-2962 of the Third Age-
-General-
The silver gleam of the moon struck Aldril's face, who, at the top of the largest tree in the realm of Thranduil, was admiring the stars. It was well known that our dear half-elf was attracted to the great views nature offered. In this case, Varda's creation showed its splendor with greater clarity, as pollution had not yet ravaged Middle-earth.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Aldril let himself sink into the memories of his recent travels and all the journeys he had made over the years: from being a simple commoner to becoming the famous adventurer and dragon slayer. And now, the next morning, he would marry a beautiful elf; one who, without a doubt, would have been the most beautiful woman in the world even in his previous life.
How he loved her. Her voice was a lullaby capable of calming any worry; her laugh, a poem to life; and her eyes, green as springtime, the most enchanting he had ever seen.
"I knew I would find you here," a voice said behind him.
Aldril knew who it was. Spending time in Thranduil's realm had allowed him to become familiar with everyone in the kingdom, especially with the person he considered a good friend, someone he would trust his life with.
"It is well known that every full moon night, I climb up here to admire the view," the half-elf replied with a slight laugh. "What brings you here, Legolas?"
Legolas sat down next to him; he was his brother-in-law—since he considered Tauriel a sister, despite her being adopted—and allowed himself a few moments of silence before speaking:
"Well... a dear friend of yours has arrived and wishes to see you."
"A friend?" Aldril repeated, this time looking directly at Legolas, who, with a snort, pointed into the distance.
"He is over there."
Thanks to his sharp eyesight, Aldril distinguished the small figure moving with agility, while a group of Dwarves clustered around him, laughing and trying to crush him with hugs. To say he was surprised was an understatement, for those Dwarves were more than familiar to him, as was the small one trying to escape the rough affection of the bearded men.
With a joyful laugh—one that echoed with so much happiness that it forced him to hold his stomach—he jumped and threw himself into the void, falling gracefully as he used the vines as ropes. His descent was watched by the Dwarves and the small one, who looked at him with radiant smiles.
Once Aldril landed on the ground, he ran toward them with open arms. His childish and cheerful attitude only appeared in front of those he considered true friends; and, coupled with the long time without seeing them, his overflowing happiness was natural.
"Nori, Ori, Kili, Fili, Bofur, Glóin! You damned bastards, how I missed you!" Aldril exclaimed, throwing himself onto the Dwarves and knocking them down instantly. With a roar of laughter, he got up and spread his arms wide. "And my dearest and favorite hobbit: Bilbo Baggins!"
To say that little Bilbo jumped for joy was an understatement. It was always a pleasure to be with Aldril, his most distinguished friend... or perhaps something more than that: his best friend in the whole wide world.
Not even the gray wizard, Gandalf, whom Bilbo held in high esteem, reached the place the half-elf occupied in his heart. It was Aldril who taught him to wield a sword without trembling, who gave him the courage to venture beyond the Shire and face the uncertain days with a smile.
"Aldril!" the hobbit exclaimed, throwing himself into his embrace. "I'm grateful to have arrived on time! The road was long, and the weather... my patience, it didn't help at all. I got stuck in the mud countless times; if it weren't for some kind Elves from Rivendell, I think I would still be there, fighting to get out."
"You should have sent us a letter, Bilbo," Kíli protested, getting up while dusting the dirt from his face.
"Yeah, we would have sent a group of Dwarves to escort you here," added Fíli, putting an arm around the small hobbit's neck.
Bilbo laughed, shrinking under the affectionate gesture of the brothers. It was no secret that, despite the years, they kept in touch through letters. Heck! He even knew they were both fathers now; and he still remembered, with a certain amused embarrassment, that letter where they wrote to him:
"When will Mr. Baggins have a beautiful hobbit to hold his baggins?"
The hobbit snorted at the memory, feigning annoyance, although his smile betrayed him.
"Well, I'll keep that in mind for next time," Bilbo replied with a mischievous smile. "But tell me, what are you doing up so late at night? Don't tell me you plan to drink... tomorrow is Aldril's wedding, and it wouldn't be appropriate to see a group of Dwarves stumbling in front of the altar."
Aldril raised an eyebrow. It was true that he hadn't stopped to think about what his small friends were doing at this hour, and even less so in Elven territory. Although tensions between the two peoples had softened over the years—thanks to trade and goodwill—their visit was still somewhat unusual.
