I never realized, that when the day actually got here, that Boromir would be even more nervous than I was. He's muttering, pacing, glaring at random people. He made Iariel cry this morning, and then I said he couldn't talk anymore or I'd have him muzzled. He shut up then. I am nervous enough without that shit.

Thranduil is leaning in the doorway, watching us both with an amused expression. Iariel glances at him, pales, and bolts for the nearest exit. Boromir catches his eye, swears, and follows Iariel. I fold my arms over my chest and glare at his Majesty. He arches an eyebrow at me. He has this power to make me distinctly uncomfortable. I start fiddling with the sleeves of my dress. It's blue, which I insisted on. I'm following the tradition my Mom was always harping on. Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue. The dress is blue. I have a borrowed a bracelet from Eowyn, and a new ring from Boromir. Now, all I need is something old. But I don't have anything old. Well, does Legolas count?

That was harsh. I'm sorry. A little. Well...no, I'm not.

"Nervous?" Thranduil asks. See, this is the part where he's supposed to be all gentle and concerned. Ha! He seems to be taking an unholy enjoyment in my suffering. He even has that insufferable little grin.

I hate Elves.

I just glare, and he laughs lightly. "I have something for you," he says drily. My eyes narrow. I do not trust gifts. Not even from the father of my future husband. He smiles a bit at my expression. "Legolas told me about this tradition of yours."

I twist the ring around my finger. "I'm missing something old," I mutter.

He holds out one hand, which has something green and silvery wrapped around it. "This will do, I think," he murmurs.

I take it from him. It's a necklace fashioned in the shape of a chain of leaves, green outlined in silver. It's beautiful. "Legolas," he murmurs. "I gave it to my wife after she had our first son." I frown at him, and he shrugs. "When we first met, it was all she would adorn herself with," he explains. He quickly hooks it around my neck. "She would have liked you," he adds. "She was a free spirit."

I laughed. If my entire personality could be fit into two words, that would probably be them.

Iariel pokes her head back into the room, squeaks, and ducks back out. He stares after her for a second, looking slightly amused. "Strange child," he says softly, kisses me genlty on the brow, and leaves.

Elves are weird.

Apparently, Legolas is in even worse condition than I am. From the laughter, I think they've had to restrain him from bolting once or twice. I am not encouraged. In fact, I am beating my head on the wall.

"Um, Kayli?"

That would be either Elladan or Elrohir. I can't tell, as I can't see him, because all I can see is the wall. Yes, the one I am beating my head against. "Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"I" Thwack. "Am." Thwack. "Trying." Thwack. Thwack. "To knock." Twack. "Myself." Thwack. "Unconvious."

Pause. "Why?"

I sigh and just flop down on the floor. You know how women in movies always make this move look so goddamn graceful? Not me. Nope. Not even in the slightest. I am a giant, gibbering mass of skirts and hair and jewelry. "This is a nightmare," I mutter.

Elladan -- at least, I think it's Elladan, I'm not really in any state to tell -- just stares at me blankly. "Um...don't you want to marry him?"

I give him a scathing look. "Of course I want to marry him. Nimrod."

Another blank stare. "Then what's the problem?"

I pull at my hair. Iariel's going to have to fix it again. "This is a mistake."

Elladan -- no, Elrohir -- ha, Ellahir, just in case -- makes a frustrated noise and rakes both hands through his hair. He's lucky he hadn't done anything with it. "I don't understand."

I push my way back to my feet and make some effort to straighten my dress. Not that it matters. He'll probably figure out that this is a huge fuck-up on his part and bolt back for Mirkwood. If he had half a brain, he would. "Of course you don't understand," I snap. "I don't understand. It doesn't make any sense. Why did he agree to this anyway?"

The twin arches an eyebrow at me. Can all Elves do that? I have yet to see a single human who can. I mean, Aragorn can, but he was RAISED by Elves. Some things rub off, right? Isn't there some Elvish blood in his family tree? That would make sense.

God, I'm rambling. Just kill me, would you? I knew I wasn't that lucky.

"If I remember my oh-so-ancient history correctly--" Spoken like someone who can practically remember when this kingdom was just starting out -- "It was HE who proposed to YOU."

I fiddle with my skirt. "He was probably drunk. Oh! Or maybe it was a dare! His brothers seem to enjoy tormenting others."

Elrohir -- it's definitely Elrohir, he's not trying to make a joke out of everything -- throws up his arms in frustration. "You're stuck with him now, you know. Even if this is a horrible mistake. It's not like you could get rid of each other even now. This is just making it official."

I make a face at him. Why can't we just leave it unofficial. "Don't make sense," I say instead. It worries me when one of you two is logical."

He assumes one of those high-and-mighty expressions Elves also do so well -- they're multi-talented, you know. "I assume, my Lady, that you are thinking of my brother. I'm Elrohir. I AM the logical one."

I snort. I hear a disgusted noise from behind the door, and I know it's Iariel. "Out of the two of you, that's not saying much."

He laughs and pulls me over to a couch. "Too true." He sits me down and sprawls down next to me. Since Iariel would holler if I wrinkled my dress, I do the lady-like thing and smooth my skirts under. 'Ro smirks at me. I never realized how weird it would feel to act like a lady.

