Thranduil built me a house in the north of Valinor, and together we lived far from any unwanted intrusions. We received plenty of invited visitors, as for the first time in my life, I found that I had family and friends aplenty. I knew Thranduil felt the same, for his hidden generosity came out as he insured that we always had victuals on hand for tea-time. I often suppressed giggles as he hovered over his mother or any other, offering extra cushions and more biscuits.

Seventy-five solar years from the day our feet stood on the same ground once more, we were blessed with the daughter whom Thranduil had wanted for so long. She was a surprise to both of us, but we did not love her less for it. He named her Meldaë, for she was beloved by him, but to me she was Artulië, the light of early morn after long night.

We held a small party for her on her first begetting day in the meadow by our house. The same bell-flowers that had adorned our wedding grew in abundance here, and so nostalgia and beauty were one and same. Thranduil had spent the previous week felling a tree or two to make enough seats for the spoiled little girl's guests. It was not many children in Valinor that could vaunt such great names as close relations, but it was not in her nature to be boastful. Bossy, perhaps, and ever inquisitive, but not boastful. She did enjoy climbing from lap to lap, one moment insisting that Finrod allow her to feed him cake from her fingers, which dirty from digging in my garden (to which he acquiesced with solemn sincerity), the next trying to weave a vine into Galadriel's hair for adornment and abandoning it quickly, leaving a torn plant hanging from the head of the Lady of Light, and finally pulling her elder brothers from their seats and forcing them into helping her climb a tree. Oropher and Elrond were roaring with laughter at the twins' bad luck, but were silenced when the same little girl, moments later, demanded that all participate in a rousing game of jingling with her.*

We all laughed at her antics in good humor and gave in to her wishes, until Celebrían pleaded a respite, for she had been 'It' for the majority of the game. I was surprised at her bad luck; I had anticipated that Gimli, with his stout legs and deliberate steps, would be the easier prey. I said so to our guests, deliberately beginning a debate of elf versus dwarven constitutions, which Gimli and Oropher argued for some time. I exited the scene, laughing, intending to fetch another carafe of wine, but I found myself on the floor, and unexpectedly weeping. I was as confused as Thranduil was when he entered to discover my absence.

"What is it, my sweet?" he asked, bending down to pull my hands from my teary face and clasp them in his own. His face had cleared of the lines it had retained during his years as king, and it seemed this his eyes shone brighter and his smiles wider. I still thought him the most handsome elf in Arda, and now in Aman, though I was afraid to say so where a more powerful being might hear.

"I do not know why I cry," I said. "But I feel overwhelmed, so awed to be surrounded by our families – our families! – and for us to share in such a celebration with light hearts. I am happy, Thranduil, and now I know that my own bitterness has had joy escaping my grasp…I think I cry because my life has been so long and yet I have been completely and unashamedly happy for so little of it."

Thranduil merely smiled at me, and lifted my plait from where it rested on my breast to tickle my nose with the end. "You are ridiculous," he said. "For all those years you have accused me – over and over – of being soft! And yet I have never cried in a kitchen."

I pursed my lips. "That hardly seems a fair judgment."

"Perhaps," he said, lifting me to my feet. "But you are well enough that I shan't worry for you. Your regret is for the past, and that is long over. You are happy here and now, and I will not offer words of solace, for you do not need them."

Those were the words I needed. I lifted my face to kiss him, unheeding to the teasing calls outside (as the window in the kitchen faced the party), and retrieving the wine, I wove my arm through his and we returned to the merry-making.

Eternity would be blessed, indeed.

FIN

*Here are the rules of jingling: All of the players are blindfolded except for "It". "It" is given a string of bells and all other players must try to catch him/her. The person that catches "It" is "It" for the next round.

Well, there ya go. The ending: a relief to all, especially those who have been asking for the past several weeks if the story was over yet (ha). I can't quite find the words to express how grateful I am to everyone who has read and enjoyed this story over the past ALMOST TWO YEARS. Yikes. But seriously - thank you.

I love you all. Talk to me anytime, about anything. The link to my tumblr is in my profile. Or you can message me on here.

P.S. Ya'll should read my new story, Reel Around the Sun! I think you'll like it. I do.

BYE