[piosenniel]

Pio tugged at the dress Idril had chosen for her to wear. It was tight at the waist and bodice, and she longed for the easy comfort of her breeches and tunic. It was pretty enough. In shades of green that reminded her of a sea wave’s curl as it caught the bright sun. Tuor’s gift was secured round the crest of her hips, and her hand often strayed to it as she waited for the speeches to end, and Idril and Tuor to step forward.

She had never understood this need to make public those things which are private. It was enough for her that she and Mithadan had come to some peaceable resolve on the mountain top and had exchanged rings there. She sighed, wishing this part were over and Idril for once happy with the outcome.

Stop fidgeting, Elf! ‘spoke’ Angara, standing just a short space away, among the Hobbrim children who smiled and waved and pointed at Pio. You look like some child dreading a meeting with the schoolmistress!

And just what would a dragon know of schoolmistresses and wayward children? An image of Cami with a red faced Daisy came from Angara, and Pio laughed out loud at the sight of it.

‘She’s right.’ hissed Bird standing close behind her friend. Be quiet and pay attention. I have arranged for some lovely music here. Don’t spoil it! She reached out and pinched the Elf on the back of her arm, causing her to gasp quietly at the sharp pain.

Mithadan leaned toward her, whispering, ‘Are you quite alright?’ She nodded, her cheekbones bearing a crimson tinge, and stared straight ahead. You will regret that, Bird! she thought, though the tone of it was smiling and impish.

Idril and Tuor had come to stand on the small rise before the assembled company. They bade the couple come toward them as soft music played on Elven flutes filled the air.

‘Wait! Pio!’ cried two piping voices. Coral and Shell, curls flying, ran pellmell down the sand toward her, their hands filled with fragrant, bright yellow flowers. ‘Laurinquë!’ she exclaimed, as they motioned her to bend down, that they might place the wreath of them on her head. She kissed them each on their cheek, and sent them back to stand with Angara, who looked both pleased and horrified that two of her charges had done this. Pio stood, and plucking a single blossom from the wreath, turned and secured it in the eyelet of Mithadan’s shirt. Then they continued toward the awaiting Idril and Tuor.

The ceremony which joined them was a simple one. They stood forth before the company, and as was the Elven custom of old, Idril and Tuor, standing in as the mother of the bride and the father of the bridegroom, joined the hands of the pair, and blessed them. None but the couple caught the solemn words said to bless their union. But they were like to that blessing which the couple had first asked upon themselves and then repeated on Meneltarma. ‘Thrice blessed!’ thought Pio smiling. ‘Perhaps this will indeed endure.’

They had chosen not to remove their gold rings, for this would have been the part of the ceremony where they would have exchanged them. Instead, they simply held aloft their right hands and let the sun glint off them. Thus was the custom fulfilled, and the union recognized which would now join their two houses.

‘Just like the Elves!’ muttered Bird to herself as she realized the ceremony had ended. ‘All prettiness and grace and no substance to it.’ ‘Give us a kiss, at least!’ she cried, shaking her hand tambourine. Others of her ‘band’ took up the hue and cry, clapping hands and calling for a kiss to seal it.

‘It seems we have been prevailed upon, beloved.’ said Mithadan, smiling broadly at the clamoring throng, and then at her. ‘How can we disappoint them?’ He took her by the hand and drew her closely to him in a tight embrace.

Then he kissed her. Well . . . and thoroughly . . .

[ November 25, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]