Chapter the Twenty-Ninth:

In Which There are Final Preparations and the Wedding Day Arrives

Rumors had been spreading throughout the palace that the wedding was canceled. Those working in the royal kitchen and in the make-shift open-air kitchens that had been set up in Finwë Park, looked at one another in dismay, thinking of all their hard work going to waste.

Marilla went about assuring her staff that they had nothing to fear. "Trust me, this wedding will still go forward," she said and such was her air of authority that most believed and went back to work with a good will.

Isildil, however, was not one of them. In fact, he returned to his duties with a scowl, which was typical of him and everyone else ignored him. He had spent the ensuing weeks since his demotion plotting his revenge on Prince Findaráto, wondering in what manner he could sabotage the wedding without implicating himself. He’d been disappointed in how his previous attempts to cause the prince and his friend embarrassment had failed. Watching them both rebel, though, had been rather fun. He smirked to himself as he grabbed another pot to scrub.

But with Findaráto and Glorfindel no longer doing kitchen duty, he’d had no chance to implement other plans to bring the arrogant ellyn down. He was still pondering this when Marilla approached him. He gave the elleth a wary look.

"I’ve decided you’ve done enough scrubbing of pots, Isildil," the Head Cook said with a smile. "And since you’ve been behaving yourself lately, I think I will reward you."

"Oh?" Isildil said, still suspicious. He could not help wondering who this person was who wore three stars on her guild tabard. To the best of his knowledge no master had that many. The most was two.

Marilla nodded. "I understand that you are known for your artistry in creating subtleties and confections."

Isildil nodded. "Once," he said. "Now I’m just a scrubber of pots."

"Come, come, Isildil," Marilla retorted with some exasperation. "I assigned you to scrubbing pots and such on the orders of Master Cook Huorë."

Isildil raised an eyebrow. "The Head Guildmaster?"

Marilla nodded. "Which is just as well, for if it’d been me, I would have ousted you from the guild forthwith, but since I am not the duly elected head of the Cooks’ Guild, it was not my decision. Now, enough. I would like you to oversee the decorating of the wedding cake. All the pieces are done, they just need to be put together and iced appropriately. I’ll have Ailinel and Carnimir help but you will do the major part of the work yourself. Think you can handle that? It has to be ready by the morning. Her Majesty and Prince Findaráto have decided that when the wedding party processes through the city to Finwë Park for the feast, the wedding cake will be a part of the procession so everyone will be able to see and admire it, even if they don’t get to eat any of it." She gave him a sly grin and he couldn’t help echoing it even as he nodded.

"I can do it, Mistress."

"Good. Go dry off and take yourself and your two helpers to the second pantry. You will have the place to yourselves. I’ll check in on you later to see how it’s coming along." With that, Marilla moved away to speak with one of the journeymen about something and Isildil quickly did as the Head Cook had ordered.

The wedding cake. And it would be seen by most of the populace. Now, that had possibilities.

He smiled to himself, deciding how best to implement the plan that was slowly formulating in his mind. It looked as if he might be able to avenge himself on the damn princeling after all.

****

When Eärwen found Finrod and Amarië and was assured by them that the wedding was still on, she gave them both a hug. Most of the others with them dispersed to their own amusements on Ingwë’s orders, for they were guests and their input was not needed. Glorfindel and Sador remained but did not really participate in the discussion between Eärwen, Finrod and Amarië as they went over certain details concerning the wedding, in particular, the order in which the ceremony would be held and what would be done. Amarië was appreciative of the fact that some of the Vanyarin customs would be included and thought the idea of the wedding vows being spoken in Quenya and Sindarin an excellent touch, assuring them that she would have no trouble on that score.

"I’ve gotten quite fluent," she said proudly, and Finrod gave her a loving kiss.

"We still have to figure out what you will wear," Eärwen then said to her son.

"Well, I won’t be wearing what Ammë intended for us to wear, I assure you," Amarië said with a huff.

Finrod gave her a knowing smile. "So that’s why you hightailed yourself to Tol Eressëa, is it?"

She gave him a sniff. "But of course. Why else would I have gone there?"

"What are you two talking about?" Eärwen asked. "What plans have you made behind my back?"

Finrod gave her a sheepish look. "It’s not what you think, Ammë. When I saw what was planned for my wedding garb without anyone even bothering to ask me my opinion on it, I took certain steps to rectify that mistake on other people’s part."

"Meaning me, no doubt," Eärwen said with a raised eyebrow.

"Meaning everyone," Finrod responded. He turned to Amarië. "So it’s all set?"

