Chapter Text
Ereinion Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor and son of Orodreth, had had many surprises in his comparatively short life. His own continued survival, for one. But this -- he never could have predicted this, not if he lived to be many millennia old (which was not so far-fetched here in Lindon as it had been in slowly drowning Beleriand, the last survivors all trickling in).
The sentries had reported seeing a large party of people heading towards Lindon that morning, and this was not unusual but for the size of the group of refugees, so he left it alone and continued with his work as they neared.
When the party arrived at the gates, two spokesmen, twins, came to the front to speak, and Gil-Galad greeted them, asking their names.
They bowed to him, and one said, "I am Elros Altaur, and this is my brother Elrond Athalaer. It's good to meet you, your majesty."
Gil-Galad had no idea what to say at this revelation that his cousins, long since thought to have been murdered by their captors, lived still, and apparently in good health and using unfamiliar epessi.
"There is no need for formality, cousin," he said, not knowing what else to say.
Elrond smiled. "May we and our people take shelter here? There are many of us, but I am sure we will be able to move on soon if necessary."
"There will be no need for that," Gil-Galad assured. "Do come in! I would love to hear what you two have been up to all these years -- I hope I don't seem rude by saying so, but we were all quite convinced that you had died."
The twins did bristle at that, but smoothed over the emotion quickly. "Nothing so interesting as all that," said Elros, "but we did fight in the war, towards the end."
Gil-Galad mentally ran through a list of safe conversation topics and asked, "Do either of you have a craft?" It was an awfully Noldorin choice of subject, but it would serve.
"We do. I am a master healer and an architect -- at least, in theory, since I have never yet had cause to build much," said Elrond. "My brother is a gardener and a linguist, and he heals as well, the overachiever."
Elros rolled his eyes. "We all know you're better at it, stop making me look as if I'm trying to overshadow you."
Worthy callings indeed! Impressive that they had honed their crafts in such a war, especially after whatever had happened to them in captivity. "And how did you amass such a following?"
Their expressions turned serious. "That, I think, is a matter for less public discussion," said Elros.
"Certainly not for a busy street," Elrond agreed, leaving Gil-Galad to wonder.
They found places to stay for the twins' people, who consisted of a number of humans from babies to elderly folk, a number of elves of Middle-Earth, and more bright-eyed Calaquendi than Gil-Galad had seen in one place in many years (save those who came with the Host of Aman), all of them battle-scarred.
Two of the Edain women and one elf insisted on staying with Elros and Elrond, and Gil-Galad got the idea that saying no would be far more trouble than it was worth, so he chose not to comment.
They, and their guardians that they called Tanorth and Béa and Erestor, followed him to what would, in time, be a palace, but for now was merely a house of great size.
"Do you want to take time to settle in?" he asked. "Talking to the council will take some time, I'm sure."
"No, thank you. We should get this over with so Béa and Tanorth can get back to their daughter and not have to worry about us," said Elrond.
He nodded and brought them to the council, who had been hastily assembled at the report of new refugees from Beleriand.
"May I present to the Council," he said in his most official voice, "Elrond Athalaer and Elros Altaur, sons of Elwing and Eärendil, and their companions, Béa, Tanorth, and Erestor."
Several members of the council narrowed their eyes at Erestor, but they said nothing. The twins took their seats and their guardians stood behind them as if they had taken these places countless times before. The effect was, admittedly, intimidating.
"Forgive my disbelief," said Lady Rethes after a pause, "but I was under the impression that the princes had perished decades ago. How came you to lead so many people, including such a one as Erestor, a well-known loyalist?" She spoke the word as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.
Erestor seemed unaffected, but Elrond gave Rethes a withering glare that Gil-Galad was very happy not to be the recipient of. Elros opened his mouth to answer, but Aradhrainc, the only elf born in Aman on the council, spoke first.
"The story can wait. Our first concern must be the succession, now that the rightful kings have returned."
"That will be no issue," said Elrond. "My brother has chosen to be counted among Men, and I have no interest in the crown."
Aradhrainc gave a patronizing smile. "I'm afraid that the laws here must be followed, now that we are no longer in a state of emergency. Lord Elros may not be eligible to inherit, but you are required to take the crown."
"I cannot inherit either," said Elrond, still pleasantly but with an undercurrent of frustration. "It would be illegal to make me king, and besides, would you really want to cause such a disruption to everyone's lives?"
