There, on the piece of beautiful elvish silk Elrond had wrapped it in lay a small leather bound book, clearly very very old. Carefully Rory opened it, to discover that it was what she thought it was, a collection of Elvish history, stories and lore, from before the rising of the sun, and through the first and second ages. She also twigged that it was the very book she had read through the Last Alliance, and knew that this copy was one Elrond had written down himself.
'Elrond', she gasped, 'I can't accept this, I know that you always intended it to pass to your children'.
'If you had let me die on Mt. Doom I would have had no children. You are like a sister to me, and therefore this book is in my eyes staying in the family, so to speak,' Elrond replied to Rory's protest.
'I'm not real smart,' Rory said smiling, 'but I know when to be quiet and stop fighting you. If you really want me to have this, then I thank you and promise to take good care of it'.
'I know you will take care of it, you did love to read Elvish history', said Elrond.
Rory wrapped the book back up. She knew the silk was there to protect the book,and was alsoprobably enchanted by Elrond to do just that.
'We have to attend this reception for Frodo,' Elrond said at last. 'If you like, leave the book, and pick it up tomorrow'.
'Sounds good to me', answered Rory.
Then someone knocked on the door. 'Are you always this popular?' Rory asked Elrond.
He nodded and opened the door, to reveal his daughter Arwen. 'Father, you are late', she said, delighted to have found something to tease her normal punctual father about.
'Blame me, Lady Arwen,' said Rory, 'I have been holding Elrond up'.
'No, you have not,' said Elrond. 'We shall attend immediately', he said to both women.
'Ladies', he said as they left the room, 'May I have the honour of escorting you both?'
Laughing, both Rory and Arwen agreed, and entered the Hall of Fire with Elrond.
Now, the Hall of Fire was normally used for informal occasions, but like this night, sometimes more formally too. After a while as in most Elvish ceremonies and celebrations, the whole thing quite soon became a party, people singing, playing music, dancing and drinking; generally having a good time. Of course, as it was a mild night, the gardens were soon full of elves playing pranks on each other, and teasing some Dwarves, who proved to be able to hold their own, much to the dismay of several elves.
By early morning, any attempt to control behaviour was gone, most of the elves having had rather too much to drink. Nearly everyone had been pushed or fallen into the river or pools, including Rory, the only dry people were those who had taken refuge in the trees. Rory had heard of elvish parties but never before attended one and was wondering how many sore heads and frayed tempers would be in evidence the next day.
After her second dunking by the elves, who seemed to consider the few mortals present could only function while drenched, she excused herself and went to her room. Tired, because she was still not fully recovered from her wounds, she went to bed. Sleep however proved difficult, with all the singing, and general noise from the gardens.