Dragons of the Autumn Twilight - Margaret Weis [207]
and humble things made large by
a man’s word to his bride.
When the vows were spoken, they exchanged gifts. Goldmoon shyly handed her present to Riverwind. He unwrapped it with hands that trembled. It was a ring plaited of her own hair, bound with bands of silver and of gold as fine as the hair they surrounded. Goldmoon had given Flint her mother’s jewelry; the dwarf’s old hands had not lost their touch.
In the wreckage of Solace, Riverwind had found a vallenwood branch spared by the dragon’s fire and had carried it in his pack. Now that branch made Riverwind’s gift to Goldmoon—a ring, perfectly smooth and plain. When polished, the wood of the tree was a rich gold color, marked by streaks and whorls of softest brown. Goldmoon, holding it, remembered the first night she had seen the great vallenwoods, the night they had stumbled—weary and frightened—into Solace, bearing the blue crystal staff. She began to cry softly and wiped her eyes with Tas’s handkerchief.
“Bless the gifts, Paladine,” Elistan said, “these symbols of love and sacrifice. Grant that during times of deepest darkness, these two may look upon these gifts and see their path lighted by love. Great and shining god, god of human and elf, god of kender and dwarf, give your blessing to these, your children. May the love they plant in their hearts today be nourished by their souls and grow into a tree of life, providing shelter and protection to all who seek refuge beneath its spreading boughs. With the joining of hands, the exchanging of vows, the giving of gifts, you two, Riverwind, grandson of Wanderer, and Goldmoon, Chieftain’s Daughter—become one—in your hearts, in the sight of men, in the eyes of the gods.”
Riverwind took his ring from Goldmoon and placed it upon her slender finger. Goldmoon took her ring from Riverwind. He knelt before her—as would have been the custom of the Que-shu. But Goldmoon shook her head.
“Rise, warrior,” she said, smiling through her tears.
“Is that a command?” he asked softly.
“It is the last command of Chieftain’s Daughter,” she whispered.
Riverwind stood up. Goldmoon placed the golden ring on his finger. Then Riverwind took her in his arms. She put her arms around him. Their lips met, their bodies melded together, their spirits joined. The people gave a great shout and torches flared. The sun sank behind the mountains, leaving the sky bathed in a pearl-like hue of purples and soft reds, which soon deepened into the sapphire of night.
The bride and groom were carried down the hill by the cheering throng and feasting and merriment began. Huge tables, carved from the pine trees of the forest, were set up on the grass. The children, freed at last from the awe of the ceremony, ran and shouted, playing at dragon slaying. Tonight care and worry were far from their minds. Men broached the huge casks of ale and wine they had salvaged in Pax Tharkas and began drinking salutes to the bride and groom. Women brought in huge plates of food—game and fruits and vegetables gathered in the forest and taken from the stores in Pax Tharkas.
“Get out of my way, don’t crowd me,” Caramon grumbled as he sat down at the table. The companions, laughing, moved over to give the big man room. Maritta and two other women came forward and placed a huge platter of deer meat before the big warrior.
“Real food,” sighed the warrior.
“Hey,” roared Flint, stabbing at a piece of sizzling meat on Caramon’s plate with his fork, “you gonna eat that?”
Caramon promptly and silently—without missing a bite—emptied a flagon of ale over the dwarf’s head.
Tanis and Sturm sat side by side, talking quietly. Tanis’s eyes strayed to Laurana occasionally. She sat at a different table talking animatedly with Elistan. Tanis, thinking how lovely she looked tonight, realized how changed she was from the willful, lovesick girl who had followed him from Qualinesti. He told himself he liked the change in her. But he caught himself wondering just what she and Elistan found so interesting.
Sturm touched his arm. Tanis started. He had lost track of the conversation. Flushing,