Elrond had never had such a different task in his life. Though there had been many trials, he'd never wanted this day to come. He'd never thought he'd be carrying the Elven King's blade back to the halls of Lasgalen, to be handed to his son. Nor had he wanted to share the news with the young Prince that he now had to share.
The halls weren't filled with its usual crowd. Instead, they were empty, leaving him striding through them. Elrond hadn't met the Prince a lot of times and the times he did, the younger seemed to have been silent most of the time. An observer, almost like an animal watching his prey.
He didn't know what to expect when he came into the throne room. Would he find a room full of people awaiting the King's return or would Eru spare him, just this time? He prayed for the latter.
So, when he walked in, he felt almost relieved there was just one person. Lights from the windows spilled over the elf's golden hair, lighting it like the sun in the sky. Elrond stopped, unsure, before clearing his throat.
"Prince Thranduil?" he asked, tentively.
There was a moment of silence. "Lord Elrond."
"I have come to bring you news, your Highness."
"He has not returned, has he?" was the soft question thrown back at him.
For a moment, Elrond wasn't too sure what to say in return. Then, he got down extending the blade towards the Prince. "It grieves me to say that he fell," he said.
A pale, slender hand reached out and took the blade from him. "Did he suffer?"
"No, your Highness. It was a quick death."
"Good."
Thranduil said no more and Elrond lifted his eyes towards him. His jaw was set and there was a sorrow written over his face that no one that young should have. So, he pushed himself up and placed a hand on the Prince's arm.
"Goheno nin."
There was only a nod and then, the Prince stepped away. And with that, their exchange was over and Elrond left Lasgalen once more. However, he would always remember the Prince with his sorrow-written face.
Bibliography:
Eru – God of Middle Earth
Goheno nin – forgive me.