The following day, a small delegation from the Gray Havens arrived. While Lord Cirdan had not made the journey, he sent some of the higher-ranking members of his court. Elrond had invited some of the Elven leaders to his library for the morning. The windows were open and the curtains drawn back, allowing the misty breeze from over the Bruinen to wash through the space. It occasionally lifted the edges of the maps and documents strewn across a low table before the ellyn.
Thranduil and Amroth felt somewhat out of place, as most of the talks related to trade routes and events between the Misty Mountains and Mithlond. Both of their realms were largely excluded from trade, in part because the adjacent Misty Mountains posed too much of a challenge to justify carrying across any significant amount of cargo, but also because the Silvans rarely put effort into creating or gathering items they would not need or use themselves. Only occasionally would they trade with the nearby villages of Men. The two Elvenkings, therefore, mostly observed while the others discussed travel between the Gray Havens and Rivendell, and south to Belfalas.
Galdor, a young ellon of the Noldor from Cirdan's court, presented his contribution. "The Dwarves of the Blue Mountains are engaging in trade at Tharbad, using the Great South Road. The Men of Tharbad have expanded their settlement considerably." His voice held somewhat less disdain towards the Dwarves than perhaps was expected among Elves, which surprised Thranduil. He had heard that the Elves of the Havens had developed a stronger association with the nearby Dwarves and concluded that those rumors must be true.
"So far, the Silvans that have wandered into the woods there from Lorinand have been civil enough," Galdor continued. Thranduil bristled at the hint of haughtiness in the young Elf's voice. It seemed that he held the Silvans in less esteem than the Dwarves! Thinking on it, Thranduil did recall several moments in history in which the children of Aule aided the Noldor in their battles, or enjoyed trade relations with them. Dwarvish troops even helped in the War of the Last Alliance. However, the ancestors of many of the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains had been in part responsible for the downfall of Menegroth, the ancestral home of the Sindar. It still stung Thranduil to remember the loss and destruction of the once-great kingdom, and its long-lasting effects. He would not be as quick to forgive the Dwarves, and would never trust them.
"I am glad they have not given you trouble," Amroth interjected lightly, pulling Thranduil from his thoughts. "As in all of Elvendom, many of my own people left to find the sea at the start of this age. I did hear that some settled in the woods by Belfalas, close to the shore."
"They are, of course, welcome to stay there," Galdor said, "as long as those Nandor continue to behave. We all know that no good thing comes from defying the Eldar."
A sudden cold laugh from Thranduil drew the attention of the leaders. "You speak of the conduct of the Silvans?" He turned his deadly gaze to Galdor. Celeborn shifted in his seat in case he needed to intervene, knowing well that Galdor's comment struck a nerve with his distant cousin.
The young ellon was unaware of the extent of his peril and continued his speech. "Yes, those wood-Elves always seem to get in the way of any progress we try to make in uniting the Free Peoples."
Thranduil managed to keep his voice even to say, "In my experience, it is solely the greed of the Noldor that brings dissent and grief to Middle Earth."
Elrond in his wisdom held up a placating hand. "Friends, let us not allow the regrettable past to hinder future alliances among kin," he pleaded.
"Regrettable?" Galdor repeated. "Perhaps if the Silvans had regretted their refusal of the Valar in the first place, much less grief would have befallen."
"Enough!" Thranduil finally shouted, jumping to his feet and taking a threatening step closer to the now paling Elf. "I do not recall seeing you on the Dagorlad, but if you had been there, you would have watched my father lead a sea of Silvan warriors to a break in the line of Mordor's forces — forces which only existed because the Noldor allowed themselves to be blinded by their lust for power and deceived by Sauron! And when my people were surrounded, and I with them, did any help come from Gil-galad and the Noldor? No. We were abandoned, and my father and hundreds of my people were lost as we were forced to relinquish the advantage."
