Many months had passed since Legolas's departure and Mirkwood had gone through a recent ordeal. Sauron's minions were thwarted and Sauron himself was vanquished when a certain hobbit named Frodo Baggins had cast the One Ring into Mount Doom (though technically, Gollum had stolen the ring and fell into the churning magma with it). Peace was restored once again throughout Middle Earth.
Thranduil glanced down at the newest request and sighed. He thought of his wife but most especially, his son. About a month ago, he had received a letter from Legolas, with events such as Aragon's coronation as High King of the Reunited Kingdom (Arnor and Gondor) and the grand celebration that followed enclosed. Also, curiously, Legolas had added that he had made a friend within the Fellowship of the Ring whom he'd like Thranduil to meet.
Unfortunately, Legolas also stated that while returning home, he and his new friend would be taking some detours along the way, to visit Fangorn Forest and the Glittering Caves in Helms Deep.
Thranduil didn't like to be kept waiting. After all, it was his one and only son. But each day, the Elvenking would pray that Legolas would come home safe and sound, ever since his son had left Mirkwood. When he did finally come home, Legolas and his friend would be treated as heroes.
Suddenly, Cíldir came bursting through the door and gasped, "The Prince has returned!"
Instantaneously, Thranduil stood up, gripping the throne's arms tightly in anticipation. Hurrahs were heard, each time louder and closer to the throne room. At last, a familiar face appeared at the enormous doors.
"Father, I have returned."
Thranduil rushed forward to hug his son, though it was somewhat awkward. Legolas laughed and patted his old man's back.
The Elven king's face was shining as he beamed at his son. "Welcome home, son. I've missed you," Thranduil rumbled, clasping his hands over his son's. A bit of red-orange appeared in his peripheral vision. He glanced down and almost shrieked.
It was a short, stocky dwarf. A dwarf.
"Um, why is there a dwarf in my halls, in the throne room?" Thranduil asked, narrowing his eyes at the newcomer.
Legolas grinned down at his companion and said to Thranduil, "This is the good friend I was speaking about in my letter."
The dwarf looked up, gave a smile but it looked more like a grimace, and said gruffly, "Greetings, your highness. I am Gimli son of Glóin."
Thranduil felt like dramatically fainting but he composed himself and managed to say, "Um, welcome to Mirkwood, Gimli son of Glóin. Legolas can show you around, can't he?"
Legolas nodded and the best friends left the bewildered Elven king sitting on his throne.
Thranduil shook his head, hoping to clear his mind and tell himself his eyes were not playing tricks on him. It was ineffective. "Cíldir! A wet cloth please! Now!" He moaned. Cíldir scurried off in search of a wet cloth.
Putting a hand over his forehead, Thranduil said out loud, "A dwarf! Oh lord, who would've thought a dwarf? My mortal enemy?"
His thoughts drifted off to a specific group of dwarves that had come bumbling straight into a campfire in Mirkwood long ago. And apparently one hobbit.
Oh well, I'll guess I'll let it go this time. Maybe dwarves aren't as bad as they used to be, Thranduil thought as he closed his eyes, glad that his son was at last home. Nothing could shadow that.