"I see no reason that it would be illegal, and those loyal to the House of Fingolfin will not take kindly to their king remaining uncrowned," said Aradhrainc, smiling more.
Elrond's smile, too, widened and became less genuine. "And they would take even less kindly to the head of the House of Fëanor on the throne. Which, incidentally, is why I cannot legally inherit. 'The Dispossessed' and all that."
The resulting clamor took three full minutes to calm down.
"Silence, thank you," said Círdan, weary, as the sound finally died (he attended the meetings as moral support for Gil-Galad). "Now, would you two please explain?"
"Certainly," said Elros, a self-satisfied grin on his face. "We were adopted by Maedhros and Maglor Fëanorion at a young age and declared to be their heirs. As such, we have been leading our people since they left."
"We certainly did not die," said Elrond disdainfully. "As if they would let any danger near us!" That was not the reason people had thought the twins to be dead, and everyone knew it, but no one would dare bring up the fact that they had all thought Maedhros and Maglor had murdered them as children.
(Why would the Sons of Fëanor adopt the children they had stolen? Why had Elrond and Elros gone along with it?)
Aradhrainc, of course, shook his head. "By your birth, you are the rightful heirs, and must take the crown. Your upbringing and House leadership change nothing."
"Are you implying our adoption was not legitimate?" said Elrond, a warning in his tone.
The councilor backtracked. "Of course not, but it does not erase your ties to the House of your birth. If anything, it puts you closer to the crown, with immediate descent from Finwë in the eldest line."
Eilianther rolled their eyes. "And you never got over the abdication. You would make Celebrimbor king if you could."
Aradhrainc glared at them. "I hardly need to now, do I?"
"Do I get to have an opinion?" said Gil-Galad. "I am, for the moment at least, High King."
Caetharon, a staunch ally of Aradhrainc's, looked over to him and paused. "Actually," he said, "there might be a solution."
"We are all ears," said Elros.
"Well, it is possible to have two monarchs at once, if they are married."
Unlike the previous divisive statement, this one caused complete silence.
(Gil-Galad would have preferred to be asked before someone had suggested such a thing, but realized that any attempt to comment would be ignored.)
Then, "No," Elrond said. "Absolutely not. As I said, I am uninterested in the crown, and I will renounce my claim publicly if that will satisfy you."
"You have to be king," Aradhrainc insisted. "This way, there will be no instability caused by a transfer of power, and no concerns about anyone's loyalties causing trouble."
Caetharon's voice took on a honeyed and dangerous tone. "And, of course, you would never need to worry about the safety of your people. I imagine there would be… dissent, shall we say, if the kinslayers were returned to society unpunished, especially without assurance of their loyalty to the crown."
At that, Elrond froze.
"Fine," he spat. "I'll do it. Unite the Noldor through a diplomatic marriage, why not? But I have conditions."
Aradhrainc gave a self-satisfied smile.
"Do I have any say in this?" Gil-Galad asked, already knowing the answer.
To his surprise, it was Elrond himself who spoke, standing from his chair and looking him in the eye.
"With all due respect, your majesty, if it were a choice between you and my people, many of whom are innocent of all wrongdoing, I would dethrone you myself."
Probably a very good thing they would be getting married, then. He would greatly prefer to keep such fierce loyalty on his side.
Somewhere deep within, he knew that this would be a good partnership.
(Gil-Galad had never intended on marriage, never having had the inclination, but there were worse things than to wed for stability, weren't there?
And besides, if he weren't king he would have no idea what to do with himself.)
Gil-Galad held Elrond's gaze, and cheered internally at the glimmer of respect he saw there. Elrond gave a tiny nod.
"Now, my conditions," he said. "First, I don't care when you announce the impending wedding, but it will not take place until after my centennial, when I become eligible for the position of King, since we are, as you said, no longer in a state of emergency."
Aradhrainc glared but declined to comment.
"Second, as I'm sure you know, some of those who took an interest in our upbringing were staunch marriage traditionalists. You, High King, will need the permission of all of my parents still living, and that of my brother. The entire affair must be conducted according to tradition."
Elros spoke up, drumming his fingers on the table. "Of course, if you should find our missing foster father, you are not permitted to share his location or arrest him. And if someone chooses to send you on a quest for Elrond's hand in marriage, then that is a foreseeable hazard that you will simply have to deal with."
"And no one will hurt my people in the meantime," said Elrond. "I will, of course, have this drawn up as a betrothal contract, along with anything else I happen to think of. You should know, too, if you expect heirs from this union, that it was prophesied that no descendant of mine would ever take up kingship over the Noldor."
