As the day of the wedding drew closer, the hours of effort that Galadriel and Celebrían had put into the event began to show some result. The blue flowers that Galadriel had planted around the former council porch took root and spread out. The rawness of the new plots gradually disappeared, and in its place, Elrond began to see a lovely arbor that would be a perfect setting for a wedding ceremony. Celebrían and Galadriel spent much time closeted together with the seamstresses who were sewing Celebrían’s gown. Wedding guests began to arrive from as far away as Gondor, and Elrond had no more time to be anxious or irritated about the preparations for the ceremony.

Two weeks before the wedding, the entire household was involved in making candles of beeswax dyed blue with woad. Elrond had just poured another pot of molten wax into a candle mold when the deep, mellow sound of Elvish horns announced the arrival of more wedding guests. Elrond quickly washed his hands and went to the door to greet the new arrivals.

A great company of riders bearing green and gold banners followed a covered wagon slowly up the path. From behind Elrond, there came a great cry of "Father!" and Celebrían pushed past him and flew across the grass to meet Celeborn’s party. Celeborn cried out in delight and signaled the party to halt. He dismounted hastily and caught his daughter up in his arms as she reached him.

Elrond hurried after her and bowed graciously to Celeborn when Celeborn had released his daughter. "Welcome, my Lord," Elrond said. "I trust that your journey was uneventful."

"Indeed." Celeborn reached out and pulled Elrond into a one-armed embrace. "You need not be formal with me, Elrond. We are very nearly kin to one another. Our journey was quite comfortable, in fact. Thranduil traveled to Lothlórien and we set out together for Imladris. The hardest part was in taking the wagon through the mountain pass, but we managed that easily."

Elrond raised his eyebrows. "Dare I ask why you had need of a wagon? Surely you did not need to bring very many things with you that I could not provide here."

Celeborn smiled. "The wagon is not mine. It is Thranduil’s. You may ask him about it yourself."

Thranduil climbed down from the wagon seat and sketched a polite half-bow before giving Celebrían a quick, firm embrace. "Congratulations, cousin," he said. "This is indeed a joyous occasion. Lord Elrond, you may count yourself incredibly lucky to have the privilege of marrying my cousin here." He grinned cheekily, and Elrond was pleasantly startled to find such a contrast to the grim, grief-stricken warrior who had barely pulled himself and his ill-equipped people through the terrible war against Sauron.

"Welcome, King Thranduil," he said. "I am honored to see you here in Imladris. You are looking well."

Thranduil’s smile faltered for only a moment. "Much has happened since last we met. Life in Greenwood is beginning to improve somewhat."

"And it shows," Celeborn said, clapping Thranduil on the back.

"Why are we simply standing here on the lawn?" Celebrían asked. "No matter how easy the journey, it was long, and you must be exhausted. Elrond, we should escort our guests to the house. We can talk on the way."

"Is it ‘we’ already?" Thranduil laughed. "This marriage certainly cannot happen too soon." He turned back to the wagon. Elrond followed him.

"Before we go on, you must satisfy my curiosity. I meant to ask you what you could possibly have had to bring that would not fit on a pack horse."

Thranduil’s eyes sparkled. "I suppose I cannot keep this a secret. Come, Elrond, Celebrían. It is early yet, but you shall see your wedding gift." He pulled aside one of the lightweight green curtains draped over the wagon bows. Celebrían peered into the wagon, squealed, and clapped her hands. Elrond looked in as well and gasped.

There in the wagon sat a dozen young beech saplings, their roots carefully bound up and wrapped in muslin. A pail sat in the corner of the wagon bed, and the root balls were damp; the baby trees had been well cared for during their long journey. Elrond reached in to touch one of the leaves and found it soft and fresh. He turned and looked at Thranduil, too overcome to speak.

"They are from Greenwood," Thranduil said. His eyes shone with delight. "There was so much death around us when we parted company, Elrond. When I heard that you two would wed, I decided to give you a gift of new life." His face flushed red, and he looked at the ground. Celebrían threw her arms around her cousin.

"Thank you, Thranduil," she said. Elrond reached out and swiftly clasped his hand.

"It is a lovely gift," he said. "You do us great honor."

