The first year away from Lothlorien was the most difficult. There were many people living in Imladris that Celebrian did not know, and she felt so much like an outsider among the predominantly dark-haired, grey-eyed population. Only Glorfindel seemed to know how she felt – perhaps because, like her, he was an outsider of sorts, too.

Yule was fast approaching, and like so many of the celebrations she had once attended in Lothlorien, Celebrian knew there would be a bit of homesickness that would accompany the day. To put it out of her mind, she set to the task of finding the most perfect gift for her new husband.

It turned out to be a bit more daunting than she had imagined, but it did keep her mind occupied. The main problem she had was trying to find something that her husband did not own. He had the largest library, the best collection of artwork, and the finest of everything.

The day before the exchange of gifts, Celebrian still had nothing to gift to her husband. She took one last stroll through the booths of the crafters who lined the courtyard, selling their wares to last minute shoppers. It was at one of these booths that Celebrian encountered Glorfindel purchasing a thick woven rug. He balanced a newly made set of quills with the rug under his arm as he paid for the gift.

“For Erestor and his wife?” guessed Celebrian as the golden warrior turned around.

Glorfindel nodded, holding one item with each hand. “But which is for whom?”

“Naturally, the valley’s favorite scribe will get the writing set,” she assumed, but Glorfindel shook his head.

“Erestor’s wife is a poet, but she thinks it a silly hobby with a young child at home. She will not buy them herself or allow Erestor to buy them for her, so I see it as my duty to do so. On the other hand, Erestor is a peredhel.”

“I did not know that,” Celebrian interrupted.

“Not many do, but I am sure you would have figured it out, in time. He likes to take off his shoes when working at his desk, but then his feet get cold and he gets chills,” explained Glorfindel.

“You really seem to have a knack for this,” she said. “The gift giving, that is.”

Glorfindel smiled. “It comes with years of experience.”

“Suppose you might try aiding me?”

“Who are you still looking for?” he asked.

Celebrian sighed and hung her head. “Elrond.”

“Hmm... he is difficult,” Glorfindel admitted.

“What are you getting him?”

Shrugging with a lopsided grin, Glorfindel said, “He and I decided long ago not to exchange gifts for Yule. Neither of us is easy to gift to, so instead of putting each other through that sort of stress, we simply share a toast on Yule’s Eve and drink to the past year.”

“See? You do have something, then.”

Glorfindel frowned and nodded in the direction of the small house he lived in apart from the main house in the valley. They arrived and tapped the snow from their boots as they entered. Glorfindel set the items he had purchased on a table in the hallway as a large, well-groomed hound rushed around the corner and bounded up to his master. “I think perhaps we are getting close to a solution for you. Perhaps what you should get for your husband is not something you can buy in the market or have made by an artisan.”

“What, then?” wondered Celebrian.

Entering into another part of the house with his dog faithfully following behind, Glorfindel motioned Celebrian to follow. The table of the kitchen was covered in ribbons and colored papers. Glorfindel picked up a spool of red and gold ribbon, held it up to Celebrian’s hair, then tossed it aside. He pulled a blue and silver roll out of the pile, nodded, and handed it to Celebrian. “There. That is all you need.”

“You think I should give him this?” asked a baffled Celebrian.

Glorfindel shook his head. “No, I think you should wrap yourself up in this, and only this, place yourself provocatively on your bed, and then offer to allow him to unwrap his gift, with his teeth perhaps, just improvise.” Celebrian was blushing madly, but Glorfindel continued. “Your husband, despite being part Elf, is also part Man. Everyone in this valley can see how he looks at you, how insatiable his appetite is for you, dear. So, give him exactly what he wants, and tie it up in a nice, pretty bow.”

Not knowing what else to do when she returned home, Celebrian stowed the ribbon under her pillow. After three glasses of wine during the Yule’s Eve celebration, she gathered up the courage to put into action the plan Glorfindel had suggested.

The next morning found her writing a thank you note to the slayer, despite the fact he had not given her or her husband a gift the previous evening. She also apologized for the fact he would not be getting the remaining ribbon back, ever.

- - -

“Elladan, will you please pass that one over here? I think that is for your sister,” said Elrond.

