Dance At Your Wedding by Tarion Anarore

Part 1

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.”