Warrior's Heart

Chapter Nineteen

Arielle looked up at Gandalf, who stood serenely at her side. "Do I look all right?"

"My dear lady," he replied softly, "you are beautiful and he will think so as well."

"I'm nervous."

"Why? Are you uncertain you wish to wed him now?"

"No. Not at all. But... it seems that it's all far too good to actually be happening. That something will happen to take all of it—and him—away from me."

"Something might happen, yes. But you and Thorin will face it together."

Her stomach did a small flip, her heart picking up its pace as they waited in the antechamber at the back of Thranduíl's throne room. Any moment, and those massive oak doors would open and Gandalf would escort her to where Thorin waited for her.

Then, with a low rumble of organ music, those doors opened. Her mouth went dry as she and Gandalf crested the rise in the aisle and she saw Thorin waiting for her, dressed in black trousers and a loose dark blue tunic, his dark hair combed into glossy waves, freshly braided at the sides. She'd never seen him look so handsome and her eyes teared up as her heart swelled with a love she didn't know she could even feel.

As they drew nearer, she saw her dwarf's tranquil blue-gray eyes were shimmering and his smile quivered at times, as if he held back tears of his own. When she finally reached him, he took her hands in his and whispered, "You look stunning, Princess..."

She blinked back tears of her own as she gazed up at him. He'd no doubt become so accustomed to seeing her in leggings and a tunic that he probably wouldn't have recognized her in the filmy white gown piped with gold. It was more beautiful than any gown she'd ever owned, with the long, open sleeves and flowing train that now trailed down the dais and partway up the aisle. Her hair was drawn up and away from her face in a complicated fall of thick curls, a delicate tiara of sparkling gold and sapphire set atop her head.

"Thank you," she managed to whisper, giving his hands gentle squeeze. "You clean up well, dwarf."

"For you, anything."

Thranduíl showed little emotion on his face as he began with the vows she and Thorin would take, but his voice wavered as he spoke them in Elvish. She was painfully aware of all the eyes on them, as every Mirkwood elf, save for one, had gathered in the throne room with the Company and Gandalf for the momentous occasion of this wedding of Princess Arielle of Mirkwood and Thorin Oakenshield.

"I have no idea what he's saying," Thorin murmured.

"He is asking for everyone's blessing on our marriage. And if anyone has any objections, he should speak now."

"Is Elwin about?"

She smiled even as her gut kinked at how Elwin almost cost her everything. "He is not."

He winked. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Thranduíl turned to Thorin and said in the Common Language, "Do you, Thorin Oakenshield, pledge your troth to this woman, Arielle of Mirkwood? Do you pledge to love and honor her, to keep as your wife until death alone parts you?"

Thorin's eyes softened as he nodded. "I do, yes."

Now, Thranduíl showed emotion, a proud smile on his lips as he turned to her. "Do you, Princess Arielle of Mirkwood, pledge your troth to this man, Thorin Oakenshield? Do you pledge to love and honor him, to keep him as your husband until death alone parts you?"

She smiled up at Thorin. "I do."

Thranduíl cleared his throat and shifted back to Elvish and at Thorin's look of confusion, Arielle whispered, "Kiss me."