#Aragorn & Arwen Wed

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

The Wedding of the King by the Brothers Hildebrandt

[darth-gollum]

Found this cute lotr-inspired cake on Pinterest :3 (here is the link - https://pin.it/20Vg8MnE2)

[willow-lark]

the way aragorn absolutely ate arwen’s face when she showed up at his coronation like you know that man was PENT UP he was READY

[tathrin]

A response to this ask; taken from this prompt; anyone can feel free to send other numbers in at any time, I don’t care how long it’s been. (Just maybe add some context to your ask if it’s been like a month or more since I posted this, because otherwise I won’t know what to do with the random number in my inbox).

#28....as a lie.

*technically this one picks up after the end of this story if you want to read that first, although you don’t need to; it’s as much a self-contained snippet as any of the others, it just happens take place in a setting within the events of a specific fic, that’s all.

Gimli’s eyes were drawn ever and again to the elvish dancers, even as he was drawn several times into brief conversations as friends and acquaintances paused at the table he now shared with Gandalf to exchange a few words and toast their well-wishes together for Gondor’s king and queen. Gimli was glad of the toasts, at least, for they brought fresh mugs of cool ale, and the heat of so many cavorting bodies had raised the temperature of the hall to near-dwarven levels, despite the cool white stone and tall windows through which a summer’s breeze still wafted.

Legolas’s hair shone like a sunrise in the rich torchlight, and his eyes gleamed like starlight on pale clouds. Gimli was amazed that anyone could long look elsewhere, with the shine of him whirling there to draw the eye.

He was not amazed that the other elves twirling on the dance floor were drawn to him; of course they were. How could they help but be lured in, dull drab moths circling that golden glow? Long hands ran up and down Legolas’s lithe limbs and pressed against his slender waist, long fingers twined through the streaming locks of his unfettered hair and curled possessively around his braids—

The mug in Gimli’s hands gave a crack and shattered, soft metal collapsing in on itself in his grip. He stared at the mess in his hands, numbly grateful that he had at least drained it already and so there was no ale left to spill out across his lap, and then he hurriedly shoved it onto the table behind him. He could feel his cheeks burning hotter than any torch in the hall.

Gimli chanced a sideways glance at Gandalf, who was watching the dancers with every evidence of placid enjoyment on his old face. Had he seen? Had he heard? He said nothing, but that did not always mean anything with Gandalf. Perhaps Gimli should speak, should craft some excuse...

“Flimsy human metal,” he muttered, and glanced at the wizard again. Gandalf nodded absently, but did not otherwise react.

Gimli let out his breath in relief—and then a second later he nearly choked on it, as Legolas suddenly bounded out of the tumult to perch on the bench beside him. His eyes danced as merrily as any of the revelers and his smile beamed bright and clear upon his beardless face.

“Will you not dance with us, Gimli?” he asked. His voice was light with laughter and with joy and his thin chest heaved from his exertions. Gimli found his eyes drawn upwards to the bare lips above that smooth and hairless chin.

“What?” he said.

“Dance with us, Gimli!” Legolas repeated. “Come, you can teach us dwarven steps and I will show you the ways of elvish revelry up close.”

“No,” Gimli answered automatically, his heart stuttering in his throat. “No, I—I am quite comfortable here, thank you.”

“You do not seem comfortable,” Legolas observed, and Gimli felt his stomach drop like a stone. He could not stop himself from glancing behind him at the ruined mug, even though he knew the gesture was a dead give-away; if Legolas had not seen it before, he surely would now, with Gimli’s gaze to lead him to it like a map—or a swift arrow.

“I am perfectly fine,” Gimli insisted. “Gandalf and I are enjoying the dancing quite well from here, thank you.”

Legolas spared a glance at the unmoving wizard but his eyes soon fixed on Gimli once more. “You are bothered by something,” he said quietly. “I can tell. Will you not tell me what? Perhaps I can help.”

Gimli’s mind stuttered with the possibilities of the help that Legolas might offer, and he quickly shied away from the idea. “No!” he blurted. “No, I—as I said, I am fine. It is merely warm in here.”

Legolas laughed. “Warm!” he cried. “But you are a dwarf!”

“Aye, a dwarf,” said Gimli, “and one who is enjoying his ale from his comfortable seat, and has no need to go whirling about like some flighty elven dandelion!”

Legolas should have laughed; Gimli knew his friend well enough to know that much. He should have laughed, but he did not. Instead his pale eyes narrowed sharp and keen on Gimli’s face, and Gimli could feel himself blushing beneath that tight scrutiny.