Thranduil dared a glance around at his companions. Amroth was mournful, having lost his own father on the same charge, along with most of his soldiers. Celeborn was tense, still ready to intervene physically if necessary, but there was a tinge of regret in his eyes; Thranduil knew his kinsman had not been in a position to persuade the High King to aid in the charge. Elrond's face was impassive but strangely tired, perhaps remembering the many years he spent trying to heal warriors from all the allied forces from the wounds and traumas throughout the war and during its tumultuous aftermath. Thranduil had long since forgiven Elrond for his part in supporting Gil-galad, knowing he sought peace above all. And as Elrond was a descendant of Elu Thingol, Thranduil and his family automatically respected him. Galdor, on the other hand, seemed conflicted underneath his fear.
"My people were innocent," Thranduil hissed. He finally took a step back, adopting a less threatening pose, though still pinning Galdor with a disdainful glare. "My people are innocent. They answered the call to a war that was not of their making and kept their integrity during the seven-year siege to help win it. You would be wise, Galdor, to keep silent about things you do not understand. I will not suffer anyone to speak ill of the Silvans."
Galdor visibly swallowed and managed to nod.
Amroth rose and placed a steady hand on his friend's shoulder. "Come, Thranduil," he said. "Let us leave our young friend to be educated by our host." He shot a significant look to Elrond, who bowed his head in acquiescence, before leading the still-fuming Thranduil away.
Amroth did not let go of Thranduil's shoulder until they had reached a garden near the other side of the house. He could sense Thranduil's anger dissipate with each step away from the Elf who offended him; however, he could also sense that Thranduil's mind was uneasy.
"I did not need to be restrained," Thranduil said solemnly.
Amroth gave his friend a slight smile. "No, indeed. Were it necessary, I would rather have relinquished the honor of restraining you to someone less wise, for I have no wish to have my nose broken today. Although it may have been worth it if I could see you also land a blow on that pompous young windbag."
Thranduil could not help but smirk. "I thought I had lost my taste for fighting, but it appears Middle Earth still has plenty of people that need to be reminded of their place."
The pair of kings settled on the cushions laid out under a tree. A servant spotted them and quietly brought them tea.
They each enjoyed the first warm sips before speaking again. "How are your Silvans, Amroth?" Thranduil asked after the comfortable silence.
"Less nervous now," he answered. "We have seen three new generations since the end of the war and they are barely recognizing that I know what I'm doing… But I have never been so resentful that my parents did not give me siblings."
"Do your council members not assist in your duties?"
"My court is diminished. As you have seen, I came here accompanied only by guards, as no others could be spared. There is only a small handful of my father's old court remaining on the hither shores and many already hint at taking the westward road...I am now at least glad that my realm is so much smaller than yours."
"There are benefits to a smaller border, to be sure," Thranduil said. "It is much easier to protect."
"See how your face darkens," Amroth scolded. "You are too fearful, friend. Take heart — our fathers' sacrifice was not in vain. The threat to our peoples was defeated."
"But for how long?" Thranduil mused, looking towards the south. Sighing, he resolved not to let his thoughts further darken the day. He turned again to his friend. "Well, unlike you, Amroth, I have a palace full of court members, all eager to have their say in the running of the kingdom."
Amroth chuckled. "Now, I am not certain whether that is a blessing or a curse."
"Fortunately, they are of great help to me," Thranduil admitted. "They even permit me at times to escape from my duties for a while, though I usually regret those reprieves when I see the mountain of reports upon my return." The two laughed contentedly.
"And what of your Silvans, Thranduil? Did they embrace you as happily as they did your father?"
Thranduil smiled faintly. "My advisor Berenil tells me that they did not offer the kingship to my father until after they had taken my measure, and I am led to believe they like me well enough." His thoughts flashed to the conversation with Elluin that had confirmed this hope. "In truth, I have found no fault in their loyalty."
"No, not their loyalty," Amroth said with a smirk, "but their art certainly leaves something to be desired. They seem too busy singing to bother with much else!"
They laughed once more, but suddenly quieted when they heard a third voice from above them. Looking up into the trees along the walls of the valley, they spotted a flash of golden hair as another ellon came to join them, hopping down the branches with all the ease and confidence of a finch. His bright laughter continued until he had dropped to the ground before them.
