Chapter Text
It is late afternoon, or at least I believe it to be so it is difficult to tell here in the depths of the caverns that run deep beneath the mountains at Helm’s Deep.
When we came in sight of the newly repaired Deeping Wall some days ago, it was the culmination of a long trip south undertaken for one purpose only the wedding of Mistress Dorbryn although I was unaware of that fact when I agreed to join my friend on his travels. The journey had been a wonderful experience for all of us and an experience I would not have wanted to miss. I hum part of an old song that the Hobbit’s taught us when we were on the Quest it seems to very nicely sum up our experiences and how we have become even closer as a group as we shared stories with each other at each stop on the way.
‘Sit by the firelight’s glow, tell us an old tale we know, tell of adventures rich and rare, never to change ever to share, stories we tell will cast their spell, now and for always.’
The stories we have traded have reminded me of how much I owe Gimli Gloinson, and how fortunate I am to have him as a friend and mentor. For a mercy Gimli says he feels the same way about our friendship. When I think back to those days after the Council I do not know whether to laugh or cry at our obstinate dislike of each other. Now all that inherited distrust of our respective races seems so ridiculous, we are far more alike than either of us could have imagined even if on the outside we are the antithesis of each other.
“Are you about ready lad?” Gimli calls from the next room and I answer that I am just about dressed.
I have to bend almost double to see my reflection in the polished copper mirror provided for my use, but I wish to make sure my appearance will do justice to the momentous occasion that is about to begin here deep in the Glittering Caves.
I am fortunate indeed to be attending the wedding of Dorbryn daughter of Vonild and Thorûr son of Magen (gold stone). I had not expected to be invited for I know that dwarven ceremonies such as this are considered intensely private affairs and outworlders are unwelcome. It had been my intention once Gloin, Vonild, Greirr, and Dorbryn were safely ensconced in Gimli’s new home to return to Edoras and await my friend’s return to the Golden Hall.
Lady Vonild was having none of that, as she made very plain when I first mentioned my plans. Gimli’s naneth is a formidable matron and not someone it is wise to cross, and I saw immediately as I began to make my plans known that she was very unhappy.
I tried to explain my reasons but Vonild was not about to listen to my ‘excuses’. I was expected to attend the nuptials and attend I would. I did not demur further for I have a great respect for Lady Vonild and her heavy right hand. Yet still I feared that when we reached Aglarond I would find myself excluded from the ceremony itself, for while Gloin’s family had accepted me, this was not the case for all of the dwarves who lived in Erebor or the new colony in the Glittering Caves. A marriage ceremony is made up of two families not just one and Gimli had already warned me that Master Magen was in every way a traditionalist I could not see him wishing to have an elf present at this most private and intimate of family occasions.
I was proved correct, Master Magen not only did not wish me to attend the wedding, he did not want me anywhere near the Glittering Caves at all. Gimli very speedily put paid to this thought. He was the Lord of Aglarond and he would say who was or who was not welcome in his domain, and I was very welcome and always would be. Yet he could not coerce Magen into accepting my presence at the wedding itself for both the bride and the groom’s families had equal say in who would attend.
Once again I offered to withdraw, I could spend the time with Erkenbrand and his family in the keep and still see Gimli and his family on a daily basis but Lady Vonild had ‘got her dander up’ by now as she called it and demanded a face to face meeting with Master Magen ‘to sort things out’. I was not present at that meeting but from what Gimli has told me there were enough fireworks going off to rival even one of Gandalf’s displays.
The culmination of the meeting was however that I was to be invited to attend the wedding, Lady Vonild making it plain that I was as much a part of her family as young Greirr and that if I were to be excluded she and Lord Gloin would return to Erebor taking their daughter with them. Master Magen never had a chance Gimli told me, for Vonild was very much on her mettle and used the same tactics she had utilized when facing King Thorin back under the mountain to batter Magen into submission, her final argument being that she had ‘adopted’ me as her foster son and therefore Magen could not refuse me admittance.
