Chapter 23 - THE Wedding of The Age

If Penny had thought the elves had looked impressive the day before, then it was nothing to how they looked today. The Gondorians would have looked splendid enough all on their own, but frankly the elves had them beat hands down. The courtyard was slowly filling with people, all milling about in an excited manner in front of the low, broad steps up to the Great Hall. As Penny looked about her, she could barely take in all the jewellery, the fine brocade on nearly every tunic in sight, the sumptuous embroidery on skirts and sleeves, the gemstones in hair or on brows.

But then you did not get a wedding of the Age every day of the week, so it was only to be expected.

Everyone was very kind and complimented her on her dress and how she looked, even though she paled in comparison with any elleth, and (as far as she was concerned) any lady of Gondor to boot. Lindir looked magnificent in a tunic of forest green, as did Celebdor in a dark blue one that made his grey eyes seem stormily dark. When he and Mireth had spotted each other in the crowd even Penny sensed the frisson between them – nothing like getting dressed up to the nines to remind the one you love just why they fell for you in the first place.

Penny was busily introduced to various Dúnedain and Gondorian lords by Lindir and Celebdor. She caught sight of Arvain at one point, dressed in a tunic of royal blue that was of a similar style to those worn by the Gondorians, so she assumed he had had it made here in Minas Tirith especially for the occasion. He grinned and waved at her, and she smiled back warmly. He tapped the shoulder of the man standing with him, whose back was facing Penny. She realised it was Halladan as he turned his head and Arvain said something to him, pointing at Penny as he did so, but she did not get a chance to see Halladan turn and look in her direction as at that same moment she was accosted by three hobbits.

She had to do a double take on seeing Sam at first, since she hardly recognised him for a moment. He was decked out in the most splendid gilded chainmail tunic and had a silver circlet round his head. He wore a jewelled belt round his hips with a finely wrought dagger in its scabbard hanging from it that she knew immediately would be the Arnorian one from the barrow.

Merry and Pippin looked very fine in their Rohirric and Gondorian uniforms, but even they agreed with Penny’s comment (as translated by Lindir) that Sam looked magnificent. Sam shuffled awkwardly a little but smiled with pride and gratitude in spite of his embarrassment.

Penny asked after Frodo. The hobbits, after glancing round, quickly spotted him, deep in conversation with a group of Gondorian nobles. Pippin called his name and Frodo, seeing Penny, excused himself and came over to them. He looked slightly relieved to escape the conversation.

He was wearing the mithril tunic and also had a silver band round his head similar to Sam’s. He and Sam looked like a matching pair of princelings.

He was a lot thinner than Penny remembered him. He seemed brightly cheerful in his greeting, but there was a slightly haunted look to his eyes. He had been through a horrific experience since she had last seen him and she knew he would never wholly recover. He caught her glance at his right hand and the missing middle finger. They looked at each other for a moment, Penny clearly showing her sympathy in her furrowed brows and sad smile, and Frodo looking a little awkward but returning her smile nonetheless.

“You are all heroes,” she said quietly. “I am honoured to know you.”

Frodo said nothing, though the hobbits had looked to him to explain her words, so Lindir translated and added his own agreement to it.

“Oh, hush, now,” Sam muttered. “I won’t say I am not pleased as punch to be put into song, but I don’t feel as I deserve it any. Not like all these big folks as fought in battles and died and became kings and the like. If anyone’s a hero it’s Master Maura here, that’s for certain, though he won’t thank me for saying so.”

“Oh, now, Ban, if it were not for you I-” began Frodo, though he got not further than that as Pippin interrupted him.

“We fought in battle too, Ban, do not forget!” Pippin indicated himself and Merry.

“Oh, I know, and poor Kali here faced a terror that I would never have had the stomach to do.”

“I got flattened by a troll!” Pippin beamed at Penny. “And Ban here faced orcs and a giant spider and-“

“Yes, thank you, Raz!” Frodo laughed quietly, shaking his head gently. “Could we perhaps discuss this a little later?”

“I would like to hear all about your adventures,” Penny replied. She glanced at Frodo. “Well, the things you feel up to talking about, anyway.”

“Oh, we’re quite used to talking about quite a bit of it already,” Merry responded. “After all, everyone wants to hear about it. Or certainly about how Maura the Nine-Fingered saved all of Arda, anyway.” He grinned at his cousin who looked a little uncomfortable but smiled genially enough.

