Chapter the Thirtieth:

In Which the Couple are Married and Isildil Exacts Revenge

Around mid-morning, a small group of people came to the palace bearing a number of boxes. On Finrod’s orders, they were quickly admitted, with some being shown to Amarië’s suite, while others were taken to Finrod’s where they found the prince with Glorfindel, Sador, Ingwion, Ingalaurë, Intarion and Vorondil, all acting as Finrod’s body servants. The boxes were placed on the bed and once they were alone again, the ellyn swiftly opened them and withdrew Finrod’s wedding garb. Those who hadn’t seen it the night before oohed and aahed over it as Glorfindel and Sador quickly laid the garb out.

"It’s a pity Morwen works for Meril," Sador said as he fingered the fine brocade. "She should be working here."

"She has no desire to leave Tol Eressëa," Finrod said as he doffed the morning robe he’d been wearing after bathing and began dressing. "She’s quite happy where she is and Meril takes very good care of her, as she does all who work for her."

The others nodded. Vorondil picked up the shirt of fine lawn dyed a lovely shade of green and handed it to Finrod. "I think the only one who won’t be happy to see you wearing this will be Lady Almáriel." He gave a snigger and the others grinned.

"I’m glad she’s not my ammë," Intarion said with a convincing shudder. "She’s quite formidable. I think even Uncle Ingwë is a bit afraid of her."

"Atto’s not afraid of anything or anyone, even that old dragon," Ingalaurë insisted.

"No, he isn’t," Ingwion interjected smoothly, "but he is respectful of her and we should be the same. Lady Almáriel has many faults, and which of us doesn’t?" — Almost at the same time, everyone pointed at Glorfindel, including Glorfindel, and they all started laughing while Glorfindel smirked — "Yes, well, present company excepted," Ingwion continued after a moment, "but in spite of her faults she is an able councillor and one of Atto’s staunchest supporters. You need to remember that, hanno."

Ingalaurë nodded, giving a sigh. "I still think she’s an old dragon, though."

The older Elves just shook their heads. "Well, let’s forget about Lady Almáriel for now," Finrod said. "I still need to finish dressing." And that was everyone’s cue and they spent the next half hour helping Finrod dress, keeping the conversation to generalities about the upcoming All-Aman Council and how they thought people would react to the presence of Nolofinwë and his sons.

****

Others were also making last-minute preparations. Isildil had spent the better part of the day before putting together the wedding cake, overseeing the making of the frosting and all the decorations. For once, he did not act authoritative as he directed Ailinel and Carnamir in helping him, but treated them more as his equals. This, of course, was a ruse on his part, for he needed to make people believe that he was a new and humbler Elf. It was vital if his plan was to work.

Ailinel and Carnamir were putting the finishing touches to the wedding cake, placing fresh garlands around the base as Isildil watched when Marilla stopped by to see how they were doing and praised them for their efforts, saying it was the loveliest wedding cake she’d ever seen.

"Now, the plan is that once the ceremony itself is over with, the wedding party will come down from the viewing platform and make their way towards Hwarin Mallë. So we will wait for them at the top of the street where it meets with Malta Landamallë. To that end, I will need four ellyn to help carry the cake. Carnamir, perhaps you would like to be one of them."

"Thank you, Mistress," the young apprentice said with a pleased smile.

"Good. Isildil, Ailinel, you’re free until it’s time for the feast. You both know to which kitchen you’ve been assigned?" At their nods, Marilla smiled. "Then off you go and enjoy the wedding. If you hurry, you might even find a good spot in the plaza, but I wouldn’t dawdle; the plaza is already filling up and the ceremony is still a good two hours hence."

They both thanked the Head Cook and left the kitchen, but on the way out, Isildil took a minor detour and, casting a glance around to make sure no eyes were on him, snatched a small bag from the counter, quickly hiding it under his tunic as he left.