I was much struck by this declaration and gladly accepted this formal acceptance into Lord Gloin’s family although thinking it over later I began to wonder if I had been wise to do so. So far I have been able to play Gimli off against his Mam, now Vonild is officially named as my foster mother in dwarven society I suspect she will prove to be a much more formidable opponent to my scheming than her son has ever been.
Magen looked to his son for support, but just one glimpse of Dorbryn and all poor Thorûr wanted was to make his vows and take Dorbryn as his bride. So he was of little use to his father, I suspect Thorûr would have agreed to having a Balrog present as long as he and Dorbryn were able to plight their troth as planned.
And now the great occasion is upon us, I am decked out in my finest apparel and have attached my circlet to my head by winding my braids around it. It would not do for me to forget where I am and to knock it off as I follow Gimli and Lord Gloin into the great cavern where the male participants will gather before the ceremony.
Having subjected myself to the critical gaze of Gloin and Gimli I am passed as being acceptable to appear at the wedding and follow them meekly along the passageway.
They are both in their most formal clothing, warm russet reds to their velvet cloaks, burnished armour and intricately traced leather tunics, their beards, braids and hair is adorned with gold and precious stones making each of them glitter as they move, it is a wonderful sight. Lord Gloin carries a ceremonial silver axe by which he will sever the ties Dorbryn has to their house ere she is joined to Thorûr. Gimli carries a cushion on which lie the mithril bonding bracelets which will replace the ties that held Thorûr and Dorbryn to their own family for he will take the main part of the ceremony as Lord of Aglarond, behind them comes Greirr as wide eyed and nervous as me for we are to stand as family to Dorbryn. I spare him a smile and he returns it and places his hand in mine as we follow Gimli and Gloin, I am uncertain at this stage which of us is the most comforted by this, him or me.
I know little of the actual form of the ceremony but I do not doubt it will be spectacular, elves bond by light of the stars, here beneath the earth dwarves use the sound of the stone beneath their feet to guide their footsteps to a new life together. I am uncertain as of yet how that works but Gimli tells me all will become plain as the ceremony goes on.
Certainly Dorbryn and Thorûr could not have a more spectacular setting for their hand fasting. The Glittering Caves are not like Erebor nor like Moria in its days as a great dwarven kingdom, here there is little sign of the intricate stone carvings or massive pillars that filled the Dwarrowdelf and held up the basalt roof.
The outer caverns will eventually be hewn into halls that echo those great kingdoms but the actual caves themselves will be left largely unchanged.
I had not appreciated how much dwarves and elves are alike when it comes to natural beauty, the dwarves would no more despoil such natural treasures as are found in these caverns than the elves would tear down their beloved trees.
The only difference between us is that we see beauty in sun and starlight while Gimli and his kind feel the beauty of rock and stone beneath the earth. The more I see of the dwarven kingdoms the more I see how beautiful they are and here in the caverns in the mountains of Helm’s Deep there is a wonder that any elf would cry out to see.
Crystals and gems fill the walls and roof of the inner caverns, cleverly placed torches and lamps enhance their beauty and reflect the colours and light back again into the centre of the cave system. Gimli has been appointed guardian of these wonders and I know with his love of such natural beauty he will prove to be a worthy carer.
For now I follow after Lord Gloin and enter one of the inner caves where the males are to meet before the wedding, already the deep thrumming of drums can be felt through the solid rock of the floor of the cave as many dwarves meet and begin to circle the groom and his father. Knowing I am here on sufferance only I attempt to keep well away from the centre of the floor where more and more dwarves are beginning to stamp and clap as they make increasingly more intricate patterns in the dance. But Gimli and Gloin will have none of it, dragging me forward to greet Thorûr and Magen before I am hauled off into the circle to stamp and dance with the others.
I notice that Thorûr is bound to his father by a golden cord which will be severed when he bonds to his wife to be. I hope whoever is going to wield the axe which separates him from his father will have a steady hand and a clear head; for I can see that many of those present have been imbibing on the excellent Rohan ale Eomer sent as a gift to the bride and groom. I trust there will be enough left for Lord Gloin to make an informed choice on how strong or otherwise Rohan beer is. One thing is for certain I do not intend to take part in another drinking contest!
