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“Elves! Why, I declare, they must be elves. No one else shines so, not even the Swan Knights. But why are they here? Well, Lord Elfstone has friends of many descriptions, as I well know, for we had a perian to tend in the Houses, before you came to visit, and he received the most remarkable visitors.”
“Yes, Auntie,” her niece replied impatiently. “I remember how you told about the Elf and Dwarf, who rode with the King through the Paths of the Dead. I am so glad the elves have come—I hardly care why! But I suppose they mean to celebrate Midsummer, for they love that day, and the King must have ordered the City decked out in flowers and banners for their sake.”
“They look very festive indeed!” Auntie Ioreth agreed. “Can you make out their features, niece?”
“Not very well from here,” her niece replied, leaning across the thick border on the outer wall, “But the first two look exactly alike! Oh, I should not wish to meet them. They are rather stern. But look at the one behind them—the big one all in white, with the golden hair—he has a very pleasant smile. I suppose I shall never have a chance to meet him?”
“We shall see. I declare, they stretch out for half a league! Well, I am glad they are not an army.”
“There are so many, Auntie! Why, some of them look sad. Perhaps they wish they were celebrating Midsummer in their woods. Why would they come here?”
“Lord Elfstone is very well-loved by his friends, and no wonder, for he is a great healer, and he was very good to poor Lord Faramir. But what am I saying? Lord Faramir is very well now, and very happy too, for I know the Lady Éowyn will wed him. You know, I was just coming up from a visit to a baby in the fifth circle, when I happened to look up, and saw—”
“Auntie, look! Look, a Lady all in white! Her hair is glowing—is it not?”
“It looks bright enough, I daresay almost as bright as the Lady Éowyn’s, and she looked very lovely indeed when I saw—”
“And the man beside her—he looks much too young for silver hair! But oh, Auntie Ioreth, she looks like a queen! Do you suppose—she is not the—the Enchantress of the Golden Wood?”
“Well, I am sure that Lord Elfstone knows how to protect us, for he can as good as raise the dead! As he did for Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn. We shall soon have another royal wedding—ah, it has been too many years since Lord Denethor brought Lady Finduílas home! Unless he goes to Rohan to wed her, which would be just like him—such an obliging man, not at all like his father.”
“Oh, look, Auntie—all the rest are in silver mantles! There are little sparks of starlight in their hair—they look as if they had come down from the sky!”
“Ah, now I miss my youth. My old eyes only see a great, misty flock of grey horses and cloaks, with gleams of gold here and there. But perhaps I will see better when they pass under the Gate. I declare, Lord Elfstone has not gone in ahead of them! He is waiting to greet the Lady and Lord of the silver folk. Do you know, those are two different tribes; the captains at the very front are the Sons of Elrond, who were here in the battles. I suppose the silver folk are from the Golden Wood, unless perhaps their lord is Elrond. He is very old, and the greatest of all living lore-masters, so Lord Faramir tells me.”
Ioreth leaned forward herself and squinted at the head of the silver-clad group as they approached the ruins of the Great Gate.
“Why, that Lady’s hair is brighter—or deeper—I hardly know which—I never dreamed Lady Éowyn’s hair could be outdone! But there she is, and as stately as a queen. Éowyn was merry as an elf-maid when Lord Faramir had done kissing her. She let herself down off her toes and laughed—so loud that I heard it from the street! And mind you, she had grown so pale and desolate that we began to worry again—but I left off directly when the Warden told me he had sent for Lord Faramir. I said to myself, ‘If anyone can help the little lady, he can.’ And he did, seemingly, though I never heard quite how. But every woman is entitled to some privacy, and I am simply glad they are both well and happy.”
“Auntie, half the silver folk have passed, and Lord Elfstone is still standing there.”
“He means to greet every one of them, I suppose; he was never such a proud man, though he looked so stern. A very certain report reached us, during the night he came, that he had been healing all sorts of folk throughout the City, not only his friends and our Steward.”
“But Auntie, he is not greeting each one. He is waiting for someone else—he looks eager, I think. Oh, look at the lord and lady in blue at the end! The others blocked them before, but are they not beautiful? Why—why—they look—”
“How do they look, dearie?”
“Too beautiful for words. Their hair is black as ink, but the lady has a sort of veil on hers that makes it look like a starry sky. She is the loveliest creature I ever saw! Well, perhaps not so much as the queen earlier; but oh, Auntie, just look at them!”
“I shall, as soon as they are close enough. Niece, are the elves gathering ‘round outside the Gate, or do my eyes deceive me? I supposed they would all pass in.”
Her niece leaned out once more, peering around a crenelation, and gasped. “Why yes, they are gathered in a half-circle before the gate!”
