Avarand sealed the last letter with something of a relieved sigh. He had spent the whole evening making arrangements, writing invitations and preparing the feast for the wedding. On his worktable he had piled the invitations neatly, all sealed and handwritten. Next to the invitations laid the list of the food required for the feast, and the ingredients required. He put the invitations in his bag, and carried it out into the main hall, putting it down by the door. In his heart he could feel a reserved tingle, feeling slightly anxious, yet calm and relaxed considering the event he was planning.He turned around and walked over to the fireplace, the fire having almost burnt down since he lit it before starting his work. From the log holder he chose a few sizeable pieces of wood and put them into the fireplace. The flame that had once been just a flicker of warmth and light, soon started to burn the newly added wood, fiiling the room with pleasant warmth and light. Avarand took a chair from the corner and put it infront of the fireplace, sitting down he watched the fire burn brightly. its flickering light reflecting off his silver ring, its gleam turning into that of gold.
He looked on the ring, thinking back to the time it had all began, back in what men would call a tavern, where he had an encounter most unlikely. Thinking of the journey so far, first as but her humble guardian, his shield and sword sworn in her service. Thinking of the time he had brought her to Imladris for the first time. Her words of amazement doing his home great honour for its beauty and calm. Indeed, after a time, he had developed feelings for her. How his heart had rejoiced when he learnt her feelings were equal to his. The feeling of joy to be close to her, and the feeling sadness when they were apart. The beautiful evenings, watching her gentle steps to the music of many a great musician, both under the stars and under the dim candlelight of his house.
Next to the fireplace laid an iron stake, he took hold of it and started to shuffle the wood around, pushing away the ash, and the burnt out wood to allow for more air to reach the flame. When he were done, he put the iron back and once more trailed off into deep thought.
How almost unthinkable it had been when he first saw her, that he would once muster the courage and strength to ask for her hand. How her eyes had glittered under the moonlight with the purest tears of undisputed joy and happiness. How he had put the silver ring on her finger, a ring made of the purest silver, he himself had retrieved from the Misty Mountains. The many long days spent in Imladris forges, meticulously making sure the ring would be of the purest of silver. And how it had to his amazement, paled in beauty in comparison to the maiden he loved.
For a moment, he felt lonely. His soon-to-be wife had been called to a journey of utmost secrecy, but not before making her promise to him she would return in good time. He had given his word to take care of the preparations, and though much remained to be done, he was making good time. He closed his eyes, and saw her gentle face before him, her eyes ones of great joy, showing him her right hand to him, a ring of gold resting upon her index finger.
As such Avarand trailed off into a dream, the fire in the fireplace burning slowly out.
