"I didn't expect to see you until the wedding," Thranduil challenged.

"We'll talk in private," Celeborn replied as he swung off his mount. He turned his horse over to Vellon and stalked to where Thranduil stood just inside his tall entrance doors. "We made a hurried trip to arrive ahead of an even bigger egotistical bore than you are."

Thranduil grinned, "And tell me more about my protégé." They took wooden stairs down to the lower levels and by the pool, through massive roots into the king's office. He immediately played host and poured glasses of the fine wine from Erebor and set a large golden pitcher of wine on the low gilded table in front of comfortable chairs.

"He is king of Rohan and reports speak of a malevolent ruler. However for the gold I'm parting with he is making good my request and has a large caravan almost through Old Forest Road. I insisted he pay his way to the mountain and would be rewarded twofold and Haldir is leading so you won't be stiffed."

"My scouts reported their location, but you didn't come here to warn me of a pompous king. I assume there will be a wedding soon and you want to personally entertain me with details of forbidden encounters and my iôn's declarations of love for Arwen."

"No," he replied flatly. He hated to be the one to dash Thranduil's hopes, but now was the best time. Besides, Thranduil might take his anger out on King Fengel and that would brighten his day. "Elrond already knows no wedding is to happen and I thought best to inform you in person. Legolas tried, but his heart didn't thaw, nor did Arwen's. Galadriel and her blasted mirror spoke of great deeds for your iôn and sorrow for us."

Thranduil downed his glass as Celeborn's words sank in. "I'm sorry, mellon-nín. I will recover my disappointment, but sorrow because of Arwen? What happens?" He saw despair flash through Celeborn's eyes and prepared himself.

"She weds the king of Gondor."

Thranduil blinked as Celeborn downed his glass and reached for the pitcher. "Gondor has no king."

"He is born."

"Then we are close to the end."

Celeborn nodded. "I come with wisdom and messages from the witch."

In spite of his shock and disappointment, Thranduil laughed.

"She says another attempt to take the mountain by Sauron is brewing and an attack may be imminent before dwarves reach the mountain. She expects the Witch-king of Angmar to lead his Nazgûl forces again."

The news sobered Thranduil. "I didn't see my iôn with you."

"No, he hates to miss the battle, but doesn't want you to think he is coming back under your thumb and has a new task that will last several years. He has been asked to train the future king of Gondor. For now, I have left him in charge of the Galadhrim Warriors remaining to guard my realm. When I return, I will send him on a tour of Gondor, Rohan and all of Eriador with instructions he must be at Imladris when the child is fifteen. The boy is now eleven and our future rests on his shoulders. He must have the best trainer."

"Why not Elrond's iôn's?" Thranduil wanted to know why it must be his son.

Celeborn shrugged. "Galadriel says they must form a bond that will last until the king dies of old age. Legolas will be given total control of the child. Elladan and Elrohir play with him and don't wish to change their roles. They will be told in time he will become their brother-in-law. Legolas has to come into his own. His path is different from yours and his biggest fear is your death. He doesn't wish to be a king and feels he is much too young to rule."

Thranduil listened for the first time where his son was concerned. "Should I die; will you take over as regent until he is ready?"

Celeborn nodded once.

The twins led the way into a circular enclosure of stone. Although long abandoned, the stone ovens worked and a pile of wood was stacked by each. Long rows of covered lean-tos circled the inner walls and half was pens for animals. The elves stayed on their horses and Elladan explained, "We are near my home, called Rivendell in Westron. This is one of our barricade's that housed soldiers in the second age. The stream that enters that stone building," he pointed, "is a bathhouse. There are furnaces inside to heat water and bathing pools of stone. We will ride to Rivendell and check in. Elves will be here shortly to assist. Those who are with Lord Círdan will leave the wagons and go with us."

"Ye sure ye ain't abandoning us?" Lord Garad called out.

"Someone will be here within an hour from my father's house," Elrohir added. "Since we have been gone all winter, we don't know who will come."

Dwarves looked at the immense area and started shouting orders for arranging a camp and the enclosure didn't look so immense with wagons lining the outer edge and livestock herded to a corral and dwarflings underfoot.

Elrond heard the horn and rose from his meeting with Erestor and Glorfindel. "That must be our wayward elflings, but it is unusual they sound a horn for just them."

Glorfindel's smile had Elrond and Erestor looking suspiciously at him. "I may have forgotten to mention Círdan is with them." He got his desired results when Elrond flew from the room and Erestor punched his arm before running through the house shouting orders to make ready for Lord Círdan. He set a slower pace, but was still on the landing standing beside Elrond when Círdan dismounted.