Thranduil smiled shakily and ruffled Celebrían’s hair. "You are most welcome. Now, let us continue to Imladris. If nothing else, the trees would appreciate being planted soon." He grasped the harness of the lead horse, and the party set off across the lawn to the house.

"They are beautiful trees," Elrond said. "But alas for the Lady Galadriel, they are not blue."

Celebrían laughed, and Celeborn smirked at Elrond. "My lady wife can be quite vigorous in her pursuit of beauty. I am glad that you have had these months to learn to know the lady who will soon be your mother by marriage."

Elrond groaned. From up on the wagon seat, Thranduil laughed. "Thank you for that, Celeborn," he said. "It was worth the entire journey just to see the look on Elrond’s face." Even Elrond had to smile at that, and the party was in high spirits when they reached the house.

Elrond's duties kept him busy for the rest of the day and the evening. He rose early the next morning and went to the kitchen, to find Thranduil already awake, sipping a cup of tea. "Good morning," Elrond said. "Was your rest pleasant?"

Thranduil nodded. "It was. Traveling in the wagon is easier than riding on horseback, and I am accustomed to rising early in any event. I took the liberty of stoking the fire and making a pot of tea; I hope you do not mind." He nudged the teapot slightly in Elrond's direction.

"I do not mind at all. I intend Imladris to be a welcoming haven for guests." Elrond found a mug in a cupboard and poured himself a cup of tea. "And there are so many guests here at the moment, all for my sake and for Celebrían's. I confess that I am somewhat awed."

"You and Celebrían are well loved. You have kindred and friends who want to witness and share in your joy. I do not see why that should come as a surprise."

"Kindred and friends . . . " Elrond sipped meditatively at his tea and glanced at Thranduil. Although Thranduil had taken up his father's duties as well as his crown after Oropher's death, Elrond had never had the opportunity to get to know him as anything other than an allied commander and casual acquaintance. Thranduil had spent much of his time with Elendil and Gil-galad, and had not had much leisure to spare for Gil-galad's herald. But they had at least become acquainted, and Elrond discovered that this rather tenuous connection seemed to be exactly what he needed this morning. Thranduil was not a stranger to be excluded completely from personal details of Elrond's life, but neither was he so close a friend as to be overly biased in his opinions.

Elrond took another swallow of tea. "I would like to plant the beech trees this morning, before the grounds are overrun with guests," he said. "I selected a location for them last night. Will you join me in this task?"

"Gladly." Thranduil drained his mug and set it in a washbasin. He followed Elrond out of the house to a tool shed, where they collected two spades. Elrond drew several pails of water from one of the wells while Thranduil hitched his two horses to the wagon. The site that Elrond had selected for the beech trees was within walking distance of the house, and Thranduil did not bother to drive the wagon, leading the horses instead. They walked to the site in silence, enjoying the cool morning air.

"Here we are," Elrond said. "I had thought to place the trees in a wide circle, to make a little enclosed grove where they would have room to grow and possibly also to multiply. I thought that it would be pleasant to look down from the house and see a lovely little beech wood here."

"That would be pleasant indeed." Thranduil paced out a circle on the scrubby grass, marking it at intervals with a spade. Elrond laid a beech sapling on the ground near each of the marks. When they had completed this task, Thranduil began to dig the hole for the first of the saplings. Elrond squatted down and began to remove the muslin wrappings over the roots of the baby tree. With his back to Thranduil, he felt more confident speaking.

"Have you plans to wed in the near future?" he asked quietly. Behind him, the slicing noises of the spade paused for a moment, then resumed. Thranduil made a sound that was half a snort and half a laugh.

"The classic bridegroom's question," he said. "So full of his own joy that he cannot wait to share it with others."

"I am sorry. I did not mean to offend."

"You did not. You are hardly the first to ask me this question, however. There have been many marriages among the Silvan folk recently. To answer this question . . . again . . . I have no immediate plans, though I do hope one day to find a bride."

Elrond freed the sapling's roots from the muslin and carried the tree to Thranduil. "There is a problem which has been troubling me recently. If you do not mind, I would ask your advice."