“Mark my words, dearie, they are waiting for the last lady and lord.”
Her niece turned to look at the end of the line again. “Why, Auntie, they look nearly as alike as the first two—not quite, but very nearly. Do you think they are twins?”
“Perhaps so, but it strikes me that they look rather like the first two. Do you think so?”
“Yes, they do, but more like each other.”
“Then I daresay the lord is Elrond himself, and the lady—well, to own the truth, I never heard of a lady in Lord Elrond’s family, but she must be his kinswoman. Well, here they are, and her veil is very pretty indeed! She rides with the grace of a princess.”
“Auntie, look at the King!”
“I see him watching very steadily, dear. What do you see?”
“His eyes! I think he is very happy. He looks almost as if he were trembling. Oh, Auntie, his eyes are on the lady—he is waiting for her!”
“Have they met yet, dearie? I cannot see, I am too old to lean on walls.”
“The blue lord has got down off his horse—he is unwrapping something—a silver rod!”
“Do you mean white, like ours?”
“No, Auntie, silver. He has given it to the King! The King is standing straighter—he and the lady are looking at each other—oh, Auntie, they must be in love!”
“Is she down yet?”
“Her twin is helping her down—he is leading her to the King—he has given her hand to the King. Now they are turning to walk in. Oh, they look so happy!”
“Well! I declare, we shall not have to wait for Lady Éowyn’s return. We shall have a royal wedding tomorrow! For it is too late today.”
“Come, Auntie, or we shall miss seeing them when they pass in the first circle!”
“We shall miss them anyway, dearie, for they will pass south. I should have found us a place on the south half of the wall, if one remained to be found.”
“But let us at least try!”
“You go on, then, but be careful. I dare not risk being crushed.”
Her niece squeezed into the press of people leaning over the inside rail of the wall, but returned after a few minutes’ struggle.
“No luck? Well, well, at least I shall find us a good place to view the wedding.”
“And now I know why elves would come here for Midsummer! They are coming to her wedding. But where will we watch from? Will they marry in the Citadel itself?”
“Very likely, for Lord Denethor and Lady Finduílas did. I had a very good view of their wedding, for Lord Denethor showed the Warden a little balcony in the Citadel wall from which he might watch the whole ceremony, and he brought me along. How all our friends whispered! They thought they would have another wedding soon, one easier to get a view of; but the Warden—he was only a common surgeon then—had brought me along out of the goodness of his heart, for he heard me lamenting that I should not be able to see it. You know how folk jump to conclusions! And him a full ten years younger than me. Besides, I was still in love with my poor Borlach, and I am sure the Warden must have suffered a heartbreak before he came to us, for all he bears up so patiently. And so we went right on being good friends, and have disappointed them soundly these forty-two years. However, they will like a royal wedding much better, so I see no need to pity them. We had best wait till this crowd thins out somewhat before walking home.”
~0~
The next morning, Ioreth stood with several other healers on the balcony of a fine guest-house.
“It was very kind of Master Meriadoc to invite us here,” her niece commented.
“To be sure—he is a very merry friend to all us healers, and as he told me, he has a better view from the front, among the King’s friends. Look, do you see him?”
“Yes, and three more of his kin. They look as excited as we are. Oh, where are the King and his lady?”
“They will be here before it starts, dearie—their wedding could hardly start without them. They will come from the Tower, I suppose. Lady Finduílas came riding up the City the very morning of her wedding. The balcony the Warden took me to opened out of a little passage to a narrow window, looking onto the sixth circle near the Houses of Healing. I suppose someone saw us peeking out there, one head above the other, and that is what set off the rumour.”
“Auntie, look! The King has come out, and he is all in white and silver!”
“Ah, I remember well how the Lord Denethor looked on his wedding day—my eyes were still sharp then. He was dressed in just the same colors, though he was handsomer than our King. Not but what I like Lord Elfstone better—he has a real noble look, though he is so worn. The harsh northern weather must have taken its toll on him. Lord Denethor still looked young when he married—only a bit of silver at his temples. ‘Twas after his lady’s death that he aged.”
“He looks as happy as yesterday.”
“Yes, Lord Denethor looked very happy too. He was never one to smile much, but he smiled a little, and I got a look in his eyes. Seemed as if he could hardly believe his good fortune.”
“The Lord Faramir looks happy, too.”
“He is a good man.”
“Oh! Auntie, look! The bride is coming from the side! She was not in the Tower, then.”
“What does she look like?”
“I have been thinking, Auntie, and she looks just like Lúthien from the old tales.”