"Well," Fíli intervened, scratching the back of his neck, "Thorin is coming in the morning, and we were afraid of oversleeping. So we asked King Thranduil for lodging so we could be fresh as a daisy in the morning and not miss such an important event."
His words drew a laugh from the half-elf. A gentle warmth enveloped him. He knew those rascals tended to sleep more than enough—a common complaint among the Elven merchants—and that they would take the trouble to request lodging just so they wouldn't miss his wedding... that deeply moved him.
For an instant, Aldril felt his chest tighten; the emotion almost escaped as a tear.
"Undoubtedly, you are my best friends," Aldril whispered. Then, with a tired smile, he added, "Well, it's late. It's best if we all go to sleep; the event will start early, so let's go."
He gently nudged the Dwarves, as if guiding a group of rebellious children to bed. The laughter slowly died down as they headed to their rooms, still with wobbling steps and happy faces.
Once settled, it wasn't long before sleep claimed them. Bilbo was the first to fall, exhausted by the long journey. The Dwarves soon followed; they were curious creatures, capable of spending entire nights awake and yet sleeping soundly as soon as they closed their eyes.
Aldril watched them for a moment from the doorway. That scene—the sound of heavy breathing, the calm after the hustle—filled his chest with simple peace. Sometimes, he envied that ability of the Dwarves: to sleep without worries, as if the whole world could wait until dawn.
"I've sent them to sleep... but sleep is escaping me with all the nervousness," Aldril murmured, walking down the silent hallway toward his room.
Opening the door, he found it empty. Only Tauriel's fragrance remained there, floating in the air like a sigh. That scent was enough to soothe his soul.
Why wouldn't Tauriel sleep with him that night?
Of course... it was an ancient Elven tradition: the bride and groom had to separate on the eve of the wedding. According to custom, the distance reinforced their vows, reminding them how much they loved each other.
Each, on their own, had to dedicate that time to the Valar, praying for prosperity and strength in the eternal years they would live together.
Lying on the soft silk of his bed, Aldril allowed the comfort to wrap around him like an embrace. He couldn't deny it: he was nervous, anxious about what the dawn would bring. He inhaled deeply, letting the air temper his chest and the nerves gradually dissolve until his eyelids grew heavy.
Sleep reached him softly, like the breeze extinguishing a tired candle. And before fully surrendering to rest, a smile blossomed on his lips. Tomorrow would be a special day.
...
The first golden gleams of dawn caressed Aldril's face, illuminating his nervous expression.
A sea of faces stretched out before him: a crowd of guests filled the open garden. There were envoys from Gondor and Rohan, and even some who had arrived from the distant coasts of Umbar. Renowned figures had come to witness an event worthy of the chronicles.
Aldril felt Varda's blessing pulsating within him, as if responding to a greeting. It was then that he realized that among the attendees were his equals: those blessed by the Valar.
"Take a breath," a kind voice whispered beside him.
It was Bilbo Baggins, small and attentive, flanked by Kíli, Fíli, Glóin, and Aragorn, who stood with Aldril at the altar, like loyal guards watching for any unforeseen event.
"This is the first time I've seen you nervous," Glóin joked with his deep laugh. "Are you more afraid of a woman than a dragon?"
A light chuckle ran through the small circle, dissipating some of the tension. Aldril let out a sigh, and his shoulders relaxed. For an instant, the nervousness felt lighter.
"Prepare yourselves," said Gandalf, who, in his shimmering gray robes, stood tall with grandeur and serenity in the middle of the altar. At Aldril's request, he had agreed to be the one to marry them.
"You're the most suitable, Gandalf," Aldril had told him. "Besides, Saruman gives me a bad feeling; his scowling face looks like he has a stick stuck up his arse all the time."
Just remembering those words gave Gandalf a slight headache, though, deep down, a small spark of joy ignited in his chest. The White Wizard should have been the one to marry them, but since his friend had asked him, he couldn't disappoint him. Besides, he doubted Saruman would agree to something so "trivial," as he surely would have called it.
With great nervousness, Aldril took a deep breath. A multitude of birds gathered in the garden, and the golden rays of the sun seemed to come even more alive. The chirping of the birds mixed with the soft melody accompanying the beautiful figure that advanced gracefully. Wherever she passed, flowers bloomed, and the earth took on a healthy green hue, almost as if Yavanna herself were present, granting them her blessing.