“Does it bother you,” Legolas asked in a low voice, “to see me frolicking so with these other elves?”

“What?” Gimli exclaimed. His hands clenched convulsively, and he was glad that he had already broken his mug; had he still been holding it now, he would surely have turned the thing into a flattened disk of over-stressed and useless metal. “Bother me! Of course it does not!”

To prove it, Gimli made himself laugh and shake his head, as though Legolas had spoken some ridiculous jest. He even lifted the elf’s lean brown hand and kissed the smooth knuckles as more evidence of how thoroughly unbothered he was. “Go back to your dancing, Master Elf!” Gimli chortled. “I am doing quite well watching it from afar, thank you!”

Legolas stared at him for another moment, his smooth face unreadable . The tips of his ears were flushed dark red from all of his cavorting and his pale eyed looked very wide with no beard to frame them.

Then he shrugged, and said, “As you like, then!” and squeezed Gimli’s shoulder once before bounding away and throwing himself back into the whirl of the merry elvish dancers.

Gimli let out a shaky breath and flexed his hands a few times, getting the blood-flow back into them.

"Lying will do no good for either of you," Gandalf declared calmly. "And it is hardly fair to Legolas; he will take you at your word, whatever you tell him."

Gimli could feel his cheeks burning hotter, shame coming along to add its kindling to the blaze. He managed to force an unintelligible grumble of disagreement from his lips, but nothing more articulate than that; he felt as though he was already strangling on all the words he would not, could not, say.

"He will," Gandalf insisted. "The elvenking might be able to spot a lie from 300 leagues and skewer it as neatly as his son ever has an enemy with that bow of his, but Thranduil's people are another matter. Lies are not generally told in Mirkwood. It is not a place for dissembling, or oaths, or scheming. The Wood-elves are a simple, honest people. And you are Legolas's friend." Gandalf pulled his eyes away from the dancing and fixed his gaze on Gimli instead. His bushy brows were drawn very low atop them, making his eyes glint like embers in deep shadow. "If you tell him something, he will believe you, Gimli. And you will have none but yourself to blame for the results."

Without waiting for Gimli to muster either the courage or the wits for a response, Gandalf swept to his feet and strode off into the tumult of the party.

Gimli slumped low on his bench and stared miserably at the dancing elves.

Legolas was still so impossibly vibrant and noticeable against the duller backdrop of the others. Gimli's eyes fixed on him at once. He seemed to be moving now with even greater abandon than before, if such a thing were possible.

And if such a thing were not impossible, Gimli would almost have said that Legolas kept glancing back at the table where Gimli sat as well—but he was not, of course, and so Gimli put the thought from his mind.

He had more than enough to think of anyway, when a tall elf of Lórien slid up behind Legolas and snaked her arms across his narrow shoulders, leaning in low to murmur something into his finely-pointed ear.

Legolas laughed and turned to face her, their long lithe arms entwining as close as any dwarven lovers. They swayed and swirled together with the music, and the elf-woman’s hands slid up from Legolas’s shoulders to tangle in his braids. Legolas smiled up at her and said something that Gimli was too far away to hear, but it made her laugh. Then Legolas gave one of her dark braids a gentle tug, and Gimli realized that he was growling low in his throat as though facing down a horde of goblins.

He turned away blindly and reached for his mug, realized that it was both empty and broken, and turned back around just in time to see the elf-woman twirl away into someone else’s arms as another pair of hands took Legolas by his trim waist and plucked him out of the center of the tumult to pull him in close against their long lean body, and—

And it was Haldir, Mahal curse it. Gimli’s mouth went dry, his blood pounding in his ears like drumbeats as the March Warden leaned in close and lowered his mouth to Legolas’s ear, whispering something. He took one of Legolas’s braids in his hand and rubbed his thumb across the heavy golden strands, like a dwarf might test a metal for its quality. Haldir was hardly dancing; only swaying a little as he stared down at Legolas, who stood balanced before him on his toes like a bird paused on the edge of flight.

Gimli was on his feet before he realized it, about to start forward and—and what?

His hand was at his belt, which was empty of course; a wedding was no place for weapons. And why was he reaching for his axe, anyway? He sat back down on the bench with a heavy, hollow thump. What was he thinking? What was he doing?

He had had too much ale, clearly. It was the only explanation for his strange behavior tonight. His throat was dry, but he would not drink anymore tonight; he had drunk too much already, clearly, and it was clouding his thoughts. Making him think strange, impossible things. Making him dream things that—that were not, that could never...!

