Elrond smiled dubiously. "Today's the big day, then."
Glorfindel grimaced. "You needn't play a false cheer on my account."
The remnants of Elrond's smile fell away. "Weddings are generally looked upon with some degree of delight," he rumbled in his deep baritone.
"Love matches, you mean," Glorfindel replied, again turning to his reflection in the looking glass to fuss with the overly complex ties of the formal robes. "White . . ." he grumbled under his breath.
"They are 'ivory,'" Elrond corrected, gently grasping Glorfindel's ivory-clad shoulder and coming round to meet him face to face. "Allow me." Elrond intently untangled the mess Glorfindel had made of the silken ribbon.
Blue eyes glared at the Peredhel. "This is nothing more than a farce."
Elrond raised a classic brow. "Political matches are all too common."
"Oh just wait till its your turn," Glorfindel mumbled. "And white is not my color."
"It suits you better than you know; you are most becoming." He deftly finished off the lacing at Glorfindel's chest.
The golden Lord peered down at himself critically. "Shouldn't that, uh, be a little higher?"
"Of course not," Elrond said stepping back to survey his handiwork. "You're too handsome to hide behind all these clothes," he said running a teasing finger from the hollow of Glorfindel's throat to the V of his robes at the center of his chest. "Now, the hair," Elrond proclaimed with a wave toward the stool before the mirror.
Glorfindel continued his grumbling, but took the indicated seat. "Just something simple, Elrond."
"Of course," the half-Elf willingly agreed, taking up a hairbrush from the nearby dresser. "Something simple for the groom."
"The groom?" Glorfindel asked as Elrond began untangling the golden tresses. "What does that make him? The bride? This is ridiculous. Who ever heard of two male elves being wed? If we were in love – just two merchants' sons in love – you can bet no one would permit such a bond, but when the upper echelons demand this house be united with that house, this union shall benefit this land, so-and-so should marry what's-his-name, then – THEN – anything becomes possible. Gondolin must unite with Mirkwood. Why, I'm sure I don't know. And worst of all is this Elf I am to marry."
"You have not even met him," Elrond protested.
"You mistake my meaning entirely," Glorfindel was quick to respond. "It's bad enough that you are right: I have not even met him. Worst of all, WORST of ALL, Elrond, I am old. I have lived a good life and a long and a full and a generous one. I have had my share of adventures and am content to be tied down, but this youngest nephew of Thranduil's . . . Elrond he is not even an adult, he has less than ninety years and is barely old enough to comprehend what the hell is expected of this. Of us." Glorfindel's shoulders slumped and he bowed his head, unconscious of the new braids falling to veil his face. "Is this lad to be forever tied to an outdated warrior? His life shall not be a free one."
"That is the price to be paid," Elrond agreed. "That is his fate and yours. That is what shall be."
Glorfindel looked up to see himself in the mirror, tear-stained cheeks flushed with emotion, blue eyes bright with fear, golden braids and long, free tresses falling over shoulders that gleamed with diamonds and pearls, the loosely tied ribbons to his glittering white robes open, revealing a glimpse of tanned skin at his torso. The hands clasped before him were strong and callused. His full lips were parted in astonishment. "I have not cried in . . ."
Elrond knelt beside him and turned Glorfindel's head to face him. The half-Elf's long, pale fingers wiped away the wetness at Glorfindel's high cheeks. "Come. It is time."
Glorfindel and Elrond moved slowly down the corridor, robes trailing ivory and ebony behind them. Glorfindel's wry voice whispered, "You look as though you are dressed for a funeral."
"And the look on your face would uphold that statement, Glorfindel. You yourself look as if you're heading for the gallows. You need not appear so intimidating. In fact, I think you ought to calm yourself at once, lest you frighten the poor lad out of his wits."
"What did you say his name was again?"
"Erestor."
Legolas held up a sprig of lilac.
