“I’ve asked Lord Elrond to escort me down the aisle and stand with me as my second.” Iris was in her guestroom with Ninniach. They were setting out Iris’s wedding outfit onto the bed, taking inventory of what remained to be done before the ceremony. “Frodo has asked Gandalf to be his second. Normally it would have been Bilbo, but he has to officiate. This is going to be the strangest hobbit wedding ceremony in history,”

“I think it is delightful,” Ninniach said as she shook out the wrinkles from an under blouse. “Rivendell has not hosted a joining ceremony in well over 500 years. In fact, I think the last one was our double wedding.”

Iris paused. “You’ve been married for over 500 years?”

“I believe so, give or take a decade or two.” The elf-maid continued to smooth out the garments. “Lothwing and I were joined with the twins in a double ceremony held in the gardens down by the main waterfall.” She looked up in remembrance. “The draping trumpet vines and wild asparagus ferns were so lovely that year.” She smiled. “Thank you for inviting the four of us to your ceremony. We are greatly honored to be included in such a small, august list of witnesses.”

“If it wasn’t for you and your sister, we would not be here for this occasion,” Iris smiled. “And besides, we’ve become such good friends over the span of that month on the road.” Iris again paused in her work. “We invited the Lady Galadriel as well as Glorfindel and your husbands. Frodo is still nervous around the Lady, though she has been nothing but nice to me. That is most uncharacteristic of Frodo. Is there something between them that I should know about?”

“Not that I am aware,” Ninniach smoothly replied, “though the Lady of the Golden Wood is the most powerful person in Middle Earth, outside of Lord Mithrindir, of course. She has a way of disturbing people simply by looking at them. It was proper of you to invite her. But I hope she does not cause a disruption on your special day.”

“I insist. You must have a traditional wedding crown. And I don’t care if you neglected to bring one with you.” Bilbo took Frodo by the arm and led him down a corridor into an out-of-the-way storage room. “See?” he said, spreading his arms wide and almost knocking a candelabra over with his cane. “There are plenty of supplies here for making one. The Elves are constantly doing artsy things. Just pick out a few items, put them together with the ribbons and there you go! You have a wedding crown. I’ll even help you make it.” Bilbo pulled out a stack of boxes and began to lay them out on the table.

“All right, all right,” Frodo laughed. “The way you have jumped into this ceremony, one would think that YOU were getting married instead of me! Let me see what to select…” He rummaged through the supplies until he found the items which suited his fancy: white dried rose buds from the previous autumn to represent the white Baggins roses of Bag End; green fir sprigs for eternal love; thin midnight blue ribbons to match his vest. Bilbo carefully wrapped them all around a length of wire fitted into an oval. Frodo also selected two pale pink seashells and fastened them to his crown.

“Why the shells, my boy?” Bilbo asked.

“We came near to the sea when Sam and I were in Gondor,” Frodo replied. “I could smell its sweet air and taste the salt. I fell in love with the feeling; with the song of the seabirds crying from the parapets of the city. I regret not traveling to the Sea, for its song has captured my imagination. I hope to someday to see it in person and recapture that special feeling.”

“Ah,” Bilbo nodded in understanding. “You hear the great music of the Sea in your heart. Most Elves also have this desire to go there. They can hear the song of creation in the crashing of the waves and the deep rolling of the tides. Or so they tell me. I have seen the Western Sea. Once… with your father. We were afraid to go down to it, for the Shire stories say it is the first path of the dead. But we gazed a long time upon its waves rolling onto the shore, and listened to the song of the wind and the air rushing across its vast deeps. I understand, Frodo. You should make it a point to go to the White Towers outside the West Farthing, and view the Sea for yourself.”

“I shall be content with wearing these seashells for now,” Frodo smiled. “I do need to borrow something from you though. I seem to have arrived without a proper handkerchief.”

“Well, let’s see what your old Uncle Bilbo can do about that,” Bilbo smiled as they exited the storeroom.

