In Imladris, the celebration marking the downfall of Sauron was slightly different to that of Mirkwood, but it was equally as joyful. Whereas the Woodelves sang and danced under the stars, the Elves of Imladris preferred to celebrate in the Hall of Fire. Even there, however, music and laughter could be heard for many long nights, and although Elrond joined willingly in the merrymaking, a part of him remained filled with anxiety for the safety of all three of his sons. No word had reached him from Gondor as yet.

“Good news, Elrond!” exclaimed Glorfindel as he strode into the Hall almost a week after the festivities had finally come to an end, waving a piece of parchment.  

“A message from Gondor?” asked Elrond smiling with anticipation as he reached for the letter. Glorfindel shook his head and disappointment clouded Elrond’s features.  

“No, I am afraid not. It is from Thranduil; he and his people survived a fierce invasion by Orcs and Easterlings,” said Glorfindel, obviously pleased with the news.

“Yes, that is indeed good to hear, but what of that dark pall of smoke that was reported to be hanging over his part of Mirkwood?” asked Elrond. The grey cloud that was the shadow over Mirkwood had been visible from the high mountain pass ever since Dol Guldur had been reinhabited centuries ago. With the fall of Sauron, it had dissipated, only to be replaced by a thick cloud of smoke directly over Thranduil’s realm that had hung there for several weeks.  

“Unfortunately that is the unwelcome part of his message. He reports that the invaders burnt much of his forest, and all of the dwellings under the trees. Many Wood Elves lost their lives in defence of their home,” he said sadly.

“I think you should go to Mirkwood and offer him any assistance Imladris can provide,” suggested Elrond. “He will surely be too proud to ask for help from me, but will not refuse any aid you may offer.”  

“That was my intention, but he informs me that he is meeting Celeborn at the ruins of Dol Guldur shortly. I will wait until he returns before setting out, hopefully we will have had news of your sons by then,” said Glorfindel, placing a comforting hand on Elrond’s shoulder in silent understanding of his grief, and wishing he could be in two places at the same time.  

“What would Thranduil and I do without you?” asked Elrond, acknowledging the friendship; compassion and support the Elf Lord gave to them both.  

“Probably be at each other’s throats a lot more often, I assume,” was the light-hearted reply. “Keeping you two in line is definitely a challenge, much like the one you face when trying to keep Elladan and Elrohir out of mischief.”

“A challenge you enjoy, but I am afraid neither of us is likely to call you ‘Adar’, unless you insist,” teased Elrond, a glint of amusement in his eyes at the look of disgust on Glorfindel’s face at such a notion.

“I hope Thranduil returns soon, at least I can expect a sensible conversation from him, not to mention a decent glass of wine!” declared Glorfindel haughtily, his smiling eyes telling Elrond his offended attitude was merely a pretence.  

“Very well, I will open that bottle of Dorwinion you have been longing to try,” said Elrond, taking the hint. “Would you care to accompany me to the wine cellar?”  

“An excellent suggestion, mellon nin!”  

                                    *********** 

By the time Thranduil sent word that he had returned from his meeting with Celeborn, and had heard the wonderful news that Legolas was alive and well, Elrond had also finally received the long awaited message that told of the well being of his sons and Elessar’s coronation. It was bittersweet news; his joy at his sons’ survival was overshadowed by the pain in his heart caused by the imminent loss of his daughter. He had no choice but to honour the promise he had made to Aragorn; the King of Gondor and Arnor had won the hand of the lovely Arwen.  

For her part, Arwen was filled with longing for her beloved Aragorn, or King Elessar as he was now named. She had suffered their separation, as she knew she must, never giving up hope or faith in her lover. At last their time had come and she was more than eager to rush into his waiting arms.  

“Arwen and I will leave for Lothlórien shortly, after which we will travel to Minas Tirith,” said Elrond as he bid farewell to Glorfindel, who was himself headed for Eryn Lasgalen, as Thranduil had renamed his realm. “Tell Thranduil that I will make time to speak to Legolas, for I am sure he wishes to hear news of his home.”  

“I am sure he will be pleased to speak with you, and do not forget to ask after Gimli, I hear they have become very close friends,” said Glorfindel with such an innocent expression that Elrond suspected the golden Elf Lord knew about the conversation between himself and the messenger from Lothlórien at the start of the Quest. Apparently Glorfindel made it his business to know everything that happened in Imladris, and probably Mirkwood as well, thought Elrond.  

“A strange pair, indeed, especially in light of their father’s feelings towards one another,” commented Elrond, wondering, not for the first time, what Legolas’ Adar thought of it all. “Please tell Thranduil that I will visit Eryn Lasgalen as soon as possible after I return from the wedding. I am certain to have much to tell him. Perhaps I will be able to convince Legolas to return with me.”  

“Send my warmest regards to King Elessar, and tell Elladan and Elrohir I expect to hear all their tall tales when they come home. Oh, and Elrond, give all three of them, and young Thranduilion, a hug for me,” said Glorfindel as he mounted his horse and rode swiftly towards the sunlit trail that lead to the pass through the Misty Mountains. The knowledge that Glorfindel was so fond of his and sons as well as Legolas, and was behaving very much like a father, made Elrond smile as he watched until the last glint of golden hair disappeared from view.  

