Oh what a night that was my Arwen!

The singing continued and swelled into a mighty chorus as our company came into the central courtyard before the main stairs.

Elrond slid off behind me and then helped me from my mare. But he did not set me down. He carried me into the house, where two lines of elves nodded and bowed as we passed by them slowly.

Your father was so proud Arwen he could have burst! I hid my smile behind my hand, and took in the wonderful place we call home.

The halls were ablaze with light and flowers and garlands were everywhere. When we reached the main hall, Elrond finally put me down and oh my dear, did I blush as sudden applause broke forth.

I was told later by Erestor that they despaired of their studious, serious lord ever marrying!

Glorfindel and Erestor introduced themselves.

Glorfindel, as is his want, was especially gallant and kissed my hand warmly.

Elrond laughed as I stood there, mouth slightly open. He then caught me in an embrace, kissing me before all, and that elicited a cheer!!

What a welcome we received, Arwen.

Despite the fact we all smelled slightly of horse, my ladies and the other members of the company entered the formal dining hall in delight. A wonderful feast awaited us, with stuffed swan and aspic and venison pasties and a host of other foods.

There were so many beautiful dishes, I tried to sample them all, but finally your father stopped placing them before me and fed me plain grapes and berries, which I thought quite bold of him at such a dinner…but…I loved him and so was delighted at his intimacy.

I could barely move Arwen from the table. It was worse than any Eve of Yule feast we have given!

But I was sleepy and your father, ever sensitive to me, knew this and with a bow to the assembled (now enjoying some very aged mead and wines from the South), they cheered and toasted us lustily and we left.

And my first view of our bedroom within which we spent so many wonderful times, was so beautiful Arwen!

The room was an intimate bower covered in a multitude of blooms. There were garlands of red and white roses draped about the bed and petals strewn about the sheets (which had been turned down) and the floor. There were vases everywhere holding samples of all the flowers currently in Rivendell. Two branches of scented candles burned on either side of the bed and a pair of silver goblets and an ewer stood at the small table where your father and I frequently have breakfast, as you know.

More flowers and garlands of green hid the rest of the room, the familiar wardrobes and chests and tapestries.

It was much like our wedding night Arwen.

And because this was now our home together, our love enfolded us tightly in its embrace and though I was initially tired, your father's love (and his wonderful hands) kept me quite awake for sometime.

(You are blushing again my sweet. These things, these intimacies are a part of who I am and a part of married life. I want to share some of them with you to show you the joy, the wonder there is in being loved solely and truly and eternally by your heart's desire. I can only hope you are so blessed!)

It was another night I wished never to end. And when the sun rose and gilded our chamber, I am afraid I missed it, tucked up under your father's arm, my hands about his waist sound asleep.

My first morning as Lady of Imladris and I almost slept through it.

It was and is a wonderful thing to be the Lady of a large Household like Imladris Arwen. It is exciting and interesting and of course, you never run out of things to do!

Admittedly, our first week or two, I spent mostly enchanted with my new home and Elrond indulged me, spending as much time as he could spare. Glorfindel and Erestor did much to allow your father the time to indulge his new wife, for which I am grateful.

There was so much to explore and see!

Surely you remember your own childhood Arwen, and how much you enjoyed exploring the House and grounds, making up adventures, climbing trees, feeding the ducks, catching frogs?

I certainly remember the frogs, especially the one you brought to dinner one night and the poor thing hopped into the soup tureen and your father, not wanting you to be heartbroken over the tiny creature, was hard pressed to save its life!

Children are a never ending source of delight my Arwen. They will always lift your spirits and gladden your heart.

May you be blessed with them!

They will also give you sleepless nights and much anxiety.

Something I can say with complete honesty you have only done a few times in your many years.

The weeks flew by and your father and I settled into our routines (always leaving room for spontaneity and affection).