There was no time right now, obviously. Even as Merry spoke, other elves were coming over to greet or meet them, many speaking with great reverence to Frodo in particular, but also Sam. It was clear Sam was thrilled by this nearly as much as he was embarrassed by it: his cheeks were flushed but he was also unable to stop a wide grin from plastering itself all over his face.

Eventually, servants started ushering people up the steps and into the hall. There was clearly meant to be some sort of seating arrangement, since the highest officials were being spoken to first so they would take their places nearest the top table. This included Frodo and Sam of course, with Merry and Pippin not far behind them. All four followed Erestor and Glorfindel up the steps and into the Hall.

Legolas and Gimli, also amongst these ‘higher officials’ as members of the now infamous “Nine Walkers,” made their way past Lindir and Penny and stopped momentarily to greet them both.

Legolas gave Penny quite an intense, knowing look as he lifted his head from kissing her hand. She also noted he and Lindir briefly glanced at each other and immediately guessed that Legolas now knew Lindir was in on her secret. She suddenly remembered what she had asked of him and Aragorn the day they had left Imladris. She opened her mouth to ask Legolas if he could forgive her, but he was already moving off, chattering to Gimli and a very tall Dúnadan Penny did not know.

Soon enough she was following afterwards. Penny was surprised to find she was seated next to Lindir, knowing his position in Imladris, but it did also seem that beyond the initial few groups, much of the ‘seating arrangement’ had descended into a free-for-all. Elvish refusal to have much of a class system was yet again playing havoc with the Gondorian way of doing things. Penny chuckled to herself as she spotted the same man who had got so frustrated over the billeting the night before, throw his hands up in resignation beside the door and stay various servants who were busily running after people and trying to redirect them to tables lower down the hall. He had clearly given it all up as a hopeless exercise.

Arvain and Halladan were seated near her, but several places down. She glanced up, caught Halladan’s eye, and he smiled warmly at her and inclined his head by way of greeting. She nodded and smiled in return, pleased to be able to acknowledge his presence at last. The dark grey-green tunic suited him very well, she noted.

When Arwen made her entrance, heralded by a fanfare, preceded by her grandparents, father and brothers, and followed by ellith and ladies-in-waiting, there was a brief moment of stunned silence. It was followed by intense chatter, pointing, staring and even smatters of applause in some quarters (and not just for the dress, as astonishing as it was).

Even Penny was gobsmacked.

She wondered how many of those ellyn whom Arwen’s friends had teased her about so often, who had thrown themselves at Arwen’s feet for all those centuries, were here today. Quite a few, very probably, and if they were seething with jealousy or kicking themselves right now she would not have blamed them in the least. She also wondered if she was the only one in that moment to wonder how a mortal, even one as extraordinary, heroic and handsome as Aragorn, had landed an elleth as beautiful as this.

However when, shortly afterwards, Aragorn strode into the Hall with Mithrandir by his side, his Steward Faramir, Faelon and another Dúnadan following, and trumpets making the roof shake, Penny wondered no longer. He was dressed entirely in silver and white, his crown on his head, jewels sparkling at his throat, the Elessar stone on his shoulder the only colour about him. He was beautiful, tall and noble, with an innate aura of power and strength, so there was no mistaking his Numenorean ancestry, let alone his elvish upbringing at the hands of Lord Elrond. Here, mortal or no, was someone obviously worthy of the vision of loveliness they had just seen float her way up to the top table.

Everyone stood in silence as he made his way to his seat at the high table, and Arwen’s eyes never left his face for the entire time that he walked up the Hall towards her.

The moment he sat, with a brief grin round the hall at them all as he did so, chatter erupted and servants appeared as if from nowhere with flagons of wine and huge platters piled high with food.

The feast began.

If Rohirric food had been basic, Germanic and hearty (with an alarming effect on the digestive system), then the Gondorian idea of good food was something else entirely. Clearly last night’s simple supper had been precisely that – a simple supper – and was not the standard by which Gondorian chefs should be judged. It did cross Penny’s mind that resources might be limited after the destruction of large chunks of the Pelennor and its crops, hence last night they had held back on foodstuffs so a ‘sumptuous blowout’ could be provided today.

