Thus was Forngor the shape-shifter vanquished.  Glorfindel returned to the king's palace in Mirkwood to find the others waiting for him outside.  King Thranduil was among them, listening with a faintly amused smile on his lips to Merry and Pippin tell of the downfall of the shape-shifter.

            As Glorfindel and Asfaloth rode up, they all turned to him expectantly.

            "Forngor will trouble Middle-earth no more," Glorfindel offered in response.

            "Is he dead then, Glorfindel?" asked Legolas.

            Glorfindel nodded. "He is lying in the shadows in the depths of Northern Mirkwood."

            "He received what he deserved." Thranduil said, stepping forward.  He was no longer pale and the marks on his wrist had faded to a light pink.  Instead of a sickly child, he now looked and acted like an Elven-king.  His robes were dark green and gray and a circlet of gold wound its way around his head, glimmering softly in the glow of several lanterns balanced on poles. 

            They stood in silence as Glorfindel led Asfaloth to the stables, and when he returned, Haldir beckoned for them to follow him inside.  As they left, several Elves seemed to appear out of the trees to take the lanterns and carry them inside as well.

            "Now that you have rid Mirkwood of its latest scourge, Mithrandir, will you and your companions stay a while as my guests?" Thranduil invited.

            "We will." Gandalf nodded.  Sam looked pleased at a chance to be a guest of the Wood-Elves, having already experienced the hospitality of Rivendell and Lothlorien. 

            Thranduil noticed his expression and, knowing what it meant, laughed. "I hope our accommodations are as comfortable as those at Imladris and Lothlorien."

            Sam smiled in return. "Yes, sir, I'm sure they will be."  When Thranduil turned to talk to Legolas, the Hobbit tugged on Frodo's shirt sleeve.

            "Where's Imladris?" he asked, looking slightly embarrassed.

            "It's Rivendell to you, Sam," Frodo replied with a grin.

            "If you wish, I will have you taken to your rooms now." Thranduil indicated the arched doorway with an elegant hand.

            Aragorn inclined his head. "Please."

            Thranduil nodded to several Elves who came into the room to guide the Company to their rooms.  Legolas, Gimli and Glorfindel lingered behind.

            "You are sure you are well?" Glorfindel asked.

            "As well as I can be, I assure you, Glorfindel," Thranduil replied, with a sharp glance hidden with a smile that told the Elf-Lord that his answer was final and truthful.

            Gimli stepped forward, almost self-consciously.  Thranduil noticed him, and regarded him with a mix of acceptance and age-old suspicion. "Gimli, son of Gloin.  You are named an Elf-friend as a friend of Legolas?"

            Gimli nodded. "Yes, sire."

            "Then I will see that you are accepted here as would a Man or Halfling or Elf be," the King replied.

            "Thank you, sire," Gimli started.  He opened his mouth to continue, but Thranduil held up a hand to silence him.

            "Wait, Gimli," Thranduil lifted a thin gold chain from around his neck.  Several gems of varying colors were strung along it.

            He held out the chain to the dwarf. "Please accept this as a gift to your father, Gimli.  I hope that it will be a token of the first steps of Mirkwood forming alliances with the dwarves."

            Gimli took the chain with an awkward half-bow. "It will please my father very much to accept this.  When this journey is finished, with your leave, I will return here with some of my kindred and we will make Mirkwood shine with earthly riches so that the shadows will be chased away."

            Thranduil nodded. "Tomorrow we will discuss your return to Mirkwood.  But the night's shadows grow deeper.  Good night, Gimli Elf-friend."

            Gimli turned and left with a silent Elf who led him out of the room.  After the dwarf disappeared from view, Thranduil turned to his son.

            "You will have to tell me exactly how you and he became friends someday," he said.

            "In time," Legolas replied. "That is one of many stories to be told."

            There was a slight pause, and then Legolas asked, "Are you sure that you are well?"

            "Did you not hear me assure Glorfindel that I was better?  Perhaps you should sleep and regain your hearing abilities.  Good night, Legolas," Thranduil said with a trace of laughter in his voice.

            Legolas smiled and left, dismissing the Elf who was there to guide him to his rooms, knowing where he was to stay.

            Glorfindel hovered near Thranduil as the king lowered himself into a chair.  The Elf-lord seemed as if he were about to ask about the king's well-being once again, but shook his head instead.

            "Good night, King Thranduil," Glorfindel said softly as he walked silently from the room.

            Outside, the night's shadows were looming large, pits of black in the trees.  Asfaloth stood in the stables, tossing his head impatiently.  Sensing Glorfindel's approach, he let out a high whinny of welcome.  Glorfindel quietly led the stallion from the stable, drawing on his halter and saddle.  With a lingering look at the palace of Mirkwood, where bright lights shone out of the windows, Glorfindel leaped astride Asfaloth and they sped into the night, a small star gleaming in the shadows of Mirkwood.

THE END

Well, this story is finally finished.  Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed this, especially the people who were willing to wait while both this and The Dark King were being written.