"Yes. Meril is staying at the Golden Harp. If you can be there an hour before dinner...."

"I’ll be there."

"What are you two up to?" Eärwen asked in exasperation.

"Sorry, Ammë. It’s our little surprise," Finrod replied. "I promise, though, that you will be pleased and not embarrassed."

Eärwen sighed and nodded reluctantly. "There is one thing, though," she said, pursing her lips. "With so many Reborn in our midst, and especially with three very young Reborn, I am not sure...."

"Have no worries about that, either," Finrod assured her. "I’ve spoken with Brethorn and the Reborn Council. They will take it upon themselves to watch over any of the newly released Reborn, those who have been out for less than twelve years. Ingwion has let me know that Valandur and Findis will take over watching Intarion and Ingalaurë and we have a number of Lóriennildi on hand who are experienced in dealing with excitable Reborn. My main concern is Uncle Nolofinwë and my cousins. They will need special watching over and Anairë is unused to dealing with Reborn of any stripe. This wedding, even if everything goes smoothly, may prove too much for them to handle emotionally."

"That is your atar’s concern as well," Eärwen said, "but I think it unfair to ask our guests to be minders of grown Elves when they should be able to enjoy the wedding."

Just then, Arafinwë found them. With him was Olórin, who smiled on them. "And that is the other thing I was commanded to tell you. Lord Manwë is aware of the problems that might arise with so many Reborn in one place and has ordered several Maiar to keep watch. They will not be seen, but if any of the Reborn become upset, they will be there to calm them. Three Maiar have been assigned specifically to keep an eye on Nolofinwë and his sons, and I am one of them."

"For which we are grateful, and if you will let Lord Manwë know, I would appreciate it," Arafinwë said, speaking for them all.

"So now we just have to endure the rest of this day," Finrod said with a sigh. "I will be so glad when tomorrow is over with."

"Násië," came the reply from more than one person and then they were all laughing.

****

Ingwë insisted that a brief rehearsal was in order, considering that certain elflings would be involved, for Finrod was determined to have the five elflings who had been in his service some years before be a part of the wedding party. They and their parents were now in Tirion and so later that afternoon, while people continued to work on last minute details, the wedding party congregated in the throne room. When Finrod entered with Glorfindel, Sador and Ingwion, he saw the elflings already there and threw out his hands and smiled, implicitly giving them permission to approach him without giving obeisance. They came to him gladly and those looking on smiled with indulgence as he greeted each of them.

"But you saw us just two months ago, lord," Sorondil, the oldest at forty, protested, when Finrod exclaimed that they all looked taller. "We couldn’t have grown that much."

Finrod laughed. "But in my mind I see you as you were when first we met. You will always be my elflings no matter how tall you get."

"That’s what Emmë says," Veryandur, the youngest at thirty-three, said with a grin.

"And it’s true," Ingwë said with a smile as he joined them. "Shall we? I know there are many other things that must be done today, so let us start."

The elflings, along with Vorondil, would process directly in front of Finrod and Amarië, with Lindorillë throwing rose petals, while Veryandur and Eruanna carried the wedding rings. Sorondil and Oromendil would follow with coronets, for Amarië would be crowned a princess of Tirion and together she and Finrod would take fealty to Arafinwë and Eärwen and be acknowledged as the heirs to the Noldorin throne. Vorondil, acting as Finrod’s squire, would carry his sword.

The rehearsal did not take long, though there was a brief discussion as to protocol and how the ceremony could be conducted in two languages without making everything awkward. In the end, it was decided that just the giving of vows and the oaths of fealty would be spoken, first in Quenya, and then in Sindarin, but the rest of the ceremony, for the sake of brevity, would be conducted in Quenya. Sador assured them that most of the Tol Eressëans had at least some knowledge of Quenya and would be able to follow along.

"And there are plenty of people who speak both and can translate if necessary," he added. "I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I think people will be pleasantly surprised that even some part of the ceremony is conducted in Sindarin."

The only upset involved Nolofinwë. While Anairë was not officially part of the wedding party, she was still family and she and Nolofinwë and their sons had been encouraged to attend the rehearsal. "If only so we can keep an eye on them," Arafinwë had confided to the others earlier. "Anairë has no idea what she’s getting herself into, having three Reborn to deal with. I have no objections to them spending time with her on the estate in the Southern Fiefdoms, but she’s not going to be alone with them. Vardamir has already agreed to go with them, and I’ll ask Lord Manwë to have at least one Maia in attendance."