The woods of Ithilien had been difficult to hunt for quite some time prior to the war, and there was little left within them to hunt even now, especially to do so within the short notice of the elves’ arrival. Hence, there was no roast boar or venison (though a Gondorian lord near them assured them that normally that would have also been part of the menu).

It was immediately apparent, though, that the cattle from the Pelennor had fed well while on their brief sojourn in the grasslands of Lebennin during the siege, since there were sliced up hunks of whole sides of beef being served on huge platters. There were also a few roast sheep and, already positioned on the tables at various points, several suckling pigs. If that were not enough, there were also whole roasted birds. Large, whole roasted birds. Indeed, one was placed on a table very near Penny and it had taken two servants to carry the thing.

It transpired it was a swan. Or rather, it was a swan, stuffed with a goose, stuffed with a duck, stuffed with a pigeon, stuffed with a something like a quail, which was stuffed with a mixture of goose eggs, bread crumbs, more herbs than was sensible, olives, and some kind of fish paste.

Penny boggled.

There was also plenty of fish. Invariably large river fish stuffed with yet more herbs and spices and either covered in cream, or else roasted in a bready dough (itself well salted and peppered).

Interestingly there were not many vegetables on offer. Some potatoes, a lot of bread and that was about it. Although, there were quite a lot of artichokes, tomatoes and aubergines around, stirred into sauces and ladled over the chunks of meat cut from the roasts, usually with plenty of dried fruit thrown in (apricots and prunes being chief among these). Otherwise it was meat, birds, cheese and eggs, or combinations of the same, as far as the eye could see.

There was more offal than you could shake a stick at. There were sweetbreads in cider, hearts stuffed with mushrooms and dates, minced liver and onions in vine leaves, figs stewed with kidneys: it went on and on and on, and nearly all of it smothered in cream. (The dairy cows had also grazed well, apparently). Indeed, just about everything had some sort of ‘sauce’ all over it, either as a glaze or in which it had been cooked, invariably involving alcohol (usually wine), cream and plenty of herbs and spices. Pepper was a big favourite, as were cinnamon and something rather sharp, sour and piquant that Penny could not place at first.

“Oh, that is the fish paste I was telling you about,” the nearby Gondorian said. “It is very highly prized. It takes months to make.”

“Months?”

“Oh, yes. It is left to ferment…”

Penny suddenly did not feel so hungry any more. She stuck to roast meat and bread as her safest option. Umpteen spices combined with full fat cream and rancid bits of old fish were the last thing her still-recovering digestive system needed.

How long the feast lasted, Penny had no idea. She was too taken up in looking round her for most of it, wondering at the splendour of the people, the food, and the surroundings. The whole thing was sumptuous. The Hall itself was built entirely from stone, the floor was marble, and two rows of huge pillars held up the roof which was gilded and intricately carved. The Numenoreans clearly did not believe in doing things by halves and liked to make their mark, and their Gondorian descendents were following in their footsteps. It was evident in the piles of extravagant food, let alone the ostentatious dress of many of the lords and ladies.

They seemed to hope that fine silks, brocade, embroidery and jewels would make up for whatever natural beauty they lacked in comparison to a couple of hundred elves. They failed, of course, but it was hardly their fault nor for want of trying. Frankly who could succeed when faced with this many elves in their very, very best clothes? Penny actually felt a bit sorry for the Gondorians, especially the women, who no matter how stunning their costume or how pretty their face, could not hope to shine in such heart-stoppingly beauteous company.

The only ones not fazed by it all were the Dúnedain who were, of course, used to elves. This gave them a strange air of suave, sophisticated confidence that set them apart from the Gondorian lords who started stuttering and turning a bit pink round the neck if too many ellith talked to them at once.

Eventually, Mithrandir clapped his hands and called for silence. Then he got to his feet, the scraping sound of his chair being pushed back on the stone floor echoing into the rafters.

He asked Aragorn and Arwen to stand forth in front of the top table where all could see them.

A Dúnadan who, Lindir explained in a hushed whisper to Penny, was Aragorn’s cousin (his mother’s sister’s son) stood for Arathorn, while Galadriel stood for Celebrian. Together they joined the couple’s hands while Mithrandir spoke words in a tongue Penny did not understand till he repeated it all in Sindarin, invoking Eru Illuvatar and Manwe to bless the union.

