Ithildin - Legolas x OC

Chapter 44: Gifts

~*~

Despite how late in our lives our betrothal has taken place, Legolas and I decide to do things right. A feast is held at Mirkwood a month after Thranduil gave his blessing, to announce to our friends and the world that we are to be wed, and we exchanged our silver rings. Mine, my mother's favoured ring, and his, one that I had made especially for him.

We journeyed back to Minas Tirith for a time and started rebuilding the city, along with Gimli and his kin, who vowed to help.

When we returned to Mirkwood four months later, we declared to Thranduil we did not want to wait the entire year after our engagement...as we had waited long enough. He simply nodded to us, and the preparations for our marriage feast began.

Another three months now have passed, and I stand now in the room that Thranduil provided me at my first stay. I am not permitted to share with Legolas, and despite sharing a room at Minas Tirith, we never slept in the bed together, taking turns whenever the other needed rest.

I now stare at myself in the mirror before me, looking at the beautiful white dress we had made, and its thin silver embroidery trailing up from the hem.

"Cin estel." Arwen tells me.
(You are beautiful.)

I sigh, "I'm nervous."

"Do not be." She comes to my side, her hands on my arms as we face each other in the mirror. "This is a glorious day for you, muinthel."

"Yes," I whisper.

A soft knock sounds on the door, and our father enters, smiling at us.

"You are the most beautiful bride, Amariel." He says quietly.

"I thought I was the most beautiful bride?" Arwen questions with a smile, and father chuckles.

"That was then, and this now." He nods, then stands straight with a small sigh. "It is time."

I take a deep breath. "I'm ready."

"Not quite." Arwen turns away, coming back to me with my silver diadem that Legolas had made for me, and places it across my head.

I smile as she fixes my hair so that it sits perfectly intertwined with my braids, the silver waves of my hair falling down my shoulders and over the chiffon layers of my dress.

"There." She steps back, tears in her eyes. "Now, you are ready."

I clasp her hand in mine, then turn to my father as she leaves the room.

He watches me with a small smile. "I am so happy for you, Amariel."

"Truly?" I breathe out, try to fight back tears.

"Yes." He smiles. "Come, child." Father holds his hand out to me, and I take it, walking by his side out of my room.

We walk down to the outer courtyard that has been prepared and decorated for our marriage feast.

"Ada," I say quietly as we slowly walk through the halls together. "You...approve of him? I have not had a chance to ask without him with us."

He hums and quirks an eyebrow, "If I did not, it is a bit late now, is it not?" I look away. "In truth, I had my doubts at one point."

"What do you mean?" I frown at him, "When I fell? That was not his fault."

Father looks to me. "Maybe not, but he swore to protect you, and in his eyes—and mine—he failed." I sigh, but he continues. "But he would have gone with you, Amariel, and for that I...feel I cannot fault him. I cannot deny his love towards you."