Faded Light: Book II

(For additional notes and disclaimers, please see top of Chapter 1.)



= I don’t know where my head’s been, I had completely forgotten what the last chapter was that I posted a couple of weeks ago and was actually about to post it again...anyway here’s the next one, the wedding Mirkwood’s been waiting for for the last thirty-some chapters. There will be four parts to this one, and I will try to post them regularly over the next three weeks...

And Sarah thank you for your review, which I just saw...I'm glad you think my story is worth several reads...

This one is definitely one of the lighter chapters I’ve written...enjoy...(and for those who like the angst, don’t worry, there is plenty more on its way...)

There are only about 14 or 15 chapters left to post in Part II after this, and several of them are completed, so I only need to finish writing about seven or eight chapters, though the story will be continued in Book III, which I am planning to be quite a bit shorter than Book II became)...



(By the way, most of my information about Elvish weddings and other cultural customs, I got from LACE, “Laws and Customs of the Eldar” along with a couple of other articles on Elf religion...I tried to be somewhat accurate, but I did improvise where necessary...) I rather like the way this one finally came out, but I’m biased, so let me know what you think...enjoy and please review... -

 

Chapter 34



Vestale Pt.1

“...would you get that look of dread off your face titte muindor...?” Leralonde chided a little impatiently, watching Ethiel fidgeting with his sleeves for the third time in the last ten minutes. “You’re about to wed one of the fairest damsels in this realm, not marching to face the armies of the Dark Lord...”



“...after all these centuries I can hardly believe it’s finally the day,” muttered the younger Prince, watching the guests milling about and chatting noisily around the large garden which had been chosen for the wedding ceremony. “What if I mix up the words or drop the rings or...”



“Calm down; you have a lovely bride, and you’ll have a perfect wedding and a wonderful eternity together...



“Here...maybe this will help...” he took a cup from a passing servant’s tray and offered it to his brother who shook his head.



“The bride and groom are supposed to fast until after the ceremony...” Ethiel reminded.



“Of course...”



“I am only sorry, brother,” said Ethiel, “that it took Father’s wrath against you, to allow Glaerwen and I to marry...”



“Let’s not think about that today...” said the Crown-prince. “I’m just glad you and Glaerwen can finally be together...you know I’ve always loved her like a younger sister...”



“It appears that most of Mirkwood shares your good wishes; have you seen all the gifts in the Hall...we haven’t room to put it all...”



“You will when the King gives you his wedding gift...”



“Storage space in one of the tower attics...?” the younger Elf started to laugh and stopped with his brother’s next words.



“Close,” said the Crown-prince, taking a drink himself from the declined wineglass, “but more practical, I think...the river manor...the one that belonged to Grandmother Gailrin...?”



“Make sure you keep that look of astonishment on your face when he presents it to you, and don’t let him know I spoiled his surprise...”



“You’re not serious...?” muttered the younger. “That house has been empty for centuries...”



“Uncle had it worked on all last summer while you and Glaerwen took that trip to Lorien...I hear he had Nana see about hiring the staff too...



“Though I doubt your duties will let you spend most of your time there; but he probably thinks a newly married couple needs more space...and a place to raise Elflings...



“You realize your new father-in-law will be counting the months until the birth of his first grandson...” he warned his brother, in a more serious tone.



“Let’s give that a little while, shall we...Eru decides in His Own time when Elflings arrive...”



“Speaking of Elflings,” said Leralonde, putting his glass down and snatching up the too-small Princess as she was running past them...



“What are you up to Gwilwileth,” he asked, settling the giggling child in his arms.



“We’re playing hide and seek,” she said.



“...but Ben’s too good a hider...”



“All right...just don’t wander off, even if it is the Palace grounds...it will be dark soon. Tell Ithilhen and Benain too, stay near the party...and if you start to get tired try to rest for a little while...”



“Yes Taro...”



“I think I should go find Naneth and Glaerwen,” Ethiel broke in. “The ceremony will begin at sunset...”



“Taro,” said the Elfing looking serious, as her uncle walked away, smiling pleasantly and greeting guests as he went, “when I grow up can I marry Ithilhen?”



