"Aww, cheer up, El," Thranduil slurred, one arm thrown around the brooding Peredhel, the other trying to force
a glass of wine into his grasp. "Join the party. S'not everyday Arwen gets married."
Elrond moaned miserably, dropping his head into his hands.
"You haven't lost her yet," Gloin consoled, patting his arm. "And you'll get some grandchildren out of
the deal." He smiled wistfully at Thranduil. "Wish we were."
Thranduil grinned drunkenly. "Who says we're not?"
Elrond winced at Gloin's shout of joy, snatching the wine from Thranduil and downing it.
It was going to be a long night.