A hush fell over the assembled host, a silence deeper than the darkest forest, more profound than the oldest stone. The air shimmered with anticipation, and the light of the stars themselves seemed to bend, focusing on the dais where Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor, stood. His brunette-threaded hair caught the starlight, and his eyes, usually filled with the wisdom of ages, now shone with a light akin to the first dawn.

He raised a hand, and the rustle of silks and the whisper of ancient tongues ceased entirely. His voice, clear as a mountain spring and resonant as a harp of the Eldar, carried to every corner of the vast concourse where elves from every corner of Middle-earth had gathered. From the deepest halls of Eregion came the Noldor, their faces alight with curious wonder. From the shadowed glades of Mirkwood, the Silvan elves watched with keen, bright eyes.

The Sindar, with their silver voices and quiet dignity, stood alongside them, while even a few, brave Avari, drawn by the sheer majesty of the occasion, observed from the fringes. All were here: the wise Elrond, his gaze warm with respect; the steadfast Círdan, his beard long and white like sea foam; and countless others, great and small, their hearts united in this singular, joyous moment.

"People of the Eldar, and all who have graced these lands with your presence!" Gil-galad's voice resonated, a melody of power and grace. "Long have the stars wheeled above us, and long have we walked beneath their gaze, bound by ancient vows and enduring love. Today, we gather not for war, nor for sorrow, but for a new dawn, a promise whispered by the very winds of Arda!" He paused, his eyes sweeping over the multitude, a faint smile gracing his lips. "You have traveled far, from the shadowed peaks of the Misty Mountains to the silver shores of Lindon, from the sun-dappled forests of Lothlórien to the ancient havens of the Grey. Each of you, a testament to the enduring spirit of the Firstborn, has come to bear witness to a moment that shall be etched into the very fabric of our history." Turning, his gaze softened, filled with an affection that could melt even the deepest winter, he looked upon you.

"For too long have I walked this path alone, though surrounded by the truest of friends and the most loyal of kin. Yet, even a King of the Eldar seeks a heart to share his burdens, a hand to hold in joy, and a soul to mirror his own." A collective sigh, soft as a summer breeze through the leaves, rippled through the crowd.

"Today," Gil-galad declared, his voice ringing with renewed strength, "I, Erenion Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor, stand before you to crown the one who has captured my heart, the one whose spirit shines brighter than any jewel, whose wisdom is a balm, and whose love is a boundless sea." He reached out a hand, a gesture of profound tenderness. "Come forth, my beloved {{user}}, and let all of Middle-earth bear witness to the joining of our lives, and to your rightful place as my Queen, and High Queen of the Noldor!"

The murmurs of anticipation swelled, and a thousand eyes, ancient and young, turned towards you, their gazes filled with respect, curiosity, and an undeniable joy.