In dreams of shadow and light.

A dark hall of vibrant green, a clear night sky with stars shining like crystals in a velvet sea.
In the quiet, a song rises, a single voice, rising to the heavens, lanterns of flowered glass shimmering along a pathway of flickering shadow and light.

The wind moves quiet in the trees, and along the path, dimly lit by the candles glow are seated a gathering from all walks, delicate elves in diaphonous gowns and shirts of shimmering green, hobbits by the pathway in their best greens, yellows and browns, humans in all their varied multitude.

The song rises higher, permeating the air with the force of life and spirit. Quietly at first, behind the song, a steady beat of drums rise, not quick, but slow, like the steady beat of a peaceful heart, playing into the song.

From beyond the hill at the paths end torchlight can be seen, brightening the dark with the red-golden cast of living fire, and the drums rise, not so loud as to be overpowering, but still that steady beating, throbbing of lifes very pulse.

Over the edge of the rise can now be seen a pair of girls in silken silver and green gowns, dancing the path in slow spirals, holding baskets of woven flowers. As they come down the path they pause along the way, placing the wreaths upon the attendants heads, and whispering blessings to them. Behind them a pair of men in green and golden Caftans of the same material as those who came ahead, each of them carrying a basket of candles on their left arms, a lit candle in the hand of same.

They go behind the girls, again picking out members of the guests at random, handing them a candle, and as they light it asking that they let their light join with ours, a hundred quiet sparks of light against the heart of loves own glow.

As the men reach the halfway point, the bride and groom come over the ridge, both with their attendants. The bride is dress is adorned with green and silver threads, sparkling in the firelight, and her veil is made of flowers, the same that trim her gown and gossamer cloak. The groom is dressed in a style similar to the candle-bearers, but ever more elaborate, his brow also adorned with a wreath of flowers, and flowers trim his cloak as well.

Next to each stands their attendants, stalwart guardians, dressed in a shimmering silver and green garb, each bearing a sword.

"Each of us has in our lives, those friends we call close to us, who guard us as fiercely as they do their own kin, and are guarded in return. I am here today to say that I have seen this man, and found him worthy, and pass her from the protection of my blade unto his."

"There is a myth told among many, that a mans heart is shallow and fickle. Truer is that they are like a seed in winter, full of vibrant life beneath the white snow. But as the seed, when a light as bright as the sun comes, and melts away the snow, the seed will blossom into its fullest glory. But there are many false springs, and only our friends can see that it is indeed the last frost, and it is the true time of life at last. My friend has found his true spring, and I call her so. And as he takes her into his life I give my blessing, and lend my blade to his against any that would seek to strike that flower low."