“Where in Middle Earth did you learn that braid?” Ninniach finished pinning an elaborate six-strand braid with a pale blue ribbon on top of Iris’s head. It joined several other braids and happy blue and pale rose ribbons.

“Lothwing taught me,” the elf-maiden replied. “She learned it from our mother’s sister. We only use this style for special occasions. Your hair has proven a challenge, though,” she said as she applied yet another pin to the ribbon.

“How so?” Iris asked. She had no idea what her hair looked like so far, but was confident it would be beautiful.

“Our hair is much smoother, finer, than yours. All these curls! How in the world do you untangle them?”

“I use a weak cider vinegar rinse,” Iris replied. “That helps tremendously for dark hair. For lighter hair we hobbits use a lemon juice solution as a de-tangler and highlighter.”

“Well, I am still having a time getting your curls to lay down properly,” Ninniach said, frowning slightly. “They keep popping out all over the place.”

Iris reached up and stayed the elf’s hand. “Don’t worry about it. My hair has a mind of its own. Let the curls go where they will. I am surprised you’ve managed to make such an elaborate construction using the tangles on my head.”

Ninniach passed her the hand-held polished silver mirror. Iris was astounded at the intricate plats and ribbons. She hardly recognized what was atop her head as belonging to her. Then a curl popped out of place, reasserting its independence. Iris smiled. It would be fine. Ninniach handed her the various items Iris had also selected for her wedding crown. She slipped them into her coiffeur one at a time, intertwining them with the braids. Green yew branches. Newly appeared white snowdrop flowers and pale purple and yellow crocus gathered from the Rivendell gardens. Small sparkling crystal teardrops. All interwoven with blue and rose ribbons into Iris’s brown braids.

Ninniach smiled and nodded her approval, then left to finish her own preparations. Iris was ready as the late afternoon sun dipped between the mountain peaks. A light rap at the door startled her reverie.

Lord Elrond appeared wearing a silky grey-green embroidered robe and his slender mithril crown. He had a small black velvet box in his hands. “For the bride.”

Iris blushed at the unexpected generosity of her host. “Please open it now,” the Elf prompted. Inside was a beautiful crystal bracelet which perfectly matched the diamond and silver necklace Frodo had given her as an engagement present. Iris could hardly speak a “thank you” as Elrond placed the bracelet about her wrist.

“I believe they are waiting for us,” he whispered and offered her his arm.

The two walked down the corridor to the library where the ceremony was to take place. Word of the Ringbearer’s wedding had spread throughout Imlandis, and even though very few people were invited to the ceremony itself, the Elves decorated all of Rivendell in honor of the Ringbearer’s wedding. Elrond and Iris trod upon last season’s dried rose petals scattered along their path. The lighted hallway sconces were decorated with fresh fir boughs tied together with blue and silver ribbons; little crystal teardrops tied to the tail of each ribbon. From every hallway came the clear, high sound of singing and flutes. From every doorway came the smells of honeycomb candles and vanilla.

As they reached the library Iris could hear harp music softly playing from the back of the room. A cheerful blaze crackled in the fireplace. Multi-taper candlestick holders decorated with pale blue ribbons and dried white roses lighted up the room. She could see Bilbo seated on a low stool placed slightly to the right of the fireplace. He was wearing his best gold-button dark green suit and formal maroon ascot, and looked quite dapper. To his left stood Gandalf, wearing his now-normal dazzling white robe and carrying his wizard’s staff. He had added a single white rose to the top of his staff. It glowed faintly.

To Bilbo’s right stood the Lady Galadriel, wearing a dress of finest pearl grey and her mithril crown. The other five elves, Glorfindel, Elrohir, Lothwing, Elladan and Ninniach, were standing to either side of the trio. Iris noted all this later, as her eyes were instantly drawn to the figure awaiting her.

Frodo stood at the terminus of the embroidered carpet runner leading down the entire length of the library. His back was towards the central fireplace. Every nerve was at attention, neck held high, hands clasped behind his back in obvious excitement. She was coming. He could feel it.