Aradhrainc opened his mouth, presumably to be upset, but Tallagor interrupted him. "Since we are at peace, and Lady Galadriel is a suitable heir, that's no issue. And if you have been king, there'll be much less pushback should we run out of options and need to crown Celebrimbor," they said.
"Lady Galadriel will also have a child sometime in the next century and a half," said Elros. The Council stared. "What? When one inherits foresight from both sides of the family, it tends to happen often and be rather specific."
"Now, if this is settled, we must return to our people and tell them the news," said Elrond, pushing his chair back to leave.
Knowing he had entirely lost control of the situation, Gil-Galad bade them farewell, enduring the murderous looks of their guardians.
The next day, Elros came to him with a pleasant smile. "I'm sure you'll be glad to know," he said, "that our people have taken a vote and chosen to allow the marriage to take place. We also have the betrothal contract ready for you to add your conditions."
Gil-Galad took it. "Thank you; I am glad to hear your brother will not be forced to depose me."
"So am I! I would be the only member of my family, then, who has committed no crimes, and it would be a lonely existence."
"As king, I'm afraid I cannot encourage you to commit crimes, even if it would bring you closer to your family," said Gil-Galad, deadpan.
Elros threw his head back and laughed. "You're not at all what I expected! I think you'll get along very well with my brother indeed. You have my blessing."
"Thank you." He hadn't expected it to be so easy.
"Well, I thought you deserved one simple one. Our parents won't be nearly so easy to please, even if the one most likely to give you a quest is dead."
Gil-Galad shuddered. "Thank goodness for small mercies."
"Now, once the betrothal contract is signed, we'll give you some hints about contacting our parents," said Elros. "You'll want to get that done soon, so bring me back the document with any edits and questions."
He turned to leave, but Gil-Galad stopped him. "Thank you," he said, "truly. This cannot be easy for either of you."
Elros grinned. "Don't thank me till you've read the agreement. But your concern is appreciated, I assure you."
Later, when Gil-Galad read it, he realized he had in fact been too hasty in his thanks. The contract was painstakingly detailed, and every bit of it in Elrond's favor.
He sighed, took out a quill, and began crossing out the unreasonable parts.
Neither party may court another during the betrothal period. Standard enough. He left it in.
There were the normal things about betrothal gifts, though the required number and value were somewhat out of hand, so he changed them, leaving the differences in number that they each were to give, since he was (for now) the party of higher status and therefore obliged to give more.
He worried over the clause allowing people to swear loyalty to Elrond alone, likely written with the remnants of the House of Fingolfin in mind. Having him in control of two Houses, which he would retain control over after the wedding, had potential for disaster. On the other hand, a successful union of the three Houses through marriage would avert many more, and he might not have any reason to trust Elrond, but he did. He left it.
If either or both parties should die before the marriage takes place, Clause 15 still applies.
The most characteristic detail of negotiations in Middle-Earth was the inclusion of a death clause in every contract. He looked at clause fifteen, which laid out the rules regarding acceptable treatment of the Fëanorian followers. These were lenient towards the kinslayers, but he had expected nothing less, and he found little fault with the terms regarding weregild and vows of allegiance.
He read through the rest of the death clause. If Elrond were to die, his people would still swear loyalty to the crown, and House leadership would go to Elros, who would manage their affairs until a more permanent solution could be found.
If Gil-Galad should perish before the marriage takes place, Elrond is absolved of any claim to the throne and cannot be crowned.
Gil-Galad rolled his eyes and crossed out the unsubtle attempt at getting out of ruling. He wrote instead,
Elrond shall be king, with Galadriel as his regent until both his centennial and the decision of his regent and the Council that he is fit to rule.
He read on.
During the betrothal, parties will both take up permanent residence in Lindon, but may travel as much as they wish so long as they spend an average of at least four months in the same location per year. The full year prior to marriage must be spent in the same location save for short and necessary separations.
Much less time together than the standard, but it would be for many more years, so he left it alone.
Aha! Now here was an interesting one.
Beginning from the signing of this contract and continuing through the marriage, Elrond takes precedence in all matters concerning the Isle of Gift that is to be raised for the Edain.
Now that was curious. It might be only a wish to better connect with his brother, who would be moving there, but it seemed as if there must be something more to it. Since there was no explanation, he had to consider it malicious, didn't he? And yet he hesitated to cross the clause out.
