Part 21

“Now,” said Eowyn, “raise your arms.”

Melannen, reconciled to his fate, lifted his little hands high above his head.

Smiling, Eowyn leaned in, and kissed his forehead, before wrapping the embroidered sash around his middle and folding its ends over. “Lower them,”—she adjusted the knot—“there! Perfect!”

“I,” said Legolas, looking up from his desk, “wore short tunics until my coming of age.”

“But you,” said Eowyn, “have a father who is a stickler for ancient tradition. Melannen has two Gwanurs—Gwanurs—is that right?”

“No.”

“Two Aunts who want him to look,”—she hesitated, carefully rejecting ‘like a prince’ and choosing—“nice.”

“And I am sure that he will look nice, melmenya,” said Legolas, laying down his pen and regarding the boy. “Turn around, Melannen; let me see the front.”

Raising his hands again, which made his floor-length robe ride up on his chest, the elfling slowly turned full-circle. Hentmirë’s gift was of the palest silver-blue brocade, and fitted him perfectly.

Legolas smiled. “Yes, he looks very nice,”—the boy turned again, and Legolas noticed his hair—“but, melmenya, he cannot wear warrior’s braids.”

“Oh.”

“A single braid, down the back.”

“Of course. Come Melannen,” said Eowyn, “back to the dressing table.” She held out her hand.

Legolas shot the elfling a sympathetic smile.

…

Later

“Ah! Good,” said Faramir, unconsciously reaching for Legolas’ shoulders and guiding him towards the Council Chamber, “I was getting worried.”

“This is only the rehearsal,” said Legolas. “I do not need to run away until tomorrow.”

“Legolas!”

The elf grinned.

“Very funny. Now come—your bride is waiting.”

“A moment, Faramir.” Legolas held out his hand, human fashion. “Before we go in, I want to thank you.”

“It has been my pleasure,” said Faramir, embracing the elf, “though, by the time you have placated your father, Legolas, I think you may regret having asked me to ‘meddle’ in your wedding arrangements.”

“I do not mean that,” said Legolas, “though I am, of course, grateful for all you have done these past few weeks. No, I mean for sending Eowyn to me.”

“Ah,” said Faramir, “now that requires no thanks. In fact, it is I who should be thanking you for taking care of her for me. No one could be happier for you both than I am.” He gave the elf’s hand a final squeeze; then, gesturing towards the double-doors, he asked, “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

…

When the rehearsal was over, Legolas and Eowyn took Melannen down to the clearing beneath the city. And in the Banqueting Hall, which had been hung with velvet and garlanded with winter roses for the occasion, they received their guests of honour—Aragorn, Eomer, and King Shamash of Kuri—who, after taking refreshments with the happy couple, were shown to their accommodation by Lords Fingolfin and Caranthir, whilst their retinues were quartered by Captain Golradir and his palace guards.

…

After supper, the ladies and Melannen retired to Legolas and Eowyn’s chambers to enjoy Eowyn’s last night of ‘freedom’, whilst Legolas and his friends made themselves comfortable in the Banqueting Hall—lounging around the ring-shaped table, laughing, joking and telling tall tales; toasting nuts and sweetmeats; and drinking wine and dwarven ale.

“By the way, Legolas,” said Aragorn, pouring the elf a glass of fragrant red, “there is something I want to discuss with you—and Faramir—once the wedding festivities are over.”

“Thank you.” Legolas raised the glass to his friend before taking a drink. “Something regarding the colony?”

A cheer went up at the far side of the Hall—Gimli and Eomer, it seemed, had persuaded King Shamash to join in a drinking game.

Aragorn smiled; Legolas shook his head.

“Not directly,” said the King. He took a handful of walnuts from the silver dish in front of him. “But it may draw settlers into the Daw Valley—”

“Is that the region just north of the Doro Lanthron road?”

“Yes.”

“I have a particular interest in that area,” said Legolas. “It is where we found Melannen.”

“I see. Well, this is nothing, really. The people of the valley have petitioned me for the right to hold a daily market,” said Aragorn. “They claim—quite rightly, I think—that both Eryn Carantaur and Caras Arnen are too far to travel. My concern is that a permanent settlement will soon grow up around the market place.”

“But, Aragorn,” said Legolas, frowning, “there is already a thriving town in that valley. At least, there was when Eowyn and I stayed there two days ago!”