The Lost Boys by Lady MSM

Cold Feet

Cold Feet

“I ain’t sure about this,” said Tuor nervously, his twangy Mithrim accent thickening as it always did when he was under stress. Voronwe, fortunately, was still able to understand him.

“Tuor, think about it,” he replied calmly. “You’ve been sweet on Idril since you first came here. You love her. And now you’re finally getting married after seven bloody long years. What’s there to not be sure about?”

“Well, I’m sure I want to marry her,” Tuor explained. “I just ain’t sure she isn’t going to change her mind. I mean, I ain’t classy, I ain’t rich…honestly, I’m startin’ to think there are more drawbacks than benefits to marrying me.”

“Tuor.” Voronwe rolled his eyes. “Please think about what you’re saying. Idril adores you. The amount she kisses you in public almost scandalous. And need I remind you that this is the same Idril who’s been vowing for years that she’d never get married? If she gave up that particular life goal for you she’s not going to change her mind.”

Tuor sighed. “Everything you’re sayin’ makes a lot of sense and I shouldn’t be having any problem believing you. I’m just gettin’ the nasty feeling that a lot of people don’t want this wedding to go through and are going to do their best to cause trouble.”

“Well, that’s probably true of some people, but seeing as the wedding is in an hour, there isn’t much they can do.” Voronwe stood up and squeezed his friend’s shoulder encouragingly. “You’ll be fine. You’ll be more than fine. You’ll be ridiculously happy, which you deserve to be, because you’re an excellent fellow and the best friend I’ve ever had. Also, Idril’s a very attractive girl, and you’re finally going to get to…fully appreciate that after you’re married. Does that help?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” said Tuor with a grin. “Let’s do this.”