-General-
To say breakfast was quiet would be a lie. The company of dwarves and a few still-drunk elves enlivened the hall with laughter and booming voices. Even the stoic Elrond and Thranduil joined in the singing and dancing, adding to the din of clashing tankards. The celebration simply had to go on!
At some point, the ladies and gentlemen present parted ways again, each group chatting and celebrating in their own fashion. It was funny how, for a few moments, everyone had forgotten an important event: the gift-giving.
Several hours passed like this, until the radiant midday light flooded the hall, drawing glimmers from the white marble that blended with the brown and green tones of the surrounding nature.
"And I looked at her and said that woman would be my wife."
Amidst the men's conversation, Thranduil—who, to everyone's surprise, had shed his stoic demeanor—spoke with a smile he rarely revealed. Today was a day of celebration; he had already fulfilled the solemnity of the first day of the wedding, as tradition dictated. Now, a day later, he could allow himself to relax... though, of course, only among trusted company like Elrond, Gandalf, Aldril, and the little hobbit, Bilbo.
As for Thorin, Kíli, Fíli, and the other dwarves... well, they were still competing in an endless drinking battle, without a shred of decorum. Even Thorin joined in, and for the moment, he was in the lead. Who would have thought! That Dwarf King had a truly impressive tolerance for alcohol.
"So, Aldril," said Elrond, raising his wine glass modestly. "How did your meeting with Tauriel go? As you've heard, we all had an iconic moment that led us to fall deeply in love with our beloveds."
Aldril arched an eyebrow and smiled as he recalled his first encounter with the elf.
"Well, unlike you all, mine was a bit more normal… although there was a slight misunderstanding between us at the start."
Turning to Gandalf, he added with a smile: "Remember when you left us at the entrance to Mirkwood?"
The Grey Wizard nodded.
"I remember telling you to stay alert and look after our dear friend," replied Gandalf, giving a light pat on Bilbo's shoulder. The hobbit—having recovered somewhat from his hangover—was burying himself in the sweet elven dishes like a squirrel with its nuts.
Chuckling softly at the sight of his friend devouring his food, Aldril turned his attention back to the group.
"Well… back then, the river winding through the forest was dark and filled with corrupt magic. Bombur, my dear dwarf friend—may he rest in peace—fell into a stupor the moment his body grazed those waters. I had to dive into the river to save him. It was a miracle I came out unscathed."
He paused, looking over to where Tauriel was laughing with the ladies present.
"When I surfaced, I found no trace of the other expedition members, so I had to carry my heavy friend over my shoulder. And that was when, while searching for the rest, I saw a flash of red hair in the distance."
Aldril accompanied his words with a dramatic hand gesture, reenacting the memory.
"I approached out of curiosity, and—what a surprise!—an arrow came flying straight at my face. If not for my reflexes, I wouldn't be here with you, gentlemen."
This comment provoked laughter from Thranduil, who was unaware of how the first meeting between his son-in-law and his adopted daughter had gone.
"We had a little fight," Aldril added casually. "Then, at some point, we discussed our names. She recognized my name because of my mother and… well, some spiders interrupted our chat. We fought side by side, and that was when I realized I had perfect chemistry with her."
"Somewhat similar to my first meeting," said Elrond, letting out a slight sigh. "My beloved Celebrían… I remember a pack of Orcs attacked us during our first visit to Rohan. She was a formidable warrior; she undoubtedly inherited Lady Galadriel's strength."
His face lit up with a smile tinged with melancholy. He missed his wife; that was undeniable. Not a single night passed that he didn't regret not being by her side when those Orcs wounded her, weakening her until she had to depart for Valinor, leaving him and their three children behind.
Aldril, noticing the sadness beginning to envelop the room, decided to intervene. He asked a question that even caught the attention of Glorfindel, who until then had only nodded silently; this time, he set his wine goblet aside and paid closer attention.
"So, Gandalf," Aldril began cautiously, "was there ever a lady who stole your heart in your youth?"