                                                              *******  

As Glorfindel rode along the Elf Path, tears filled his eyes at the sight of the charred and blackened remains of the once beautiful trees of Thranduil’s realm. The Woodland King had fought long and hard to maintain as much of the living forest as possible throughout the long years, and to see his efforts finally overcome by the fires set by his enemies was heart breaking to his friend.    

“Glorfindel! I heard you were travelling to my Hall!” exclaimed Thranduil as he rode up to meet the Elf Lord.  

“Greetings, Thranduil! I am pleased to see you well, I had no doubt that you would hold Mirkwood against the Evil One,” replied Glorfindel. “But I am sorry to see your victory cost you so dearly,” he added glancing around at the devastation.  

“Yes, it is heart wrenching, but it was really a small price to pay for the end of the shadow. Did you know that I have renamed my realm, Eryn Lasgalen, for it will soon be green and fair once more. Come and see for yourself,” he offered, leading the way back to his Hall. To Glorfindel’s astonishment, the trees closest to where the Wood Elves dwelt were all covered in new green leaves, their blackened trunks the only sign of the recent fires. Many new houses had already been built in the as yet meagre shade beneath the trees and even Glorfindel could feel the sense of peace and happiness that emanated from the forest.

“It will take some time, but we will heal the trees and the forest will be more beautiful than before, for there is no longer a shadow to darken our days,” said Thranduil proudly.

“I came to offer whatever help you may need, in your restoration, but I see I was working from a false assumption. All the forest needs is the love and power of its Wood Elves.”

“Of course, it has always been so,” said Thranduil. “However, I thank you for your concern, and appreciate your offer of assistance, it was well meant.”

“How was your meeting with Celeborn?” asked Glorfindel, following Thranduil’s lead and dismounting as they reached the bridge that lead to the entrance to Thranduil’s Hall.  

“Very enlightening,” replied Thranduil enigmatically. “Come inside to my library and I will tell you more over a nice glass of wine.” Once they had seated themselves comfortably and Thranduil had poured the wine, he continued answering Glorfindel’s question.

“As you know, Celeborn and I have not been on very good terms for quite some time, but the war has changed many things, including our respect for each other. The Galadhrim fought long and hard to protect Lothlórien, just as my Silvan Elves did here, and we all achieved victory. However, Galadriel and Celeborn did the one thing I have never been able to do; with the help of her ring of power, they threw down the walls and destroyed Dol Guldur, and set all of Mirkwood free from Sauron’s evil. I am very grateful to them both, and Galadriel thanked me for the part my people played in defending Mirkwood. It is a strange thing to admit, but until Celeborn asked to be given the rule over Dol Guldur, or East Lorien as he now calls it, I never fully realised that he loves the trees and all things that live in the forest as much as I do, and that he always has. We are very much alike in that respect.”  

“I have always thought so,” said Glorfindel nonchalantly, sipping his wine while Thranduil almost choked on his.  

“You never voiced that opinion to me,” he spluttered. “Why?”  

“I would not presume to interfere in matters between kin or to try and influence your judgement,” said Glorfindel. “Besides, it would have been a wasted effort. You would not have heeded my words on the matter of Celeborn and Galadriel, and may have even taken offence. I value our friendship too highly to risk losing it in that way.”  

“I fear you know me too well, you have gauged my reactions precisely. I most likely would not have listened to you on that subject,” agreed Thranduil with a shrug. “However, we have now made our peace, and may even become friends again, given time.”  

“That is welcome news. Did Celeborn have any more to say about Legolas, other than what you wrote in your letter?” asked Glorfindel, moving to a safer topic.  

“He said he had spoken to him a few times during the time the Fellowship was in Lothlórien, and that he seemed to be dealing with his grief. But that is old news now, for Mithrandir returned, and the war has been won,” said Thranduil raising his glass in a silent toast to the victory, a gesture Glorfindel copied.  

“Elrond is soon to leave for Lothlórien and then Minas Tirith. He says he will speak to Legolas, and maybe they will journey back together after the wedding,” said Glorfindel.  

“So the King Elessar has won his bride. The days ahead are going to be very difficult for Elrond, I do not envy him,” said Thranduil, genuinely concerned for the Lord of Imladris.

“Have you considered going to the wedding yourself? You would be able to spend time with Legolas and offer some moral support for Elrond at the same time,” suggested Glorfindel.  

“I cannot leave Eryn Lasgalen right now, the healing process is a delicate matter and I need to be here. Elrond has his sons, as well as Galadriel and Celeborn for support should he need it. And as much as I desire to see Legolas, I know he will understand why I cannot be there, and that I expect him to act as my ambassador at the royal wedding. We will have plenty of time together once he returns home,” Thranduil said confidently. Glorfindel was not fooled by Thranduil’s casual manner in regard to his son’s absence. He could feel the same eager anticipation to be reunited with his beloved son in the Woodland King that he had sensed in Elrond ever since his sons rode to war, and he sincerely hoped that Legolas would soon return home.