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Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

109: Wedding Reception

Glorfindel led the royals across the street to the park and then left them to join the receiving line, standing with Elrond and Celebrian while the Valinórean Elves joined the line of well-wishers. Ingwë watched as Elrohir and Serindë greeted the Mortals, laughing and joking with them. Vorondur and Ercassë were equally at ease with the people of Wiseman, though Elrond and Celebrían were somewhat more reserved, looking a bit nonplused when the Mortals attempted to shake their hands. Glorfindel leaned over to whisper something in Elrond’s ear and Ingwë saw the ellon nod, holding out his hand if somewhat reluctantly. Even the other members of the wedding party, especially the young ones, were relaxed, smiling and speaking animatedly with everyone.

“A most interesting ceremony,” Arafinwë said quietly in Quenya as they waited for the line to move forward.

 “Yes, it was,” Ingwë said in the same language. “Are all Mortal weddings like this, I wonder?”

A Mortal who happened to be standing just in front of them, turned with a smile. “It wasn’t as elaborate as a church wedding but it was still quite lovely,” the Man said in English.

Ingwë and the others looked upon the Mortal in surprise. “You speak Quenya?” Ingwë asked.

The Man shook his head. “I understand it better than I speak it. I’m a little better with Sindarin, but not by much.”

“I was surprised to see how many of the Mortals seemed to understand when you were reading the betrothal contract,” Olwë said to Ingwë.

The Man shrugged. “Loren and the others have been giving us language lessons for the last couple of years. I’m not all that good at it, but we’re learning.”

“That you understand either language shows what excellent teachers you have,” Ingwë said.

The line advanced and the Mortal with whom they had been speaking now offered his congratulations to Vorondur and Ercassë along with a Woman whom Ingwë realized was the Man’s wife. “Thank you, Paul, Janet,” Vorondur said, shaking the Man’s hand while Ercassë and the Woman exchanged kisses. “I didn’t think he would ever get around to asking me for Sarah’s hand.”

Paul laughed. “Yeah, well, I remember when I was courting Janet.” He gave his wife a loving smile, which she returned. “Decorated Marine. Special Ops. Cool as a cucumber under fire. But I was like this when I asked Janet’s dad for permission to marry his daughter.” He held out a hand shaking it as if suffering from palsy.

Janet laughed. “And then he promptly threw up as soon as Daddy said yes.”

Paul gave them an embarrassed grin and the listeners all smiled in sympathy.

“Well, Roy didn’t throw up but he sure was nervous as hell,” Vorondur said with a laugh. “Thanks again, Paul, Janet. Enjoy the reception.” Then the couple moved on and now the kings and their entourage were able to offer their own congratulations.

“How are you all holding up?” Vorondur asked, speaking in Quenya, eyeing them clinically. “Any problems? Prince Turucáno?”

Ingwë gave the ellon a sardonic smile. “Child, I am sure we are handling things quite well. Now, stop acting the healer and just be the proud Atto.”

“That’s telling him, Uncle,” Finrod said with a grin from where he was standing with Amarië further back in the line.

Vorondur actually blushed. “Sorry. Force of habit. Did you enjoy the ceremony?”

“It was quite lovely,” Galadriel said.

“An interesting blend of customs,” Olwë said, “though I am not sure why the Mortal was the one who was officiating it.”

“This particular culture recognizes two types of weddings,” Vorondur explained, “a civil wedding before an officer of the court, whether it’s a judge, a justice of the peace or even the mayor of the town, and a church wedding, one with religious overtones. In any case, for the wedding to be considered legal, Roy and Sarah had to first obtain a license and speak their vows before either a civil officer, such as Judge Harrison, or a minister. Since we don’t adhere to the religious beliefs of the Mortals, the wedding was conducted civilly. Even Amroth and Nimrodel, though they married in the Sindarin fashion, later went to the town hall and went through a civil ceremony to give their marriage legitimacy before the eyes of the mortal government, purely for tax purposes, you have to understand.”

Several eyebrows went up. “Tax purposes?” Arafinwë asked.

Vorondur gave them a knowing smile. “Of course. We are law-abiding citizens of this country and we pay our taxes just like everyone else. To do anything less would be dishonorable. If we enjoy the benefits of living in this society, it is only proper that we share the burden of maintaining it. We do not exempt ourselves from such responsibilities simply because we are the Eldar. Now, you are holding up the line, Your Majesties. Perhaps we can continue this discussion later.”