"I think not," Erestor told him, looking at Legolas in the mirror where the golden-haired Prince stood above the seated youth, black braid in hand.
"But the lavender with bring out the, uh, the blush of your cheeks."
"There is little you might do to improve upon my appearance and well you know it," Erestor said staidly, his paler than usual hands tightly clasped in his lap, the knuckles turning white.
Legolas smiled and bent to kiss the top of Erestor's black hair.
Erestor's dark eyes widened as he shrunk away from the sign of affection. "What was that for?!" he asked, his voice belying his nervousness.
"An ill-conceived attempt to sooth your frazzled nerves?"
"My nerves," Erestor was quick to retort, "are not frazzled. I have nerves of steel."
Legolas grinned, his beautiful face made more so for the expression, bright blue eyes alight with mischief as he still met the younger Elf's eyes through the mirror. "On the yard or on the podium, I agree entirely with your . . . nerves. But this is your wedding and you cannot hide yourself from me, my friend."
"Legolas," Erestor suddenly declared with never-before-heard emotion in his voice as he stood from the plush stool, ivory robes collecting about him as he turned to face the Prince. "I would have you know something this day, before we are parted."
Standing tall, lean as a willow but strong as a mountain, Legolas regarded him now with a serious expression.
Erestor took a step closer, never failing to meet the Prince's curious gaze. "I shall miss you, Legolas. And I am proud to call you 'friend.' But after my father passed from these shores, your family took me in as one of your own, and you have long been a brother to my heart." Erestor faltered in his words and took a breath to calm himself. "And I would ask for the privilege to call you such."
Legolas was near tears himself as he embraced the dark-haired Elf. "It would be a honor to call you 'brother,' Erestor."
Erestor and Legolas moved slowly down the corridor, robes trailing ivory and ebony behind them. Erestor's voice was a mere whisper. "They say he is a fierce and powerful warrior, a proud and noble Lord."
"I have not heard it said otherwise," Legolas wisely agreed, fighting with the long robes he was not accustomed to.
"They say he likes his drink heavy and his lovers loose."
Legolas did not deny it. "That is, on occasion, what they say."
"They say his eyes are like pools of liquid sky in a face of golden beauty reminiscent of the sun failing on a spring evening with hair the color of melting honey, and over all with a form to rival any god's."
"He is not unpleasant to look upon," was all Legolas would say of the subject.
"They say he is older than Arda and wise as a basketful of harsh winters."
"'A basketful of harsh winters?'" Legolas said, laughing. "Who says such a thing?"
"They say he is a warrior to rival the foulest beasts of Mordor or the fiercest of all Elven fighters," Erestor persisted.
Legolas laid a hand on Erestor's shoulder to stop him and turned the young Elf to face him. "Erestor," he said with a slight laugh. "He is many things, but he is also just an Elf, like you and I."
Legolas smiled reassuringly and again began the slow march down the long corridor. Erestor shook his head and murmured to himself, "I don't think he shall be anything like you or I."
Galadriel smiled at the two Elves before her. "Everything is prepared?"
They bowed. "Yes, my Lady."
"Then, Lord Elrond, fetch the Lord Glorfindel. And you, Legolas. Bring Erestor to us. You know where we meet."
The bowed again and departed at opposite sides of the room.
A large party of Elves had gathered in the meadow, bright robes under the noonday sun flashing red and gold, black and grey, blue and yellow and brown. Galadriel waited serenely beneath the lilac blossoms, her silver gown gossamer light over a willowy form.
Gil-galad nudged his friend. "She is beautiful, no?"
Celeborn blushed. "Stop it."
"But you cannot deny she defies the brilliance of Arien herself, even on a day such as this."
Celeborn could not tear his eyes from the Elf maiden with golden curls and milky white arms. His voice was a halting rumble. "I deny nothing."
