The usual, I own nothing that is Tolkien's.
This is another group effort between me and my mum, about Legolas' homecoming to Mirkwood after the quest.
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Thranduil drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne as he looked down at the two rather sheepish-looking guards. He had a headache coming on, but he had to deal with the large number of pressing questions that had just arrived, along with his son, Legolas.
"I sent you," he began, softly and slowly, "With my son, to Imladris, to make sure that he didn't get into any trouble. And when he comes back…" Thranduil left the sentence hanging for long enough to make them squirm. "Not only is he friends with a dwarf…" he all but spat the word like a curse, "But he is pursued by hordes of screaming… young… mortal… women." He leant back again. "I would advise you to make the explanation you are about to give phenomenal."
There was a pause.
"Well," said the braver of the two. He quailed under Thranduil's glare (the headache was getting worse). "It really wasn't our fault."
Thranduil sighed. "I didn't think it would be." Under his breath, he added, "And even if it were I wouldn't expect you to admit it straight off." This was the same Elven captain that had let the last lot of dwarves escape. He had said that wasn't his fault either. Thranduil had asked him in scathing tones if Galion had tied him down and force-fed him the strong wine. He had stopped making excuses at that point.
"Well, you see… Elrond Halfelven…"
"Might have known that he'd be involved. Only half-Elven, and that half's Noldorin!" This was not quite true, but nobody was going to point that out to Thranduil when he was in this sort of mood.
"Well… he sent him on this quest with four Halflings, the dwarf, two men, and… Mithrandir."
"Oh, no! There's trouble, there's unmitigated disaster, and there's anything involving Mithrandir! Last time he came through here he had a Halfling with him. It wasn't one of them, was it?"
"No, but I think one of them was related to him."
"So who were the men?"
"Well, there was Boromir son of Denethor of Minas Tirith, and Aragorn son of Arathorn."
"Oh no! It's lucky he came back at all! The last thing I heard of that guy was when he ran nearly two hundred of the Lórien elves into a wall of orkish pikes and was the only one to come out alive. You should have heard Celeborn on the subject! Not repeatable…" Thranduil spent a moment remembering the irate lord of Lórien's rant on the subject of Aragorn. Then he added, "So where do the hordes of screaming young mortal women come into it?"
"Well, this short, fat bearded guy…"
"A dwarf?"
"No, I think he was a man. He decided to make a film about it. And all these young women decided that they were in love with Prince Legolas."
Thranduil nodded. "Well," he muttered, "I don't know what his wife's going to say on the subject…"
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TBC…