Suddenly something hits me. Legolas is a Prince. Does that mean more of this lady bullshit? I shake my head, getting rid of the thought before it has time to form completely. That's not something I really want to worry about right now. I'll worry about it later if I have to.

Elrohir reaches out and rubs my back. "If it makes you feel better, Legolas is almost as convinced as you are that this is a mistake."

I sit up straight and poke a finger into his face, like this is a major victory. "See?"

He laughs. "He's convinced YOU are making the mistake, little one."

I stare at him blankly. "How would I be making the mistake?"

He leans back on the couch, happily putting his boots on the upholstery. "By tying yourself down to someone you can't grow old with," he explains. "Someone who can't share the joys of life with you. Like children."

I flinch back, almost violently. Kids? Whoa, whoa, hold the phone. Who the HELL said anything about kids?

Elrohir laughs at my reaction. "That's coming from him, not me, child."

I glare. "Stop calling me child."

He bows his head slightly, seriousing right up. Another difference between him and Dan. Dan keeps laughing, even if it's just in his eyes. Elrohir doesn't. "He loves you, and he wants you to be happy," he says firmly. "It's the same thing that you want for him."

I flop back in my chair. Fuck the dress. "Why do I have to chose the most ridiculous, impossible fucking relationships?"

He lays an arm around my shoulder. "Just try to be happy," he says, suddenly so serious that it scares me, a little. "It's all that any of us can hope for, just a bit of happiness." He squeezes my shoulder. "Even those of us who will live forever, or close to it." He kisses my cheek and stands up quickly. "You should have your maiden fix your hair," he says, looking critically at my messed-up braids. "You only have a few hours left." And he slips out the door.

I really hate Elves.

All that's missing is a heart-to-heart from my other brother, and this day will be complete.

Well, except for the wedding. Just another little, teeny detail.

Iariel fixed my dress, redid my hair, gave me a last, critical look over, and rushed out to help with the other preparations. I don't know what they are, and I'm kinda afraid to ask, actually. I'm pacing again. The nifty thing about long gowns? They make the coolest rustling noises when you pace.

Luckily, I am very, very easily distracted.

Faramir pokes his head in the door. "Are you ready?"

I manage to nod. I am suddenly petrified. Like, absolutely frozen. Unable to move. Faramir makes a concerned face and hurries over to me. He wraps an arm around me and guides me back over to the couch where Elrohir and I sat a little while ago. He kneels down in front of me, looking all concerned, and then starts to laugh.

I do not just hate Elves. At this exact moment in time, I fucking hate everybody.

"I'm sorry," he gasps out, between peels of laughter, "but you look just like I did before I married Eowyn." And then he continues to laugh.

OK, you know what, if I have to do this, then I am going to bloody well do this and get it the fuck over with. WITHOUT anyone else laughing at me, thank you very much. I grab Faramir by the arm and yank him back up to his feet. "Let's get this over with, Sparky," I mutter, and drag him out of the room.

I know you all are looking for a description of the ceremony. Well, tough. I remember very little of it.

I remember walking down the aisle with Boromir. I remember standing at the alter, holding Legolas's hands and looking into his eyes. I remember saying something, stumbling over the Elvish, and I remember the very breif kiss at the end. Other than that, nothing. Nada. Zip.

When I finally come back to reality, Legolas and I are sorrounded by people inside the Hall. He has an arm around my waist, I'm thinking to keep me standing. He leans over, presses a kiss to my temple and a glass of wine into my hand. "You look exhausted, love."

I shake my head slowly. "It's kinda hard to believe that it's really...over and done with."

He pulls me close and presses a kiss to my brow. "Hard to believe that your quest against Leilanni is over, or that we're married?"

I laugh slightly. I do NOT sound shaky. I don't. "Both." I lean into him for a moment, then straighten, and glance quickly around the room. Everyone seems to be having an absolutely wonderful time. No, I don't trust it. Nobody should be that damn happy. What IS the big deal with weddings, anyway?

Legolas laughs slightly at my expression and runs his fingers over the chain on my neck. "This was my mother's," he murmurs.

I nod. "I know. Your father told me."

Legolas smiles slightly. "He thinks she would have liked you."

I tilt my head back and look at him. "Don't you think she would have liked me?"

He shrugs but doesn't meet my eyes. "I would like to think so." He looks up at me and smiles slightly. "We didn't get the chance to know her as well as Adar did."

I slip my arms around his waist. "I keep forgetting you're old."

He laughs suddenly and starts to pull me out towards where everyone is dancing. I dig my heels in and try not to move. I do not want to dance.

He raises his eyebrow at me, laughs and pulls hard on my hands. You know, I keep forgetting how strong he is. It's cause he's so damn...thin. Wiry. Lithe. God, I am pathetic. Just kill me.

Why do I say that so often?

Legolas slips his arm around my waist and takes my hand, easily guiding me through the steps. He makes it look so EASY, you know? After a long moment, he presses his lips to my forehead. "I'll make you happy, love. I swear it," he whispers.

And that, y'all, is all any girl can hope for.


Epilogue is coming, however.