“Yes, I think we will,” Ingwë said somewhat imperiously, though his eyes twinkled with humor. “Congratulations to you both.” The others murmured their own congratulations and Ingwë moved to speak with the bride and groom, tendering his heartfelt congratulations.

“I wish our people could have seen this somehow,” he said to the happy couple. “There have been no marriages in Valinor in a very long time. We older Elves have become very disheartened at the lack of estel among the younger generations. I am glad to see that you still have estel in your hearts. May you know only joy as you travel together in life.”

“Thank you,” Elrohir said sincerely. “I never thought such happiness would be mine to enjoy and I thank the Valar and Eru that Serindë came into my life when she did.”

“As do I,” Serindë said.

Eventually, they made it to the end of the receiving line. Ingwë noticed that as the Mortals finished congratulating the wedding party, many of them went to their vehicles, but they did not drive away. Instead, they reached in and brought out gaily wrapped packages before heading back inside the Hall. When he entered the Hall as well it was to find it transformed. The chairs had all been removed and the tables were spread out, leaving an open space in the center. A long table had been set up for the wedding party at one side and another was piled high with gifts. The stage had been transformed as well, so that the canopy and the candles were gone and now people bearing what Ingwë had to assume were musical instruments were setting things up. He could not even fathom what they were doing.

“They are called the Arctic Fringe.”

He looked to see Daeron standing beside him and shot him an enquiring look.

“That’s the name of the group,” Daeron explained further. “When we first came to Wiseman, on our very first night here, Gloria and her group played for the students at a welcoming party. They’re very popular here and I understand Lord Námo is a devoted fan.” He chuckled at the disbelieving looks the others gave him. “Anyway, we’re good friends with Gloria and the others, so it was just natural for Roy and Sarah to ask them to provide us with musical entertainment. Loren has asked me to play host and show you where you will be sitting. Also, I will show you where you may go if you need to relieve yourselves, but Nell will take the ladies in to show them what the facilities look like and how they are used and I will take you gentlemen into the men’s room. If you will follow me.”

Ingwë nodded and everyone followed the loremaster who pointed to a couple of the round tables. “They seat eight to a table, so feel free to sit how you please. These two tables have been reserved for you.”

“But there are fewer than sixteen of us,” Ingwë pointed out.

“Nell and the Three Amigos will be joining you,” Daeron said. “And your three captains of the guards should also sit with you as our guests.”

“We will serve Their Majesties,” Sérener said stiffly.

“No, Sérener,” Daeron said with a faint smile, “that will not be possible. You will sit with the others and you will enjoy yourselves. I am quite sure Their Majesties are very capable of cutting their own meat without your help. Besides, you do not wish to upset our Mortal friends.”

“And why would they be upset?” Sérener asked.

“Because they’re Mortals, you dolt.” They all turned to see Glorfindel striding toward them. “Look, for now, just relax and enjoy yourselves. You do not have to be on duty all the time. That’s what the Maiar are here for. Now, I saw Nell here a second ago. Let me go see if I can track her down and she can show you ladies where you may freshen up. They’re bringing out the first course now. Ah, there’s Nell.” He raised a hand and waved and Nell waved back as she wove her way around the other guests. “I’ll see you all later.” With that he hurried away, snagging Elladan along the way and going off into the crowd.

“Let us show you where you may freshen up,” Daeron said.

Fifteen minutes or so later, everyone was back in the Hall sitting down. Daeron left them to find his own place. Small bowls of greens were placed before each setting. “The first course is always a salad,” Finrod explained from where he was seated with Amarië on one side and Findalaurë on the other. “It will be followed by the main dish and then a dessert will follow. It’s a very plain feast by our standards but adequate.” He picked up a fork and began eating as did the youngsters, the four commenting on the ceremony and asking about wedding customs in Valinor.

Ingwë glanced around as he picked up his fork, watching the Mortals at the other tables conversing and laughing as they ate. He noticed some of the other Elves sitting with their Mortal friends and obviously enjoying their company. One of them even held a small girl child in his lap as she held a bottle and drank from it while the ellon visited with her parents. The atmosphere was relaxed and very informal, at least by the standards of his own court.

The meal, such as it was, was not entirely to Ingwë’s liking but he dutifully ate it as he listened to the conversations around him. Celeborn and Galadriel were comparing their own wedding with this one.