Thranduil set the spade aside and turned an amused expression on Elrond. "This is rare," he said. "Normally, I am the one asking people for advice. But you are welcome to mine, for whatever it is worth."

Elrond placed the tree in the hole and held it upright as Thranduil filled the space around it with earth. "Your father was killed in the war," he began. Thranduil grunted.

"I know. I was there."

"When you do find your bride, who will stand in Oropher's place at your wedding?"

Thranduil stopped shoveling earth for a moment and gave Elrond a look that said that he knew very well that the question Elrond had just asked was only a symbol of the real question in his mind. It was an expression Elrond had occasionally seen on Galadriel's face. For a moment, he contemplated the compelling, if slightly terrifying, idea of an alternate world in which Thranduil bore one of the Three. After a moment, Thranduil smiled at him and resumed shoveling. "Luindil, my seneschal, will stand in my father's place when I marry," he said, "for he was a dear friend of my father's long before I was born."

Thranduil tamped the earth down firmly around the beech sapling, and Elrond gave it a splash of water from one of the pails he had filled. They moved on to the next sapling, and this time, Elrond took up a spade to dig the hole. "What of the rest of your folk?" Elrond asked. "You said that there were many marriages in Greenwood, yet you lost many good warriors at Dagorlad. Who stands for all the fathers who died there?"

"Uncles. Grandfathers. Cousins. Friends." Thranduil shrugged and bent down to unwrap the next root ball. "I myself have stood for some of their weddings, both as King and sometimes as a friend. Did you know Menellir, the captain of my guard?"

Elrond thought quickly and came up with a vague image of a dark, silent Elf with watchful eyes who had accompanied Thranduil to most of his conferences with Elendil and Gil-galad. "I did not know him personally, but I believe I know of whom you speak."

"He is a good friend who lost his father in the initial assault," Thranduil said. "Last spring, he wed Doronrîn, the maiden he has loved since they were both children. He did me the great honor of asking me to stand with him in his father's place."

"That is an honor indeed."

Thranduil set the sapling upright in the hole and locked eyes with Elrond through the branches. "There are also those who will have none other to stand in their fathers' places. They invoke the Name on their own behalf, and we do not consider that there is any shame in that. If there is no one who can take your father's place, Elrond, then you need not fill it simply for appearances."

Elrond smiled. "I thank you for your words, Thranduil. They are well meant, and I will consider them carefully. It seems that you read the troubles in my heart."

"Ha! Then my diplomatic skills are improving!" Thranduil cried. "One day, Lord Elrond, I will perfect the art of speaking in circles, never coming out and saying what must be said."

"And when you do, Beren and Lúthien Tinúviel will return to this world to celebrate." Elrond shoveled earth around the sapling. "There is something else I would discuss with you. And I will ask directly this time."

Thranduil went to fetch the pail Elrond had left by the first sapling. "Sweet Elbereth, a marvel has occurred."

Elrond smiled sweetly at Thranduil. "Lady Galadriel has worked day and night to ensure that our wedding ceremony will be pleasurable to all who attend. I wish to ensure that my wedding night is equally pleasurable. Have you any advice on the matter?"

To Thranduil's credit, he simply smirked at Elrond, then dipped his hand in the water pail and flicked a few drops at the Lord of Imladris. "I am unmarried as well. You presume much, Elrond," he said, with a smile to soften the sting of his words.

"I do not think that I presume so much. You have friends who are married, after all. Surely they have spoken just a little to you. And you spent so much time in Anárion's tent during the war. I know what sort of songs he liked to sing."

"Ah. And you imagine that the bawdy songs of Men will prove instructive to you." Thranduil splashed some water over the sapling, making sure to splash Elrond as well. "A curious proposition, but one never knows . . ." He gazed up at the sky, as if seeking inspiration, then grinned. "Perhaps this one . . ." He sang a few snatches of a sweet melody, as if trying to remember the whole song. Elrond had the impression of green meadows, flowers, and rapturous lovers, and was immediately interested.

"Yet with her hand she -- oh, no, that one will not do," Thranduil said. "I have never heard tell of any Elf experiencing the sad fate which befell the poor lad in that song. At least, I would hope that your courage will not fail you on your wedding night."