The others nodded, knowing that the Noldóran’s precautions only made sense.

So, as the rehearsal progressed, the three Reborn looked on with interest, with Aracáno making whispered comments to Findecáno, the two of them giggling. Nolofinwë seemed to be acting more maturely and was ignoring them while Anairë kept telling them to hush, sounding more and more exasperated by the minute. The others looking on rolled their eyes or smiled at one another knowingly. Then, they got to the part of the ceremony where Amarië would be crowned and she and Finrod would give their oaths to Arafinwë and Eärwen.

Even as Finrod slipped the coronet on Amarië’s head and the two of them knelt before the Noldóran and Noldotári and began speaking the words of the oath, Nolofinwë suddenly rushed forward, screaming, "No! No oaths! No oaths!" He grabbed Finrod and pulled him to his feet, hugging him. "No oaths. Not again. Not again." And then he was weeping, still holding on to Finrod, who did not try to extricate himself from his uncle’s embrace, but wrapped his arms around Nolofinwë.

"Shh.... It’s all right, Uncle," he murmured as everyone looked on with various degrees of understanding. The elflings were wide-eyed but did not appear unduly upset. If anything, they gave each other knowing looks and nods, as if they had expected nothing less. It was actually the adults, or at least some of them, who seemed more upset by Nolofinwë’s outburst, Anairë in particular, and Eärwen was quick to go to her and speak softly to her while Findecáno and Aracáno looked on. They did not appear to be too upset, themselves, or perhaps the calm manner of the elflings kept them in line, not wanting to appear less mature than they.

"It’s all right," Finrod continued crooning, rocking Nolofinwë. "It’s not the same. It’s the oath you said you would give to Atar at the All-Aman Council. Do you remember saying that?"

Nolofinwë nodded, his tears abating. "I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me," he said as he stepped out of Finrod’s embrace, giving them an abject look.

"It’s all right, hanno," Arafinwë said gently, giving his brother a hug. "We understand more than you can know. Now, I’m sure Findaráto and Amarië are quite familiar with the words of the oath and don’t need to practice them. Why don’t we just pretend they’ve given me their oaths and we’ll continue on from there. All right?"

Nolofinwë nodded. "Sorry," he muttered, now looking embarrassed.

"There’s nothing to be sorry about," Arafinwë assured him. "Now once the oaths have been given and received, I believe we are to process from the viewing platform through the plaza and down Hwarin Mallë to the park...."

****

Once the rehearsal was over, Finrod, with Amarië, Glorfindel, Sador and Ingwion, made their way to the Golden Harp where they were warmly greeted by Lady Meril, who ushered them into one of the parlors where they met Morwen and a couple of other ellith. Finrod gave them a warm greeting.

"It’s good to see you again, Morwen," he said, giving the elleth a fond look. "I hope you weren’t too inconvenienced by my request."

"Not at all," the elleth assured him. "In fact, while I understood the Queen’s reasoning for not wanting me to do your wedding garb, I indulged myself with drawing various designs and looking over fabric, so when your letter came, I actually had everything set. I’m sorry you weren’t able to see the sketches I’d made. I would’ve liked to have had your actual approval."

"I trust you," Finrod said. "Now, let us see what you were able to do in so short a time."

Morwen nodded and went over to where a privacy screen had been set up, pushing it aside to reveal two wooden elf-sized clothes dummies garbed with Finrod’s and Amarië’s wedding finery. The visitors stared at Morwen’s creations in silence for a moment and then Sador gave a low whistle.

Glorfindel smiled at Finrod, who was still staring at the garb in delighted surprise. "I think we have a winner," he said.

Finrod looked at Glorfindel and smiled back. "I think you’re right and won’t everyone be surprised." Then he laughed and hugged, first Amarië, then Morwen and finally Meril, while Glorfindel, Sador and Ingwion looked on with wide grins on their faces.

****

And then the day everyone had been waiting for for so long finally arrived. Even before Anar rose out of the sea, the cooks were already up, making final preparations. Workers were putting the finishing touches on the viewing platform in the plaza or making sure there were enough chairs in the pavilions. Maids and grooms scurried about on last-minute errands while the guards made sure all was secure. The royal family and their guests rose shortly after Anar’s light breached the Calacirya to make their own preparations for the wedding that would take place at noon.

And all the while, Maiar kept invisible watch while the Valar awaited the time when they could make their own appearance.

****

Words are Quenya:

Emmë: An alternate form of ammë: hypocoristic form of amillë: Mother.

Hwarin Mallë: Crooked Street.