At first light the next morning, Elrond found Thranduil and the other Mirkwood Elves, who had come in search of their King, already mounted and ready to leave the gates of Imladris. 

“Glorfindel and my sons will accompany you as far as the mountain pass,” he said to Thranduil, in a tone of voice that sounded more like a demand than an offer, to the Woodland King.  

“That will not be necessary,” replied Thranduil, slightly affronted. He did not need extra guards, nor the Lord of Imladris issuing him orders.  

“I am afraid I must insist,” declared a seemingly immovable Elrond.  

 “I am not bound by your demands,” stated Thranduil, his raised voice echoing across the courtyard in the crisp early morning air. “Surely you can understand that I need to show my warriors that I have complete confidence in them; that I do not believe their fellow guards failed in their duty to protect me from harm. I tell you again, Elrond, Mirkwood warriors do not need to be escorted to the mountain pass.”  

“The danger from Orc attacks still exists, and is even greater now according to the news from Lothlórien. I will not have you injured again within my borders. Glorfindel and my sons will escort your party as far as the pass,” insisted Elrond once more, not quite as loudly, but just as forcefully.  

“It is very likely that the Orcs will be waiting to ambush us much closer to Mirkwood as well, so who will protect us once your escort leaves us?” argued Thranduil. “There is no safety anywhere on the road between Imladris and Mirkwood.”  

“I hope you both realise that you are putting on quite a display for our friend from Lothlórien over there, not to mention everyone else in hearing range,” said Glorfindel, stepping uninvited into the discussion and inclining his head first towards the fountain where Celeborn’s messenger was standing, unashamedly watching the argument with great interest, and then to the Elves of Thranduil’s party who were suddenly very interested in starting a conversation with Elrond’s sons.  

 As they both turned to stare at their audience, the Elf Lord continued, “I will have you know that I am looking forward to the journey, it has been many months since I last rode with Elladan and Elrohir, and we plan to check on some of our border patrols while we are in the area. I wish to make sure they are all well aware of the new dangers.”  

“A wise precaution, and had you explained your plans to me, I would not have objected so strongly to Elrond’s demand,” said Thranduil, emphasising the last word to highlight his displeasure once again.  

“I believe he was being deliberately vague when he suggested the idea to me as well,” said Elrond, eyeing Glorfindel suspiciously. “An argument between us makes for good ‘gossip’, as I recall, does it not?” he asked Glorfindel who merely shrugged his shoulders as if to indicate he had no idea what Elrond was talking about.  

“I have heard that said in the past,” agreed Thranduil. “Although surely such a well-respected Elf Lord would not stoop to such base tactics for his own amusement? Perhaps I will be able to repay my debt to you, Elrond, by allowing him to escort my party. At least then he will be unable to annoy you for a few days.”  

“Such a generous act would be more than enough payment and I would certainly be grateful for such a reprieve,” laughed Elrond, joining forces with Thranduil to tease Glorfindel, their argument now forgotten.  

“Then you agree to humour our dark haired friend in this, Thranduil?” asked Glorfindel, affectionately clapping the Woodland King on the back.  

“As you wish. I do not see how I can prevent you from accompanying me anyway, with or without my consent,” said Thranduil, exchanging a look of exasperation with Elrond at the elfling like antics of their mutual friend.  

“So it is agreed that we will travel with you as far as the mountains?” asked Glorfindel with a less than innocent wink at Elladan and Elrohir who were both now standing silently to one side, waiting for their elders to finish their argument.  

                                            ******  

Glorfindel and Thranduil rode together, a little apart from the eager younger Elves who were warily checking the path and its surrounds for any unusual tracks, or signs of Orcs. Although they took their task seriously, there was much good-natured banter between the Wood Elves and Elladan and Elrohir, who were well known to some of them.  

“You have been very quiet since we left Imladris,” commented Glorfindel, smiling as Elladan accepted a challenge to a footrace from an Elf who was normally one of Legolas’ guards. “Is something troubling you, mellon nin?”  

“Only normal fatherly concern for a son who has chosen to follow a dangerous path,” answered Thranduil with a melancholy sigh. “ It saddens me that I cannot be with him, to comfort him in his grief. The Elves of Lothlórien are strangers to Legolas; he needs his kin.”  

 “He is well past his majority, I am certain he will learn to deal with his grief, even among strangers. I am also certain that Celeborn will look past the estrangement that exists between the two of you and offer him the benefit of his wisdom and compassion.”

“Yes, I expect that he will,” agreed Thranduil, unable to deny his kinsman possessed such qualities.

“I also suspect that he will not let the Fellowship leave Lothlórien unless their hearts have found some measure of peace with their loss, and Aragorn has come to terms with his role as leader of the group,” added Glorfindel, voicing what he knew to be Elrond’s concerns.  