****

The plaza was indeed filling up with the citizens of Tirion, along with a sprinkling of Elves from the other kingdoms and the Southern Fiefdoms. Guards were everywhere keeping order. About a half an hour before the start of the ceremony, those specially invited were escorted from the palace to a place along one side of the platform reserved for them. These included Eärendil and Elwing, along with a select group of nobles from the kingdoms and those members of the various royal families not directly involved with the ceremony. Everyone stared in wonder at Eärendil as he walked by, wearing the Silmaril on his head, eliciting many whispered comments. Eärendil kept his eyes on the guard walking before him. Elwing, recognizing his discomfort, reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze. He squeezed back but never looked at her.

The sight of Nolofinwë, Findecáno and Aracáno walking with Anairë caused many a comment as well, but no one was so foolish as to call out to them. The Reborn kept their eyes to the front, but they were all looking a bit pale. Laurendil, Eärnur and Vardamir were walking beside them, whispering encouragement and assuring them that all was well so they made it to the platform without incident and were soon seated with the others, giving grateful sighs of relief.

When all were seated, it escaped no one’s notice that there were fourteen seats in the front row that were as yet unoccupied and many people counting those empty chairs were not slow in wondering if the Valar would actually show for the wedding, but as the hour of the ceremony approached and there was no sign of them, most simply assumed that the chairs were a symbolic gesture on the part of the Noldóran.

Another group exited the palace. These were primarily elflings, most of them around forty years old, though there were a few who were much younger and some who were older. Led by Mistress Lindessë of the Musicians’ Guild, they made their way to the opposite side of the platform from where the guests were seated. And now the excitement among the spectators was reaching its peak, for Anar was nearly at zenith and the ceremony was due to start. Finally, the main doors of the palace opened, and the choir burst into a paean of praise to the Valar to bless this occasion.

First came the royals with Arafinwë escorting Lady Almáriel while Lord Castamir escorted Eärwen. Olwë and Lirillë followed with Ingwë and Elindis bringing up the rear. Then Vorondil followed wearing a squire’s tabard and carrying Finrod’s sword. Finrod came after, escorted by Glorfindel, Sador and Ingwion.

There was much oohing and aahing at Finrod’s wedding garb — a blue-green brocade robe slit along the sides to the waist with wide, trailing sleeves, under which was a lawn shirt dyed green and fawn leggings tucked into ankle house-boots of the same brocade. Intricate gold-thread knotwork embroidery along the robe’s hem, collar and sleeves was interspersed with small emeralds, sapphires and pearls, matching those twined in his warrior braids. The front of the robe was appliquéd with his personal device of a harp and torch in a teal-blue lozenge with an alternating border of silver and gold. He wore a garland of greenish-yellow linden flowers twined with blue-green linden leaves upon his head.

There was a brief pause in the procession while everyone found their place on the platform. All this while the choir had been singing the paean of praise to the Valar. Now they switched to a different hymn, the traditional Lind e-ndíneth, ‘the Bride’s Song’, composed originally by Daeron in Doriath in honor of Elu Thingol’s lady, Melian, and adopted among all the Sindar and the Noldor of Beleriand. Many in the crowd who hailed from Tol Eressëa smiled in approval and even joined in. This was the signal for the bride to make her entrance. First came the five elflings, all of them wearing tabards especially created for the wedding, showing the house devices of both Finrod and Amarië, with Lindorillë leading, carpeting the aisle with rose petals. Amarië followed after the elflings, escorted by Alassiel, Meril and Indil. Like Finrod, she wore a gown of blue-green brocade trimmed with the same knotwork embroidery but the gems were diamonds and turquoise, symbolizing her own house colors. Her head was crowned with linden flowers and leaves as well.

As they reached the platform, Finrod met Amarië at the bottom of the steps and led her to stand before Ingwë, who as High King, and by virtue of the fact that Finrod was his great nephew and Amarië was one of his subjects, would preside over the ceremony. The final verse of the hymn was sung and silence reigned over the plaza for a moment or two before Ingwë spoke.

"This day has been a long time in coming, and there was a time when we thought it would never come, for circumstances conspired to delay this happy event. But that is in the past and today we are able to rejoice in the union between Findaráto and Amarië and so, with that in mind, I would have the betrothal contract read one last time."