Elrond called out a Sindar greeting and drew him in for a hug. "Glorfindel told us you were coming…..about two minutes ago. I am giving him to you as a gift."

Círdan laughed and stepped to Glorfindel. "I heard of your meeting with the twins and am still miffed they didn't include me. I am gifting them back to this house." He turned to catch Elrond's reaction and his heart melted at the sight of Elrond holding both sons close and kissing their cheeks and brows."

Erestor bowed to Círdan and then took a hug and then greeted Taiban, just as he heard the twin's cry out.

"Erestor," both twins cried as one and rushed him with hugs. "What are you doing here?"

Erestor swiveled his head and looked with amusement at Glorfindel and surmised he also didn't mention the flight to them. He turned back. "The eagles brought Thorin and me. Like you two, we've had a busy winter on both sides of the Misty Mountains."

They looked around. "Where is Thorin?"

"He has taken quite an interest in Estel and they are learning dwarven history in the Hall of Tomes. What better instructor than a dwarf. And for how he came to be here, I'll let him tell the tale."

By the time Erestor was done explaining, Elrond and Círdan were halfway up the stairs and he rushed to catch up. Entering the house, he broke off and motioned Lindir to his side. In a low voice, he asked, "Did you get rooms ready for Lords Círdan and Taiban?"

"They are ready and Figwit sent word to our garrison to make room for more warriors. How long are they staying?"

"I will find out. Now run to the kitchens and inform them of our esteemed guests and only the best can be served while Lord Círdan is in residence. I'll let you know how many will dine with Elrond and where he chooses.

'ERESTOR,' reverberated through the house as Elrond summoned his advisor mentally.

Lindir watched as Erestor took the stairs three at a time before hustling to do his tasks.

Erestor found Elrond in his bedchamber changing his robes. He instinctively started fussing with his hair, replacing the butterfly barrette with a horse head, and checking the beads. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the navy tunic Elrond was working the many buttons. He went into the closet and looked for a formal robe. On a hook, he found one and carefully carried it for Elrond's approval. With a nod of acceptance, he slid the auburn robe with embroidery done by Galadriel in black thread, over his tunic.

"I didn't call you here to help me dress, although it usually is more efficient with you assisting," Elrond commented as he looked in the mirror. "I'm sure you've lined out our staff, but I need you to prepare rooms for several dwarves. Also, tell Gilraen they have arrived and to get Estel away from Thorin so he can greet them." 'GLORFINDEL', Elrond shouted mentally without warning and patted Erestor's shoulder when he cringed.

"I'm here, Elrond," Glorfindel announced as he entered the bedchamber. Elrond and Erestor noticed he likewise was sporting his finest robes with traditional House of the Golden Flower designs along the collar and cuffs of his tunic.

"I need you to ride to the compound and escort the Thorin's kin here and anyone they invite. Tell them they are to stay in my house as guests and that I have a surprise for them. Don't tell them Thorin is here, as he is the surprise. Also, take several warriors and servants to see to the dwarves needs and supply what we can."

"Wasn't ordering all that firewood cut and stacked enough?" Glorfindel whined.

"And how hard was it?" Elrond asked acerbically. "I heard you tell the cutters what to do and they went to the forest and you to the wine."

"It parched my throat giving the order." Glorfindel wasn't about to let Elrond have the last word and his merry blue eyes danced with mischief.

"Before you leave, get a detailed list of names from the boys so you don't appear as inept to the dwarves as you do to elves. Hopefully, you will find them with Círdan in the bathing chambers."

The dwarves looked suspiciously at the group of elves that rode brazenly into their midst. Their eyes were focused on the leader, a tall elf of golden hair and fair features.

"Is that a he or she?" Garad leaned over and whispered to Fili.

Fili laughed, "That is their mightiest warrior and I would be cautious about insulting him." He strode at the front of the dwarves who were starting to gather. "Welcome, Lord Glorfindel. On behalf of all five thousand of us; welcome to your compound."

Glorfindel grinned and motioned with his hand. Elves dismounted and started unloading pack horses. "We brought meat and root vegetables and fresh baked bread. Oh, and those pots contain pudding. I've been instructed by our cooks to tell your cooks just to place them on the stove and bring to a boil and serve hot." He looked around at the short dwarves and raised his voice, "On behalf of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, the leading families of the Durin line is invited to reside at the last Homely House east of the sea. I was given names and will call them out."