“I couldn’t see the point,” Celeborn said in Sindarin. “It was all a lot of bother and I would have gladly dismissed it, but Melian said it was better this way. I think you, Finrod, didn’t care either way.”

“No, I did not, but then, I wasn’t the one marrying Galadriel,” he said with a laugh, casting a fond look at his sister, who smirked back. He turned to Amarië, his eyes twinkling. “And how would you rate our wedding in comparison to this one?” he asked.

Amarië started laughing. “At least their cake hasn’t been sabotaged.”

“We heard about that from Glorfindel,” Galadriel said with a slight smile. “He told us the entire story when we were at Arwen’s wedding. It was quite amusing.”

“It was downright embarrassing,” Finrod said, rolling his eyes, “but we survived it and all the craziness that went with it. I am glad this wedding went without any major hitches, though they were forced to postpone it for a month, but I think it worked out for the best.”

And so the reception went on. At one point, Vorondur stood and everyone gave him his attention.

“I am sure you are all waiting for the obligatory speeches by the bride’s father and the groom’s best man. Well, you’re going to be relieved to know that I have no intention of boring you with one.”

“Oh, thank God!” Ingwë heard someone say with great feeling and the Hall rang with laughter.

Vorondur grinned and waited for the laughter to die before continuing. “That being said, I do want to take this opportunity to thank all of you for coming and sharing our joy. Your support and friendship mean a lot to me, to us, and we appreciate it very much. As parents, Holly and I have only ever wanted our children to be happy and I am glad to say that that wish has come true today, not only for Sarah, but also for our sons, Dar and Cani, who have asked permission to remain with us and it has been granted.”

Surprisingly to Ingwë there was an enthusiastic round of applause from the Mortals. Vorondur lifted his glass then and everyone did the same. “So I would like to offer this toast, not only to Roy and Sarah but to Dar and Cani. May you know only joy in your new lives in whatever circumstances you find yourselves.”

“Hear, hear!” someone called out and everyone drank.

Vorondur sat and Elladan stood. “I, too, will not bore you with a long speech,” he said with a grin. Several people chuckled. “All I want to say is, Roy, I am very happy for you and for Sarah, and I expect to have lots of nephews and nieces to play with as soon as you get around to it.”

Laughter rang through the Hall and several people even applauded. Ingwë noticed Elrond and Celebrían rolling their eyes at one another while Glorfindel just shook his head in amusement. Galadriel snorted in an unladylike manner and he heard her muttering to Celeborn, “They never grow up, do they?” Celeborn smiled knowingly but did not offer a comment.

Elladan lifted his glass and everyone dutifully did the same with theirs. “So, let us toast my brother and new sister. Roy, Sarah, all the happiness of the world be yours now and for all time.”

The toast was drunk and then from the stage, Gloria Richards spoke. “At this time, it is traditional for the bride and groom to dance their first dance as husband and wife, followed by the bride dancing with her father. Before we get to that, though, I received a request for the following. Feel free to join in.”

At that, the musicians began playing and from the expressions on the faces of the Mortals that he could see, Ingwë assumed it was a familiar tune. Surprisingly, Elrohir groaned and hid his face in his hands and then exclaimed. “Alex!”

Ingwë heard laughter from across the Hall, and realized it was Alex. Others at the high table just shook their heads in amusement. Serindë leaned over and gave her new husband a kiss as one of the Men in the band began singing:

“Is this the little girl I carried? Is this the little boy at play?”

Then Gloria sang: “I don’t remember growing older, when did they?”

“When did she get to be a beauty? When did he get to be so tall?”

“Wasn’t it yesterday when they were small? Everybody,” Gloria called out and all the Mortals and even a few of the Wiseman Elves began singing:

“Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset, swiftly flow the days. Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers, blossoming even as we gaze. Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset, swiftly fly the years. One season following another, laden with happiness and tears.”

The song continued a little more and it was obvious to Ingwë that it was a favorite of the Mortals, their faces wreathed with smiles. When the song ended, they all applauded. Elrohir stood with a mock glare towards where Alex was seated with Derek and their respective parents. “Did I not warn you that I would hurt you if you sang that song?” he growled once the applause died.

“Hah, promises, promises,” Alex retorted with a laugh. “Besides, I didn’t sing a single note, just ask Derek, so there.” He stuck out his tongue and made a rude noise. People started laughing. Elrohir shook his head and sat down, trading kisses with Serindë and then laughing at something Elladan said to him.

