Reconcile v. 1. To reestablish a close relationship between. 2. To settle or resolve. 3. To bring oneself to accept. 4. To make compatible or consistent.
She was determined not to cry at her own wedding. But the mere fact that she needed such a resolve just made her want to cry more.
It was supposed to be a happy occasion, so she plastered a smile on her face. She would not dishonor her family by appearing sullen, and she would not insult the Rohirrim by showing herself to be anything but overjoyed at the prospect of coming to their country and becoming their queen. Becoming their queen, by marrying their king.
She smiled as she rode her horse through the streets of Edoras, greeted by a cheering crowd who approved of her because she was young and beautiful; later, their approval might be harder to gain, but for now they were in a festive mood. The War was ended, their king was marrying, and wine was flowing
She rode her horse and waved, because it was expected of her, though she wanted nothing more than to grab rein, turn, and ride at full gallop towards Dol Amroth. But she could not. She was trapped, and there was no way out. She had accepted the king with a letter written in her own hand, and now she would spend the rest of her life here, away from everything she had ever known.
She smiled as she stood with the king while their hands were joined in the traditional Rohirric wedding. She smiled while they stood together and received the cheers of their-- no, his-- subjects. She smiled as they led the way to the banquet hall, and smiled through the feast, though she could eat nothing. She smiled reassuringly when her father, seeing her untouched plate, looked worriedly at her. She smiled graciously when the nobles of Rohan approached to give their best wishes; smiled as if she was delighted to be there. She smiled even more broadly when the king and queen of Gondor approached, for it was said that elves could read the hearts of men. But she did not think Queen Arwen was fooled, for she went away with a troubled look on her face.
She smiled through the increasingly bawdy toasts; she smiled genuinely when Gimli, the king's dwarf guest, made a crack about dwarf women, and his elfin companion Legolas Greenleaf shot her a keen look. But her smile soon flattened again and became a mask, as the high-ranking women of Gonder arrived in a body, ostensibly to convey their congratulations-- but in their sweet smiles and kind words, she sensed pity for the poor princess abandoned in a barbaric land.
It was not the land she cared about. To her eyes the Rohirrim were no more barbaric than her own people. What she cared about was that it was not her land. It was not Dol Amroth.
She smiled as the king stood and led her from the banquet hall, to ribald and drunken shouts. She smiled as the blessed silence of the corridors met her ears. She even smiled as she tripped and stumbled in her dress, scraping her elbow before the man beside her could catch her.
Only when she was alone in her dressing room, patiently undoing the intricate ties of her wedding dress-- for she had dismissed the maid-- did she give way to violent tears.
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Author's note: I'm not sure if I'm going to continue this. It's very angsty, and I can only write so much angst at a time. Besides, it's a… a… romance. Shudders
Anyway, I'll either take this down entirely or keep updating from time to time. I haven't decided which yet.