This was Ingwion’s signal to take up one of the copies of the betrothal contract and move forward so all could see and hear him as he read out the terms. When he had done so, he asked if the contract met with everyone’s approval and the crowd shouted out with yeas, some of them even clapping.

Once the contract was read and approved with an amendment made to it detailing the marriage, which was signed by all necessary parties, Finrod and Amarië exchanged vows and rings. Finrod then removed his wreath and exchanged it for his coronet, a simple circle of white gold with an emerald cabochon. In the meantime, Amarië knelt before her husband, allowing him to remove her own wreath and replacing it with a similar coronet, but the gemstone was sapphire. Then Finrod helped his wife up and together they walked over to where Arafinwë and Eärwen were standing and gave them their obeisance before kneeling.

Thus, the time for giving and receiving oaths of fealty arrived and, remembering the dress rehearsal, Laurendil, sitting next to Nolofinwë, leaned over to whisper in the ellon’s ear, even as he casually placed a comforting arm around Nolofinwë’s shoulders, speaking calmly and reminding the Reborn to breathe, for in spite of everything, Nolofinwë was starting to panic at the thought of his nephew giving any kind of oath. Anairë, sitting on the other side of her husband, took his hand and gave it a loving squeeze, smiling at him, and that seemed to calm him more than Laurendil’s words. So, trouble was diverted. Findecáno and Aracano seemed less affected by the ceremony, though Vardamir and Eärnur were sitting next to them just in case.

At last, the oaths were done and the couple stood surrounded by their parents who hugged and kissed them, even Almáriel, and then they were led to the front of the platform by Ingwë who proudly announced, "Here before you are Prince Findaráto, haryon of the Noldóran, and his beloved bride, Princess Amarië, once of the Vanyar, but now of the Noldor."

And as people broke out into cheers, the choir sang the glorious Lirilla Veruo, the ‘Song of the Spouses’ composed by Elemmírë of the Vanyar in praise of Lord Aulë and Lady Yavanna and a favorite at weddings among the Eldar. Finrod and Amarië stood there for a moment before Finrod leaned over to kiss his bride, much to everyone’s delight. In the meantime, an honor guard formed up before the foot of the platform ready to escort the wedding party through the city to the park. As Finrod and Amarië joined the guards many in the crowd began throwing rose petals — red, pink and white — and joined in the singing.

Arafinwë, escorting Eärwen, with Castamir and Almáriel behind them, followed while everyone else left the platform in no particular order, though both Eärendil and Elwing elected to walk with Nolofinwë and Anairë, all of them ignoring the crowd, concentrating on each other and commenting softly on the ceremony.

"I’m rather disappointed that the Valar never showed," Arafinwë said to Eärwen, though he spoke loud enough for others to hear him. "After we went to the trouble of seeing that seating was provided for them."

"I’m sure they had reasons not to be there physically," Finrod said without looking back. "But I have no doubt they were there in spirit. I think it was the gesture of being invited that was important to them rather than actually showing up."

"Maybe they decided to skip the ceremony and just meet us at the park," Glorfindel said from where he was walking, escorting Meril.

"We’ll know soon enough," Arafinwë said with a nod. "Ah, here is Hwarin Mallë and I see Marilla is waiting for us with the cake."

They all looked to see Marilla standing beside four ellyn with the seven-tiered cake set on a platform with poles on either side with which it was carried. As soon as they saw the wedding party, Marilla signaled for the ellyn to head down the street, then stood there beaming at them all as they filed past.

****

Isildil had eschewed watching the ceremony, electing to spend the time at the Hart and Hound, an inn not far from where Hwarin Mallë and Malta Landamallë met. He had chosen that spot specifically because it would give more time for the effects of what he planned to do to take hold and also because he was known to the innkeeper who welcomed him and gladly invited him to join others who were standing on the balcony overlooking the street waiting for the wedding party to pass by. Those already there gave him polite greetings but their attention was mostly on the street below and when they saw the procession coming towards them they started throwing rose petals at the happy couple. Isildil was also throwing something but not rose petals. Instead, he took out the bag he’d stolen from the kitchen and as the cake passed underneath him he quickly took a handful or two of salt and threw it upon the cake.