Elros had told him to bring questions, after all.
The rest of the agreement required only minor edits (though there was a clause banning anyone from arresting Maglor should he attend the wedding), and there was nothing to add; he could bring it to Elros to ask and then have the draft approved by the council.
It was Elrond he found first, as it turned out, and he asked about that clause.
Elrond blinked. "Oh, that one? I'm not supposed to talk about what I know about Mannish politics, but..." He lowered his voice. "Elros is to be king of the people who go to the Isle of Gift."
Gil-Galad's eyes widened. "He never said--"
"Well, it isn't official just yet, but it will be in a few years. Any business with that kingdom will be a family matter."
He thought about it. "I suppose the clause makes sense, then, but I'm not comfortable with the wording there. Maybe it can acknowledge that it's a family matter but not be a blanket statement?" It also explained why the amount of time spent together per year was so short; Elrond would be spending time with his brother for much of the year.
"Sounds good to me." They changed it.
"I'll leave it for you to make your edits, then?"
"No," said Elrond. "I think it's good. Go have your council approve it and I'll talk to my people."
"Goodness me, only three drafts? People will think we're not taking this marriage seriously!"
Elrond shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in amusement. "We're not trying to trick or cheat each other; it's just an agreement. It's only this complicated because my brother worries. But don't get too complacent! I'm sure my various parents will have more than a handful of conditions to put in the marriage contract."
"You know, I'm still not sure how I'm supposed to contact them."
"I'll give you a starting location to look for the only one on these shores, and for the others... well, I hope you know semaphore."
"Is that how you talk to them?"
"No, but it's how you're going to," said Elrond. "Have to prove you're dedicated, after all."
The contract was soon approved and signed, and Gil-Galad was now engaged. He didn't feel any different, except for the mild sense of doom that came from the knowledge that he would have to ask Maglor Fëanorion for his son's hand.
But he was given a clue as to the elf's location, and he set off to the northwestern shores.
Maglor had been warned by Elros that he'd have a visitor soon, and not to fear (which was cause for fear in itself), but of all the people he might've expected, the High King was not on the list.
He ceased his singing and playing and waited.
"Hail, High King Gil-Galad," he said, when it appeared he was in earshot.
"Greetings, my lord," said the king, and that was a surprise. He'd never heard Gil-Galad use his title unsarcastically.
He waited until they were face-to-face to ask, "Why have you interrupted me in my solitude?"
Gil-Galad, though he should've been expecting the question, faltered. He muttered to himself, "Dear Valar, this is awkward," but straightened up to look directly at Maglor. "I've come to ask for Elrond's hand in marriage."
If Maglor had been any more unpleasantly surprised, he would have drawn a weapon on Gil-Galad faster than he could blink. Luckily, only his mouth managed to move quicker than his thoughts.
"No, and how dare you!" As his mind caught up, he continued shouting; it seemed like a reasonable reaction. "I ought to kill you for such presumption! What in Arda makes you think you could possibly--"
"The alternative is civil war," said Gil-Galad.
Maglor shut up at that.
Gil-Galad continued, "For some damned reason, he wants to protect your people, and there are partisans, though none of them yours, I hope, who want him on the throne, and if there isn't a way for both of us to be king he'll have to depose me and cause bloodshed in the resulting war. I think we all want to avoid that; civil war mainly being your job."
"I concede that that's a good reason," said Maglor, grudgingly impressed by his nerve in insulting someone whose son he was trying to marry, "but he's only fifty-eight! Far too young to get married."
"Elros is engaged."
"He's human, it's different. Don't change the subject." It wasn't as if Elrond had to stay in Lindon if his people were in danger; he could leave if it was necessary. Gil-Galad didn't have to marry Maglor's sweet baby boy.
"The marriage won't happen till after his centennial," said Gil-Galad.
"It better not! Have you asked his birth parents yet?"
Gil-Galad blinked. "Is everyone in regular contact with them but me? But no, not yet; you were closer."
"Hmm. What's your craft?"
"I don't have one yet."
Maglor could hardly believe his ears. "You expect me to let my beloved son marry someone who doesn't even have a craft? Standards must have slipped here, back in Aman you wouldn't have dared ask such a thing if you didn't even have a craft."
"I've been king since before I turned fifty! When would I have had time?"
He made a point. "Fine, I'll consider it. Now get out something to write with; I have a few things that'll need to be in the marriage contract for me to approve it."