At first hearing the music which is made mainly from drum beats seems dull and repetitive, but as I begin to listen more closely I hear the real rhythms appearing, they are as complex and difficult to understand as the dwarves themselves. But as we continue to thread our way through the patterns of the dance I finally hear the true sound of dwarven melody and while it is strange it is also beautiful, I have no difficulty in believing their music like our own came from the One. Their melodies echo the deep earth and its strength while ours follow the water and stars yet there is a similarity at their very heart one that draws you in and allows you to see and hear what Aûle wished for his own folk when he first brought them to life.
Just as I am beginning to enjoy myself there is a blast on a horn and the circles of the dance part and I am once again tugged towards the centre of the cave and line up with the rest of my family to lead Thorûr through to the next cavern where his bride awaits him. I assume that the female dwarves have performed similar dances in their own separate hall, for it is their custom to keep males and females apart until the actual bonding ceremony begins. As the drums lead us into the central cavern which is alight with lanterns and torches which reflect the gem stones and minerals that fill the walls I hear the sounds of tabor and pipe coming from across the floor and I catch a first glimpse of the bride as she enters the cavern led by Vonild and her friends.
Dorbryn looks beautiful, her gown is of deep gold, the bodice made from the silk my Adar gave her, her hair and beard are strung with diamonds, and mithril she looks radiant. There is no doubt she is happy in her choice of husband and Thorûr looks as if he cannot believe his good fortune. As the pair meets in the centre of the cavern we all form circles around them, with family closest to the bridal pair. The actual ceremony is brief; the cord that holds them to their family is cut, fortunately without any injury to either party. Then the bride and groom swears fealty to the other, and they exchange tokens, not golden rings as is usual for the elves, but beautifully engraved bracelets which they clasp on each other’s left wrists to show they are now as one.
I recognise the craftsmanship in the bracelet that Dorbryn presents to Thorûr and know that Gimli must have made it for her for he has wonderful skill in such matters.
Gimli utters a few words, which are echoed by both families and I manage to get through my part in it without shaming either myself of Gimli. Then a great shout goes up from the whole assembly, the music begins again and this time bride and groom pair off to dance, followed by each of the family members. I am relieved to find that my partner is Lady Vonild. Whether this is by chance or by design I neither know nor care. At least with my foster mother I need have no fear of making a fool of myself for she leads me unerringly through the intricacies of the wedding dance and then following the bride and groom we all make our way to another hall where the feast awaits. As I sink down into my allotted place I breathe a sigh of relief that all has gone well, and think myself fortunate indeed to have witnessed such a wonderful ceremony here among my dwarven family.
Xxxx
The spread for the wedding feast rivals the one that had been laid out for the King and Queen of Gondor’s wedding. The food and drink is just as plentiful and just as artfully displayed, never mind that neither my sister nor her new husband are royalty. This has been a wedding befitting royalty even though the bride is just the widow of a poor miner killed in an accident and the very distant relative of the King, and the groom an ordinary jeweller. Still Queen Arwen herself could not have asked for more at her own wedding feast and I am more than proud to be hosting such an event for my beloved sister. I’m doubly satisfied when I see Mam, with her grandson in her lap, smiling fondly as Legolas refills her mug with amber ale, leaving just the exact right layer of thick foam as I have shown him. As always she is impressed with his desire to please her, and tells him again how delighted she is that he has accepted our family’s invitation to attend the wedding. I have to laugh at that. As if he had any choice in the matter! Truth be told, he had never expected or intended to attend the wedding at all.
In our time together, we have both learned a great deal about the customs of each other’s cultures, so he knew that Dwarfish weddings were private affairs and that he would not likely be welcome to be included. In fact he had thought to return to Edoras and await my return there, knowing full well that prejudice still thrived in some of the residents of Aglarond and Erebor as well. He explained that he had no desire to cause any fuss that might put a damper on Dorbyn’s day. I felt we must set a precedent, though, and told him under no circumstances was he to stay anywhere but with me in the caves. All in residence would have to get used to his presence whatever their feelings about it, for I would not live in a place where my elfling was not welcomed and being Lord there had its side benefits.
