The Ranger And The Prince.

Wedding Bells Toll.

Only a moment ago, I was curled up in bed, now I was being pushed and tugged through the room, everyone fretting over me.

I finally managed to ditch them when I stepped into my en suite bathroom, the rockpool and waterfall.

I quickly shimmied out of my nightdress and slipped into the water. I stood under the waterfall, letting the cool liquid cascade down my hair and back.

Surely I should be overjoyed, after all, most women would think it a dream come true on the day of their wedding. Don't get me wrong, everything about it was supposed to make me happy but for some reason, I felt down.

It was in times likes these I wish my father were here, or mother. But my dwarven father had been dead nearly two millennia and Mother Galadriel was far off in the undying lands.

I did love Legolas, and I wanted to marry him.

But when I looked upon Arwen and Éowyn, I saw pregnant bellies and screaming kids. They were mothers, not to mention they were proper Ladies. Éowyn may have a flare for fighting but when it boils down to it, she was still a shield maiden of Rohan, a Lady through and through. As for Arwen, well she was a queen, not to mention a Rivendell elf, graceful and cultured.

I wasn't ready to put down my axe and take up sewing needles.

But then again, when I looked upon Arwen and Éowyn, I also saw joy. Such joy which I had never seen before. Perhaps marriage was not what I had always thought it was.

Content, I made sure I was clean and fresh before slipping into a silk robe. Back in my room, all the women began to talk about hair and dresses and stuff I had no interest in. It was like Arwen's wedding all over again.

I just sort of sat there while they fretted about me. The servants did bring out the curling tongs again but this time, they made sure not to get on my bad side.

Finally, when I was deemed 'ready' the seamstress brought out my dress, or at least the different components that made up my dress.

A loose silk dress with a plunging neckline and a knee-high hem was first. My shoulders were bare and the silver sleeves were huge and baggy. A silver corset came next, which as per instruction, wasn't too tight. Many petticoats followed which draped around my skirt, the trim having the same moon pattern as the dress I had worn to the engagement party. White dyed leather boots came next, soft and gentle to the touch, only a handful of elves in all of Middle-Earth could work with boiled leather and create something so comfortable.

As with most elven weddings, nature was in many ways incorporated into my dress. The servants brought vines of ivy and twisted them up parts of my arms, over the silk sleeves. At the bottom of my corset, they tied more of the vines so the leaves were destiny delicately in the middle of my skirt. Mirkwood blossoms had been weaved into the braids in my hair as well, smelling sweet and fragrant as ever.

For the finishing touches, the white necklace Thranduil had given me was tied around my neck and the rest of the jewelry nearly brought me to tears. According to the servant who were dressing me, the jewelry was Legolas' gift.

Dwarven bracelets, engraved in dwarven ruins, made from the purest gold, quiet a change from my all silver wedding outfit. I recognized the craftsmanship of the elves but the design was unmistakably dwarven, rigid ruins and hard engravings. My thoughts went to the axe Mother Galadriel had gifted me all those years ago, the first axe to be made by elven hands.

The ruins read, 'Legolas, greenleaf of the forest, and Sapphire, gemstone of the mountain.'

I slipped on the heavy arm braces, the gleaming gold sticking out from the white and silver. Though no one else in the room could read the words that were written, I knew what it meant and it meant a lot.