Disclaimer: I own nothing recognisable.
A Unique Friendship
Thranduil rode slowly through the city streets, climbing higher with each level, and idly wondered why no-one had confronted him or his travelling partner about their business in the White City. Indeed, as the two approached each gate, the wardens would open them wide, allowing free passage to the Elvenking and the Dwarf Lord.
Thranduil had, by some stroke of luck, managed to accurately remember the way up, although Gloin had, a few times, suggested the right direction (and proved correct) when Thranduil had hesitated.
Neither had been this far south before, excepting Thranduil's sojourn in the Last Alliance, and that had been three thousand years ago, when the City was still new, and the blocks of stone it was made of were still bright white, and since then the city had changed considerably. Not to mention the damage suffered in the most recent war, parts of which were still in various stages of repair.
Nevertheless, the travellers continued on, and surrendered the horse to the stablehands on the sixth level, before approaching the Citadel.
A guard stood near the door, and Thranduil said to him, "We request an audience before the King."
The guard bowed, answered "Yes, my Lords," and turned immediately to lead them onwards.
Thranduil looked around excitedly, and with no small measure of relief, when a herald inside the Hall of Kings announced not only his son, but also his friend's son.
That relief soon turned to confusion when the doors opened, and the guards directed Thranduil and Gloin through.
.
Aragorn was just finishing up some negotiations with Elrond and Celeborn when a guard informed him that Legolas and Gimli were without, asking for an audience with the King. Intrigued, for his friends would usually just walk in, knowing whom Aragorn's current audience was with, Aragorn bade the herald let them in.
"Legolas and Gimli, of the Nine Walkers," the herald announced, and the doors opened.
Standing outside, glancing into the room as if searching for something or someone, stood an Elf and a Dwarf.
The Men of Gondor could be forgiven for assuming these were Aragorn's friends, for the Elf wore woodland colours and dressed as a travelling Elf of Mirkwood, and he had bright golden hair and blue eyes, much like Legolas. The Dwarf, bristling with axes, wore a helm much like Gimli's, and looked quite similar to the faithful Dwarf, excepting his whitening hair, half concealed by a metal helm.
Abruptly, the guard directed the Elf and Dwarf to enter, and they stumbled forward gracelessly into the Throne Room, until the Elf caught his balance with the unexpected situation and walked down the centre of the Hall, proud and tall. The Dwarf followed a pace or two behind, no less regal in his bearing than the Elf King.
Aragorn stepped forward, abandoning the end of his conversation with the Elf-Lords, to stand before the newcomers, gaping in a very undignified manner at the unexpected arrivals.
"Welcome to Gondor," Aragorn finally spluttered, remembering his manners. "We did not expect to see you here, King Thranduil, Lord Gloin. Even more so, together."
Thranduil nodded regally to the new King, and Aragorn reciprocated the gesture, realising that this was the closest Thranduil would give to a proper courtly bow. "We have travelled far and fast to be here, for our own homes need every available hand to rebuild after the battles. Lord Celeborn kindly informed us that we might find our sons in Gondor, after all is said and done."
Another stately nod, this time to the Lord of the Lothlorien, which Celeborn returned.
"You are most welcome in Gondor," Aragorn informed the Elvenking and the Dwarf Lord. "I assure you that both of your sons are uninjured, and shall be returning shortly from a sojourn to Ithilien. Indeed, I would imagine that the guards mistook you for your sons."
Gloin snorted. "Unlikely," he scoffed. "No Dwarf has ever ridden astride a horse before, let alone behind an Elf."
Aragorn chuckled. "That is all the more reason for the guards to assume you were Legolas and Gimli, then."
A table was still set in the corner, for Aragorn, Celeborn and Elrond had intended to have lunch after concluding their negotiations. Thranduil and Gloin were invited to join them, which they gratefully accepted, for the Elf and Dwarf had ridden hard in their haste to determine their sons' wellbeing after the War.
"I never would have thought it," Gloin chuckled as he tore apart a piece of meat. "After the Lonely Mountain was safe, and the Easterlings defeated at last, I took my axes and headed off to Mirkwood. I asked for safe passage through the wood, and what do you know, this crazy King insists on escorting me himself! We were gone before you'd believe it, and he bullied me into riding on that brute of a horse."
"That is not quite true," Thranduil objected. "We couldn't spare more than one Elf from the rebuilding, for much of the forest has been devastated by fire. I had a mind to check on Legolas, for Celeborn told me, when we finally convened at Dol Guldor after cleansing the Shadow from the forest, that my son was travelling to Mordor itself!"
"I also told you that the Fellowship would likely go to Gondor after, for we should not have been able to defeat Dol Guldor if those two Nazgul were in residence, and they would only be called away for greater war in the South," Celeborn interrupted.
Thranduil conceded the truth with a stately nod. "So I prepared Ithilroch for a long ride."
"No saddle in sight!" Gloin interjected, to laughter from the others gathered there.
"I couldn't spend the months travelling which would be required on foot, so I placed the Dwarf on my horse, and we left Eryn Lasgalen. My advisors and steward weren't terribly impressed, but their sons and daughters were all safely at home, or else in the West, or Mandos' Halls. They agreed to let me discover the fate of my son in person."
"So he decided to gallop through the forest," Gloin took up the story, animatedly emphasising his statements, "and the trees were moving as we passed, they just walked right out of the way!" Gloin marvelled at the 'Elf magic' and Thranduil just chuckled, muttering something about Entwives and friendly trees, and something about Huorns and ungrateful Dwarves.
"Ada!" a voice called from the doorway, and Thranduil suddenly was in the middle of the throne room, seemingly without even moving. Legolas hugged his father close, as Gimli and Gloin (much more slowly) greeted each other and assured themselves of each other's health.
Thranduil and Legolas started babbling to each other in the Silvan dialect, hugging and crying and checking each other's arms, face and neck for signs of illness of injury. Gloin and Gimli, a few metres away, chatted in Dwarvish, exchanging news of their doings since separating in Rivendell all those months ago.
Aragorn and Elrond couldn't follow either conversation, having never had the opportunity to learn either of the languages from the rather secretive people. Celeborn, who spoke the Silvan dialect, refused to translate.
The two Elf-Lords and King of Men watched in silent amusement as the two father-son pairs exchanged greetings, assured each other they were well, and exchanged news about the last few months animatedly. They became sad, though, when Thranduil and Legolas' body language suddenly changed, and they guessed that Legolas had asked about the war in Mirkwood.