“I think that would be a very suitable match,” he said, matching her earnest look even while he tried not to laugh at her precocious manner...



“Really?”



“Aye,” he said, “but his Adar and Naneth will have to agree.”



He smiled now, “And in about four or five centuries we can all sit down and talk about it.”



“Taro...” she giggled again.



“Where are your Ada and Uncle Erestor...?”



“Uncle ‘Restor is at the dessert table,” said the Elfling. “He was complaining that he’ll be so fat by the time he goes home that his horse won’t be able to carry him...and then Ada started talking to one of his friends...I think they went for a walk...”



“Which one...?”



“I don’t know...I never saw him before...he’s dressed like a Lorien Elf and has silver hair...Ada called him Anirion...” she laughed again. “That’s a funny name...”



“Yes it is...”



“I don’t think Uncle ‘Restor likes him...he made a mean face when he saw him and Ada go for their walk...”



“All right,” he said, knowing how the thought of the child being encouraged in Court gossip annoyed Saelbeth, “why don’t you go finish your game...though the wedding will be starting soon, if you want to see...”



“...maybe Ithilhen’s found Ben by now,” she said, as her father set her back down. “I’ll be right back...”



He smiled, watching his little gwilwileth fly off, and wondered how he could bear it if Saelbeth did decide to go to Valinor and take their child...the thought was too painful to dwell on for long...



The Prince was looking around trying to find his brother again or some sign of Saelbeth when he caught sight of his former lover standing with another Elf on a terrace some distance away...from his clothing, he was one of the visiting Lorien Elves, silver-haired as Gwirithniel had said, and at least two millennia older than Saelbeth...



Maybe he was just a old friend, he thought...Sael had lived in Lorien with his parents for several centuries when he was younger, but the way he kept standing so close to Saelbeth and touching his hand or shoulder was far more friendly than Leralonde liked...



But before he could think much more on his sudden, irrational possessiveness, the song that had been playing came to an end. There was an expectant hush as Princess Meldamiriel, crossed the garden, dressed in the green robes of an Elven Priestess of Orome and Vana, followed by the wedding party; the bride and groom and the parents of each. Glaerwen‘s mother had gone to Valinor centuries ago, so she had chosen a friend to stand with her at her wedding; a kinswoman of Tadion’s, if Leralonde was right. The young Healer did seem to have a relative everywhere one looked, he mused, watching Meldamiriel begin with the traditional blessings for the new bonding about to take place...



As a Royal Cleric, his older sister rarely came to the city anymore, preferring to spend her time in the woods, and visiting out of the way settlements...but familial duty had brought her home now to perform her youngest brother’s marriage ceremony...



She had always been a rather peculiar Princess, even as a girl, scholarly and solemn, not usually concerned with the same things that interested the other maids of the Court, like expensive, beautiful gowns or the latest Court social event...and she was so tall and thin, she always made Leralonde think of a tree branch...her religious vocation had really been a very fitting calling for the serious-minded, slightly otherworldly Princess...



Maybe it was their father’s blood, which had manifested itself most in Ruthlagor’s firstborn than in either of his sons.



He looked over to where the King was sitting, his face impassive, and wondered if Meldamiriel had given up her bizarre ideas about Alatariel and Feredir’s fosterling, and Legolas...



====================



“...what are you looking at?”



A moment ago, before the ceremony started, Saelbeth and Anirion had been having a perfectly pleasant conversation about old times and mutual friends in Lorien, now he found the other Elf’s eyes on him were making him uncomfortable...



But he did not take his own eyes from what was going on in the garden...letting Anirion get into his head at the wrong moment was how he got himself into trouble all those centuries ago, so he kept watching the wedding.



Princess Mereniel and Esarulir, as was the custom, had joined their children’s hands, and now, Meldamiriel, the Royal Priestess was speaking the traditional blessings over their union, and calling on the various Valar involved in such matters, Vara, Yvanna, and Vana, as well as Eru, who was almost never named except on such a sacred occasion as this...



He felt the other Elf’s hand on his, the thumb stroking his skin a little too intimately. “You still tremble at my touch Vanima Quen...”



