Gandalf watched Aragorn and his new queen twirl around the dance floor, his heart full.
"It is done," he whispered to Elrond, feeling a deeper joy and peace than he had felt since he came to Middle-earth, as Aragorn and Arwen snuck out of the ballroom to be alone at last. "The last fey fruits of Fëanor and his cursed Oath are destroyed."
Blood had been spilled on the shores of Aman as the greatest Elf Arda had ever known had led his people on a mad quest that brought all Beleriand beneath the waves, and even when the Oath had run its course, there was still Fëanor's grandson Celebrimbor (who had once been young Telperinquar back in Aman, the apple of his great-grandfather's eye) who in striving to break away from his grandfather's destiny had helped to bring evil and destruction on Middle-earth anew... but now it was all over. Now, after three long Ages of struggle and death- including his own, which was still fresh and painful in his mind- Arda was at peace anew, and this time for good. There were no rogue Ainur now, and the Free Peoples of Middle-earth had learnt well from the follies of their forefathers.
His mind leapt West then, and he imagined coming home to his friends and kin, returning to the halls of Manwë, beholding the beauty of Taniquetil under the rising sun...
Suddenly they heard a furious shout, "PEREGRIN TOOK, IF YOU DO NOT TAKE DOWN THIS SIGN ON MY DOOR SAYING "ROYAL LOVENEST" WITHIN THE NEXT FIVE SECONDS, I SWEAR TO MANWË, VARDA, AND ERU ILÚVATAR THAT I WILL PERSONALLY THROW YOU OVER THE WALLS OF MINAS TIRITH!"
Time stopped for Gandalf.
Everything I've worked for... he whimpered to Elrond.
He couldn't decide whether to rage or sink down on the floor sobbing hopelessly.
"FOOL OF A TOOK!" he roared.