No one seemed to notice, all of them intent on the wedding party, oohing and aahing and calling out glad wishes. Isildil, in fact, did not linger, but made his way downstairs, thanking the innkeeper, saying he needed to get to the park to take up his position at one of the outdoor kitchens, and could he sneak out the back and avoid the crowds? As he made his way through the inn’s kitchen, he left the rest of the bag of salt on a worktable and then made his way down the alley to another street that would eventually take him down to the park but from a different direction. He wanted to be there to see his handiwork and grinned with delight at the thought of the embarrassment all would feel as the icing melted away under the salt, leaving a soggy mess.

He was unaware of the fact that his deed had not gone unnoticed after all.

****

The procession was near the end of the street where it went towards the park when Finrod frowned. "Something’s wrong."

"What do you mean?" Amarië asked as she smiled and waved at the people still lining the street.

"The cake. Look at it."

"Hey! It’s melting!" They heard Sador exclaim from behind. "How can it be melting? It’s not that warm today. In fact, it’s much cooler than I was expecting."

"We can’t stop here to examine it," Arafinwë said with a tinge of anger. "Let’s get to the park first."

Even as he was speaking they were entering the park and the ellyn carrying the cake quickly made their way towards the pavilion reserved for the wedding party, more than one of them looking up anxiously at the cake with its icing melting in rivulets, the colors running together looking like an ugly bruise. Poor Carnamir looked especially distraught. The citizens who were waiting by the park entrance stared in dismay at the ruined cake, the melting icing turning everything into a soggy mess. Some people were seen sniggering behind their hands at the sight, though the expressions on the faces of the royal family were anything but amused.

As soon as they reached their destination Arafinwë ordered the cake placed on the table that had been set up for it and they were all able to get a closer look. Glorfindel, seeing Carnamir nearly in tears as he stood with the other three apprentices, went to him.

"I don’t know what’s wrong," he heard the ellon exclaim through his tears. "And we worked so hard on it. Why is it melting?"

"Who worked on it with you, Carnamir?" Glorfindel asked quietly.

"Ailinel," the ellon answered, wiping the tears from his face, "we did most of the work, but Mistress Marilla had Mas... I mean Isildil supervise."

"Isildil, of course." Glorfindel glanced at Finrod, whose own expression became unreadable as he listened to the exchange.

"You think Isildil....?" Carnamir stared at Glorfindel in dismay. "But why? How?"

"As to how, I have no idea," Glorfindel replied. "As to why, you’re looking at him," and he nodded towards Finrod who was now speaking softly to Amarië, assuring her that the cake was not important. "All that matters is that we’re married. The rest is just... er... icing on the cake." He gave her a rueful look and that forced a laugh out of her and they hugged each other.

Others, however, were not as sanguine. Almáriel was heard to exclaim rather loudly that they would be the laughingstock of all of Eldamar, but most ignored her, for their attention was on Arafinwë whose expression could only be described as deadly. He’d overheard the conversation between Glorfindel and Carnamir and now was speaking to the ellon.

"Do you know where Isildil is now?" he asked the hapless apprentice.

"I know where he’s supposed to be, lord," Carnamir answered. "Mistress Marilla assigned him to the second kitchen. That’s the one closest to the lake."

Arafinwë nodded and turned to Calandil, who had led the honor guards. "Find Isildil and bring him here. If he’s not at the kitchen, find Marilla and tell her what has happened, though I have no doubt she already knows."

Calandil gave his liege a puzzled look even as he saluted and then ordered three of his men to follow him while the other guards kept everyone but the royals out of the pavilion.

In the meantime, Arafinwë was speaking to the other apprentices, determining where they were supposed to be once they had delivered the cake. All of them had been assigned to a different kitchen. "Tell whoever is in charge to go ahead and begin serving the other pavilions, but they are to hold off serving us here until we get this straightened out. Carnamir, you should stay." The other three apprentices bowed and left, giving Carnamir sympathetic looks as they went. Glorfindel gave Carnamir a hug, quietly assuring him that he had nothing to fear.