Gil-galad's bright laugh rung over the flowered meadow, a remarkable place near the shore, far enough that the ocean could not be seen, but near enough that the sound of the sea continuously folding in upon itself could be heard on the breeze and the salty ocean smell filled the open field. It was a field full of flowers, little starry elanor blanketing the bright green grasses like a carpet of gold, accented by tiny blue forget-me-nots, and the whole place was ringed by high bushes of lilacs: purple, lavender, and white. Beyond the lilacs bloomed mallorn trees, tall and leafy and blossoming a pale, pale pink. The petals had just begun falling that morning, and so the meadow was like a clearing in winter when the largest, wettest snowfall begins in giant flakes of white, only now the large mallorn petals fell on the coolest of early summer days and young children near the lilacs danced in the petal-fall.
Legolas pushed Erestor forward, beyond the ring of lilacs. "They're waiting," he whispered, not unkindly.
Erestor stopped, as though his feet were glued to the spot, but he nodded and Legolas let him collect himself a moment before the dark Elf finally took a step forward and moved gracefully over the green grass and golden elanor and indigo forget-me-nots and pale, pale pink mallorn petals. Ivory robes layered in pearls and opals trailed behind as bare feet traversed the meadow, a sea of beautiful Elven faces turned toward him. Erestor stared resolutely at the patch of ground his feet would next occupy.
Legolas remained steadfast beside and just a little behind him. Before they reached the crowd, Erestor carefully whispered, "Where is he?"
"He will enter in a moment," Legolas assured him in his princely, purring voice and they moved into the colorful crowd, which readily parted before them. Erestor and Legolas passed down the aisle that readily closed behind them until they reached the canopy. Four white branches had been lodged in the earth and a white canopy of silk edged with lace hung from them like a tent. Galadriel stood behind the small canopy, smiling regally at them both.
Legolas and Erestor bowed respectfully and Legolas stepped to the left side. The raven's black robes dragged the mallorn petals after him; an exceptionally large one, no smaller than his palm, landed on his shoulder and the Prince smiled before gently brushing it away.
Erestor glanced dolefully up at the lace-trimmed canopy, being steadily weighted down by the collecting mallorn petals. The sky was cool and clear and bright. The sea was on the wind and the flowers were beautiful. There could be no better day for a celebration. He tried to smile at Galadriel. She grinned back, her face more pure and clear than any he had seen.
He glanced aside to the Prince, who smiled and nodded reassuringly at him. "He'll be here in just a moment," Legolas promised in a whisper as a young maiden stepped up behind Erestor. She carried a white banner like a falling tapestry attached to a pole. She held the embroidered banner beside him to his right, so as to shield him from his soon-to-be spouse.
Erestor closed his eyes at all the ridiculous ceremony of it all. He listened carefully to the whispers around him.
Glorfindel stopped, peering through the dense lilacs.
"Well go ahead," Elrond said, prodding at his back, "And stop spying. You won't see him until it is time. And the time is near."
Glorfindel shuddered.
"I am with you, my friend," Elrond assured him.
The Elves entered the meadow, their bare feet cushioned by the thick grass and many flowers. Glorfindel marveled at the sight of the falling petals. "I've not seen the Mallorn Drop in centuries," he admitted in a quiet murmur as they walked sedately across the field. "It is beyond speech," he marveled as a giant petal passed by him.
Then he turned his face from the sky to see the many grinning faces. He smiled serenely back as they parted before him, and he and Elrond passed through the crowd. He could see the canopy in the distance. He could see the white banner.
He looked to his feet and let Elrond guide him to his place beside the banner. He wished he could see the other, the one behind the banner to his left. But he looked up and Galadriel stood before him, ever young and full of cold loveliness. Beside him, Elrond bowed and Glorfindel did the same.
The mallorn petals fell. They were a pale, pale pink.
Galadriel smiled. "Welcome. People of Gondolin and Mirkwood, Lorien and Lindon and beyond. Welcome all. Welcome to this glorious day in this place of light and to this union of two of our peoples. Glorfindel of Gondolin and Erestor of Mirkwood. We are here today to unite two Elves and two lands, the people of the cliffs and the people of the caves. Gondolin and the Greenwood." Galadriel beckoned them forward.
