"I knew then I could no longer hide my love from her, or anyone else."
Márafea and Radagast walked arm in arm through the forest as the autumn leaves fell about them. He had grown frail of late, so much so he had finally agreed to stay in one of the Elven huts close to the Halls and was tended to by the Elves who lived close by. Márafea visited him daily, sometimes bringing Thranduil and her daughters. But that day he had asked for her to come alone. "Is there something you wish to tell me, dear brother?" asked Márafea.
Radagast's wrinkled face smiled. "Do remember when we danced by the trees with young Artanis and her brothers?"
"Only when I am with you, Aiwendil, do I remember Aman," replied Márafea.
"Let us dance now as we used to," said Radagast.
Márafea laughed, "How can we? You can barely walk, let alone dance."
Radagast's eyes twinkled. "We could manage a slow dance, for old time's sake." Márafea nodded, curtseyed, then they both danced and twirled together. For a few moments, their true forms appeared, almost becoming one form, before parting again and resuming their mortal selves. Radagast collapsed to the ground.
Márafea cradled him in her arms. "Aiwendil! Aiwendil! dear brother please, open your eyes and speak to me!"
Radagast slowly opened his eyes and stroked her smooth face. "Ah sweet sister, barely a wrinkle do your bear. But this form is old and weary, it is time. Bury it by that Oak over there. It has served me well and I want it to rest peacefully," whispered Radagast. Márafea held him close.
"Will you not take another form?" she asked.
"I will take many forms. I want to be as free as the wind in trees, sweet sister. Let me rest now." he closed his eyes and did not open them again.
When his last breath left his body, Márafea looked up and saw Aiwendil. Free of the burden of his mortal form, He was now ageless and dressed in the green robes of a servant of Yavanna, his hair long and brown, a ring of Oak leaves upon his head. "Farewell, Sweet Sister, I shall remain on Middle Earth to do my lady's will and watch over your kin. You are bound to return. But as you will soon find, things cannot be as they once were." Then, like the wind, he faded away into the trees.
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Márafea and Thranduil lounged together in the parlour of the summer palace. Its woven halls of living branches allowed the light to make gentle shadows around the room. "You seem troubled tonight, Mime Melda," said Thranduil.
"I not troubled so much as concerned. I have been speaking with Nínimiel, she has seemed quiet since she returned from her visit to The Shire," said Márafea.
"Yes, I have noticed that too, yet she says she enjoyed her time there. She was very fortunate to be given permission to enter after all."
"It was a special occasion, Mime Melda, it is not every day your best friend gets married, is it?"
"No, I suppose not. What did she tell you?"
"It may not be what you want to hear, Mime Melda," said Márafea.
Thranduil's nostrils flared, "Are we talking about the 'Bear Boy' again? I rue the day Mithlothiel wounded him with that poorly aimed arrow."
"Oh Mime Melda, Beornoric is a grown man in his prime and a Prince of Beorn, our neighbours and allies. If anyone was to blame for what happened, it was Mellessil. She goaded her sister into shooting that apple."
"All paths of trouble seem to lead to Mellessil. I see so much of my father in her, it concerns me. It is just as well she spends most of her time in the forest with the scouts these days,"
Márafea laughed. "I see much of my grandmother in her and yet of all of our children she is most like you in both image and temperament, Mime Melda."
"And just what do you mean by that? I suppose you are right. Calenamath was often the target of my amusement when we were children. Yet we remained close, even when I sent him on missions that could have resulted in his death." He went silent for a moment, gazing out of one of the woven windows. "I did him much wrong," he whispered.
Márafea rose and wrapped her arms around him. "He would have gone to the ends of Middle Earth for you if you had ordered it, Mime Melda,"
Thranduil turned, holding Márafea in his arms. He kissed the top of her head. "How can I give my consent? Nínimiel is only thirty years of the sun, too young to make such a choice."
"I fear Nínimiel made her choice long ago, she was never quite the same after her years in Minas Tirith. Beornoric is almost eight years her senior, but he is no Dúnadan and his prime years are limited. If it is their doom, we cannot stand in their way."
"But she is still my little girl, they all are. It is very hard for a father to see his children grow so fast to womanhood, especially when that father is an Elf."
Márafea sat down in an armchair, "Did not Mithrandir say that if wed our grief would be thrice that of Lord Elrond? You know the pain of Elrond and of Thingol. But we are forbidden to interfere in our daughters' fates, this grief we chose to endure."
Thranduil sighed, "We knew this day would come, I will take her riding so that I may know her mind and I promise to accept her choice. However much it grieves me."
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Thranduil eyes moistened as he took in the sight of Nínimiel in her wedding gown, "You have chosen to wear your mother's gown I see."
"She gifted it to me and I wanted to wear it on this day as she did," said Nínimiel.
