~ It's finally time for W-day: the wedding. Sorry in advance for eventual second-hand embarrassment...~

~♕~

"We lose more women to marriage than
war, famine, disease, and disaster."

– Cruella de Vil, 101 Dalmatians

~♕~

10. A Wedding

"May Eru bless our union and the light of Elbereth guide our path. May I be a husband like Tulkas to protect and serve." Legolas' voice was steady but his hand trembled when he put the gleaming ring on Lasriel's finger. Its head had a pink stone and looked like a rose in a nest of silver leaves.

Drawing a breath to calm herself, she replied: "May Eru bless our union and the light of Elbereth guide our path. May I be a wife like Estë to heal and comfort." She took his hand, feeling a tingling at the touch as she put his ring on. It matched hers but had a blue stone and was shaped like a cornflower.

Still hand in hand they turned to the audience and accepted their thunderous applause.

It was done. Now all that remained was the physical union and then they would be inseparable until the end of time.

The ceremony lasted for many hours more. There was music, one talented singer after the other, and of course a long series of speeches where Thranduil's as usual was the longest and most elaborate.

Soon Lasriel's feet hurt terribly, unaccustomed as she was to wearing snug, ladylike shoes, but apart from that she enjoyed the attention. She had rarely felt more beautiful and more celebrated, and she would never tire of feeling Legolas' warm hand holding her own.

After the final song the assembled walked in a long line from the throne room to the new feast hall. The newlyweds led the way, taking their places at the high table with the colorful tapestry Lasriel's mother had embroidered behind them.

The food was more bountiful and the courses tastier than any she had ever tried; Thuriniel and Thranduil had really outdone themselves, yet Lasriel couldn't even finish the first course. It suddenly felt so awkward. Her new husband sat silent beside her and she wanted to speak with him but could not for the world think of anything to say.

Instead she pushed an untouched piece of quail's breast around on her plate, painting a spiral pattern of red wine sauce on the white surface. Around, around, around.

Legolas didn't seem to mind her silence; he was occupied with the food, and even more so with the wine, and didn't look at her even once. He might as well have been eating alone.

As soon as the dance began he excused himself and went to sit with Gimli instead, and to Lasriel's dismay she noticed he immediately became chatty and relaxed with his friend.

Why was he never like that with her?

But perhaps he was nervous. Maybe he too looked forward to the wedding night with the same mingle of anxiousness and excitement as she did? If so, all the drinking could be his way to calm his nerves.

For her part, Lasriel hardly touched the wine. She was sure it would be a memorable night and wanted to experience it with a clear head.

Unlike during the engagement feast last year, it felt like time was crawling by this evening. Would it never end? Lasriel spent most of it dancing with the many courtiers and other notable elves who asked her, probably wanting to exchange a few words with their prince's new wife, but her heart was not in it.

Legolas remained seated throughout the night and Lasriel tried to push down her disappointment. She told herself he might be tired, or just didn't like to dance. For why else would a newlywed ellon avoid his bride?

But then at last he approached her. "Time to withdraw? We have a long day of riding ahead of us tomorrow."

Stomach fluttering, she took his offered arm. Finally!

They tried to sneak out unnoticed, but just as they passed the door came a roaring voice from behind: "Good luck, lad! Don't do anything I wouldn't do – and have fun."

Legolas' face became an interesting shade of crimson as they fled from the ensuing cheer.

~♕~

The room Legolas led her to was airy and elegant. It had a tall ceiling held up by branch-shaped pillars a bit like in the corridors outside, and was lit by a golden chandelier and many oil lamps in sconces on the walls.

"This was my naneth's sitting room, and in there is the bedroom. It will be yours until we leave tomorrow, and of course later whenever we visit Adar."

"Mine? Where will you sleep then?"

He looked surprised at the question. "In my own chambers of course." Then a thought seemed to strike him and he blushed again. "I mean... not directly. I will stay for a while."

Lasriel felt a twinge of disappointment. She had looked forward to waking up next to her husband but clearly he intended to leave her after... the act.

He seemed to notice her dismay and got a worried look. "Don't you like the room?"

"It is great," she assured him. She shouldn't make a fuss about their sleeping arrangement on their first night together. In their own house in Ithilien everything would be different.

"Good to hear," he said.

Lasriel slowly went around, pretending to examine the room while racking her brain to figure what to say. Legolas meanwhile went over to a small table and poured himself a goblet of wine from a decanter.

She peeked into the bedroom and noticed that the bed was large and had a velvet canopy. Someone had arranged red autumn leaves in a heart shape onto the cover.

She quickly pulled her head back.

"Want some?" asked Legolas, nodding at the decanter.

"No thank you."

He shrugged and swallowed a mouthful.

"It was a lovely wedding," he said after a while. "Nice music and I liked the decor in the feast hall. Adar and your naneth did a good job." He took another sip.

"They did," she agreed, suddenly wishing she had accepted a goblet after all. This was even more awkward than the quiet meal earlier.

"Have you packed everything for tomorrow?"

"I have."

"Good, good." He swirled the wine around in the cup.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence he glanced at the door to the bedroom. "Maybe time to..."

She nodded quickly. "Good idea. It's getting late."

They nearly bumped into each other in their hurry to get there, but well inside they halted, neither of them looking at the bed.

"Shall I take the right side?" Legolas asked, sounding a bit hoarser than usual.

