Dance At Your Wedding by Tarion Anarore

Tol Sirion is just a hill. 

Orodreth expects to feel a remnant of sorcery, or of spirits, but there is no sense of either magic or ghosts. Over the isle there is only a gentle, natural breeze off the hills, chill in the fading winter, and the singing of the morning birds. Thick mist rests on the river, but above it is pale sunshine, and the grass at his feet is already turning green. 

“So you will go East then?”

“Yes. Across the Blue Mountains. Maybe further.”

“But not alone.”

“No.”

He nods once, apparently satisfied. He doesn’t need to ask her reasons for leaving; he is not the only one whose relationship with Doriath has been left torn and frayed. That his sister would have good company on her journey is enough. Galadriel glances at him as if expecting further interrogation about where and why and who, but Orodreth turns his attention instead to the blueish haze of Serech Fen in the distance, just as hers had been a few moments before. 

They stay like that for a long while, each in quiet contemplation as the morning mist burns away and the sun bathes the river below in gold as it comes up fully over the hills. 

“Artanis, I have something for you,” Orodreth says suddenly, making Galadriel start and look at him in surprise. Token gifts were not common between them. “Here.” He places a small wooden box, carefully wrapped for travel, into her hands. Afar off a bird sings. 

“What is it?” 

Her fingers move to unwrap the leather, but he stops her. “Not yet. You will know when the time comes to open it.”

Galadriel looks at him nonplussed, searching, but his face gives little away save a distant satisfaction dampened by the sorrow of their impending farewell.

She wants to question further; she kisses him on the cheek instead. “Thank you.” 

“Go, sister.” He kisses her head in farewell. “Find peace and joy and freedom. Whatever you desire. Find it.”

There is a box Galadriel has safely kept for years on end but never opened: cherry, oiled to richness once, though its sheen has dulled since it was given to her. Now, after so long, she retrieves it, setting it in front of her with tender care. Outside there is the merry sound of birds singing to the sun; the breeze through the window lifts her hair. Reverent fingers ghost over the smooth, unadorned wood and she exhales slowly, nervous though her hands are steady. 

Inside, laying on a piece of velvet, is a green jewel strung on a fine chain. It is beautiful work, green as the leaves in sunlight, cut in like shape and set in a silver setting. On its hanger is inlaid a golden flower. 

Beneath it there is a square bit of fine calf vellum folded carefully around a like flower, worked in gold and affixed to a curving, cut band of silver. The sawn edge is rough against her fingertips.

When she picks up the necklace her hands are trembling. It shines in the light as she traces over the facets, each wrought with thoughtful mastery. Old sorrow surfaces then is lulled again into calm as she regards the gem in her hand. She cannot imagine a more fitting commission.

To my sister on her wedding day:

From the moment I saw the look in your eyes as you gazed on him, I knew that this day would come. To know that you have found joy in him has also given me a measure of joy, and I am content. He is a good man. I regret only that I cannot be there to give this myself.

There is nothing now that I can give you that honors this day of celebration as it should, but perhaps this is a token by which you might remember us both. 

Your loving brother, 

Artaresto

There is a quiet knock on the open door announcing her soon to be husband. Galadriel smiles and turns to greet him, a gentle, contented happiness filling her. 

Thank you. 

Celeborn’s eyes come to rest on the long held box. “You opened it at last,” he says wonderingly. “Why now?”

Galadriel takes his hand and places the gem in his palm. 

“It never really was for me.”

Chapter End Notes

“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” (Laws and Customs of the Eldar)

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It feels strange to be posting anything after a literal decade, but here we are. I hope you've enjoyed this little indulgence of mine as much as I enjoyed getting it out of my head. Thanks to Snacky for being my sounding board and harassing me into posting.