Gil-Galad did so.
"First, if you die, he can remarry." He took great satisfaction in seeing the king drop his pencil. To Gil-Galad's credit, he didn't ask any questions and merely wrote it down.
"I'll let him decide if you're allowed to remarry if he dies, but there had better be a mourning period of a quarter century at minimum. Moving on. If he wants to court another partner, he can, and obviously you're permitted a say if you think the person is harmful, but there will be no out-of-hand dismissal. And if you seek another partner, he has a say, too."
"No fear of that," said Gil-Galad as he wrote. "I'm not the sort for courtship."
"Convenient for you, but he is the sort, and if he ever wants a romantic relationship he should have the chance."
Luckily for Gil-Galad's survival, he did not contradict Maglor.
"Any children you two might have together are your heirs, even if the prophecy says they'll never rule the Noldor. Your House leadership goes to them, too. This includes adopted children," said Maglor, "and don't make a sarcastic comment; I can tell you want to."
Gil-Galad gasped in mock offense. "Never! I was only going to say that you seem remarkably well informed for an eternal exile."
"I never said I was an eternal exile, people just assumed. I can't parent very well if I can't talk to my sons, now can I? Now, if I think of any more conditions, I'll let you know." He knew he would; he could never leave his son's happiness up to another person's whims.
"Thank you," said Gil-Galad, sounding genuinely grateful.
"Now this isn't a condition, just a reminder. If anything happens to him, and it's in any way your fault -- if you cause him harm -- you would do well to remember that one of the benefits of already being a thrice-accursed kinslayer is that there's no real downside to killing your son's annoying suitor. Or husband, if it comes to that."
It was very satisfying to hear the High King give a squeak. "Understood!"
"Good. For now you have my permission, but I will rescind it if necessary."
Eärendil had been asked to look down on Gil-Galad this evening, after his nightly conversation with his sons, which involved much mutual lip-reading. He could hardly wait till the Isle of Gift was completed and he could have his ship meet up with theirs and see them in person.
But that was years away still, and he had been told yesterday and again today that this conversation with the High King would be very important, so Elwing had accompanied him. She looked down at the appointed hour with the spyglass while Eärendil waved his hand over the Silmaril to give a signal blink.
Gil-Galad saw it and nodded, and began to move his hands in sign, mouthing the words as he went.
Elwing was silent as she parsed the words. At last she cried, "He's asking for our permission to marry Elrond!"
"What?" said Eärendil. "They've only just met! How can--"
"Shh, I think he's trying to say more, let me focus. Let's see… he says it's a political match, to unite the Noldor. Why anyone thinks they need uniting is beyond me."
"Huh. Well, I guess it would be useful."
"He says it wasn't his idea but neither of them really have a choice," said Elwing. "I suppose if Elrond were opposed, he would've told us beforehand to refuse. Wait, ask him if he has Maglor's permission."
Eärendil obediently signaled with flashes of light from the Silmaril, and Elwing put the spyglass to her eye again.
"Looks like he does! Impressive."
Eärendil said, "And if our boys really hated this idea they would've just dropped some hints and he never would've survived asking. So I guess they'd be okay with us giving our approval."
Elwing nodded. "Tell him we'll think about it. I'll have one of the birds deliver our conditions in a few days, and he needs a quest."
"Do you really think that's a good idea?"
"Look at him! He needs a quest or he'll never be marriage material."
He took the offered spyglass and looked down. She was right.
"Can't argue with that. I'll let him know he'll get our conditions within a week." After doing so, he sighed. "I just can't believe both of our boys are getting married!"
A few days later, Gil-Galad received a letter delivered by a seabird, because apparently this was his life now.
It contained a number of conditions, some of them practical ("You may not sail West without his permission"), others worryingly specific ("You may not ask him to hide his Maiarin nature"), and a set of three tasks.
The first was a Mannish tradition: he must sort a pile of mixed seeds and grains into separate piles. It took him a day and a night to complete it, but he succeeded in sorting it all. Thank goodness he had only been given a small pile to work with, or it might have taken a week.
The second was the crafting of the betrothal and marriage rings, which he had to do himself, but asking for help was permitted. He asked Celebrimbor, who was happy to assist him, though the smith was still adjusting to his twin cousins being both alive and significantly closer relatives than he'd thought.