Lasriel preferred to sleep on the right side but didn't want to seem troublesome. "Please do." He would leave her afterwards anyway; it didn't matter what side they made love on.

He sat down on the edge, starting to take off his shoes. Lasriel did the same at the other side of the bed. It was a huge relief to free her tortured feet from the confinement.

Glancing across her shoulder, she saw that Legolas had removed his coat but not his shirt and hose, and decided to leave her dress on for now. Maybe he wanted to take it off himself, popping the many buttons open one by one.

The thought ignited an expectant itch somewhere deep within.

She glanced at him again. He was sliding in under the comforter, ignoring the rustle of leaves as the heart fell apart.

She did likewise, feeling the cool, soft sheets against her bare feet. Her heart began to pound a rapid staccato in her chest. This felt almost surreal. Legolas and her – in bed together!

The room only had a single lamp on the bedside table, and now he snuffed that as well. She wished he had left it burning so she could see his face, but of course she didn't dare to say so. It was not too bad anyway she figured, a little light from the sitting room spilled through the door and her eyes would adapt soon.

She lay turned towards him but he was looking up into the canopy. At least it seemed so. In the darkness it was hard to see whether his eyes were open or closed.

The bed wasn't exceptionally wide, yet it felt like there was a mile long gap between them. Should she make the first move, or was that the husband's role? That book he had about happy marriages probably had a chapter explaining such things, and for the first time Lasriel wished she had her own copy.

Her mouth was becoming dry as dust. Why had she turned down the wine? A few sips could not have hurt, just enough to calm her a bit and moisten her lips. Maybe she should go get some? And offer another goblet to him?

No. He had definitely had enough; despite the distance she could smell the alcohol in his breath. But if she brought wine for herself it would be impolite not to bring him some too.

Legolas saved her from deciding by clearing his throat. "Are you ready?" he asked.

She turned to her back. "Aye."

The leaves on the cover rustled again as he moved closer. Soon she felt the warmth of his body and the smell of alcohol grew stronger. He stopped right next to her. "I, uh, assume you know what will... uh... happen now?"

"Of course," she managed. Her voice sounded like a stranger's.

He drew a deep breath as if gathering courage before he moved on top of her. "Is it too heavy?"

"Nay."

She enjoyed the closeness, to feel enveloped by his strong frame. She wanted to touch him, perhaps stroke his back or run her fingers through his hair, but waited for him to make the first move. Would he kiss her now? Or caress her?

He did neither, instead she felt him slide the hem of her dress up, bundling it above her thighs, and pull his hose down.

"May I?" His fingers lingered on the hem of her underwear.

"Aye," she whispered, hardly able to breathe.

He managed to get the garment off after a short struggle, and then returned to lay over her. A strangely smooth, yet rock hard part of him pressed down on her stomach.

Lasriel swallowed. She knew what that was.

Shyly she slid her arms around him, for the first time able to touch his broad back. Despite the linen of his shirt she could feel his muscles tensing under her fingers as he rested his weight on one elbow.

With his free hand he gently pushed her legs apart so he could sink between them. Now the hardness pressed against her thigh instead and he fumbled a bit until he found where to direct it.

"Let me know if it hurts and I'll stop," he murmured thickly.

She was unable to reply for now she felt him begin.

It did hurt, though not a lot. It was more like a stretching, pinching sensation that gradually eased after he had passed the opening.

He began moving, pushing in and withdrawing in quick strokes, almost like a rutting animal. Shocked, Lasriel could not make a sound despite the strange feeling. Was this the way it was supposed to be for elves? Somehow she had imagined the act would be different. Slower, gentler, and without the sound of heavy breathing and the slapping of thighs against thighs.

It didn't last long; after a few minutes his pace increased even further and then he suddenly stopped with a low groan.

Swiftly he slid out – that was easy now that she was wet with his seed – and rolled onto his back, still panting heavily.

After catching his breath he turned to face her. "What was it like? Did it hurt?"

Realizing how anxiously he anticipated her reply she forced a smile. "It didn't hurt at all. I liked it."

His features lit up in a relieved grin that made him look like the elfling she remembered. "I'm glad you did." He pressed a quick peck on her cheek. "Then I shall not disturb you any longer. See you tomorrow."

His genuine smile warmed her but couldn't quite subdue her immense disappointment.

"See you," she murmured.

Soon she was alone with her gloomy thoughts. The union had been nothing like she had thought. More like two beasts mating. Why was it so... messy? It was supposed to be beautiful and romantic, and she had expected them to form a bond – but she couldn't feel anything different in her heart.

And why had he not kissed her?

But gradually her dismay eased as she thought it through. This was only the first try of many and Legolas had been both nervous and probably rather drunk. Of course it had not been perfect, she had been silly to expect it to.

Maybe sleeping together was like cooking a new dish – it took a few tries to learn to do it well and to appreciate the novel flavor.

When Lasriel had undressed and gone to bed again (choosing the right side now) her good mood had returned. She was certain that with time everything would work out for the better. She was Legolas' wife now and soon to be the mother of his children. That was all that really mattered.

With blissful mental images of laughing elflings, she fell asleep at last.

A/N:

This fic will very much be about learning to communicate, and not lie to your loved ones (or keep secrets from them), even if it's done to spare their feelings...

Oh, and apparently sex education in Mirkwood is practically nonexistent. ;)

Thanks a lot to you who have been feeding my muse with comments and votes! It really does make all the difference knowing people read and enjoy your hard work. :)