Fili interrupted, "Wait, I know who they are." He jumped on the side of a dwarf sized wagon to look over the assembly. He saw his family near him and started calling out names.

"Do you have a wagon available?" Glorfindel asked.

"Wait just ah minute," Gróin called out as he toddled over on unstable legs; trumpet in his left ear. "This might be ah trap ta get all the leaders away from our dwarves an slaughter them."

"Are you related to Thorin?" Glorfindel snarked and then remembered. "If you come along quietly, I have a surprise for you."

Kili looked suspicious. "I doubt you will part with any wine."

"Naturally," was the only response from the warrior.

"I trust you," Fili shouted over the din of muttering dwarves. "I for one am looking forward to a feast with elves."

That settled, they helped the elderly into the wagon and Fili took the reins pulled by four rams. They made their way across the moors and dropped abruptly into a ravine. He was glad to have the surefooted animals pulling the wagon while elven warriors rode before and aft. He guided the wagon across the stone bridge and onto a landing. Standing at the foot of the stairs was Elrond and to their surprise, Erestor.

Fili was first off the wagon seat, immediately followed by Kili, who rode beside him. He rushed to Erestor, "Why aren't you in the mountain?"

Erestor let Elrond greet the dismounting dwarves and hoped he wasn't as rude this time as when the Company of Thorin Oakenshield descended upon them. "It's a long story. Come, I have a surprise for you in the Hall of Fire."

Elrond led the suspicious dwarves up the long flight of steps. He kept a clandestine eye on the old dwarves and set a slow pace. At the top, he stopped and started pointing out his buildings. He kept talking until the elder dwarves were breathing normally. He led up another short flight of stairs and two guards opened large, iron doors and he led them into the foyer of his home. He smirked at Lindir as he veered to the right and Hall of Fire.

Thorin sat at a table in the Hall of Tomes. For a human child, Estel was bright and absorbed his abbreviated tutelage on dwarven history. He heard the horn and saw the boy's eyes widen before focusing once again. Lesson over, Thorin stood and stretched. "I believe you have…," he trailed off when he spotted Lady Gilraen hurry between rows of shelves holding many volumes.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have a message. Lord Elrond just escorted Lord Círdan into the house."

"The old elf is here?" Estel squeaked in awe.

"And you will be on your best behavior and take a bath and wear your best clothes," his mother rambled excitedly and turned back to Thorin. "Your kin are nearby and will be dining tonight with us. Also, they are invited to stay in the house in your wing and Elrond wants you in the Hall of Fire when they arrive as a surprise. They haven't been told you are here."

Thorin nodded and stalked off to his assigned room to change into his best clothes. As Crown Prince, he wanted to look the part for his sister and kin.

Now, he stood before the large circular stone fire pit and watched Elrond escort them inside. He spotted Dis in her traveling attire and jeweled beard.

Dis looked around at the large room and a movement drew her gaze. It was Thorin. With a cry of, "Thorin," she dashed across the space and into his outstretched arms.

Seeing Thorin, the others forgot their awe and distrust at being in an elven home and rushed him also, asking questions and getting hugs as he greeted each of them.

Thorin's roving eyes caught Lindir waiting by the door with several servants. "I'll tell my story of how I came to be here, but first you are to be escorted to your rooms and shown bathing chambers. I'll be waiting right here and will explain." Thorin shut up and let Elrond's house staff lead them away. He looked for the servant who was always lurking with ale on a tray and motioned her forward. Taking his beverage, he turned back to look out the windows that made up most of the wall overlooking the ravine. Lost in thought watching wildlife and elves hurrying along stone paths, he wasn't aware an hour passed.

"May I join you, Prince Thorin?"

Thorin swiveled his head to the side and automatically up. He heard of Lord Círdan, but the one time he was asked to make jewelry in the Havens, he refused an invite to the Lord's home. "You look the same as when last I saw you."

Círdan's eyes crinkled in amusement and bowed his head in acknowledgement while Thorin took in the rich cloth of dark green that formed his tunic and gold gilding from his diadem to rings. "I'm glad you remember me. I will be accompanying your folks across the mountains to Erebor."

"Do you mind if I join you?" Elrond approached with two long stemmed glasses of wine and handed one to Círdan and motioned for a refill of Thorin's ale. "I'm talking about the trip over the mountains," he clarified.

"I assumed you might be," Círdan wisely surmised.

"I am going after my wine. And this is a small sample." Elrond held up his glass in a toast.