Legolas laughed and rose up onto his toes to press a light kiss to Haldir’s lips.

His head reeling, Gimli watched as the March Warden took Legolas by the hand and led him, smiling, towards the door. If Gimli thought that Legolas paused on the threshold and looked back, somehow finding Gimli’s eyes across the crowded room and glancing at him hesitatingly, questioningly, even hopefully—well, then that was just another sign that he had reached the night’s limit for ale; reached, and more than passed.

Gimli held himself very still, schooling his expression to a placid calmness that might have rivaled Gandalf’s, and then he forced a smile and a nod—just in case Legolas was really looking; just in case he could really see him.

A shadow seemed to flicker across those bright elvish eyes, as though one of the torches near the door was on the verge of guttering; although when Gimli looked at them, they both appeared to be burning tall and strong still.

When he looked back, there was only a faint fading flicker of golden locks flowing around the corner as Legolas vanished into the night and Haldir’s arms.

Gimli sat there for several minutes, staring into the empty darkness of the door. The noise of the wedding revels that had once filled the hall with such bright merriment seemed to have faded now, somehow; he heard it from a distance, like echoes from some far-off cave. Eventually he forced himself to rise, and murmur unintelligible farewells as he passed his friends, and trudge his way across the long white hall towards the other door.

He stumbled back to the rooms the Fellowship shared, alone.

[thescrapwitch]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Arwen Undómiel & Maglor | Makalaurë, Arwen Undómiel & Galadriel | Artanis, Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel, Arwen Undómiel & Lindir, Arwen Undómiel & Celebrían & Elladan & Elrohir & Elrond Peredhel, Celeborn/Galadriel | Artanis Characters: Maglor | Makalaurë, Arwen Undómiel, Aragorn | Estel, Galadriel | Artanis, Celeborn (Tolkien), Lindir (Tolkien) Additional Tags: Fluff, Comfort, Weddings, Maglor Is A Cryptid, eldritch horror, and the tiniest dash of sadness, Maglor and Galadriel have issues with each other, but god help you if you try to mess with their granddaughter Series: Part 7 of Maglor is an Eldritch Horror Summary:

The Enemy has been defeated, and Arwen is preparing to get married. It is a choice that brings with it both sweetness and sorrow, a day to celebrate and to grieve. A new life to begin, and an old life to say farewell to. Sure, not everyone is happy that the new king will be marrying a half-elf, but she’s not worried. Her grandparents - elven and eldritch - have promised that nothing will ruin her special day.

[almostlookedhuman]

[rebelbagel]

If my wedding don't look like this ...I don't want it

Arwen : Do you remember when we first met? Aragorn : I thought I had wandered into a dream

[edennill]

Topics of conversation among the elven party come to visit Minas Tirith for Aragorn and Arwen's wedding:

Whether the paintings and tapestries of legendary events made by the city's denizens are accurate

Whether Glorfindel should be shown tapestries depicting his fall

Balrogs don't look like that

Whether Osgiliath really was as pretty as they say

Whether Osgiliath or Annuminas was prettier

Whether the Rohirrim resemble the house of Hador much

Whether Aredhel would have gotten on well with Eowyn (difficult question because on the one hand - gestures at everything - and on the other: Aredhel was a difficult person at times, had never met one of the secondborn and would likely have mortally offended the other within ten minutes)

Another Gondorian woman looking a bit like Lúthien

Why do Lúthien look-alikes turn up generations upon generations after Elros

Does Minas Tirith feature too many stone walls and too little greenery

Is there something wrong with the Noldor for not minding being cooped up within stone walls

There having still been far more greenery in Tirion last time the exiles had been there (7000 years ago)

Whether Tirion was much changed last time Glorfindel had been there (3000 years ago)

Whether Gondorians naming their children after Túrin of all people is taking things a bit too far

Whether an inkeeper should be informed his prized family heirloom is an elvish dinner knife

Whether a courtier should be informed his prized family heirloom had been made by Curufin because on the one hand he might consider it cool, and on the other hand - Curufin

Whether a certain type of cake should best be eaten hot or cold

Can you use osanwë accidentally and is it cheating if it happens while you're playing bridge

[southaway]

Aragorn and Arwen Wed

Nolofinwë Week Day Six: Arwen and Aragorn

They love each other

[balrogballs]

One of my most why do I do this to myself headcanons is that Elrond talks to Celebrìan all the time, from the day she sails to the day he sails. That he tries to do it silently, but sometimes slips up.