The silvery-white dress shone even brighter under the dance of the golden rays. In the shadows of the trees swaying with the wind, small luminous volutes gathered, as if the stars had descended to witness the event. Her reddish hair, fiery as fire and adorned with flowers, cascaded down the back of the Elven beauty.
Her greenish eyes, as vibrant as spring, looked with love and nervousness at her beloved Aldril. How much she loved this man! His elegant suit, of a blackish tone, clung to his body like a second skin, allowing everyone to admire his imposing musculature; but what fascinated her most were those amber eyes that gazed at her with a fervor so pure it seemed to burn the air between them.
A gentle squeeze on her right hand brought her back to the present. It was her adoptive father, King Thranduil, who was escorting her to the altar. Despite his stoic façade, the slight trembling in his arm revealed the deep nervousness he felt... and how could he not be, when the little Elf he had raised as his daughter was about to marry.
Silence settled over the place. Only the chirping of the birds and the whistling of the wind accompanied that beautiful moment. With the grace befitting a king, Thranduil approached Aldril, gently releasing his dear daughter's hand. Then, he took Tauriel's and guided it toward the half-elf's.
"Today, I give you my beloved daughter, my most precious treasure," he began to say, with a slight tremor in his voice. "I raised her with a pure and deep love. I hope you treat her even better than I did, Aldril, dragon slayer... take care of my greatest treasure."
Sincere and profound words pierced Tauriel's heart. She might not be his blood daughter, but that never prevented Thranduil from loving her as such. He showered her with affection, and now, facing his brief speech, tears began to well up in her eyes.
"Thank you, Father," she whispered, lowering her head as she tried to hold back her tears.
Aldril, on the contrary, stood tall with solemnity and, looking directly into the king's eyes, nodded.
"I will love her and care for her; you can trust me."
To one side, the bridesmaids watched the scene tenderly, especially Arwen, who, out of the corner of her eye, caught sight of Aragorn.
Nodding serenely, Thranduil descended from the altar, followed by the bridesmaids and Aldril's friends, leaving the couple alone. They held onto each other with the fierceness of a lion, as if they feared that if they let go, the world itself might break.
"Good," Gandalf said, spreading his arms. "Today we gather in this blessed union. May the Valar be witnesses to the love of these two children of Eru."
His voice resonated among the trees:
"In this sun-drenched clearing, where the trees whisper and the stars behold their work, two souls are entwined today. Before the eyes of Eru, you shall walk together while the world is young and old, while summer follows winter and flowers awaken after the frost. May your love be like the light of the stars: pure, constant, and unreachable by shadow. May neither time nor fate break the song that begins today. Be one in joy and sorrow, in laughter and silence, as long as history remembers your names."
"Ar ilyë tier nar omentaina. Nai elen atta siluvat aurenna entë."
"All paths converge. May two stars illuminate this day."
When Gandalf concluded, it was time for the vows.
Aldril took his beloved's hands and said with a firm voice:
"Melmeletya órenyallo, ar nai vanda sina termaruva."
"I love you from the depths of my heart, and may this oath endure."
Tauriel, unable to hold back the tears of happiness, responded with a trembling voice full of love:
"Eldamar cé nauva maller lómëo, ar lúmessë nauvan asë."
"Though the nights be many, I will be by your side in every dawn."
With the vows spoken, Gandalf smiled; his voice, serene and joyful, declared:
"You may now seal your love."
There was no need for him to repeat it. Aldril, swift as lightning and sweet as the dawn, took Tauriel's face and kissed her on the lips. The kiss was deep and filled with tenderness, a bond as clear as starlight. The attendees burst into applause and rose to their feet in unison, celebrating the union of the two hearts.
Aldril could make out cries of happiness and blessings from his friends, who were jumping for joy as they hugged and laughed. As they parted from the kiss, his eyes got lost for an instant in the crowd... and then he saw her. An illusory figure, diffused like a memory, stood in the distance. He didn't need to strain to recognize her: that dark hair and those amber eyes, a reflection of his own, gave her away completely.
He didn't know if it was a trick of the heart, a veil from the Valar, or a gift from memory itself; it didn't matter. Seeing her, even for a few seconds, was enough. His lips trembled slightly as he uttered a whisper that only the wind heard:
"Thank you for being here, Mom."
**
"[email protected]/Mrnevercry"