Gloria then spoke into the microphone. “So, lets have Roy and Sarah come onto the dance floor and dance. Ladies and gentlemen, my lords and ladies, Mr. and Mrs. Roy Ronaldson.”

People applauded as Elrohir stood and offered his hand to Serindë and together they walked to the cleared space in the center and began dancing to a slow tune as Gloria sang: “Every night in my dreams, I see you, I feel you; that is how I know you go on…”

Ingwë watched as the young couple danced, the two of them apparently holding a conversation as they did, which he found rather disturbing for some reason. He concentrated on listening to the lyrics, trying to understand their import. The music itself was haunting and when it crescendoed at the end, he even felt shivers. It was not elven, but it was beautiful in its own way. As the song ended people clapped. Vorondur stood and went to the dance floor, taking Serindë and dancing with her as a different song was played, this time without any lyrics attached to it. After that, it appeared that the floor was now open to others and the Mortals began to leave their tables to dance, while others wandered over to the high table to speak with the people there.

Gareth came over to them. Unlike the other Elves, he and his brother and parents wore what Ingwë called mortal clothes. Gareth gave them all a proper bow in greeting and then without a word held out his hand to Nielluin, who accepted it gracefully and joined him on the dance floor. Ingwë was amused to see Celeborn scowling.

“She should not be dancing with him until Finrod or I have done so.”

Finrod just shrugged. “Different cultures, different customs. Nielluin is a free woman and an adult and she does not need our permission to do anything. The youngsters with whom she attends college are all adults in this society. They can vote, own property and marry without permission of their parents or guardians. Nielluin has not been an elfling in a very long time, yet in our culture she is unable to do the things her classmates take for granted as their right under the laws of this country. I think it is well to let her be the adult that she is. I have no fear for her.”

Ingwë ignored the conversation after that, content to watch the Mortals, fascinated by them all. He watched somewhat nervously as Alex sauntered to where Elrohir and Serindë were now standing and conversing with a small group of people. They stepped back when Alex appeared, smirking at Elrohir who scowled at him. Ingwë wondered if there would be blood shed this night and was about to order Sérener to intervene if necessary, but to Ingwë’s surprise, Elrohir started laughing. Alex joined him and then Elrohir grabbed the Mortal, giving him a fierce hug and kissing him on the forehead. The two exchanged words and to Ingwë’s surprise, when Elrohir released Alex, the Mortal took Serindë’s hand and led her onto the dance floor while Elrohir snagged a drink from a passing waiter and resumed his conversation with the others who were there.

Glancing around, Ingwë saw Glorfindel also standing with Helyanwë by his side, conversing with a group of Mortals, some of whom he recognized. Glorfindel stood confidently and relaxed, listening more than speaking. At one point, a Woman came up leading a girl-child dressed all in pink. Ingwë did not think the child was much older than three or four, but never having seen mortal children until coming to Wiseman, he was unsure of her age. The Woman, presumably the child’s mother, said something to Glorfindel who bent down to speak to the child, who nodded shyly. Glorfindel straightened and with a grin, handed his flute to Helyanwë with a kiss and, giving a bow to the Woman, took the child by the hand and led her out to the dance floor where people were dancing to slow music. Glorfindel lifted the child up and began swaying to the music, speaking to the child who giggled and said something that had Glorfindel laughing and others, who apparently had overheard, smiling. He twirled her around and there were indulgent looks on the faces of those dancing. Ingwë looked to where the Woman was standing with others, watching with a smile and apparently commenting. When the song ended, Glorfindel brought the child back to her mother, giving the little one a kiss on the cheek before handing her over. The Woman thanked him and he gave her a bow before accepting his flute back and resuming the interrupted conversation.

“He is very comfortable with the Mortals.”

Ingwë turned to see Turgon looking somewhat wistful. By this time, Finrod and Amarië had drifted away along with the three younger ellyn, so that only the kings, Celeborn, Galadriel, Turgon and the three guard captains remained at the tables.

“He was always so,” Galadriel replied. “When he lived with Elrond, he was often one of the first to greet any Mortal who crossed the threshold of Imladris if he was not on patrol and he helped with the Dúnedain on numerous occasions. He was insatiably curious about them. I think it was his Reborn nature.”

As they were speaking, Daeron came over with Melyanna on his arm. “I hope you are enjoying yourselves,” he said. “Please do not feel you are bound to these tables. By all means, get up and mingle, speak to people, ask them questions about their lives, go and dance if you dare.” He smiled cheekily as he led Melyanna onto the dance floor.