Not in the way of sorrowful monologues, no, but in remarkably mundane ways. Sometimes he’s at dinner and the dessert is over-sweet and he’d mumble in disgust “god, you’d love this, wouldn’t you?” Sometimes he’d walk in the garden and see some awfully large bug and go “yes, yes, calm down, I’ll get Glorfindel to kill it”.

When he first set eyes on Bilbo Baggins he marvelled “oh, Cel, you’re right! they do have hairy feet, I owe you a gold piece!” and then immediately turned bright crimson upon remembering that in addition to hairy feet, Bilbo Baggins also had working ears.

He’d have five minutes in bed before getting up just complaining to her about all he had to do that day, and then later in the evening he’d stand at the sink with a mouthful of toothbrush, complaining about all he didn’t manage to get done. He’d chatter away about anything and everything, but always in the present tense.

It made Elladan and Elrohir very sad — after all, they knew what it was like to always have someone to turn to and discuss everything and anything, and the idea of losing that terrified them. Arwen and Galadriel would indulge him, in that they wouldn’t comment on it, and leave him to it when he slipped up.

Most surprising, however, is Celeborn’s reaction. They had had a mildly tense relationship the year after Cel was rescued, both blaming the other as cover for their own immense guilt. But any time Elrond accidentally addresses a comment to a phantasmal Celebrìan in front of him, Celeborn would do the same, to the same patch of thin air. Elrond loves him very, very much for that.

Aragorn, who had the luck misfortune of being raised by Elrond, understandably began copying his mannerisms as a toddler. This is what led to Gilraen coming across her five year old son having a full conversation with absolutely nobody whilst he played with his toy horses. Nervously, fearing for his sanity, she asks him who he was talking to, only for him to say “oh, it’s Cel, she’s a crazy lady and she’s me and Ada’s invisible friend. She hates bugs”.

Gilraen, not knowing Elrond used to call his wife Cel, spent a good two years absolutely certain that there was a poltergeist in Rivendell.

At Arwen’s wedding, as he leads her to Aragorn, he can’t help but whisper “look at our marvellous girl”. Arwen squeezes his hand, tight enough for two.

To his utter mortification, Elrond accidentally mutters “oh look at this wonderful tapestry, Cel, your favourite colour scheme!” whilst on a visit to Thranduil’s court. Thranduil politely pretends to not notice, feels a tinge of sorrow for his kind-of-friend, but also says a silent thanks to the Valar for “allowing me to avoid the Elrond approach to widowhood”.

Legolas convinces Gimli that Elrond is talking to a poltergeist, and offers him ten gold pieces to go and ask him if he’d like an exorcism.

In Valinor, two months after he arrives, Elrond is reading in his study when he’s struck soundly on the temple by a bedroom slipper. He looks up to see Cel, (his) dressing gown wrapped around her, her other slipper folded in her hand like a club: “who the hell are you calling darling at two in the morning?”

[cottoncandiescupcakes]

Legolas literally rolls up at Aragorn and Arwen's wedding to stunt on the bride WEARING WHITE AND A TIARA so everyone thinks Aragorn is marrying HIM

This is Thranduil behavior

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Aragorn & Arwen, Wed by Magali Villeneuve

[autistook]

ON THIS DAY - July 1st

● The Wedding of Aragorn and Arwen ●

(Approx. It varies. The Mid Year's Day is their wedding day, but it's unclear if it's from June 16th - June 20th or 1st of July. I'm going with this.)

[lucy-verse]

In a desperate bid to put Arwen off Aragorn, Elrond talks Thranduil into setting her up with Legolas, hoping to strengthen the alliance between their realms while they’re at it. Thranduil takes Legolas to Rivendell during the summer to spend time with her in the hope that romance might blossom.

At first it all seems to be going to plan. Legolas and Arwen quickly become inseparable, frolicking in the forest together, braiding each other’s hair, whispering and giggling during mealtimes, exchanging flowers, etc. Elrond finds a little poem hidden in the guest chambers about a beautiful being with dark hair and blue eyes. Elladan seems unusually disgruntled, glaring at the two of them from across the room and hovering around Arwen protectively whenever Legolas is around.

When Legolas comes bursting into his chambers one morning, asking for his blessing to wed one of his children, Elrond is over the moon, ‘oh Valar, yes! You have my blessing, you have all my blessings! Of course you can marry Arwen!’