Then Aragorn removed the small silver ring he wore on the little finger of his right hand and gave it to Arwen, while she returned to him the Ring of Barahir she wore around her neck (since it was far too large to be worn on an elleth’s delicate fingers). Then gold rings were exchanged, brought to them on a velvet cushion by a lad of about ten or so who was pink with pride at being so chosen. Arwen was then presented with a finely worked gemstone on a mithril chain by the Dunadan and thus was the ceremony concluded.

Aragorn gently pulled Arwen to him, and kissed her.

The place erupted.

To loud cheers, fanfare, applause and grins all round, the entire place on their feet, Aragorn and Arwen walked, arm in arm, down the length of the Hall to the doors. These had been flung open and, Penny realised, there was a waiting crowd outside who immediately burst into loud cheering as their King presented to them their Queen. Word spread like wildfire through the city: the deed was done. Bells rang, cheering echoed even down into the first circle, and everyone drank deep and toasted the couple’s health.

Today was declared a public holiday, King Elessar told the cheering crowd, and a day of celebration. Throughout the city, on every level, feasting and revelries were being had at the expense of the royal purse. Meat was roasted, much beer and wine imbibed, songs were sung, dancing would go on till the small hours, and many people would wake up the next day with sore heads but light hearts.

Inside the Hall, the tables were being cleared and, as quickly as might be managed, most of them removed. A few were kept and pushed back to the two side aisles formed by the two rows of pillars, so people would have places to sit and chat, or rest from dancing later on. Many more benches were left, not just with the small number of tables, but also up against the walls and as well as some of the pillars within the central portion of the Hall. At the far end, on a small, raised dais, two gilded chairs with high, straight backs and ornately carved arms and legs were set side by side, each with a velvet cushion on the seat. On either side of the dais were the heavy chairs that had been used at the top table, for the more important guests (such as Faramir, Galadriel or Mithrandir, to name only a few) to use if they felt the need.

Minstrels, who had been playing unobtrusively throughout the feast from a small gallery at the far end of the Hall and above the top table, now played a little louder and more exuberantly than before. By this time, Aragorn and Arwen had come back inside, still arm in arm, and wandered their way through the excited throng greeting people and being congratulated. Penny found it was interesting watching the difference between the congratulations of the elves and Dunedain, who knew them personally, and the slightly obsequious, over effusive manner of one or two of the Gondorians, the women in particular.

“Oh, is it not wonderful?” Mireth was beaming.

Penny nodded, smiling broadly. “And in less than a year it will be you and Celebdor.”

“I know!” Mireth positively bounced.

“Lady Pen-ii?”

Penny turned to find Halladan smiling down at her.

“Lord Halladan. Well met.”

He laughed. “Just Halladan, please. Just Halladan.”

“You are a delight to the eye, Lady Pen-ii.” Arvain was with his brother, and grabbed her hand, kissing it with a grand flourish. “Your dress suits you very handsomely, does it not, brother?”

Halladan murmured his assent, nodding and smiling gently.

Penny blushed a little with awkwardness. Flattery and politeness were all well and good, but she was no good at compliments, however well intentioned, especially if she did not believe them.

Thankfully she was saved any further discomfort by the imminent arrival of the royal newlyweds.

“Ah, Lady Pen-ii! We meet at last!”

Penny was not sure if she should curtsey or bow. She suddenly realised she had not been paying enough attention to what the Gondorian ladies had been doing in this respect. She opted for a sort of bob while keeping her eyes on the floor.

Of course, this was completely upstaged by Mireth throwing her arms round Arwen’s neck and Arvain and Halladan each in turn grasping Aragorn’s forearm to embrace him while giving him a hearty slap on the back.

“I see Lady Pen-ii at least shows some modicum of civility in remembering my station,” Aragorn said, smirking a little and raising an eyebrow at the brothers, who immediately looked apologetic. Aragorn laughed. “Come now, have I not known you both since you were babes in arms? You are like nephews to me, the pair of you! And Lady Pen-ii, do not feel embarrassed. You are most gracious and courteous, and I thank you for it.”

“I am still the same elleth you have shared a tent with all these weeks, Pen-ii.” Arwen smiled.

“I am so very happy for you,” Penny replied.

She had an urge to hug her, just as Mireth had done, but hesitated for a moment. Then there was something in the twinkle of Arwen’s eye that made her throw caution to the wind, hugging her and kissing her cheek. She did not notice the few raised eyebrows from Gondorian nobles near them who nudged each other and whispered.