I could not, however, say for certain whether or not he would be able to attend the ceremony itself for that was a private matter between the families of the bride and groom and I knew the groom’s father held closely with tradition. Of course the bride’s family already agreed that he would be welcomed. In fact Mam became quite incensed when she overheard us speaking of it and told us both to quickly get any ideas that he would not be there out of our heads. Legolas had no choice to agree with her when she told him she would be highly offended if he continued listing his objections and excuses. When he looked to me for support I had nothing to offer. I wished him to be there as much as my mother did, but I did not hold out any false hope that it would be an easy matter to settle with Master Magen. Neither was I willing to cross Lady Vonild when she was on a tear. We would just have to wait and see.
As it turned out my fears were justified. Magen did not want Legolas near the Glittering Caves, let alone at the wedding of his eldest son. I was quick to set him straight on the former, reminding him promptly of who was Lord of this realm, but I could not convince him to allow the elfling to attend the wedding, even though he was aware that Dorbryn wished him to be there. When I informed Legolas of my dilemma, he again tried to withdraw, no doubt uncomfortable with all the fuss being made on his account. For his sake I had decided to let the matter rest, even though my own ire was raised considerably. As badly as I wished him to be there, I did not desire to make his life a misery by pushing the issue further and drawing even more unwanted attention to him.
Mam, however, did not see it that way. She was fit to be tied when she heard the news and gave me an earful for letting ‘that old stick-in-the-mud” get by with his outdated ideas. Legolas and I exchanged amused looks at that. It had not been overlong ago when she would have toasted Master Magen and his views on elves, but those days were long behind her now. She was not about to let her favorite new family member be so insulted. She demanded a meeting with Master Magen and his family.
Magen, Thorûr and his brother, along with Dorbryn, Lady Vonild, Lord Gloin and myself were to be there. Mother insisted that Legolas had a right to be there also as the meeting was concerning him. I held my breath hoping she would change her mind, for I knew I would never have the heart to force him to be there even if Mam insisted on it, and crossing Lady Vonild in her agitated state was not something I wished to do. I needn’t have worried, however, for when she saw his horrified expression, she relented and suggested he keep Greirr company in our absence which he was quick to agree to in his relief.
The meeting itself was very quick to become heated. Master Magen barely had said a greeting before he began voicing his views. He had rights where his son’s wedding was concerned, and he was not going to have thousands of years of tradition thrown to the wind just because my mother had taken a freak and decided to change things.
“Just because you have some maggot in your head, Vonild, does not mean I have to accept some scrawny-necked, empty-headed, spawn of the woods that you have taken on as a pet at my son’s wedding! It is not proper, I tell you!”
I leapt to my feet, ready to make Magen pay for his vulgar insults to my mother and to my elfling, but hesitated when I caught sight of Dorbryn who was near tears at this turn of events. All she wanted was a quiet wedding and now her dreams were fading before her eyes it seemed. Besides, Lady Vonild did not give me a chance for before I could manage to say anything she had already begun her response.
“Not proper? Not proper you say?” her voice was deadly calm, “I’ll tell you what is not proper, Magen. What is not proper is you insulting the Lord of your own realm right before his very face!”
Magen looked stunned and blanched at her words. Turning to me he said,
“I meant no offence, My Lord.” Again Mam gave me no chance to reply.
“You meant no offence,” she spat, “and yet you have grossly insulted one whom Lord Gimli holds dear as a son, one who has fought at his side and even saved his very life. You say you meant no offence and yet your speech is very offensive indeed.”
Magen looked uncertain for a moment, but soon rallied. Traditions were important he claimed and he would not have his son’s wedding become a spectacle.