Elrond and Iris appeared at the back of the room, her arms lightly resting upon his supportive elbow. Iris almost gasped aloud upon seeing Frodo’s figure outlined against the fire glow, dark curls bedecked with white rose buds and greenery, thin midnight blue ribbons peaking out from his hair and softly draping across his shoulders. The white of the dried roses and seashells picked up the brightness of the candles on either side of the fireplace, contrasting with the darkness of Frodo’s raven curls, lending a slight halo effect and emphasizing his bright blue eyes.

Frodo was wearing the infamous midnight blue paisley vest under his best deep maroon jacket and breeches set, accented with a brilliant white shirt. He had previously asked Iris for permission to wear the vest, as he knew she was planning on wearing the matching midnight blue paisley print dress he had commissioned for her. She had finally relented on her stance about not wearing the two outfits at the same time, as this is a special occasion and was appropriate. This made Frodo very happy, for some reason inexplicable to Iris’s understanding. She knew he also wore the gem Arwen had given him in Minas Tirith, but kept it hidden under his shirt out of respect for Elrond’s grief.

His bride wore a light rose colored under blouse beneath the midnight blue dress. Frodo could see pale rose and blue ribbons braided throughout her hair, as well as fragrant fresh evergreen sprigs and tiny snowbells and crocus flowers peaking out from wayward curls. The crystals in her hair and around her wrist sparkled thousands of brilliant rainbows as she passed each candelabra. The pendant he had given her gleamed softly between the slight cleavage of the outfit. His mouth parted slightly, bedazzled by his bride’s beauty. Gandalf lightly touched him on the shoulder, and he snapped back into his formal composure.

Bilbo stood upon seeing the bride. The small group of friends bowed in respect as Iris and Elrond advanced up the carpet runner to stand before the ancient hobbit. The Lord of Rivendell turned and bowed deeply to his student, passed her hands into Frodo’s outstretched ones, and took his place between Bilbo and Galadriel. The rest of the elves gathered in close, forming an intimate circle around the couple.

Bilbo smiled and winked at Iris and Frodo. “Greetings friends and family. We are gathered here for a very, very special occasion which brings great joy to me and to all Middle Earth. The union of two into one. The creation of a new family and the continuation of a tradition which stretches back into the shades before time. Frodo? Iris? Please step forward.”

Still holding each other’s hands, the two hobbits moved closer. Bilbo turned to Gandalf, who handed him a long white cloth embroidered with an apple tree in the center. Bilbo placed the cloth across their clasped hands, tying a loose knot around them.

Bilbo cleared his throat and began the well-known Shire joining ceremony.

“Frodo. It is time. State your name, your heritage, your titles and your intentions before this assemblage.”

Frodo turned to face Iris. She became lost in his brilliant blue eyes and his steady voice.

“I, Frodo Baggins, a hobbit of the Shire, son of Drogo Baggins and Primula Brandybuck Baggins, heir of Bilbo Baggins, Ringbearer, representative of hobbits at the Council of Elrond, member of the Fellowship of the Nine Walkers, Elf-Friend, named Blessed of the Dwarves, Councilor to King Elessar of Gondor and Arnor, honorary knight of Edoras and councilor to King Eomer of Rohan, owner of Bag End and its associated farms, historian and retired Deputy Mayor of Hobbiton, do hereby state my intention to wed Iris Proudfoot, if she will have me.”

He smiled slightly, relieved that he hadn’t stumbled over any of the words. He could feel his hands sweating as the nervousness of the situation made itself manifest physically. Iris smiled and squeezed his hands lightly under the wedding cloth.

Bilbo turned to her. “Iris. It is time. State your name, your heritage, your titles and your intentions before this assemblage.”

She could not take her green eyes off her beloved. The words came from somewhere deep inside her heart.

“I, Iris Proudfoot of the South Farthing, daughter of Rungo Proudfoot and Nandine Boffin Proudfoot, physician and healer, student of Lord Elrond Half-Elvin of Rivendell, owner of the Hobbiton Physician’s Offices, do hereby state my intention to wed Frodo Baggins, if he will have me.”

