Summary: "I knew Thrór when he ruled under the mountain."

Disclaimer: Let's make a list of things I don't own; rights to The Hobbit, rights to the Lord of the Rings, rights to the Silmarillion, a Porsche 935 turbo, an Aston Martin dbs v12, a Ferrari 458 italia, mansion, a Harley Davidson, a T.A.R.D.I.S...

"Welcome Thorin son of Thrain." Elrond greeted.

Thorin continued to glare at the lord. "I do not believe we have met."

Elrond fought with himself not to return the scowl. "You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thrór when he ruled under the mountain."

"Indeed; he made no mention of you."

Finally, Elrond scowled. Of course he made no mention of him.

It was Thranduil who had persuaded the lord of Imladris to venture deep into the mountains. He walked down the currently slippery pathway with his five other companions; his trusty adviser, the formerly deceased Balrog slayer, his two sons and Lindir.

"And what do you think, ada?" Elrohir asked. "Could the Arkenstone be a-"

"Ssh," Elrond whispered, "do not let the Dwarves hear you speak about their 'precious jewel' in that manor."

"But do you think it could be?" Elladan asked.

Elrond paused in thought for a moment. "I could not say; I'd have to see for myself."

"There he is." Glorfindel whispered to Erestor. "Sat high and mighty on his throne like a... a..."

"King?" Erestor offered.

As the elves approached, Thror didn't say a word. He just watched as his son Thrain presented the chest holding their jewel. Elrond was the one who studied it the closest, and Thror grew suspicious.

"It certainly is a wondrous find." Elrond complimented softly.

The dwarves offered the elves food, shelter and entertainment during their stay, although they didn't exactly cater for elves.

Lindir was sat picking at the fat connecting the meat. "I am not a vegetarian, but this is just... gross."

"Gross?" Elrohir laughed. "Is that the best word you could come up with?"

Elrond, however, nodded in agreement. "If dwarves ever find themselves in Rivendell..." He said, already plotting.

Erestor clenched his fists as he ducked yet another piece of flying bread rolls. "You know, I can imagine how King Thranduil would have reacted during his stay! They are seriously lacking resources, and here the dwarves are throwing it around!" He ducked again. "Why is this fun for them?"

"Well if this is their idea of entertainment..." Glorfindel said, picking up a leg of meat, aiming it at a random dwarf.

He threw the leg of meat.

The dwarf moved.

Glorfindel gasped.

The meat his the head of another dwarf. A particular dwarf. Thror.

Elrond froze, mouth wide open. "...Glorfindel..."

Sharing the same horrified look, Erestor turned to Glorfindel. "So how would you feel about returning to Middle-Earth?"

"You know," Glorfindel replied, "I'm not entirely sure that would be right for me."

The youngest elf amongst them - Lindir - couldn't help but burst out with laughter.

Elrond began shaking.

"Lindir." Elrohir hissed. "That's not funny."

Lindir shook his head. "It sort of is."

The elf lord joined his minstrel in his laughter. "Now I understand why this is fun for them."

Elrond's response was elvish. "Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor."

"What is he saying?" Gloin snapped. "Does he offer us insult?"

Fighting off a laugh, Gandalf replied, "No, master Gloin, he's offering you food."

Bombor's face lit up.

They discuss amongst themselves. "Well, in that case, lead on."

Note: Just because this is the type of thing that'd happen to me.