Ingwë looked around the table, awarding them with a brilliant smile. “Well, shall we mingle?” The others nodded and people started to rise. The three captains joined them, attaching themselves to their respective charges, looking relieved at being able to do what they were meant to be doing. All during the meal, the three had been uncomfortable sitting with the royals. They had not entered the conversations, though they answered any question asked them. Ingwë almost felt sorry for them, but then dismissed it from his mind. He had more important things to worry about.

And so, the evening went on. At one point, the music was loud and the beat wild and Gloria sang something in a language none of the Elves from Valinor understood but it was a song that was full of joy. Ingwë watched as even Glorfindel gyrated along with the others, obviously enjoying himself. When the music ended there was much applause and then the musicians left the stage, apparently their part done. Someone announced that it was time to cut the cake and so people gathered around to watch as Elrohir and Serindë made the first cut and then shared a slice between them.

“Not like sharing snails,” Olwë commented to Arafinwë, who laughed.

Even as a couple of the waitresses began distributing pieces of the cake to people, someone who had gone outside for a breath of fresh air came in and announced that everyone should come see the full moon rising. Ingwë and his entourage followed others outside, including the bride and groom and their respective families. The front doors of the Hall faced west, so they all crossed over to the park and turned to the east.

It was a stupendous sight, Isil rising huge and orange in the east even as the sun was setting in the west, hidden now behind the mountains. Ingwë wondered why Isil was that color. The Mortals all oohed and aahed and he overheard someone say something about it being a perigee moon, but he had no idea what that meant. Elrohir and Serindë were standing together surrounded by their parents commenting on the sight and Ingwë, standing off to the side, watched while it appeared as if a single moonbeam struck them, illuminating them for a brief moment, while all around them was shadowed. The Mortals looked stunned at the sight of the newlyweds surrounded by a nimbus of white light and even Ingwë felt a frisson of something bordering on awe sweep through him. The light faded slowly and then everything was dark again.

“Man, that was… weird,” someone whispered and Ingwë turning to see who had spoken, saw that Derek and Alex were standing nearby with their parents. It had been Derek who spoke. The others just nodded.

People began drifting back into the Hall. Ingwë remained where he was, contemplating many things. When Elrohir and Serindë made to go inside he stepped toward them. They stopped, giving him enquiring looks. He smiled. “Surely the Valar through Tilion have blessed your union. There can be no doubt as to the significance of what has happened.”

Elrohir nodded, looking somewhat disturbed, and who could blame him? “It was just… freaking weird, as the Mortals would say. I don’t think I like being noticed by the Valar that way.”

“None of us do,” Ingwë said with a smile.

They continued inside. Some of the Mortals, mostly those with children, were making their farewells and over the next hour the Hall began to empty out until only the Elves remained. Elrohir and Serindë had disappeared at one point, reappearing dressed in regular clothes. They made their own farewells, for they would be spending the night at the Goldmine Inn and then going on to Chandalar in the morning.

“We’ll be back on Tuesday for the election,” Elrohir said and then the two were driving away.

Ingwë noticed Daeron speaking into a phone at one point and then going to Glorfindel who gave him a surprised look.

“May I have your attention, please,” Glorfindel called out and everyone stopped what they were doing. “I think we’ll take the party back to Edhellond and let the cleaning crew get on with it. Everyone grab a gift or two and we’ll throw them into my van. Finrod, you want to lead everyone back while I and some others go and open the place?”

Finrod nodded and then people began scurrying around. Ingwë found himself juggling a few awkwardly sized boxes and carefully taking them out to where Glorfindel was putting the gifts into his van. Once it was loaded up, he and Daeron, along with Helyanwë and Melyanna, drove off. A couple of others also drove away but the rest followed Finrod and Amarië.

“I wonder why Glorfindel decided to shift the party?” Ingwë heard an ellon ask. He could not remember the ellon’s name, only that he was one of the original Wiseman Elves.

“I guess we’ll find out,” another said philosophically.

“I saw Daeron speak to him and neither looked happy,” a third commented.

“And if even Daeron looks unhappy, it can’t be a good thing,” the first ellon retorted.

There were murmurs of agreement among them. Ingwë stole a glance at his fellow kings but they just shrugged, no wiser than he about what was going on. Well, hopefully they would find out soon enough.





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