Frodo secretly squeezed her hand and broke into a beatific smile. She winked at him, then they turned to face the celebrant.

“So it has been said. So it has been witnessed. So it shall be done.” Bilbo solemnly intoned, then smiled. “I have prepared some words of wisdom for your union, but coming from a life-long bachelor, I’m not sure if you should follow my advice or not.” This brought a slight chuckle from Gandalf.

“Pay no attention to this wizard,” Bilbo replied without looking at his friend. “He’s never been married either.”

Even the Elves chucked at the good-natured banter. Bilbo settled them down again by clearing his throat.

“I will repeat the advice I gave to you, Frodo my lad, so many years ago, when you were growing up in Bag End,” Bilbo smiled. “I do hope both of you find them applicable as you travel down this new road together.”

“Show respect to all your fellow beings.
Render assistance and kindness wherever needed; whenever needed.
Be truthful and honest in all things.
Do what you know to be right no matter the consequences.
Look after the well being of mind, body and spirit.
Treat the earth and they that dwell thereon with respect.
Take full responsibility for your actions.
Dedicate a share of your efforts to the greater good.
And work together for the benefit of all.”

Gandalf stole a sly glance at Lord Elrond. The Elf-Lord raised an eyebrow and nodded in quiet appreciation at the wisdom of the ancient hobbit. “Well spoken, Master Bilbo,” he said.

“Now it is your turn, my friend,” Bilbo said to the Elf-lord. “Frodo? Iris? I hope you do not mind, but I have asked your doubles to add their own blessings as proxies for those in the Shire who would have been at your sides. My Lord Elrond?”

The stately Elf-Lord moved before the couple and raised his elegant fingers over their curly heads. The Lady Galadriel quietly moved behind the Lord of Rivendell, her own jewel-encrusted hands also raised in blessing. The twin lights of their two Elvish Rings of Power caught the candlelight and multiplied it a thousand times over.

“Beloved. Beloved. With one simple word
the twain become one and their music is heard;
Each half is united and blessing conferred,
Within and beyond each one’s birth.

I Windi, I Mordo * forever in bliss;
Inaureoled within a soft kiss;
The Valar are sighing forever for this;
Iluvitar born upon earth.

Be kind and be gentle, be strong and be true.
Hold fast to the brightness within each of you.
I Nenya, I Vilya, I Narya heru, **
With kindness and wisdom and mirth.”

* Maiden and hero, ** the three Elvish Rings of Power representing air, water and fire respectively, heru = to rule

The two imposing elves moved back into their assigned places, to be replaced by the white-robed figure of the Wizard. He passed his staff to Bilbo and solemnly placed one hand on Frodo’s head; the other on Iris’s. All music stopped, and a clear, red light seemed to glow from Gandalf’s hands as he began:

“May the grace of the Valar rest upon this union.
Manwe Sulimo, lord of Arda and King of all Kings,
support thee and watch over thee whereso thy road leads.
Varda Elbereth, Lady of the Eternal Stars, grace thee with light everlasting.
May Ulmo, Lord of the Waters, ordain thy paths and bring thee
to thy home near the sea.
May Aule, he who blesses with skill and knowledge,
support thy hands in all their good works.
Yavanna Kementari, Queen of the Earth, cause thy union to be fruitful
in all the ways of thy desire.
May Namo, also called Mandos the final judge,
bring thee wisdom to discern the weavings of Vaire his wife, the keeper of time.
Irmo Lorien, master of visions and dreams, and his wife, gentle Este,
protect thee during sleep.
May Tulkas Astaldo the Valiant bless thee with strength and vigor.
May Nessa the fleet footed teach thy feet to dance with joyful abandon.
Orome, Lord of the Forests, provide thee with all thy needs and wants.
And Vana the Everyoung, bestow upon thee flowers and song birds.
Osse bring thee sweet songs of laughter and friendship.
And last, but foremost in her thoughts for thee,
may Nienna, Lady of Sorrows and Pity, continue to pour out unto thee her gifts most precious:
wisdom, strength of spirit, and endurance in hope.
May all the Valar bless this union until such time you accept the final gift of Eru himself
and walk the paths appointed to mortals.”

