"LOOK at the stars! look, look up at the skies!
O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air!
The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there!"
Gerard Manley Hopkins

...

"Do you want to eat now," he asked, "or later?"

Eowyn stretched out her arms.

He knelt before her and, with expert elven fingers, unhooked her clasps, and unfastened her lacings, and removed her tunic and leggings.

"My little flower," he whispered, shaking his head at the sight of her; he pulled her close.

"NO," she squealed, "your buckles are cold!"

Laughing, Legolas leaned back and held his arms open, waiting patiently as she—with less skilled hands—removed his belt and jerkin, unfastened his silken tunic and pulled open its skirts. "Oh!" she gasped—his erection was very visible in his leggings.

"Melmenya?" Legolas stretched out his hand and gently stroked her cheek. "Surely you have not become shy, meleth nín?" he chided softly.

"It is not shyness," she said, "it is—sometimes I am afraid."

"Of me?"

"When I first saw you, Legolas, at the Harvest Ceremony, with your chest bare and your hair loose—so beautiful and strong and graceful—so wild—I thought you looked like a force of nature..."

Legolas smiled.

But Eowyn shook her head. "It is exciting, that you are so different—so elven—but it scares me, too."

"Melmenya..." With one hand, he unlaced and pulled open his leggings; then he took her hand and laid it on his penis, gently closing her fingers around it. "I will never hurt you, Eowyn nín."

"Oh, my love! I know that! I did not mean that! I meant... I am just a woman, Legolas. And you... You are an elf..." Tears ran down her cheeks.

"I am your husband."

"We are not married, my love."

He pulled her into his arms. "Look at the stars, melmenya—look." He pointed to the clusters of light miraculously visible through the curtain of moving water. "See how they shine? Eternal, imperishable... See the one that shines brighter than the rest? That is Eärendil, our most beloved star. Eärendil was half elven, half mortal—he won, for the Peoples of Beleriand, the mercy of the Valar, and now he sails the heavens, bearing one of the Silmarils, as a sign of hope to all those oppressed by evil."

"He is beautiful," said Eowyn, with a sniff.

"Will you make a vow with me? Before Eärendil?"

"What sort of vow?"

"Will you vow to be mine—only mine—my wife, Eowyn nín? Will you accept my vow in return?"

Her tears were flowing unchecked now. She nodded, unable to speak.

Legolas took her hand and kissed it, tenderly. "Mîl sui lotheg i edlothia an-uir, híril nín," he said. "Im hervenn chîn; no hervess nín."

"What do I say?" she whispered.

"What do you want to say, meleth nín?"

"I love you—in elvish."

Legolas kissed her forehead. "Le annon veleth nín."

"Le annon veleth nín," she repeated, slowly, taking great care over the pronunciation. "I want to be your wife. Forever."

"Im hervess chîn; no hervenn nín."

"Im hervess chîn; no hervenn nín," she said, her eyes shining.

"An-uir," said Legolas.

"An-uir."

"Ai, hervess nín!" Gently, he laid her down on the bedroll.

"Ic þe lufu do, Legolas," said Eowyn, in her own tongue. Then, reaching up and touching his face with wonder, "I give you my love, forever."