Erestor stepped beneath the canopy, leaving the barrier of the banner behind him. The sun was not in his eyes. The grass was soft beneath his feet. The robes were heavy. Galadriel was beautiful beyond comprehension. A presence was beside him.
Glorfindel stepped beneath the canopy. There was no wall between them. He was glad now that Elrond had not laced his robes all the way up to his neck, as he was having some difficulty breathing. The canopy swayed gently. There was a dark splotch to his left, but he did not turn his head to see it.
The banner-bearer stepped away, and Elrond and Legolas stood together just outside the canopy in their dark black robes. They nodded respectfully to one another.
Galadriel met Glorfindel's worried eyes and smiled. She met Erestor's fearful eyes and grinned. She nodded to them.
Erestor felt ashamed. He was on the left. The place of the bride. Is that what they were making him? The woman? He turned to his right.
Glorfindel felt regretful. This was not right. This was not a marriage, but a scheme. He turned to face left.
Erestor made no move, no noise. He just looked.
Glorfindel regarded the young Elf across from him.
Erestor felt nearly incapable of speech. His breath left him and he felt faint, even a little nauseous. A breeze blew. Glorfindel had golden hair and it was the color of melted honey. He had eyes like the sky, blue and beautiful and distant, beyond reach. Ivory robes inlaid with jewels lent the Lord an ethereal air, heavenly and pure. He was tall, broad-shouldered. Big, Erestor thought. He was big all over. He was beautiful.
Glorfindel tried not to stare. But he couldn't help it really. The youth was short, shorter by far than himself. Was Erestor truly so young? Was he not yet done growing? But he appeared the full growth of an Elf, with strong features and delicate eyes. His hair was black. Glorfindel wanted to laugh as the phrase came to him: black as raven's wings at midnight. How absurd, how romantically sophomoric. It was just black, and woven into a complex pile of braids like his own. Ivory robes fit him closely; the young Elf looked virginal and innocent. The eyes were dark and deep and young. Erestor was, undeniably, a beauty.
Galadriel spoke. The words rushed by, unheard by the pair. Words of peace and unity and love.
Galadriel cleared her throat. She had said something important. They vaguely recalled what was being asked of them. They each raised their left hands.
Glorfindel was nervous. He licked his lips.
Glorfindel's tongue was pink and wet, Erestor thought as icy fingers seemed to run up his spine. A child laughed in the distance.
Elrond stepped forward. He pushed Glorfindel's hand down until it rested upon Erestor's.
Warm.
Warm hands gently clasped one another. They could feel the others' trembling.
More words were spoken. Galadriel's voice was a tripping brook. Elrond laid a blue ribbon over their hands. She spoke. "Let love bind thee in truth." Glorfindel suppressed a snort. Legolas laid a red ribbon over their hands. "Let love bind thee in passion." Erestor suppressed a blush. Galadriel laid a white ribbon over their hands. "Let love bind thee, as our peoples and lands are now bound." She tied the white ribbon about their hands. She tied it tight. "Let love keep thee forever and beyond."
The sea-salt air blew. Glorfindel's hair waved about his face. Erestor's dark locks moved with the breeze. Their heavy robes were hardly ruffled. The mallorn petals fell around the canopy. A bird called in the distance.
"Now, you are one, Glorfindel and Erestor. Bound in heart and soul and body."
Galadriel gently untied the white ribbon, which was actually two ribbons tied together. Now, she undid the knot and tied the white ribbons about each wrist like a bracelet. Elrond took the red ribbon and tied it into Glorfindel's hair, making a swift braid near his left ear. Legolas took the blue ribbon and tied it into Erestor's hair, quickly braiding it into a lock of hair by his right ear.
"The rings."