“You have been such a good friend to me these past months, I cannot thank you enough. May Eru bless your marriage and Elbereth smile upon it.”

“Ah, that was well said, Pen-ii!” Aragorn grinned.

They chatted for a few minutes, in a small group, Penny hanging back a little. Eleniel had joined them, as well as Rhimlath who kissed Arwen’s hand most decorously and inclined his head to Aragorn very deeply. It was clear he had a deep respect for him, even if he was mortal: the exception to the rule, no doubt.

“I have written an ode in honour of this occasion,” he said.

“And I would be delighted to hear it, Rhimlath. I believe there will be some little dancing first, but later you must indeed entertain us with your poetic skill.”

Rhimlath seemed slightly put out that he could not recite it at them then and there. Penny noticed Lindir exchange a glance with Eleniel and the two nearly break out into hysterical sniggering.

The royal couple moved on.

“What was so funny?” Penny hissed at Lindir once Rhimlath was out of earshot (now shadowing Aragorn all the way to the gilded chairs and wondering loudly if vulgar dancing were really the sort of thing for such an auspicious moment and if not some skilfully wrought poetry of the ancient style would not be more in keeping).

“Ah, well, it is only that I know the sort of ‘ode’ Rhimlath has a liking for.”

“Meaning?”

“Oh, I have just realised who that was,” Arvain interrupted. “Is that the ellon you said was taking Erestor to task over Weston, Pen-ii?”

Penny nodded as Lindir answered her question.

“Well, it will be very long, very dry and written in the most obscure Quenya he can think of.”

Penny, Halladan and Arvain blinked.

“Oh,” they all said at once.

“Yes, I would find yourselves very comfortable seats once you see him stand to read it. You may be there for some time.”

“Is this not just artistic jealousy speaking?”

“No, it is not, Celebdor!”

The others laughed.

“It is a fair question, perhaps, Celebdor,” Eleniel replied. “But I remember a reading Rhimlath gave one summer festival in Lothlorien, and even the Lord and Lady of the Wood seemed hard pressed to smile so fixedly for that long.”

“I am sure by mortal standards it was beautiful,” Penny pointed out.

“Oh, very probably,” Lindir said a little too glibly for Penny’s taste. “It is true we elves are exacting in our tastes.”

“I would never have noticed,” muttered Penny sarcastically.

She caught Arvain and Halladan’s glances in her direction and all three sniggered.

The moment Aragorn and Arwen were settled in their chairs, the minstrels stopped playing for a few minutes, clearly preparing themselves, and couples slowly made their way to the centre of the hall while everyone else cleared off to the sides. Eleniel had gone to sit with Galadriel and Arwen for a while. Lindir and Celebdor had disappeared to get cups of wine for them all, bringing Faelon back with them who, just like the brothers, made a big show of complimenting Penny as well as Mireth.

Then the minstrels started up again.

“Would you do me the honour of a dance, Lady Pen-ii?”

“Oh, ah, well, Lord Arvain, I am not terribly-”

“The best way to get Lady Pen-ii to dance is simply to grab her hand and drag her to the centre of the Hall,” Lindir interrupted.

“Lindir!”

“You have to admit he has a point, Pen-ii,” Celebdor said.

“Even Rumil used the same tactics,” Mireth pointed out.

“That was only because Lindir encouraged him.”

“I did no such thing!”

“You most certainly did! And I have yet to pay you back for it, too! You could have rescued me and instead you insisted it was a superb idea.”

Lindir raised an eyebrow. “‘Pay me back’? I am not sure I like the sound of that…”

“Yes, I would be concerned if I were you, Lindir,” Penny replied. “I am waiting for a good opportunity, but mark my words, I will not let you get away with it.”

Faelon roared. “Ai, Lindir, has it taken this many centuries for you to have finally met your match at last?”

The others were grinning.

“Oh, I am no match for Lindir and he knows it. I defer to his expertise when it comes to playing the fool.”

More laughter met that and gasps of mock outrage from Lindir.

“Just for that, young lady…” He thrust his cup out at Celebdor, who barely had time to grab hold of it and stop it from spilling wine down his tunic, and grabbed Penny by the wrist. “A dance, I think.”

“What! No!”

“Oh, come now, Lindir, if she does not wish to…” Halladan was laughing.

Lindir released his hold. “Very well. I will wait till she has had more to drink and then take her for a spin for a few fast dances, I think.”