“That is also very likely. I know Elrond suffers from the same anxieties as I do in regards to them both,” said Thranduil. “It is just that it is painful to admit that we are helpless, that there is really nothing we can do to ease our sons’ burdens as they travel south to whatever destiny awaits them. ”  

“I hear that Legolas has taken a liking to the Dwarf, Gimli,” said Glorfindel, changing the direction of the conversation.

“So he wrote in his letter,” admitted Thranduil with more than a hint of displeasure at the thought of his son befriending a Dwarf, something he was certain he would never do himself.

“A wise move on the part of Legolas to inform you of such news from afar, given your history with Dwarves,” suggested Glorfindel, highly amused with the whole notion. “I imagine you were quite shocked.”  

“Very much so. He knew I would not approve of this particular choice, but he seems to have found a kindred spirit in Gloin’s son because they are both the only members of their respective races on the quest. I suppose that is as good a basis on which to form a friendship as any,” conceded Thranduil.  

“Well look at it from a strategic point of view, if that makes it easier to bear.   It is far better for the Fellowship members to be friends, rather than fighting amongst themselves. Such enmity would only be aiding Sauron’s cause.”

“That is certainly true. Sometimes you can be a very wise old Elf, mellon nin,” teased Thranduil, his melancholy mood driven away by his laughter at Glorfindel’s response.

“Wise, yes, but old? Nonsense!”

The journey to the mountain pass remained uneventful with no sign of any of Sauron’s minions other than the occasional crow flying high above them. All the Elves were well aware the birds were spies of either the Dark Lord or Saruman, and they maintained a constant vigil, with all their senses on the alert for danger.  

When they reached the place where Thranduil had been attacked, he and Glorfindel took a few moments to mourn the fallen, as they had done for Oropher millennia ago, before parting ways.  

“Once again, I thank you for my life, Elladan and Elrohir,” said Thranduil, bowing to the two young Elves. “Farewell to you all. May the Valar grant you all a safe return to Imladris.”

“May the light of the stars favour your journey to Mirkwood,” said Glorfindel, astonishing the Mirkwood Elves as he pulled Thranduil into a brotherly embrace, which the Woodland King returned with obvious affection. “I expect we will be meeting again in the not too distant future,” he added as they parted. “Come, sons of Elrond, let us look for our border patrols and see what mischief they have encountered lately.”  

                                                     ******  

Once Thranduil’s party was safely on its way back to Mirkwood, Elrond retired to his study to compose a reply to Celeborn, thanking him for the news of the Quest and expressing his own sadness at the loss of a dear friend. When he finished writing, he summoned the messenger from Lothlórien to his study.  

“I have replies to the letters you brought yesterday. If you are rested enough, I would ask that you return immediately to Lothlórien with these since two are for members of the Fellowship,” he explained handing the leather pouch containing the letters from himself and Thranduil to their sons, as well as his missive to Celeborn.  

“I can be ready to leave within the hour, Lord Elrond,” was the respectful reply.  

“Excellent. Before you go, however, may I ask if you have seen or spoken to any members of the Fellowship?” asked Elrond, suddenly grateful that neither Glorfindel nor Thranduil were here to witness this request for what Elrond knew they would class as gossip.  

“Not really, they keep much to themselves, for most of us cannot speak their language, nor can they speak ours. Except for Legolas, and Aragorn of course. Our Woodland cousin and the Dwarf, Gimli spend much time with us, returning to join the others for meals. I can tell you that they are all well, and although weary and saddened from their trials thus far, my Lord Celeborn believes they will rapidly recover their spirits.”  

“I see,” sighed Elrond, disappointed at not hearing more of Aragorn. “Did you say that Gimli spends time with the Galadhrim? Surely that is unusual, I know there is no love lost between his kind and yours?” More gossip, he thought with a snort of disgust at his own curiosity that made him unable to resist asking the question.  

“I think it is more that he spends most of his time with Legolas, they appear to be good friends,” answered the Elf. “The Dwarf has also won the favour of the Lady Galadriel.” Elrond raised an eyebrow at that, but made no comment, Galadriel’s plans were her own.  

“I wonder what Thranduil will think of that turn of events?” mused Elrond, a smile forming on his lips as he imagined the Woodland King’s likely adverse reaction to such news. He also realised that Glorfindel had been correct, sometimes there was something to be learned simply by speaking with the messenger.  

“Thank you for answering so candidly,” he said as he led his informant to the door. “May the Valar grant you a safe journey.” The Lothlórien Elf bowed, accepting the dismissal wordlessly.  

Within the hour Elrond looked up from the book he was reading and listened to the sounds of a single horse galloping along the trail leading south.