Thranduil mourned about his father when it happened. He appreciated the condolences from the other elven leaders, but he did not really believe in their words, they would not feel his pain.
And the this young girl walked up to him, clothed all in black, like she was a widow, maybe she even was. She had darker skin than the elves, but her ears were pointy as his, even more visible. When she stood before him he saw, that her eyes were filled with tears. "My Lord Thranduil,", she said silently, "I'm truly sorry about your loss, I wish I could have helped.". "Thank you for your compassion. You must have lost someone too, please accept my condolences.", he did not want to be like this, but he could not be out of his skin. He wanted to show her the same compassion as she showed him, but he just could not.
"Thank you. I-I-I simply don't know how I shall live now.", the tears found their way out of her eyes and she sank to her knees, her hands covering her face. His guards wanted to shove her away, to make place for the other people and leave her alone in her mourning, but Thranduil immediately got down to his knees to and hugged her, suppressing his own tears. She was surprised at first but then accepted his hug and returned it, maybe it was his way of showing his true feelings, action and not words.
Suddenly she heard him whisper in her ear, "Come with me, back to Greenwood.". She pulled away and looked at him in shock, "You serious?", she asked, barely audible. He only nodded. "Alright, I'm coming with you."
"Besides, what is your name?"
She chuckled, "I am Gladhril Theririen, known as Mistil to the folks in the Shire."
Author's Note: Okay, this is really short, but it's a prologue so it don't has to be long.