I stare down at the ring on my finger. Unlike the traditions of Men, we bear our rings on our right index finger. This is the one time I am grateful that I bear arms with my left hand; there is less of a chance of me losing the ring whilst swinging a sword. (Though it is not as if I plan to bear arms again anytime soon).
The gemstone on the ring (a sapphire, I think; I am lacking in knowledge on the subject) seems to glow with its own white light, like a star. Though I had thought myself vain when Celossiel told me that Ithilwe’s ring should be a fire opal, reminiscent of myself, I see now the wisdom as I bear the matching piece. The color brings to my mind’s eye thoughts of Ithilwe, and the light reflecting off of it is the same as the light I see in his own eyes.
My thoughts drift briefly to Mallossel. She would have wanted to be here for this, to have shared in the joy. I thought of the pendant she once bore; in the image of the star of Eärendil, that had been in Cardanith’s possession after her death. He had returned it to me, and I in turn gifted it to Ithilwe. She would have thought it was funny. For a moment, I can almost hear her voice. I feel her presence; the warmth of her scent enveloping me for only a brief second.
“He says his mother once called him ‘little moon’,” she teases in my mind. “But he is your guiding star!”
A guiding star. That was a good way to describe him. A light on my horizon, something to look to in the darkness. When the smoke and flames of my own making choke me out, the star is there to guide me out; to guide me home. Mallossel’s presence leaves me then, and I look up to the night sky shining over the East Porch. None of them shine as brightly as Ithilwe, but they are a comfort to see all the same. Even when I feel as though the world shall never be bright again, I am reminded that darkness is fleeting, and the stars will always bring light to the shadow. For that which is evil hides in the darkness, and that which is good shall bring it out.
Maybe one day I will tell him what I faced in Angmar. For now, though, I shall turn my gaze to the future, to the thought of a union a year in the making. My eyes catch the light of the ring on my finger once more as I raise my wineglass to my lips. A year from this date, I shall be drinking wine as a groom and a husband, not just a warrior with the heart of a romantic.
Verily, we shall be as one; in this world and the next.