“Yay!” exclaimed Arwen. “More presents!”

Instead of gathering in the Great Hall for the evening, the first family of the last homely house was spending the time in their private chambers with a few special friends. Glorfindel was there, as were Erestor and his wife, and their younger son, Melpomaen. The elfling was just as excited as Elrond and Celebrian’s daughter to tear off the bright paper and reveal the presents hidden inside.

“Here is one for Melpomaen,” announced Elrohir, who had taken on the task of passing out the gifts with his brother. “I think. His name is misspelled, and there is no name on it as to who it is from.”

Erestor shook his head when Elrond looked to him, and Glorfindel shrugged. Melpomaen tore off the paper, to reveal a pile of flat rocks that fell to the floor in a heap.

“Do you like them?” inquired Arwen. “I looked for good ones for skipping over the river. Sorry I misspelled your name.”

“Wow! Do I ever!” Forgotten was the wooden wagon and the toys piled in it as Melpomaen examined each of the rocks individually. As he picked up the last one, he suddenly looked very worried and ran over to his father. “Ada, Arwen gave me these nice presents,” he hissed, as if no one could hear him when he talked thusly.

“So she did. It was very thoughtful of her,” Erestor said, and Arwen beamed.

“Ada, I forgot to get something for her,” hissed Melpomaen again.

“I think it is alright,” assured Erestor. “You both got a lot of presents already.”

Melpomaen chewed on his lip as he returned to his rocks. Arwen was busily cradling the new dolly she had received. Suddenly, the boy stood up and walked over to Arwen, then sat down beside her. “I just thought of a present I have for you, but you hafta close your eyes.”

Arwen did as asked while the adults curiously looked on. Leaning forward, Melpomaen gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. Both mothers thought the gesture cute, while Elladan and Elrohir made faces that thankfully their sister did not see. Erestor shot Elrond a worried glance, mouthing an apology, but Elrond waved it off with a fond smile.

As for Arwen, she was smiling when she opened her eyes. “Thank you, Figgy. Would you like to play blocks with me?” she asked.

“Would I?” Melpomaen settled down beside his best friend, with the adults happily watching them as the snow fell outside.

- - -

“Figgy!” Arwen raced down the main stairway to the grand foyer, practically pouncing Melpomaen. They had reached their majorities some years ago, yet still spent the holiday with their families. This year, however, it had been suggested that they spend Yule’s Eve at the Grand Ball in the Great Hall, where most of their fellow peers would be. For Melpomaen, it was a chance to mingle with coworkers as well, for he was now working in the Imladris Library. Arwen was thinking, as many young ellith that day were, that the party was a good chance to see the variety of available ellin that the valley had to offer.

The pair walked together to the hall, where music was playing and couples were dancing. A large tree was being continuously trimmed by all, as partygoers paused to add tinsel or glass ornaments to the spruce.

Melpomaen procured glasses of punch for each of them, and then steered Arwen to the balcony, which was for now quiet and empty. “I thought, before we join everyone at the party, I might give you your present,” said Melpomaen.

“You did not need to get me anything,” said Arwen, envisioning the small gifts of their childhood that they had exchanged even a few years ago. Recent years had led to more practical things, and Arwen preferred not to have to carry the item, whatever it was, around the hall during the party.

“I think you might like this gift,” he said, stopping them at the center of the balcony. “You must close your eyes, though.”

Arwen smiled. “Alright.” As she closed her eyes, Melpomaen reached into his pocket. From it he pulled a sprig of mistletoe, and holding it above their heads, kissed her full on the lips.

Dark eyelashes fluttered, and Arwen gave a little gasp but did not pull away. She looked up upon seeing Melpomaen’s raised arm and grinned. “That was a very nice present, Figgy. Thank you.”

“Here,” he said, handing the mistletoe to her. “I think you should keep it, if you want. Maybe... put it into a scrapbook or something,” he suggested, suddenly shy.

Arwen took hold of the mistletoe and considered the idea. “I think I might know something else I can do with this that would be even better than putting it into a musty old book.”

“Oh?”

Arwen nodded, and held the mistletoe back over their heads.

-End-