Elrond's mouth fell open at that thought. With a merry laugh, Thranduil sang a song about a loving lord who tickled and pleased his lady so as to make her cry out lustily at the end of the matter. Elrond giggled helplessly as Thranduil sang the lady's cries in a high, twittering falsetto and finished the song with a wild squeal. Elrond doubled over laughing, and Thranduil, encouraged, launched into a slyly punning song about a lad and a lass who met in the greenwood for kisses that turned out to be surprisingly explicit.

"Truly, the voices of the Sindar are among the most beautiful in the world," came a voice from behind them. Thranduil and Elrond whirled around to see Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel standing next to the wagon. Elrond scrambled to his feet, mortified at his trousers, which were wet and muddy where Thranduil had splashed him. Thranduil bowed deeply, but did not wipe the smirk from his face. "I thought we would find the two of you somewhere around here," Galadriel went on. "We wondered where to find you, and I remembered that my Lord Celeborn had told me about the trees. Erestor showed us a map of the valley and indicated where you had decided to plant them."

"Yes," Elrond said, attempting to gather the tattered shreds of his dignity around him. "The trees needed to be dealt with today, and I thought that it would be a perfect opportunity to . . . to . . . "

"Yes?" Galadriel asked.

"To ask Thranduil for some . . . advice. On a personal matter." Elrond could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. Thranduil swallowed laughter and contrived to look unconvincingly innocent.

"Indeed." Celeborn raised an eyebrow at them, but smiled warmly. "Perhaps we should ask Thranduil's advice more often. I have not seen my young cousin so merry in a long time, and I am glad to see it now. However, I fear that I must interrupt this conference. Thranduil, will you walk with me?" He put an arm around Thranduil's shoulders and steered him far enough away that their conversation could not be heard.

Elrond watched them go, then turned to face Galadriel. He was suddenly all too aware that he was looking at the mother of the lady who would be affected by the advice he had asked of Thranduil. Galadriel regarded him in amused silence for a moment, allowing him to contemplate the fullest implications of that situation.

"As I promised you earlier," she said after a while, "your current problems are not without solutions. I believe that my husband and I have discovered the solution to one of them, though I fear that it is far less exciting than whatever solution Thranduil has been describing to you."

"Thank you, my lady," Elrond choked out.

"And, Elrond . . . " Galadriel gave him a sidelong glance. "If you are truly in need of advice on such matters as may concern your wedding night, I suggest that you ask Erestor. He is a fine counselor and confidant. And, most importantly, he is married, and his advice will be of far more use to you and to my daughter than the singing of a bachelor King, no matter how fine his voice."

"I understand," Elrond said, relieved that Galadriel seemed not to have anything further to say on that subject.

Celeborn and Thranduil chose that moment to return from their private discussion. Thranduil looked ruefully at the ten saplings that remained unplanted. "I am afraid that you will have to find someone else to help you plant these, Elrond," he said. "Unfortunately, I must leave Imladris for a short time on an errand of great importance."

"You cannot mean to leave now!"

"In this very hour," Thranduil sighed. "I will return to the house to pack a change of clothing and a certain amount of food, and then I must depart."

"How long will you be gone?" Elrond asked. "There is but a fortnight until the wedding. I had hoped for your presence then."

"Do not fear. I will return in time for your wedding." Thranduil bowed low. "My Lords. Lady Galadriel." Then he turned and walked off towards the house.

"Do not look so distressed," Celeborn said. "He will return."

"And in the meantime, I will send Glorfindel to help you with the trees," Galadriel added. "They are indeed a lovely gift and should receive the best of care."

"No!" Elrond said hastily. "I will ask him myself. I . . . would not want to add any inconvenience to your day, Lady Galadriel." He hoped that he had not sounded as desperate as he felt.

Fortunately, Celeborn seemed to understand. He placed an arm around Galadriel’s waist and winked at her. "Let us instead tour the grounds together. You have had several months to accustom yourself to our daughter’s future home, but I have not. Will you show me the place?"

"Certainly." Galadriel and Celeborn turned and walked down the hill together. With a sigh, Elrond reminded himself yet again that he would resume being master of his own fate after the wedding, and set off for the house to locate Glorfindel.