“You should not say such things, Anirion...” protested Saelbeth and took a step back from the railing, crossing his arms.



“And do not call me that,” he said in a warning tone, meeting the other’s eyes. “It has been too many centuries…we cannot go back...whatever we had in Lorien was a long time ago...”



Anirion remained quiet for several minutes though Saelbeth knew he had barely taken his eyes off him, but then Saelbeth felt the other Elf’s hands on his shoulders.



“Saes, Anirion, don’t do that...” despite his protests, he didn’t pull away this time...



“You just seemed tense; I thought it would help...



“Worry not, Vanima Quen,” said the Lorien Elf, huskily a little too close to his ear, “I won’t try to seduce you...unless you want me to...



“I’ve thought about you often,” he said, moving back to the railing so he could see Saelbeth’s face again. “I’ve regretted letting you go as you did...”



“I left because I wanted to; we weren’t good for each other...I doubt you could have stopped me...



“Anyway,” he added a bit tartly, “I’m sure you found enough company to distract you from missing me too much...”



“...company perhaps, but I’ve never found anyone to replace you...



“You’re as beautiful as I remember...” he reached out and touched Saelbeth’s face in a more affectionate fashion.



“Anirion, don’t...and it’s not true anyway; I’m far from being the Elf I was...”



“I heard about the Orc attack too...I was glad to hear you had recovered enough to come to the wedding?”



“...in some ways, I have...but it has taken me a long time,” he crossed his arms again and looked down at the hand and arm the Orcs had shattered, which still pained him at times...



“Saelbeth...” Anirion unfolded his hands, taking them in his own and met Saelbeth’s eyes with concern...



“Diheno nin,” he said, “I should not have mentioned something so distressing...”



“It’s all right...some of those memories are just harder to erase than others...”



He turned back to the ceremony once more; the blessings completed, the young couple returned to each other their silver betrothal rings and placed on each other’s hands the gold marriage bands which the priestess had earlier blessed...



“Are you and the Prince still...?” asked the Lorien Elf after another few minutes, trying to get past the earlier upsetting subject...



“It is complicated. But we have a child and that is an unbreakable tie.”



“Not so unbreakable,” said Anirion in his characteristic cavalier fashion, which was one of the reasons Erestor had always hated him, “unless you have actually bonded...”



“That is rather unlikely...” Saelbeth turned his attention back to the garden, leaning his elbows on the railing; the last part of the marriage rites was for the groom’s mother and the bride’s father to give a gift to their children’s new spouses...



“But he will always be my child’s sire, even were either of us to take other, bonded, mates...”



“I saw your Gwirithniel. She’s a beautiful child.” He took Saelbeth’s hand again, “Like her Adar.



“Had I known you carried this gift I would never have let you walk away. We two might have had a child.”



“We should both thank the Valar that that did not happen.



“Two people should not have a child, who have little more in common than...” he bit his lower lip and trailed off, unsure of a proper way to finish that thought.



“Heat?”



“Aye...”



“Always so prim and correct, Saelbeth...” he muttered, but by his tone Saelbeth knew the other was teasing him... “That was one of the things I found so irresistible about you...”



“Not always so prim, as you well know...” Saelbeth let himself smile a little now. “And I’m sure there were one or two other things about me that you liked even more...”



“Aye...as I remember, you could be a very naughty Elf once I got you in the right mood...”



The other leaned over and placed an outwardly chaste kiss on his cheek but let his lips linger along his jaw a little too long.



“Anirion...”



“I hope that Prince Leralonde won’t be as foolish as I was to let you go,” said the Lorien Elf, “but we did have some nights worth remembering didn’t we...?”



=======================





“Are you well, Muindor nin...?”



Thranduil looked up from whatever had distracted him and saw his sister, looking even more elegant and beautiful than usual for her younger son’s wedding day, and Elrond beside her, watching him with a worried look on her face...it was that look that always made her most resemble their Naneth, he mused...



“I’m fine,” he said. “Just getting a bit of a headache...



“You know if you two keep spending so much time together people might start talking...”