Traditionally, the ring should be silver, but he found a half-melted piece of mithril jewelry (thanks for that, Glaurung) that could be melted down fully for this purpose, and there had been left on his windowsill a lump of a strange substance that Celebrimbor called starmetal.
As it happened, Elrond had also decided to make rings from scratch, and they ended up doing it together. Celebrimbor nearly panicked when Elrond dropped something into the fire and had to reach in to get it, but Elrond told him that he'd never been burned by fire before and he probably wouldn't start now, so Celebrimbor should stop worrying.
They traded their engagement rings at the end to make things official. Elrond beamed as Gil-Galad slid the ring onto his finger, and Gil-Galad could not suppress a smile either.
The ring sat on his hand and it felt right.
The third task would take years: to create a good map of both the lands left after the sinking and those east of the Blue Mountains. He would start on it soon, but at present his people needed him, and he needed to learn cartography.
But no seabirds attacked him, so he assumed that the delay was acceptable.
Elrond might not be king yet, but he was expected to take part in politics all the same, as the future king and the leader of two Houses, as well as someone who needed to renounce his claim to kingship of the Sindar (which he did immediately, not willing to risk being made king of anything else).
Gil-Galad was surprised to see how many of the remnants of the House of Fingolfin chose to swear fealty to Elrond, and how few fights broke out. In private, Elrond credited it both to his education in politics and his observations of how his various parents had mediated between himself and Elros during arguments.
Elrond was also just a bit unnecessarily smug about the safety of his people, and a little more cutthroat than necessary in his negotiations on behalf of his Houses, but Gil-Galad supposed he had earned the former and honestly come by the latter from his foster fathers who taught him. The thought of working as a team with him -- Gil-Galad clearly needed a life beyond politics, because it seemed like fun.
After a little over three decades, the Isle of Gift was completed, and Elrond left with his brother to help him start the kingdom there, and Gil-Galad found himself feeling strangely bereft.
He would be following them soon, of course, both to see the realization of the cities Elrond had conjured onto paper with his compass and straightedge and to attend the coronation, but he missed his fiance. It was with genuine joy that he greeted Elrond at the harbor when the time came at last for him to see Númenor.
The years turned by, and the wedding date approached.
Gil-Galad gave his gifts, including the maps (which were received with delight), and received gifts in turn, all in accordance with the contract.
(Sometimes he gave Elrond extra gifts, just because he thought he'd like them.)
And yes, his fiance could be strange at times, both in that he took ill in winter and avoided certain foods and in that flowers bloomed where he walked and he took the form of a starling to fly among the city's birds, but they were friends now, and such idiosyncrasies meant nothing to friendship, no matter what the gossips said.
The gossips, unfortunately, said quite a bit.
Mostly it was of the variety of one half of the marriage being forced into it for the other's political advantage (untrue, it was both of them being forced, and at this point Gil-Galad at least was almost looking forward to being married to him), or that Elrond was an impostor (though no two gossips could agree on what kind), or that someone was being forced into the match for decidedly non-political reasons (horrifying and untrue both).
The funniest rumor, of course, was that it was a love match.
Even if Gil-Galad had been of a romantic inclination in the first place, Elrond said confidently that Gil-Galad was not one to whom his heart would ever be given, save in dear friendship and loyalty. They laughed over the rumors in private together.
The marriage contract, too, was drawn up, a one-hundred-and-twelve page document that took nine drafts and both parties ended up having memorized start to finish.
"I don't care what they say," said Gil-Galad one night, glaring at draft six, " this is surely the greatest and most cunning work of the elves. Nothing else could compare."
Elrond hummed in agreement. "Unlike the other supposed greatest works, at least this is useful. And you can trust me on that, I've seen one!"
But soon the wedding day came (the wedding evening, really, so that Elrond's birth parents could attend in some measure), and they signed the final draft of the contract together while Maglor cried and Elros tried to calm him.
They exchanged their engagement rings for the starmetal marriage rings, and the time came to speak their vows. The vows were short and generic, though, since the agreement had already been put in writing and signed.
Gil-Galad went first. "I take thee as my husband in the sight of Eru Ilúvatar, and vow to be thy partner in all things, for all the Ages of Arda. May our souls be as one." He slid the ring onto Elrond's finger, trying not to be distracted by the warmth in his chest of calling his husband thee for the first time.
"I take thee as my husband in the sight of Eru Ilúvatar, and vow to be thy partner in all things, for all the Ages of Arda. May our souls be as one," said Elrond, and returned the gesture, smiling.
They were wed.