A Wedding in Eregion

He had always known that Eregion was a land of plenty, but to his now-growing shame so much of it had eluded him that he could scarcely believe up until this moment he had lived in Ost-in-Edhil for decades and had never taken notice of any of the beauty surrounding him. How many countless times had he ridden among the plains and under the paths of the holly trees, eyes scanning and alert for any trouble, and yet with all of his scrutiny he had not noticed a hint flowers, of trees, of anything? It was a wonder he had even noticed Almanuldë when she had spoken to him for the first time.

And grateful he ever was, although it did not stop him from thinking of how much of a fool he had been.

Now above him draped flowers of every imaginable color and size, so stunning and carefully arranged that the entire array of them, so artfully wound around the boughs of the trees and arches and gates that the entire thing somehow resembled one vast multi-colored plant rather than dozens of separate ones strung together. The air was heavy with their thick fragrance, almost enough to make him dizzy if he hadn’t craved it so much. When was the last time he had taken notice of the scent of flowers? Marveled at their color?

It was like he had awoken from a long sleep and was only now noticing the world around him.

And yet it still paled to his elleth when she stood before him, radiant in her beauty and her wedding dress, and all at once the flowers seemed little more than dry, pale imitations of the flower he beheld in his sight, the one who saw fit to marry him now, while they would proclaim their vows in front of what seemed to be the entirety of Eregion. How many elves had even arrived? There were so many he could not even keep count!

Even Illuvarion Silwë had shown himself, coming down from his workshop dressed so extravagantly one would think he was the groom, with his little daughter in tow, who gasped and pointed at everything with such an amazed expression that for once Hundaquildo found it hard to keep the smile from his face.

“Atya! Look at how pretty she is! How did she get all of those flowers in her hair!”

She was loud, very much so despite all of her father’s attempts to shush her, but it was sweet and Hundaquildo turned to hide his smile, glad for the all the attention being on his betrothed. He felt very inadequate next to her, how her beauty was like a lily in full, fresh bloom and how gloriously her flowering dress cascaded to the floor in elegant, graceful waves.

He felt odd without his armor. When was the last time he had taken it off to wear something more formal, or even more relaxed? He could not say, the armor had all but become a part of him now, leading to the name chuckled among the others, Raudnucal, but a part of him liked it. How it fit to him. 

What would they say now, he wondered, when they saw him wearing his groom’s robes, and with his hair flowing freely once more, adored with beads of glass and amethyst and gold, and a circlet resting upon his brow? He didn’t even recognize himself.

But the smile Almanuldë had given him, and the gentleness of the crowd, told him that perhaps he should try it more.