“It is the way things have always been done!” he maintained, “Just because the lot of you have decided to break with all the customs that our ancestors held dear does not mean our family must follow. I will not have an outworlder present at my son’s wedding, no matter how cozy the bride’s family have become with him!”
“It will be difficult indeed for you to have a wedding at all without a bride!” my mother said, further raising the bar.
Dorbryn looked at me in a panic as Mam proceeded to explain that should Legolas be excluded from the ceremony, then she also would not be present and neither would her daughter. Thorûr gave one despairing glance at my sister and then tried to insert himself into the fight, saying he would wed her no matter who attended the ceremony, but Mater Magen had his pride and even my mother’s threat of cancelling the betrothal did not deter his stubbornness. However, Lady Vonild is not only the queen of obduracy, but she is clever as well. She had another trick up her sleeve.
“Master Magen,” she began, “the laws say that each family is entitled to have any kin present in private affairs such a funeral rites or weddings. Blood kin or sworn it matters not. Do you deny this?”
“Of course I do not deny it,” Magen frowned suspiciously, “but that stripling is no relative of yours, and even you cannot adopt an elf!”
“Are you certain of that, sir? Show me where it is written that I cannot,” she dared him, “ for I assure you I can and I have. You cannot deny me the right to having my own sworn kin at our family’s private celebrations, no matter your personal feelings for him.” She glared at him, crossing her arms triumphantly.
Magen looked completely flummoxed at this turn of events for he knew the truth of her claim. Nowhere was it written that she could not take an elf as sworn kin. Our forbears never considered the fact that anyone would want to do such a thing so nothing had been written about it. He sputtered, raised his hand as if to speak then put it down again and frowned in confusion. In a last ditch effort he turned to Thorûr for support. He found none there for Thorûr claimed that he would take Dorbryn to Eryn Lasgalen and marry her with every wood elf in residence there in attendance if it meant he could wed my sister. He had taken so long to get the courage to ask her that he would not see it end over something so trivial as the guest list.
Between Lady Vonild’s strength of mind and Thorûr’s quiet determination, Magen knew he was beat. He gave in, if not gracefully, then with little energy left for animosity. He congratulated my mother on being a formidable opponent and a shrewd deliberator. Dorbryn and Thorûr exchanged relieved glances, as the meeting broke up and I took off to inform Legolas of the outcome for I knew he would be anxious to know.
I found him with Greirr who was enjoying his favorite game of asking hundreds of questions in rapid succession; this time it mostly consisted of him asking the Sindarin word for various things. The dwarfling had a plan that he would be able to talk in front of all the folks in his new home here in Aglarond without anyone knowing what he was saying, a sort of secret language if you will, so he was dedicating plenty of time to learning new vocabulary. From outside the door I listened as he ticked off the words he wanted to know and Legolas answered with the Sindarin counterpart. To my surprise he boldly mentioned a very vulgar word that he should not have known in any language. Perhaps I should have intervened, but morbid curiosity kept me listening at the door instead. There was a long pause before Legolas spoke again.
“That is not a very nice word, Greirr. Why ever would you want to say it?”
“Because, it is a very satisfying thing to say when you are cross,” he patiently explained, “and I am not allowed to say it in a language folks understand.”
Legolas laughed at this very logical argument, and I had to bite my lip to keep from joining him.
“Very well,” Legolas chuckled again, “I will tell you, but you must never say it in front of your uncle for he has picked up quite a smattering of Sindarin….and he would definitely know that particular word… I can tell you he would not like it at all…plus he would certainly figure out where you learned it. So forget it, I’ve changed my mind. I cannot tell you.”
I was pleased to hear him think that through to a proper conclusion. Greirr, however, did not appreciate it quite so much.
“Hey! No fair!” He protested. “You already agreed and there are no backs forever!”
“In most cases, I would say you are right,” Legolas admitted, “but this time I feel it is safer for both of us if you would just choose a different word.”
I cringed and closed my eyes. The poor elfling didn’t know what he had set himself up for.
“All right,” Greirr said brightly, “how about…” He proceeded to pop off half a dozen equally shocking words that he would have liked to learn while Legolas, in a panic, tried to stanch the digressing flow.
