonder if she could snap the glass? ~*

The slight tilt of her head as she leaned in to catch what Thranduil said *~ reminds me of a bird perched on a branch. ~*

The way she moved in her chair *~ Is it possible for an elf to fidget?. ~*

The way she looked at him when she caught him staring *~ How can such cold eyes be so beautiful? ~*

“Is the food not to your liking, your Highness? You have hardly touched it.” Rhinure asked, wondering why the young prince kept staring at her. Now what had she done wrong?

Herenion smiled fondly as Legolas hurriedly turned back to his neglected meal.

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As Herenion had predicted, he did not get any dinner that evening. Thranduil ushered Legolas and Rhinure into his chambers immediately. This meant that Herenion had to accompany them as well.

Legolas had asked Herenion if he wished to have someone else take this shift, but Herenion stoutly refused. He would fulfil his duty, one missed dinner was irrelevant - besides, he wanted to hear what was discussed.

Thranduil motioned the young elves to sit in front of him – where he could keep an eye on both.

“Is there anything we missed out before, Ada?” Legolas asked, when his father did not speak.

Thranduil shook his head, “I thought we could turn to more joyous matters.”

The wedding – Legolas’ stomach turned but he kept still in his chair.

Thranduil continued, “We need to decide on a date.”

“I thought you wanted it as soon as possible?” Legolas asked, a little sardonically.

“As soon as possible is not a definite date.”

“How long will you need to make the preparations?” Rhinure spoke for the first time.

Thranduil considered, finally coming up with “A little over two weeks.”

“Why so long?” Rhinure asked, tilting her head slightly to its side. Legolas took that to mean that she truly wanted the question answered.

“It takes time to adequately prepare for a royal wedding. There are guests to invite, food to prepare and a myriad of minutia to deal with.”

“I do not understand. Why must these minutia be given priority in the first place?” Rhinure asked.

“Because it won’t be a wedding otherwise.” Thranduil tried explaining. Rhinure still looked at him blankly – it seemed to be a lot of bother for what should have been a simple ceremony.

“Because it is expected.” Legolas said quietly. And it was, the wedding of the Crown Prince was a time of great celebration and joy – at last for some.

Rhinure nodded, this explanation she understood. “Then two weeks are acceptable,” she stated.

Legolas started slightly, he had not realised that she would be so . . . eager to have the ceremony so soon. “Is there no one you would like to invite, my Lady? Friends, family? We could postpone the date if you so wish.”

Thranduil did not say anything to Legolas’ delaying tactic, letting it stand as the altruistic offer that it was not.

Rhinure shook her head, “None. What about you, my Lord? Is there none you would have at the joining?”

Legolas thought of his friends, his comrades – how he would have like for all of them to be here, especially Aragorn and Gimli. It would not be the same without them – it would be meaningless. “No, my Lady. There is no one I would call. All I need, all I desire is already in Mirkwood.” Legolas gallantly smiled at Rhinure, but she could see the lie in his eyes. However, she chose to keep silent about it, if he said that he wanted no one else she would let him have that falsehood.

“Now that we have agreed on the date, there is the small matter of where you would like to have the ceremony itself.” Thranduil looked at his ‘children’.

“My Lady?” Legolas prompted when Rhinure did not say anything.

“It makes little difference, my Lord. The ceremony would be binding wherever you chose you hold it.”

“Then we will have a traditional Silvan ceremony, if my Lady has no objections?” Legolas asked, clutching his politeness a little desperately. What kind of maid was so nonchalant about her own wedding?

Rhinure inclined her head in assent, “All I would ask it that I be allowed to make my vows in the Avari fashion.”

“Of course, my Lady. Will you need anything specific?” Thranduil hastened to assure her.

“Prince Legolas will have to place a karha on my hand when prompted. That is about all he will be expected to do. I presume his vows will be Silvan.”

That ended the discussion, since Rhinure did not have any particular demands to make, the wedding would go ahead when and as Thranduil wished. Legolas figured his father must be pleased at Rhinure’s compliance. It meant that there would be no unreasonable demands by the bride, no last minutes panics. All would go smoothly, like everything else Thranduil organised. It would be perfect – perfectly characterless.

Legolas had never realised but part of the charm in the wedding was acquiescing to your beloved’s demands, seeing her face light up when you performed some task she had mentioned in passing. It was one more detail which had been stripped from the tapestry that was his life.

It was also lucky that he was too preoccupied to realise this.

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Herenion waited patiently until he felt Legolas fall asleep. It did not take long since the Prince was exhausted. Herenion smiled fondly at his charge; the moonlight streaming in from the window lit up his peaceful face, causing it to glow. Legolas looked so young and innocent that Herenion could almost imagine him as a little Elfling; shining with joy and love – a little golden prince.

He silently left the room, motioning to the Guards outside that all was well.

As he walked towards his own rooms, he felt his stomach cramp with hunger. Herenion admonished himself for not being able to control himself; a little hunger never did anyone any harm. His stomach of course, protested at this conclusion. *~ I wonder if I can steal something from the kitchens? ~* He doubted any of the kitchen staff would be happy to fix him up a late dinner.

“They would probably skewer me with one of those carving knives.”

“Who would dare such a thing, my Lord?”

Herenion almost jumped when he heard the softly spoken question. He turned around to see Ehtewen materialise from an alcove right next to him. Her black clock had hidden her completely from his sight.

“My Lady, it is not safe to shadow people in such a manner.” Herenion’s voice was admonishing.

Ehtewen let her cloak fall open slightly; revealing a wicked looking dagger poised in her hand. If Herenion had made any threatening move, he knew he would have been dead by now. “Unsafe for whom, my Lord?” Ehtewen’ voice was lightly mocking, causing Herenion to flush slightly.

“Why do you spy on me, my Lady?” Herenion stopped himself from losing his temper, and giving her an opportunity to use that blade.

“My Mistress would like to speak to you, if you are not too tired.”

“Lead on, my Lady. I would not dream of disappointing Lady Rhinure.” Herenion facetiously bowed; intrigued and irritated at the same time. Why did she wish to see him?

Ehtewen sheathed the dagger, and fell into place next to Herenion.

“I am Ehtewen, First Guard to Rhinure. You may call me either.”

“I am Herenion, Personal Bodyguard to Prince Legolas. You may call me Herenion.”

Both elves nodded, they understood that there was no need to hide behind false politeness and pretty titles. They were warriors and deserved to be treated as such.

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