The glare the Princess gave him showed how unfunny she found his attempt at humor. Again, it was their mother her face molded itself into.



“I don’t find that at all amusing,” she said mistaking the reason he smiled.



“Are you sure you’re all right, Melon?” asked Elrond. “Headaches are a rather uncommon symptom for Elves...it has been a couple of centuries since I last saw a case...”



“It’s nothing, Elrond, truly...I am a bit tired though; I think I might go lie down for a while.



“Though I’d hate to be thought rude...would you apologize to our guests, if any of them should ask,” said the King, leaning over to kiss his sister’s cheek. “I’ll be back in a little while...I still haven’t given Ethiel and Glaerwen their other gift...”



“Of course...”



She smiled now, “It was a most generous gift that you thought of, Brother...and I’m sure Nana would be pleased to know there will be a young couple and Elflings living in that house again...”



“Go enjoy yourselves, both of you...” the King waved them off, “we didn’t spend all this time preparing this celebration so you could stand here and worry about me...”





==============





“For one who is supposed to no longer be interested, you have certainly spent quite a large part of the evening looking in that direction...” Erestor commented casually, pausing at the dessert table and considering the tempting, sticky pastries Mirkwood’s Royal kitchens had been working on for the last few days.



“I believe Humans call it jealousy, but I’ve only occasionally seen it among Elvenkind...”



“I’m not...



“Saelbeth can talk to whomever he wants,” said Leralonde rethinking his words, “Besides, he’s the one who left me remember...?”



“I’ve heard it said that our people are above such things,” Erestor went on, ignoring the Crown-prince’s protests. “I might have believed it before I observed the two of you...Saelbeth gets a very similar look whenever young Healer Tadion’s around...



“...his name’s Anirion, by the way,” Elrond’s Advisor said after a pause, as he finally decided on an especially sweet, cream-covered dessert.



“The silver-haired Ellon Saelbeth was talking to just now while you stood here and pretended not to glare...he’s from Lorien and a kinsman of Lord Celeborn. Though I can’t fathom how the Lord of the Wood can be related to such a person,” Erestor added distastefully.



“Not that you’re interested in any of that, Highness. But he and Sael used to be lovers...centuries before there was anything between the two of you...”



Leralonde had tried to keep his face impassive, but he couldn’t help laughing finally. “Anirion...seriously? When Gwirithniel said it earlier, I’d rather hoped she’d mispronounced it...”



“It is an idiotic name...but unfortunately he’s got quite a reputation to go with it...



“And there’ll be no keeping Saelbeth from going to Valinor once he breaks his heart again...



“I hope, Highness, that you have some inkling that it was not entirely Saelbeth’s wish to remain in Rivendell,” he said stabbing his fork into the top of the pastry and leaving it there, “he felt pressured to. By someone with influence, who used his state back then, along with Saelbeth’s excessive sense of duty, to exert that influence...?”



“I’m not a fool, Erestor, but what does one do when it’s not only one’s own mother intriguing, but she also happens to be The Princess...



“I’m not sure Saelbeth would have listened to me back then, if I had tried to undo her scheming; not if she really put ideas his head...”



“Valar...” Erestor exclaimed, exasperated, “if you two would just talk, you could have settled all this years ago...



“...but this may be you’re chance,” he said, looking toward the terrace again. “It looks like he’s left and left Anirion by himself. Maybe my cousin really has grown wiser in the last six hundred years...



“Go find him,” he practically gave the Prince a little push in the direction of the door. “Before Anirion lives up to his name...I don’t want to be the one who has to fix the damage again...”





=================





TBC...





Elvish Translations:



Vestale / (Q.) Wedding

Titte muindor / Little brother

Adar, ada / Father, dad, daddy

Naneth, Nana / Mother, mom, mommy

Eru / God, Creator of Arda and the races on it

Gwilwileth / Butterfly

Taro / shortened form of Ontaro / sire

Vanima Quen / Lovely, beautiful one

Diheno Nin / Forgive me

Saes / Please

Muindor nin / My brother



Elvish Names:



Gwirithniel / From ‘rose’ and ‘april,’ so April Rose

Anirion / Desirer