And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her.

Elrond's house was perfect, whether you liked food or sleep or story-telling or singing (or reading), or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all. Merely to be there was a cure for weariness. ... Evil things did not come into the secret valley of Rivendell.

That's the only place in all the lands we've ever heard of that we don't want to see any closer; and that's the one place we're trying to get to! And that's just where we can't get, nohow.

These folk are hewers of trees and hunters of beasts; therefore we are their unfriends, and if they will not depart we shall afflict them in all ways that we can." -- The Silmarllion, JRR Tolkien

Above all shadows rides the sun.

I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations, and always have done since I grew old and wary enough to detect its presence.

Aiya Earendil Elenion Ancalima!