Thranduil held the fabric gently between his fingers. "It only feels like yesterday I had this made for her. She was still my Ward then, but like you, she grew to womanhood fast, and before I knew it, my heart had opened to her. I held a Great Feast so that I could impress King Elessar, that he would warm to the idea of a match between your mother and Legolas, so that I could keep my feelings hidden. I drew the design, chose every single gem, fabrics and engaged the best seamstresses. I had it made in secret. The only way I could truly express my feelings for her. But when I saw her wearing it, heard her voice as she sang the lay of Luthien and when we danced together for the first time. I knew then I could no longer hide my love from her or anyone else."
"Nana has often told me of that time in the forest when you lost time. When she knew loved you, yet she was afraid of what she felt."
"Yes, but I had loved her for longer than that, though our courting was fast in Elven eyes. You look just like she did then, except for your eyes, they are mine."
Nínimiel looked at him seriously, "I am not afraid of death. I saw it in the houses of healing. Held the hands of those as they passed from this world. It is not only love that helped me make my choice. There is much good I can do on Middle Earth as a mortal, I am needed here. Who needs healing across the Western sea?" She flung her arms around Thranduil, "I shall miss you and Nana, Ada."
Thranduil held her tightly, letting his tears fall. "And I, you, little gem, you have grown too fast, now I must let you go. A bittersweet moment for any parent, be they Elf or Mortal. Remember, this forest is your birthright when we depart this realm. You, your husband and your kin must keep it safe."
"I will Ada, the house of Greenleaves shall endure, I promise." When they had composed themselves, Thranduil led his firstborn daughter to the great hall. It had been lavishly decorated. Many had come from far and wide, Elves, Men and Dwarves stood side by side as they watched the Bride and Groom exchange vows before them, Queen Márafea wept through her smiles.
"Prince Beornoric of Beorn, is it your will to take Princess Nínimiel of Eryn Lasgalen as your wife, to be unsundered until your death?" asked Celeborn.
"It is," replied Beornoric.
"Princess Nínimiel of Eryn Lasgalen, is it your will to be wed to Prince Beornoric of Beorn? To be unsundered until your death," asked Celeborn.
"It is," replied Nínimiel firmly. Thranduil closed his eyes, gripping Márafea's hand at her words.
"You have both spoken with your hearts. Therefore, pronounce that by Eru the one, you are henceforth man and wife. Now that you are wed, do you wish to keep the names of your birth or be known by another?" asked Thranduil. Beornoric spoke first, he was tall and handsome with thick dark hair about his broad shoulders and a thick dark beard.
"I shall take a Sindarin name in honour of my Elven kin, from this day forth I shall to be known by the name my wife gave me, Medlinir, until the end of my days," he said.
Then Celeborn asked the Bride the same question. "I shall remain Nínimiel Artanis until the end of my days," came her reply.
Celeborn smiled, "Very well, from this day forth all shall know you as Prince Medlinir and Princess Nínimiel Artanis of Beorn and of the house of Greenleaves. Crown heirs to the Northern Realm of Eryn Lasgalen and the Northern Kingdom of Arnor. May your doom be different to mine, your union be blessed with happiness and your branches strong and many."
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Márafea held Elvie in her hands as she looked about Nínimiel's chamber, Thranduil entered the chamber and glided down the steps to meet her. "I thought I might find you here."
Márafea turned, and they embraced. "I hope she understands what she has chosen. She will age now, grow old and weary like mortals and when she passes......," said Márafea.
"She is mortal now and there is nothing we can do. She will age and die, yes, but will have a longer life than other mortals," said Thranduil.
"We should speak with the twins. We have kept the truth from them far too long. Nínimiel knew about the choice from a child."
"We agreed we would tell the twins the truth when they were old enough to understand. Perhaps now is the time."
Márafea looked about the chamber again. "So much has happened in this place. Here I grew to womanhood and where we first met,"
"Well, it is where were we first met with each other. You were very sick when we found you."
"Calenamath found me, you mean."
"I was there too,"
"But I do not remember you,"
"As I said, you were very sick,"
Márafea looked over at the model of Rivendell, she approached it lifting one roof. "Nínimiel loved this so much she never let her sisters near it. I am surprised she left it behind." She took out two of the dolls within, herself and Thranduil, absentmindedly moving into them into the dining hall of the main house before closing the roof again.
Celephinniel entered from the servant's door and bowed. "My Lord King, my Lady Queen, Princess Mellessil grows impatient to move into this chamber now that Princess Nínimiel has vacated it."
"Princess Mellessil can wait until we are ready to vacate ourselves," said Thranduil.
"Very good, my Lord King. By the way, Lord Celeborn and the party from Imladris will leave in the morning, before the weather turns. Lords Glorfindel and Celeborn have requested a private audience with you both. They are in the royal parlour as we speak," said Celephinniel.
"It must be important if Glorfindel is requesting to speak with us privately," said Márafea. Thranduil nodded in agreement, Márafea handed Elvie to Celephinniel. "I think she would be best passed to Mithlothiel, but Imladris can remain unless Mellessil desires it not."
Celephinniel smiled "very wise, my Lady Queen," she bowed again and exited by the servant's door.
Thranduil took Márafea's hand, "Come Mime Melda, we should attend to our guests."