Círdan returned the gesture and sipped. He kept his face impassive under Elrond's scrutiny. "I had wine like this daily in the tents and abodes of the Maiar and King Finarfin during the War of the Wrath. The king was gracious to leave several barrels I was forced to share with Celeborn. They made their way onto wagons going east as we raced ahead of sinking lands."

Elrond smiled in remembrance of the journey and elves spreading out and urging all their forest four legged friends to flee the wrath to come and Oromë's deeds of magically moving all four legged creatures to higher ground. He turned his head when he heard boots of dwarves clomping across the room in their direction. Come, Círdan, leave Thorin to his kin tonight."

Thorin took a corner of the massive room and told his version. "I admit to not knowing parts of my journey, but I've been told you all were filled in on my dragon sickness." Thorin wanted it out in the open with his folk.

Dis, sitting on a comfortable bench beside her brother, patted his thigh. "Let us fill you in on our year."

Thorin listened with interest and laughed more freely at some of the funny stories than he had since Smaug. It was noticed by the ones who knew him the longest.

Seven days later, Elrond led the way east and they tackled the Misty Mountains and High Pass after a week on the high moors. Wearing his impressive gold and mithril armor, Thorin rode at the front of the dwarven wagons behind the elven warriors. He allowed his nephews to accompany Elrond's spawn as scouts ahead of everyone. He accepted a pony; a feisty stallion he named Kibil due to his mithril color. Gróin led it to him the day he accompanied the elder dwarves to the camp and greeted his clan.

"Lad," Gróin caught his attention and he turned from his talking with several warriors, "when, the elven twins brought us these ponies; we decided this one was fit for ah prince."

Thorin looked at the steel grey pony with a white blaze from forelock to the tip of its soft, velvet nose. He reached out and let the pony sniff his scent while looking at the black mane and white stockings. "Have you gotten one for my father? I can't very well accept this fine mount and leave him without."

Gróin and Garad chuckled together. With a motion of Gróin's hand, another pony was brought forth. This one was dark chestnut with four white stockings and a long, thick golden mane and tail. "These are the two finest stallions in the herd and will sire strong, beautiful ponies for a long time. Their lines are some of the finest I've ever seen."

Thorin, an expert on horses, having spent most of his life around them, nodded and ran an appreciative eye over them. "We did well by the hand of the elves."

Fili joined them. "I left Minty and Myrtle with Bilbo. He bred them and in three years we will have two more mounts."

"And how is Bilbo?" Thorin queried.

"He longed to come for the adventure, but only traveled as far as Bree. He said he would attend your wedding if you waited until next year and gave enough notice," Fili responded with laughter.

Thorin snorted in disdain, "Your grandfather is getting old and addled. I think he sat in that cell for fifty years contemplating how many grand-dwarflings I could give him before he dies."

Fili gave a belly laugh and was joined by all who heard. "Uncle, you are dead right on that one. He looks at you like you're a prized bull."

Thinking back on the conversation, Thorin smiled. He decided a little fun with his father for demanding a marriage was in order and put his mind to thinking on all the available lasses. He met three from the Iron Hills that Dáin brought and there was Lióni from Jötunheim and no less than three in the caravan. He knew because the father's already bored him to tears extolling their daughter's virtues. To his dismay, Garad's niece, Gerti, was still available. He hoped she married while he was gone. Since she came of age, she was pushed at either he or Dwalin and he felt sorry for her. Several would have wed her, but Garad held out a false hope it would be her that finally landed a Durin prince. She was slightly younger than Dis and it was rare not to be wed at her age. She didn't have a father to talk for her so Garad stood in. He knew at his age, she was probably the best match and figured the younger lasses would prefer ones their own age.

They camped in the high moors ever creeping upwards towards the crack in the mountain. Thorin watched the twins and his nephews ride into camp and joined the elves for a report while his nephews raced to the family camp for food.

"We rode to the pass entrance," Elladan reported and accepted a bowl of stew and thick slice of buttered bread. The work crews you sent, Adar, have the path cleared. The crew made camp for tonight at the pass entrance and are on their way home. We'll meet them tomorrow."

"What orc sign did they see?" Elrond asked.

"A few scattered goblins encounters and they got a report that all bodies were removed to lower caverns and the goblins promised not to harass or steal from us or were threatened with extinction," Elrohir replied. "They asked why the track was being repaired and learned the Lonely mountain is free of Smaug. Agerhál warned them not to attack any men, dwarves or elves traveling High Pass."