“Ai! Greirr, please, you mustn’t say that…those are not the sort of words I meant…that’s enough now! Greirr STOP!”
The dwarfling’s voice became suddenly muffled so I knew Legolas had resorted to placing his hand over the child’s mouth in an attempt to stop the flood. This was when I chose to make my presence known by stepping into the room, causing Greirr to fall silent and Legolas to flush and then sigh in frustration.
“Gimli, I swear I did not encourage him,” he began.
“Never mind, Lad, I understand,” I said raising my hand to stop his explanation, while training a severe glance at Greirr, “my nephew is perfectly capable of finding mischief all by himself without any encouragement at all. Still I would warn you to be extra diligent that you do not lead him into trouble, especially now that Lady Vonild has decided to join you officially to her clan. She will not abide foul language from either of you.”
Greirr’s eyes grew round in awe at my saying this, for he knew what it meant. Officially welcoming new kin was not something done lightly by any dwarven family, and my fastidious mother took even seemingly insignificant decisions very seriously indeed. For her to take such a step was quite a proclamation of her deep love and respect for my elfling. Legolas was clearly touched and quite happy to be joined officially to our clan, though of course I have long considered him family without any formality. I explained that this meant the groom’s kin could not prevent him from attending the wedding ceremony, and while he was eager to be there, he was still unsure. He was not keen to draw too much attention and felt he would be very conspicuous among the other guests, but of course begging off at that point was not an option.
The next several days were divided between finalizing plans for the wedding feast, finishing the last details on the bonding bracelet I was making for Dorbryn to present to her groom, and briefing my elfling on what to expect at the wedding. Every evening he insisted that I practice with him the Khuzdul words that he would have to repeat as part of the bride’s family, until he could say them nearly without accent. In spite of all this preparation, by the actual wedding day he was almost as nervous as the groom.
Of course he needn’t have been. The wedding went off without a hitch; the musicians were spot on, the families decorous and cordial, the groom beaming with pride and the bride radiant. The dancing after the ceremony was joyful with any remaining bitterness between the families seemingly forgotten. I of course was thrilled thinking that my sister and her family would be in residence here in the Glittering Caves. Now my new project was to convince my parents to make a permanent move here as well, which I hoped would be a fairly easy pursuit. For now, though, I just wanted to enjoy the moment.
And that is precisely what I am doing as the wedding feast continues. Wedding jitters behind her, Dorbryn glides from table to table, greeting guests and accepting their well wishes. When she arrives at our table, she kisses our mother and father in turn on the cheek, beams at Legolas, and then thanks me profusely once again for hosting this event. Next she turns to her young son and invites him to dance, whereupon he, to everyone’s amusement, bows deeply and solemnly to her and offers her his arm. She in turn, curtsies to him and they walk majestically out to the dance floor. The room breaks out in applause, and Greirr, playing to his audience, twirls his mother around and then waves grandly to the crowd. Leave it to my nephew to bring the light relief to any situation.
Legolas surprises me by taking the decorative decanter of ale that sits in the middle of the table and serving Lady Vonild, Lord Gloin and myself. It is a custom among dwarven families for youngsters to serve ale or tea to their elders on formal occasions, but it is not something I would have expected him to know since I do not recall ever telling him about it. Obviously he has either recalled it from his studies or has learned by observing other families. Either way it is a lovely way to show his acceptance of his new role as adopted kin in our family, so I wink and nod in approval. He smiles back at me and serves himself last, and I have to laugh when he fills his own mug with a little less than an inch of the gifted ale. He may be able to hold his ale well enough, but evidently he would rather not if he can avoid it.
Still it is enough to raise in a toast to a successful wedding and to many years of happiness for Dorbryn and Thorûr. I look at the faces around me and am filled with satisfaction. It has taken many years to understand, but I now realize that it is not blood that makes kin, but shared experiences, loyalty, and deep abiding love. I lift my mug again and offer one final toast.
“To Family.”
“