And again Arwen, I tell this to you woman to woman: always be spontaneous with the one you love. Always! It keeps the heart ever warm, the flame of love ever steady! And it is quite amusing (and frequently wonderful) to find out how your spontaneity is responded to, especially with your father.

I know your father frequently seems remote and distant, most especially when the worries of the outside world impinge on his day-to-day running of Rivendell. I like to think of it as his public face. When he deals with outsiders, he goes remote and quiet, very still and listening, quite the Wise and Mighty Elf Lord.

A presence that those beyond our borders may have merely heard rumor of...and faint though those words and rumors may be, I imagine to those who are not Eldar, his existence must seem almost legendary, and perhaps, a bit frightening.

As are his skills as a healer.

But really Arwen, you know by now that your father is as affectionate and merry as springtime happiness: a glory of warmth and ever burgeoning love.

And even he, the Lord of Imladris, can be pulled from his less pressing duties.

One afternoon in the deep warmth of summer, I knew your father was working in his small study here off our suite, seeing to the monthly reports of our perimeter guards.

I had spent the day gardening and the weekly menu planning. And I was rather warm

Deciding to indulge in a cool bath, I wandered through the suite and divesting myself of my gown, I was just about to slip into the unheated pool when I thought of your father.

I peeked around the archway and saw him bent over his parchment, slightly frowning, his dark hair tied back with a twist of thread from my embroidery box. Coming up behind him I leaned against his back and slipped my hands around his ribs and whispered in his ear.

Unused to having a forward she-elf in his life, and more, a wife who was whimsical, he turned to me, blushing and then kissing me, he stood up, quickly removed his clothing and carried me to the baths, where we spent a very relaxing intimate afternoon.

And the water was very nice too.

Our days as a couple started simple enough.

In the morning we arose with the sun and sang together a hymn of joy, whether of the light itself, or the rain or snow. Perhaps just to growing things.

And each time I was carrying, your father would make a hymn up for each of you, which I would join in on. We had quite a lovely duet for the twins...but yours was happiness itself!

Then we would bath (another conjugal pleasure, as I mentioned above, my Arwen, that is delightful, and so useful for getting to the hard to reach places) and dress and frequently have breakfast in our rooms, or out on the terrace.

And once we had children, breakfasts became the one place we could start the day off in equanimity. Not that the evening meals were fraught with high emotions, but that by evening, the days needs had colored our lives, making us sometimes less than focused on each other.

Your father and I are actually quite fond of breakfast outside. We have eaten several times in falling snow. You must try that sometime. It is so quiet. As if you were actually hearing the world breath.

I sit at my desk here in the solarium and I can just see the double doors that lead out to the main corridor.

There is the corner of the rug that traveled to us all the way from Far Harad as a wedding gift from the Steward of Gondor, there is the edge of your favorite tapestry, a gift of Thranduil of dark trees and moonlight and running deer.

It makes me smile, because as a very young one, you would stare at the tapestry for sometime and then turn to ask why the deer had not run off the cloth.

A vase filled with autumn flowers right now, a vase your father disliked as he did not like the colors. It was a gift from the Guildmaster of Laketown for some service your father rendered (along with Thranduil) I do not recall what it was.

But I rather liked it because as you know it has purple irises on it, one of my favorite flowers.

And your father, dear soul that he is, indulges me and I now I have my own garden of all things that bloom purple, even a tall sharp-edged grass from the dunes near the Grey Havens.

I have always loved this room Arwen.

The solarium has one of my favorite views of Rivendell: a slice of the sharp edged Lancer's Gorge with the high waterfall, the three gnarled pines that lean out over the edge and the wonderful Western light that I love. It is so soothing...and for me, when my soul has been so troubled these last few months, it has helped settle my heart and mind as nothing can.

It is like a vision of eternity to me: the many edges of the gorge march off to the south, fainter and softened by mists and clouds.

I do not think that even Valinor will have such vistas.

But I am talking of the lighter joys of Rivendell and I shall stick to my purpose here.