Penny glared at him. “You would not dare.”

“Try me.”

“Argh! You are impossible!”

“Come, Lindir, I will have a dance with you.” Mireth held out her hand.

Celebdor looked crestfallen. “B-but I had hoped I would have the first-”

“You have two cups of wine in your hands,” Lindir pointed out, already making his way through the throng with Celebdor’s fiancée in tow.

Mireth slipped her hand from Lindir’s arm, stepped over to Celebdor, kissed him on the cheek and then was lost into the crowd.

Arvain was chuckling and shaking his head. “Will you really not have a dance?”

“Well, perhaps a little later once I have got the courage in me. I am not terribly good, I have to warn you, and unless it is a slow tune and easy steps I will make an awful mess of it.”

Arvain grinned. “Oh, is that all? You just need practise, then. And in that case I would be happy to oblige, indeed I shall insist upon it.”

She glanced at him. “You sound exactly like Lindir.”

Halladan laughed. “You must not let my brother bully you, Pen-ii.”

“Oh, no, not at all. If I can bear Lindir’s teasing, then I can bear anyone’s.”

“I was not bullying,” Arvain began to protest, but he was suddenly interrupted and distracted by a gaggle of Gondorian ladies who had approached him, clearly in the hope of getting a dance.

“Oh, but of course, Lady Sìdhwen” he said immediately to the lady nearest him, holding out his hand for her with a broad grin. She flushed shyly (which, given she had come up to him to ask him to dance seemed completely incongruous) and, with a look of triumph cast over her shoulder at her companions swanned off with Arvain into the crowd. The others looked hopefully in Celebdor and Faelon’s directions, both of whom did the gentlemanly thing and offered their arms, setting their drinks down on benches behind them.

Halladan had studiously ignored them all, so the remaining two women wandered off to find a pair of unsuspecting males to partner up with.

“I take it you are not up to dancing?”

Halladan glanced down at his stick. “No. Well, perhaps one or two of the slower turns if I was careful, but not overmuch, no.”

Penny nodded, suddenly aware of the lack of conversation between them.

“Shall we sit?” He gestured to the benches nearby left up against the wall.

So they sat, quietly, side by side, watching the crowd laughing and talking, drinking and dancing. Penny wondered why Halladan was not more involved. It could not be due solely to his leg.

“Such a momentous day,” she said at last. “It is wonderful to be here. A privilege.”

“Indeed. I do not doubt it. I am pleased beyond measure for Aragorn and Arwen. Truly. This day is a glorious one for them and for all who love them both. And who, of those that know them, does not love them, even if they have only met them for a moment.”

They exchanged a smile. There was a hint of sadness about Halladan’s, though.

“You wish your father were here to witness it, perhaps?” she said quietly.

He broke his gaze away from hers and looked into his cup. He sighed. “And my brother. But, yes, my father and Aragorn were very close. As close as brothers might be. Aragorn still mourns his passing, as do I.”

“As does Arvain, I am sure, and all who ever knew him.”

He glanced at her, smiled thinly, acknowledging her admitting her own grief, and went back to staring into his wine.

“Come now, Lady Pen-ii, I will not take ‘no’ for an answer. This next will be a slow one, I promise you.”

Arvain was standing in front of her, hand outstretched and with a determined look on his face that was strangely reminiscent of his father and told Penny he would brook no argument. She glanced at Halladan, uncertain, not wishing to leave him alone. Halladan smiled.

“Go! Go dance, Lady Pen-ii. Today is a day of celebration!”

“So celebrate, brother!” Arvain laughed, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “Find some lovely young lady of Gondor to hop next to.”

Halladan raised an eyebrow. “Hop? You mock me, brother?”

“But of course!” Arvain grinned. “Oh, come, Halladan, must you be such a misery on today of all days?”

Halladan nodded, seemingly more to himself than anyone else. “You are right, Arvain, you are right.” He forced a smile and heaved himself up from the bench with his stick. “I shall not find a ‘lovely young lady,’ though. I shall leave such flirtation to you since you seem so very good at it.” Arvain smirked, and Penny wondered what this new word was that Halladan had just used that Arvain seemed to find so amusing. She could guess at the meaning, though. “Rather, I shall find good company with which to have a pipe and share some wine.” He glanced up. “Ah, and here is just the person! Mithrandir!”