Though the hobbits could not see what was happening, in unison all the elves placed one hand over their heart and bowed deeply. For Frodo and Iris, their gaze was filled with a soft, comforting light. Trambeams flowed like ribbons of molten glass, sparkling with the blessing of a thousand million stars. Time ceased to have meaning until the Wizard withdrew his hands from their heads, and they could see again with normal vision.

Bilbo waited a moment, then handed Gandalf’s staff back to him as the Wizard returned to his place at the hobbit’s side. The celebrant untied the loose knot and draped the wedding cloth around the couple’s shoulders.

“Well, my blessings aren’t as grand as a Wizard’s,” Bilbo turned to acknowledge Gandalf. “Nor as metrical and lyrical as an Elf’s,” turning to wink at Elrond. “But they come from the heart of a very old hobbit.” A little tear sparkled in his ancient eyes as he beheld the two before him. “And evidently a sentimental one as well.” He sniffled and patted around for his handkerchief, forgetting he had loaned it to his heir.

Frodo quickly retrieved the handkerchief from his pocket and gave it back to his Uncle. Bilbo dabbed at his eyes, put the kerchief in his waistcoat pocket and cleared his throat.

“May the blessing of light be upon your love.
Light on the outside.
Light on the inside.

May your love glow with warmth
like a hearth fire that welcomes friends and strangers alike.

May love shine from your eyes
like a candle in the window, welcoming the weary traveler.

May the blessing of soft rain be upon your love,
falling gently into your hand,
refreshing your soul with the sweetness of little flowers fresh blooming.

May the strength of the winds be with your love,
carrying the rain to wash your spirit clean and sparkling as night in starlight.

And may the blessing of the earth be upon your love
as you walk the roads of life,
nourishing you as strong roots nourish all growing things.”

A tear slipped from Frodo’s eyes. Iris tightened her grip as they held hands, and felt the strength returned. Frodo quietly wiped the tear away with the back of his hand. Iris sniffed as a tear of her own loost itself from her damp lashes.

Bilbo noticed and handed her the much-used handkerchief. “You two are as full of mush as I am,” he half-grumbled. “Pass it back to Frodo when you’re through.”

The entire company started chuckling, releasing the emotional tension which had been building throughout the ceremony.

“Well….” Bilbo said after Frodo handed him back the handkerchief, “guess I better get this over and done with before we all melt into a puddle of tears. You’ve my blessing, my boy. Kiss your bride.”

It was brief. A mere pressing of lips together. It was formal. But the kiss foreshadowed treasures to be shared later. Bilbo called Galadriel to bring out the broom. She retrieved a highly-decorated simple straw broom from beside the fireplace, as well as a worn wooden box.

“Master Bilbo, please pardon my intrusion into your celebration,” Galadriel said, “but Doctor Proudfoot arranged for this to be presented to you at this moment in the ceremony.” She handed the old hobbit the little wooden box.

“That’s the box Galadriel gave Sam, isn’t it?” Frodo whispered to Iris.

She nodded, then turned to address Bilbo as he opened it. “Sam and Rose gave it to me to have at this point in the wedding. It’s a surprise for Frodo.”

Bilbo looked up a bit puzzled. “It’s dirt. Dirt and dried rose petals.”

“Both from Bag End,” Iris continued. “Sam said it was only right that our first steps together should be on the good earth of the Shire. So he sent some. Rose added the Baggins white rose petals for prosperity.”

“Good head on his shoulders, that Samwise lad,” Bilbo said as he scattered the earth onto the carpet runner. “He’ll make a fine Mayor some day.”