Taken by surprise, Gandalf coughed a bit; the wine had gone down the wrong pipe. That question caught him off guard. When he finally managed to catch his breath, he cleared his throat but remained silent under the watchful eyes of everyone.
"Well..." he started at last. "There was once a beautiful lady of Rohan who, while she didn't steal my heart, did manage to make it race with her bravery. Her hair, red as fire, spoke of her temperament. But as for anything romantic... forget it. I was always fighting, traveling here and there. I never had time for something like love."
"You have my curiosity," said Aldril. "What was that woman's name?"
"Héra, daughter of Helm."
...
The conversations continued for a good while; had it not been for the intervention of the Lady of the Forest of Rebirth, Thalwen, both Elves and Dwarves would have kept drinking without rest, repeating what happened the night before: getting drunk until they forgot who they were.
Thanks to her, everyone recovered their senses and took their seats, gathered once more.
"My esteemed guests, this afternoon we shall begin what many curious minds have been waiting for," announced Thalwen with open arms. The sun's rays caressed her body, making her shine like a beacon for those wandering the sea of life.
"May the gifts offered by our friends—Men, Dwarves, and Elves from distant lands—be shown with the grace that precedes them. It does not matter if it is a simple branch: everything given will be treasured, for it comes from your heart."
With a delicate bow, she let the bride and groom, seated at the head of the central table, greet and dedicate some warm words to the guests, thanking them for the effort of having brought gifts.
"To hell with it all, we're going first!" exclaimed Kili with a firm voice.
Aldril was his best friend, and he wouldn't allow any other present to be given before theirs. His enthusiasm drew laughs and applause from those present. I must say that both brothers made an excellent impression on everyone, especially among the Elves, who—to their surprise—found Kili and Fili's company comforting, thanks to their witty jokes and timely comments.
"Uncle, let's show the culmination of Dwarven smithing!" added Fili from Thorin's side.
With a proud smile, the King of Erebor rose from his seat and signaled Dwalin. The latter, with barely contained euphoria, rushed to enter through the great doors of the hall, dragging a cart adorned with dark wood and golden reliefs. Instantly, a general murmur ran through the crowd. The cart advanced slowly, its wheels resonating on the white marble, as if what was inside was announcing its arrival.
The cart itself was already a work worthy of kings. Carved with Dwarven precision, the wood had a deep shine, accented by golden filigree snaking along the edges. The interior was upholstered in wine-red velvet, carefully padded for high-value treasures.
And there, resting on the soft fabric, lay the armor.
Aldril held his breath.
It was an imposing set, forged with deep reddish scales that evoked live embers. The scales fitted together with perfection, simulating flames stopped in mid-motion. The edges, gilded with Erebor gold, traced elegant and sharp lines.
The helmet, with two points raised backward, conferred an intimidating and majestic countenance. The narrow, dark visor hid any trace of humanity, granting it a predatory presence. The gauntlets, ending in shapes recalling beast claws, and the reinforced greaves only accentuated its presence.
A crimson cloak, fastened to the shoulders, fell like a river of fire, partially covering the metallic body and further highlighting its fierce design.
Thorin advanced with firm steps toward the table where Aldril was, the expectant murmur slowly dying down among the guests.
"I once told you," he began, his voice resonating with solemn pride, "that no matter how many years passed, I would keep my promise. And now, here it is: the culmination of all these years, the pinnacle of our work. Forged with sweat, with blood... and with memory. The birth of an armor like never seen before."
Aldril felt emotion welling up in his chest, a mixture of gratitude and reverence. He knew perfectly well what moment this was, and what it meant.
Thorin raised a hand toward the cart.
"Bear witness," he proclaimed, "to our years of effort. Made from the scales and hide of the one who tormented these lands for years—dragon armor for a dragon slayer."
**
7 chapter advanced in "[email protected]/Mrnevercry"
What do you think of the reading so far? I welcome suggestions and constructive criticism.