“I mean her clothes—ah, I see, silver and blue! Why, then, both of them are in the same colors as Faramir’s parents. I wish I could run down there and tell him. But I suppose it will do later. I declare, child, they look very like Lady Finduílas and Lord Denethor. The Lady was as lovely as an elf-princess, and Lord Denethor looked very like the old kings, or so I heard. I am not quite old enough to compare the two myself.”
She turned to wink at her niece, but the girl’s eyes were glued to the two half-elves approaching the new White Tree from the southern edge of the courtyard.
“Well, I may not be able to see details, dearie, but I believe Lord Elrond is in danger of weeping.”
“From joy, right, Auntie? He looks very happy. Or… no, perhaps he is sad. Well, I suppose his daughter—is she his daughter?”
“Very likely; he is escorting her as if she were.”
“I suppose she will stay here now, and he will miss her, for he lives in the far north.”
“And how does the King look now? Is he smiling or weeping?”
“Smiling, Auntie. He is watching her come to him, and I think he sees no one else.”
“That is exactly how Lord Denethor looked forty-two years ago. ‘Twill be forty-three years this fall. Ah! I wish they had lived to grow old together, for although he was a very disagreeable man in general, he was good to her, and she loved him back, poor dear. And very soon now, they would have begun to have grandchildren. We have gone a very long time, niece, without a wedding in the family of our lord—unless you count Lord Húrin and his son, but they were married in the countryside. But Boromir and Faramir did not seem inclined to marry while the war lasted. Perhaps they were loth to break a wife’s heart, should they die—but half the maidens in Gondor were in love with Faramir already, and more in love with Boromir.” She sighed wistfully. “I certainly do not regret marrying my Borlach, though we only had seven years together.”
“There, Auntie! They have reached the King. Lord Elrond is putting the lady’s hand in the King’s! There, they have joined hands—oh, Auntie, they are looking in each other’s eyes with such love! I almost regret deciding to be a healer instead of a wife. But really, there are too few men now.”
“We may yet find you a husband, dearie. Sixteen is rather young to marry, anyhow.”
“They look so beautiful together.”
“Yes, and the more so in front of the blooming Tree. I suppose, if they had waited for fall as Lord Denethor did, it would have dropped its leaves. But that is one difference: the last wedding here took place beneath a dead Tree, this one in front of a little flourishing one. These two will live long together.”
“Will they kiss, Auntie? I suppose the ceremony will be over soon.”
“I would not be so sure, for the nobles always give long speeches; but Lord Denethor certainly kissed Lady Finduílas at their wedding. He did not sweep her into his arms—I suppose that would have harmed her dress, and his hands were busy holding hers anyhow—but she tipped her face up eagerly, and he gave her such a long, affectionate kiss that I exclaimed at once, for I had never supposed him capable of love. But he was only a strange and hard man, and he defended us all for many years, even if he did treat poor Faramir horribly at the end. Well, I must say, I am glad that the King is come; he and the Lady of Rohan will set all to rights.”
“Auntie, I heard him call her Arwen!”
“No, dear, I am certain her name is Éowyn, for I tended her this spring.”
“I mean the lady marrying the King—the Lady Arwen!”
“Ah! I am glad to know. Now that they are vowing, I suppose it will be over soon. They shall all have a good feast afterwards, and we shall be very happy as well. But I do hope they will kiss before they go in to the Merethrond.”
“They do not need to kiss, Auntie. I saw their love in their eyes.”
“They need not prove their love to us, perhaps, but I daresay they wish to kiss. Ah! Look, now.”
“But what is he doing, Auntie? He is bending his knees; why does he not simply lean down?”
“I suppose his crown is too heavy and would fall off if he tipped his head. There! What a very sweet kiss. I am satisfied—though I should also wish to see them leave the courtyard hand in hand.”
“It was rather brief, Auntie, but I suppose he was uncomfortable in that position. She seemed to appreciate his efforts to kiss her without breaking her head with his glorious crown. Auntie, she is standing so close to his side!”
“Yes, I see that. I am heartily glad our Elfstone has found such a beautiful queen who loves him so dearly. I wonder how long they have been betrothed. Why, it has just occurred to me that we have a half-elven queen! The next king will have much higher blood than his father—though I cannot imagine any better or more majestic king than our Elfstone. I hope he will live past one hundred, though I doubt I shall be here to see it.”
At this moment, the Court of the Fountain burst into song, and the royal couple slowly turned and walked up the path to the Tower, hand in hand.
“This is a new age for Gondor, my dear,” Ioreth declared happily. “I cannot imagine what lies ahead—other than repairing the Gate, of course.”
Her niece’s only response, as the King and Queen entered the Tower, was a dreamy sigh.