“Come, Pen-ii, or we will miss this dance,” Arvain offered her his arm.

“Oh… yes…” But she hesitated as Gandalf drew near.

“Lady Pen-ii! At last I get to greet you. You left so very early last night I had no opportunity. Well met! Well met, indeed.”

Penny was so pleased to see him, had so much to say and yet could not speak at all openly, indeed felt slightly thrown at seeing him like this. She opened her mouth to say something, but Gandalf just rattled on.

“You are looking very well for your sojourn with the elves. I heard of your illness, of course, but I can see life in Imladris has suited you. You are looking most delightful today, might I add, most fetching.”

Penny, meanwhile, flushed with shyness. “Oh, nonsense. A pretty dress and a few pearls in the hair could make even an orc look good,” she muttered.

Arvain laughed out loud. “I sincerely doubt it. I take it you have never seen an orc, Lady Pen-ii, or you would not say such a thing.”

“Oh, but she has.” Lindir was back. “She insisted. Did you not, Pen-ii?”

“Did she now?” Gandalf looked at her with intense curiosity.

“She regretted it, of course, but she can not say we did not try and warn her…”

“Do not embarrass me, Lindir.”

“Pay her no heed, gentlemen, I shall tell you later.”

“You will not!”

“Pen-ii…”

“Bloody elves!”

“Yes, you really must translate that for me sometime. Judging by the way Mithrandir’s eyebrows have just flown up to meet his hairline, it is nearly as bad as I feared.” Lindir was chuckling as he fetched his wine.

“You are missing your dance, Arvain,” Halladan said quietly. There was an amused glint in his eye.

Penny looked at him gratefully.

“Oh, yes, indeed. They have already started. Come along, Lady Pen-ii, we can just squeeze in behind Celebdor and Mireth.” So saying, Arvain pulled her briskly towards the centre of the Hall.

She was going to have a dance, whether she liked it or not.

Author’s Notes:

Just a reminder of the hobbits names in Westron: Frodo is ‘Maura’, Samwise is ‘Banazir’ or ‘Ban’, Meriadoc is ‘Kalimac’ or ‘Kali’, and Peregrin is ‘Razanur’ or ‘Raz’.

I have used LaCE (‘Laws and Customs of Elves’, HoME) as my reference for the wedding details. Given with Arwen wearing the Ring of Barahir and Galadriel giving the Elessar Stone it is clear the engagement at least was done on elvish terms, thus no doubt the wedding would have been also. It is fair to assume, also, that the Numenoreans no doubt would have used a wedding ceremony similar to if not the same as the elvish one (given their heritage), it is not unreasonable therefore to suggest that the Gondorian ceremony would also have been the same or similar. Hence double the reason to stick by LaCE in my book: “Then at a feast, again shared by the two houses, the marriage was celebrated. At the end of the feast the betrothed stood forth, and the mother of the bride and the father of the bridegroom joined the hands of the pair and blessed them. For this blessing there was a solemn form, but no mortal has heard it; though the Eldar say that Varda was named in witness by the mother and Manwe by the father; and moreover that the name of Eru was spoken (as was seldom done at any other time). The betrothed then received back one from the other their silver rings (and treasured them); but they gave in exchange slender rings of gold, which were worn upon the index of the right hand. Among the Noldor also it was a custom that the bride's mother should give to the bridegroom a jewel upon a chain or collar; and the bridegroom's father should give a like gift to the bride. These gifts were sometimes given before the feast. (Thus the gift of Galadriel to Aragorn, since she was in place of Arwen's mother, was in part a bridal gift and earnest of the wedding that was later accomplished.)” [Yes, I know JRRT was considering an alternative reason for the Elessar being given – namely Gandalf bringing it with him for the King and Galadriel only holding it in safe-keeping, but that’s not the point. ;P]

We don’t know Gilraen didn’t have a sister. *looks shifty* I thought that it would be more fitting a Dunadan stand in for Arathorn than Elrond. Apart from the fact that Elrond is father to the bride, Aragorn’s Dunedain lineage and all he stands for is a very important part of who he is, why he is king and why is being allowed to marry Arwen, daughter of the ellon who could have been High-King if he had wanted to be. Anyway, please note I made it a cousin by his mother’s side, and thus someone not eligible or close to the royal lineage. Thus I hope I have not mangled canon too horribly, and stick it down to poetic licence. *cowers*