They stared in surprise as he gracefully swept into a bow, his hair falling about his face. As he rose, they caught his glistening eyes and joyful face.
"Forgive the intrusion, young kings," said the Elf. "I was watching the border from the canopy and could not help but overhear."
Thranduil was slightly unsettled that he had not sensed this ellon's presence, but studying him further, he realized this was no ordinary Elf. Rising, he beckoned in invitation. "Lord Glorfindel, it is an honor. Would you care to join us...officially?"
"Glorfindel?" said Amroth with admiration, belatedly rising himself. "Not the famed Balrog-slayer of the House of the Golden Flower?"
"That was a lifetime ago," Glorfindel said lightly. "Now, I am merely a march warden and counselor, and largely superfluous in both roles." The three sat and Glorfindel helped himself to a cup of tea. "Speaking of an escape from duties," he said with a brief twinkling look at Thranduil, "I heard that one of Lord Cirdan's advisors had abandoned him, taking his family along to become citizens of your realm."
"You heard correctly," Thranduil confirmed, silently admiring how strength and grace seemed to radiate from his new companion. "It was rather more covert than I would have preferred. Soronume and his wife kept themselves hidden among the Silvans, and their daughter Elluin is a palace servant. She joined my company on this journey to wait on our ladies."
"I remember Soronume and Linalda from my stay at the Havens. I should like to meet their daughter. Her name is Elluin, you say?" Thranduil nodded his confirmation. Glorfindel leaned his back against a tree, but the warrior kings with him could sense that even in his repose, any provocation would see him leap instantly into action. The older Elf studied his tea with a smile. "If the rumors are true, they brought you a prophecy."
Amroth looked eagerly at Thranduil, who gave a slight frown and asked, "How is it that you know of the prophecy?"
Glorfindel simply smiled in reply, knowing that Amroth would press the subject.
"What did it say?" Amroth asked as if on cue.
Thranduil sighed in disapproval of Glorfindel's cryptic attitude but knew that Amroth would pester him until he answered, so he dutifully recited the words again.
When Elves from Mithlond sail away
To Greenwood go, to live and stay
Where berries bright and branches brown
On Elf king's head make royal crown
The sapphire bright will sweetly sing
And heal the heart of Elvenking
Though shadows deepen in the Wood
Prepared are Men to waken good
When pilgrim's quarry flees the dell
And green leaf stands where grandsire fell
Cast down will be old enemy
And Greenwood evermore be free
Amroth thought on the words a moment before turning to Glorfindel accusingly. "My lord, I assume you can decipher these words. Yet somehow, I do not believe you will reveal the meaning."
Glorfindel chuckled. "Even the very wise cannot see all ends. But in this you have guessed correctly, young king: I will reveal nothing."
Thranduil rubbed his forehead. "At the risk of sounding disrespectful, Glorfindel, I must ask: what is the use of such wisdom as yours if it is not to be imparted?"
Glorfindel sighed contentedly. "You may trust me to warn you if I gather word of impending danger, King Thranduil. I know you are skeptical of the peace you have won for your people —" Glorfindel leaned in close and raised an eyebrow at Thranduil, who was slightly unnerved that his mind could be read so easily, "— but for now, I would advise that while you strengthen your borders, you also dance within them."
Thranduil could only stare back at the Elf lord as he attempted to make sense of the words. Glorfindel simply leaned back against the tree again, gesturing to Thranduil to take up his tea again, effectively breaking the spell that kept him motionless in thought.
After a moment, Amroth laughed. "Well, there is a wonder," he said. "Thranduil commanded! You are indeed powerful, Glorfindel."
"Alas, there are many that choose deny my wisdom," the golden-haired Elf answered cheerfully, with a good-hearted glance at Thranduil. "Elrond's sons are particularly fond of doing the opposite of whatever I recommend. And here lies my opportunity to warn you of impending danger, for this very morning I counseled against their idea to sneak worms into this evening's wine carafes!"