Elrond placed a mithril ring in Glorfindel's right hand. The exterior of the ring was smooth as pearls, but the inside was embossed with Elvish letters in gold.
Legolas gave a ring to Erestor, who took it in his right hand. The ring was the same.
Glorfindel gently took Erestor's left hand and slid the ring onto his finger. "In perfect love and perfect trust, I wed thee." His voice was cold.
Erestor returned the favor, sliding the ring onto Glorfindel's left hand. His voice was soft. "In perfect love and perfect trust, I wed thee."
Silence reigned again, but for the shifting of the sea and the call of the birds and the gentle fluttering of pale, pale pink petals.
Galadriel smiled mischievously. "A kiss is traditional."
Erestor bowed his head. He could not hide the blush this time.
It was awkward, the way his face was turned down. Glorfindel sort of bent over, and sought Erestor's mouth. He kissed the corner of that thin line.
Their lips were warm and dry.
"Go in peace."
Glorfindel turned to face the people and offered his arm to the one beside him. Erestor gently clasped the elbow. He could feel the muscle beneath the thick fabric.
The people cheered and parted like waves before them as Glorfindel escorted Erestor through the laughing, clapping, happy Elves. They threw lilacs before their feet and rose petals in their hair.
Elrond and Legolas linked their arms and smiled at one another. They followed. The traditions were not yet done.
They crossed the meadow and passed through the lilacs. They walked beneath the mellyrn and the pale, pale petals still fell like gentle rain upon them. The people followed, Galadriel first of them all.
They walked through the forest. They walked to the sea.
The sand was hot beneath their feet on the shore where dune folded upon dune in tawny shades of yellow and gold and white. The sea was blue.
The sky was blue, and the gulls circled above, dipping down to snatch silver glinting fish from the white-tipped waves.
Glorfindel and Erestor walked across the sand, the trains of their robes dragging in the sand and covering their footprints. They passed over the hot sand to the wet sand where the edge of the sea lapped in foamy kisses at the shore.
Elrond and Legolas broke the link of their arms and they stood just before the water's edge.
Galadriel followed Glorfindel and Erestor, who proceeded into the sea until the water reached just above their knees and pulled at the already heavy fabric of their gowns.
Thankfully, the sea was calm, but as it was Erestor still had difficulty keeping his balance as the waves pulled at his garments. Glorfindel steadied him, gripping his upper arm. His hand was strong.
Galadriel followed them into the sea and grinned. The sun shone upon her face and her smile was dazzling. She unclasped the silver brooch in the shape of a swan at her throat. She handed it to Glorfindel.
The golden Lord took the pin and stabbed his thumb until the red lifeblood swelled up in a glittering drop like a tiny ruby. He handed the brooch to Erestor, who pierced his own thumb without a qualm. He passed back the brooch and Galadriel stepped from the sea, the wet silver clinging to her calves.
Glorfindel and Erestor gripped hands and pressed their thumbs together. "Blood of my blood," said the Lord.
"Flesh of my flesh," Erestor answered.
They spoke together, "We are one in blood, flesh, and body."
Then Glorfindel took Erestor's wrist and untied the white ribbon. Erestor returned the favor and they cast them into the sea. They unbound the red and blue from one another's silken tresses and those ribbons joined the two, shorter white ones floating on the breast of the ocean.
They watched the silken ribbons.
Glorfindel spoke. "Sprit of my spirit."
Erestor answered, "Heart of my heart."
They spoke together. "We are one in spirit, heart, and soul."
Glorfindel took Erestor's hands in his.
Erestor knew what came next. Glorfindel would speak. He would say, 'Come now, my wife, and share my life.' And he would respond accordingly. Then, Glorfindel did speak.
"Come now, my love, and share my life."
"Come now, my love, and share my life," Erestor echoed. Holding hands, they stepped from the sea, dragging wet sand behind them as they passed beyond the dunes and into the weeping mellyrn and to the castle.
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