And Legolas just stares at him completely baffled and goes, ‘Arwen? No, no, I’m asking your permission to marry Elrohir! Your daughter and I have been talking about it all summer, she thinks it’s a great idea!’

Bonus:

Thranduil: Didn’t I mention that Legolas has no interest in elleths? Whoops. Probably should have.

Bonus bonus:

Elladan, bursting through the doors: IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!

[lokiiied]

can you BELIEVE arwen crashed aragorn and legolas’ wedding at the end of rotk i mean the audacity, really. smh

[live-laugh-legolas]

hii!! so your previous crush-post (xD) was so. cute! may I ask for some more romantic fluff and the Fellowship (and Faramir and Arwen, if it's okay?) proposing to the reader?

I added pictures of what the rings might look like because I have a Pinterest addiction and figured I could put it to use

How the fellowship proposes (+ Faramir & Arwen)

Aragorn:

-To be completely honest, I don’t see him being particularly traditional about it

-And by that I mean he doesn’t make a big thing of it and doesn’t do the whole kneeling thing

-I imagine him proposing just happens in a loving conversation that is pretty casual

-But honestly every conversation with him feels kinda intimate so it’s still very romantic

Legolas:

-He is restless

-He plans it to be thought out and to give a little speech

-But it just kinda comes out

-Not in an awkward or rushed way; but he is just so in love he can’t wait any longer

Gimli:

-Actually shitting himself

-I really think he would have planned to propose on multiple different occasions but got too scared and chickened out

-It’s not because he isn’t sure about it, or thinks you won’t say yes; he just wants it to be perfect

-He covers for his anxiety with a forced confidence that is frankly adorable

-Blushes profusely

Boromir:

-Very traditional

-I’m talking secluded paradise with rose petals and candles everywhere

-He spares no expense; no he’s not extra…he just wants to show how much he loves you…that’s it

-Down on one knee giving a honorable and sweet speech about how you are the best thing in his life and how he will spend eternity loving you

-Definitely gets a little emotional but for the most part he keeps it together (the same cannot be said for your wedding)

-He had Faramir help him find a ring because I refuse to believe Boromir knows anything about fashion, let alone jewelry

Frodo:

-He’s a bit restless, but in a giddy sort of way

-He’s just so excited about the idea of marrying you that he isn’t even thinking too much about the proposal

-He knows you will say yes

-I could also see him putting the ring somewhere you will find it; maybe on your pillow, and hide in the next room all giddy like a little kid as he waits for you to find it

-This is what my dad apparently did and I think it’s cute

Sam:

-Ok I know I said Gimli is shitting himself; but this guy is actually having the squirts

-But he’s nervous because he gets very down on himself at times and he worries you might say no

-Logically he knows you will be so excited because you have talked about marriage before; but he can’t help but worry

-Doesn’t take you anywhere too fancy; he keeps it kinda casual but romantic

-Maybe in the garden

Merry:

-He has had this planned for months

-He has one of his friends distract you for the day while he sets up a romantic picnic dinner

-Like a surprise party that you are kinda expecting because the person getting you out of the house is kinda sus

-But it’s so sweet and Merry is dresses so nicely

-Seriously a dapper little hobbit

-He has practiced some speeches to Pippin, but he doesn’t end up doing any of them

-Instead he opts for just a natural conversation that is sweet and to the point

-Big expensive gem

Pippin:

-He has been pretending to propose for a while

-Well not really pretending, but you know it’s not his official proposal

-That being said every “proposal” he does comes with some sort of offering; he once did it with your dinner plate

-All his fake proposals were to have some fun with it, but mainly to get over his nerves; he’s practicing

-Will continue to fake propose even after you are married just for the fun of it

-Likes to see people’s reactions (plus maybe get a free cake slice at a restaurant or something idk)

-I wanted to add a joke picture of a tiny with three plastic carrots but alas you are only allowed 10 pictures apparently so just imagine I did a funny thing

*Bonus Faramir

-He is just the sweetest and I love this man

-He seems like the type to propose pretty early on in a relationship

-Not because he’s rushing, but he just knows you are the one

-Surprisingly calm about it; or at least he appears that way

*Double bonus Arwen:

-She is probably the most confident of them all

-She is just so sure spoken

-She makes sure you both are dressed in your best clothes and will take you to a beautiful secluded place in Rivendell

-Idk why but I felt strongly that the gem would be blue

-(sorry hers is short, I wasn’t particularly inspired idk why)

——————————————————————-

Just a little reminder that Gandalf isn’t included because I don’t generally write him for romantic prompts unless specifically asked