Bilbo instructed Gandalf to hold one end of the broom and Elrond the other. The two tall beings had to kneel down to lower the broom for the laughing hobbits. Frodo and Iris held hands and jumped the broom together to cheers and smiles all around. Bilbo started applauding the happy couple as they stood upon the Shire earth. The Elves were not quite sure what to do, but added their own light clapping to Bilbo’s in order to seem polite at the quaint hobbit customs. The harpist began a sprightly tune indicating the ceremony had ended. Everyone congratulated the couple and retired to the dining room where a feast was set up.

It was not the raucous celebration of most typical hobbit weddings, but a rather somber dinner Elf-style, with off-stage harp and vocal music continuing. Iris was a bit uncomfortable with the high-brow entertainment and formal service, but Frodo felt right at home, having endured numerous dinners at this very table during his Quest.

Bilbo stood on his chair and pounded the table with his cane. All eyes turned to him. He cleared his throat as the music subsided. “My Lord Glorfindel. It is time. I demand payment of the poem you owe me, old friend.”

The elegant Elf rose to meet his accuser, as the laughter died away and more wine was brought to the table. “I have been working on this for a month, and am reluctant to present my token before the judgment of this august literary crowd.” There was laughter at the ancient Elf-Lord’s evident distress. “Yet, I have completed my task, to the best of my abilities, which I must admit, are mightily humbled at Master Bilbo’s expertise.” More laughter followed. The grey-eyed elf clasped his hands behind his back and proceeded:

“An elf-maid of spring water flowing,
Would look in the mirror of knowing.
Young Bilbo was there,
his sword proud in the air
But knew not if twas coming or going.”

It didn’t scan perfectly, but it was slightly naughty, much to Bilbo’s enjoyment. Everyone roared in laughter. Bilbo set a new challenge for the best limerick using the names “Frodo” and “Iris”, to be completed and recited at lunch the next day. Iris blushed and asked that the guests refrain from making the limerick too “naughty” seeing as it was her wedding night. This also elicited a round of laughter and it was Frodo’s turn to blush.

As the music restarted, Frodo asked Iris to dance. An area of the hall was left available for dancing, and the twins and their wives soon joined the hobbits on the dance floor. Iris was delighted when they changed partners and continued the dance.

Gandalf leaned over and whispered to Galadriel, “I notice the servers change constantly; no two serving consecutively.”

“Lord Elrond has granted the wish of his staff,” she explained. “All desired to be allowed to serve the Ringbearer and his guests at some point during the festivities. They are taking turns.”

Gandalf smiled at the Elf-Lord’s wisdom, compassion and subtlety. He put down his drink and got up to dance with Iris, leaving Galadriel seated with Elrond.

The Lord of Rivendell and the Lady of the Golden Wood watched the dancers. “These hobbits are like stained glass windows,” he said to her. “They shine fresh and rather gaudy while the sun is out. Only when darkness sets in is their true beauty fully revealed. They have a light from within which can withstand the darkness. I shall miss them when we leave.”

“He has fully decided to not go with us then?” Galadriel asked.

“He is staying,” Elrond replied. “He knows the consequences, yet he chooses to stay. A remarkable and surprising race.”

“He carries the mark of a Valar,” Galadriel said. “Long, long ago, at the springtime of the Eldar, I studied at the feet of Aule. It is a marvel to me that this hobbit has learned something directly from one of the Valar, and yet lives. For I know at what price such knowledge comes. Frodo has within him a great knowledge which only one of the Noldor or a Maia or a Valar can help him release. This will not happen if he stays in Middle Earth. He must come to Tol Eressea with us, or that knowledge will be lost to the Eldar forever. It is what is killing him.”

“He refused your help when he was ill with it this past episode,” Elrond said. “His mind is set. He will not go. And now is not the time to bring it up. Our moment has passed. Leave him to his decision and trouble him no more, I beg of you. Let him have the happiness he has chosen.”

Galadriel took a sip of wine. “It has been placed within my heart to desire this knowledge. When I first met him in Lothlorien the mark was already forming. Now it is full-grown.” She turned to regard Elrond. “Yet will I abstain. Not for your asking, though you plead from your heart. But I do this because he wants it. I will go into the West, and leave my own knowledge incomplete willingly, for his sake.”