"None of this is your fault," he said.

In the meantime, Arafinwë was calling for his Chamberlain. "Axantur, make the announcement that all are to go to whichever pavilion they have been assigned and let the feast begin. Make sure the musicians are in place. Assure everyone that all is well and we will open this pavilion to others shortly."

Axantur bowed and went to carry out the Noldóran’s orders. Arafinwë addressed those who were in the pavilion. "We might as well get comfortable while we’re waiting and someone bring wine."

All this time, Nolofinwë, Findecáno and Aracáno had remained quiet, each of them staring at the cake with expressions of wonder and dismay on their faces. Aracáno sighed and turned away, muttering something about wanting to go back to Lórien where things weren’t so confusing. Findecáno just stood there fingering the gold strands braided into his hair. Nolofinwë, accepting a glass of wine from a servant, turned to his brother, his expression now more ‘kingly’ as Vorondil put it later when he was describing the scene to his atar and uncle who were seated elsewhere in the park.

"Who is Isildil and what does he have to do with all this?" he asked.

Arafinwë sighed and began filling his brother in while everyone else listened with rapt attention, for the story was new to most of them as well.

****

Unbeknown to everyone, Isildil had been part of the crowd waiting at the park entrance and had looked upon his handiwork with delight, just stopping himself from laughing out loud and clapping in glee. Instead, he whispered in spiteful tones to those standing near him that it looked as if the prince might have his cake but wouldn’t be able to eat it, causing a few to laugh, the laughter quickly suppressed with guilty looks upon their faces. Isildil merely smirked as he sauntered away.

He did not get far, though. His first thought had been to go to the kitchen to which he’d been assigned where he would’ve spent the time washing pots and pans. He’d had enough of that. Instead he decided to leave the park and find himself an out-of-the-way inn and celebrate his victory, however minor, over that arrogant princeling. At this point he didn’t care if he ever regained his master’s status in the guild. The revelation concerning Master Huorë ordering that he spend his days scrubbing pots had been something of a shock, though in retrospect it didn’t surprise him. Huorë never liked him and the feeling was mutual.

"Hey, Isildil!"

Isildil stopped at the sound of his name and looked up to see three of the ellyn who’d helped carry the cake coming towards him. He gave them a wary look. "Shouldn’t you be at your stations?" he asked, somewhat imperiously.

"No more than you," one of them said somewhat belligerently. "Are you responsible for what happened to the cake?"

"Cake?" Isildil echoed, attempting innocence. "And to what cake are you referring?"

"Don’t give us that, Isildil!" another ellon said with a scowl.

Isildil drew himself up, giving them an imperious look. "Master Isildil to you, Estelindo,"

"Not according to Mistress Marilla," came the retort. "They’re looking for you, you know. They know you’re responsible."

"They know nothing!" Isildil snarled. "Now be off with you before I...."

"Oh no, Isildil," Estelindo said. "I think you should come with us to see the King." And before Isildil could object or escape, the three ellyn grabbed him. He yelled out in defiance and attempted to push his way to freedom, but there were three of them and when someone nearby demanded to know what was happening, Estelindo told her.

"He ruined the cake?" the elleth demanded and when Estelindo answered in the affirmative she started shouting to others. "Here’s the culprit. Here’s the one who would embarrass their Majesties and Prince Findaráto." And before even the apprentices knew it, she was on Isildil, giving him a slap in the face and she would have done worse but Estelindo managed to push her out of the way. Then others were surrounding them, angrily demanding a piece of Isildil. Someone actually managed to hit Isildil in the solar plexus, causing him to nearly fall to the ground in pain. Another started pulling his hair. Estelindo and his friends were now in the dubious position of actually having to protect Isildil from the mob and began pushing people back.

"We’re taking him to the King," Estelindo shouted and with that he and the other two hustled Isildil along with everyone else following, shouting angry epithets at the former master.

****

Malta Landamallë: (Quena) Gold Avenue.

Note: In the language of flowers, linden is a symbol of conjugal love and marriage.