"Did Agerhál get numbers still in Goblin Town?" Glorfindel asked.

"Too many. Now that they have food, they are breeding again and have a new king. It is one of the old king's son's. Eight sons fought and the survivor became king. That is after we killed the first son who took the title." Elladan said around a bite of bread.

Done scarfing his food too fast, Elladan reached into his saddle bags and withdrew a piece of hide that was rolled. Soberly, he handed it to his father. "Agerhál took this off one of the goblins. The goblin was far away from the caves so our warriors waylaid him. He was meeting with a band of orcs sent from Gundabad. It's written in Black Speech."

With distaste at having to touch such a filthy item, Elrond carefully opened the message. "The price on Thorin Oakenshield's head has tripled."

Everyone looked at Thorin.

"What is my crime now?" Thorin asked, puzzled and his countenance darkened into a scowl.

Elrond looked closer at the crudely drawn charcoal etched runes. "For living and killing Smaug, and I believe he isn't to marry and continue this Durin line." He turned the scrap over. "Yes, there is more. They are not to allow the dwarves to return to the mountain and orders are to kill all females if they can find one."

Thorin couldn't catch his breath and was sure that large horse standing by Elladan kicked him in the gut. "I don't care about me. Dáin Ironfoot is more than capable of being my father's heir. But to slaughter dwarrowlasses on the off chance they are going to wed me is unconscionable. Didn't we kill enough of them last fall so they can't pull this off?" Thorin's pang of shock promptly morphed into rage, customary in the dwarven race.

"Who is sending lasses to Erebor?" Círdan, with patience of the oldest elf in Middle Earth, asked.

Thorin drew a deep breath and gave the clans and their locations. "I figure we should all arrive within days of each other."

Elrond added. "Mithrandir is leading the eastern clan. Sauron will think twice about attacking him. I'm sure Celeborn is safe in his tree and won't budge until the next war, so the White Mountain clan needs to join with us for the final leg. Give me a moment and I'll see if they are through Redhorn Pass." He took a dozen steps from them and reached out. 'Galadriel.'

'I'm here, Elrond.'

'Prove us both liars and tell me I must hurry south for a wedding.'

Her laughter filled his head. 'You didn't contact me for an answer you are denying to yourself.'

'No, I trust she is being gracious to Legolas?'

'What little we see of him these days. Celeborn went alone to Thranduil. You will face Nazgûl on the other side of Mirkwood. I sent my beloved and his army to help you get the dwarves to Erebor.'

'I am grateful. I assume you are aware Círdan is assisting the dwarves all the way to the Mountain?' Elrond leaned against Elrohir's horse that still wore a saddle.

'I saw him as far as Imladris. Have you left there yet?'

'Yes, we will enter the pass tomorrow. I got a report that Thorin Oakenshield's bounty for only his head has tripled. Also, they plan on attacking all caravans and killing any dam they find in hopes of killing all being brought as prospective brides. Has your mirror foretold events?'

'It has been quiet, so the Valar don't think I need to know details of dwarven migration.'

'I need to know if the White Mountain dwarves passed your realm yet.'

'A week ago. Why?'

'We are going to meet with them and merge into one large force. I will send the boys to hold them at Old Ford Bridge.'

'They better move fast.'

'Don't spend all your time water gazing.'

'With my husband anyplace near Thranduil? Don't count on it, Elrond.'

He broke the connection and called, "Elladan, Elrohir; get ready to ride tonight."

That got everyone's attention and even the dwarf lords gathered to hear the message.

"The White Mountain dwarves are nearing Old Ford Bridge. I need you to halt them until we arrive."

"Why that old fox; he plans on beating us ta the mountain," Garad howled in rage.

"You have the Crown Prince right here," Círdan reminded him with tolerance. "You can assure the lass comes from Ered Luin if you use his time wisely."

Everybody looked at Thorin, who was glaring up at the elf. "They don't need matchmaking advice from an elf," he snarled. "You led my clan this far. I'll go with Elrond's sons and meet with Uncle Fárin."

"Maybe he isn't in charge of his caravan." Garad tried to keep Thorin in his group. "We have three lovely lasses, an ye need not look further."

Gróin, with trumpet in his ear, laughed. "Give it up, Garad. The lad has had decades ta decide on yer niece. He just isn't interested."

"If you travel with my sons, I insist you take fifty of my warriors. I take your life in my hands very seriously, Prince Thorin," Elrond stipulated with no room for refusal in his tone. He turned to Erestor. "I want either you or Glorfindel leading."