"Your grace, the tower guards have sent word that two strangers are following the path to the gates. Shall we grant them entrance?" A pageboy announced, entering the king's throneroom.
"Have they been identified?" He asked, idly picking at the grapes on a silver platter on a table by his left side.
"One is the wizard, Mithrandir. The other is unknown to us, but he is of the race of men."
"Gandalf the Grey is come to my realm? I do wonder at his purpose. Of course let them through, let them through and bring them immediately to me."
"There was one other with them, sire." The young elf said nervously.
"Another?" The king said inquisitively.
"Yes sire, but he was neither wizard nor man. The tower guards could not determine what he was. A small creature, on all fours, gambolling alongside them - although a rope was around his neck and held by the strange man. The creature appeared to be a prisoner of some sort."
"This creature is certainly not of our realm, why has the wizard brought it here?" Thranduil murmured to himself. He could not deny that his interest was piqued. "Bring them here the instant they enter our boarders." Thranduil ordered, and the elf left the large chamber and headed at once towards the gates at the edge of the kingdom.

"I must admit, Mithrandir, I was curious when I received word that you were in my kingdom, and with a stranger and a prisoner, no less. What brings you here?"
The grey wizard removed his pointed hat and the king noted that the creature they had reportedly carried was not among them now. "My companion is Aragorn, son of Arathorn of the Dunedain and heir to the throne of Gondor. We come to you for your assistance."
"That depends on what you ask of me." Thranduil said, smiling coyly. "I do notice that the strange creature you travelled with is not here?"
"We asked that he be detained for now." Aragorn spoke, and Thranduil was admittedly shocked. The use of his prison cells was granted without his permission? He was about to make complaint, but decided against it. That was neither here nor there.
"Very well. What do you desire from me?"
"Merely that he stay imprisoned in your dungeons. They are deep underground and the most secure in this part of the realm. We could not make it with him to Rivendell for he has tried to escape already almost thrice, I fear we could not contain him should he make another attempt, and it is imperative that he does not escape. He has information that our enemy desires above all else." Gandalf said. Thranduil remarked mentally that the wizard had a way of making everything sound serious. Thranduil did not fully understand the knowledge that the creature held, nor his importance.
"I suppose I can do that. He is already locked away, after all. Yes, I shall keep him here. Will you stay for dinner? You are in luck; there is to be a feast."
"My lord, from what I have heard, there is always a feast in this realm." Aragorn laughed.
Thranduil shared in his good humour and laughed also. "It is true, this realm has two, possibly three feasts a week. Our cousins in Rivendell are lucky to have one a month!"
"Alas, we cannot. We must continue on. We have important business to attend to in the very realm you mentioned. We have business with Lord Elrond." Gandalf said. The king smiled in a friendly manner.
"Very well. Rest assured the creature will be contained safely here. Farewell, Mithrandir and farewell, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Pray we meet again in this life."

"What do you mean he has escaped?!" The king asked, outraged. Legolas stood beside him and cringed internally – he could feel his father's rage radiating from him. "He was meant to be kept under guard! How could he have escaped?!"
"My lord it was an orc pack! We were attacked and in the confusion, he escaped!" A young elf stammered.
The king applied pressure to the bridge of his nose, for his vision was turning red. He had sworn that the creature would remain here, away from enemy hands.
"Father, it is hardly their fault. They could not have known." Legolas said, ever the diplomat. He was much more forgiving than his father.
"For one thing, you have certainly inherited your mother's temper. It shall have to be you, Legolas, to go to Rivendell and deliver the news. Elrond has summoned a council anyway." He said to his son. Then, he dismissed all others and added in hushed voices to his son: "Also, I believe in my heart that Gandalf has found the one ring. You must go, my son, and keep me informed. It is our kingdom and Lorien that form a barrier between Mordor and Rivendell. Elrond will desire to keep the most dangerous knowledge to himself, lest it fall into enemy hands, but, my son, that knowledge may save our realm if we find ourselves under attack. Find out all you can, and report back to me. You must leave immediately."
Legolas agreed, of course, and was ready within the hour to leave for Rivendell. Thranduil rode out with him to the borders of Mirkwood and bid him farewell at the edge of the trees, hoping that his son would arrive safely and return swiftly.

"A letter has arrived from Rivendell, your grace. It is from the prince."
"I thank you. Place it on the table." Thranduil said, finishing writing his own correspondence (this time to Lothlorien) before opening another. He placed his quill down after signing his name with a flourish, and picked up the letter from his son.
He read it once, then twice, then three times over. He felt the need to sit down for support.
The letter read that his son was joining a quest to the very heart of Mordor to destroy the ring. Thranduil felt his heart still in his chest. Of course his son would want to help save the world. He had inherited his mother's courage and her determination to do good. Of course he would want to go. But he was little more than a boy, he was only just of age! Thranduil was still inclined to think of his son as a boy, as a child that needed protecting. He had to remind himself that his son was an excellent fighter, and could more than hold his own in a battle. He was agile and swift and the best shot with an arrow in the whole of Mirkwood. Thranduil was comforted to learn that Gandalf, and the stranger he had met once before, Aragorn, were also part of this quest. It soothed his mind slightly, that he was going with those whom he had met and whom he trusted. He knew writing to his son would not change his mind, and by the time the letter reached him, he would have left Rivendell. All he could do now was hope and pray that the last remaining member of his family would return safely to the nest.

Although Thranduil was caught up in war himself, the months that passed were agonisingly slow. Three attacks were made on Lothlorien from the fortress at Dol Guldur, and one attack was made on Thranduil's own lands. Each of the attacks were deflected and the orcs defeated. Celeborn and Thranduil attacked the fortress at Dol Guldur with aid from Galadriel. Many would think that Thranduil hardly had time to worry for his son, but worry he did. Even in the midst of battle, half of his mind was with his son and worrying for every breath that he took. He could feel that the war was drawing to a close, he could not feel which side would be victorious. Still, he posted watchmen at his towers around the clock to watch for his son, should he return home.
When he did eventually return home, Thranduil was stood on his balcony facing the East. The door to his chambers was rather unceremoniously thrown open, and the king turned in surprise.
"My lord, it is your son. He comes from the West." The elf that had entered said breathlessly. Thranduil stood without second thought and pushed past the elf into the corridor. He almost ran to the watch towers, hardly believing it could be true. Almost falling over his own robes, he climbed the stairs three at a time and entered the watch tower to see his son on horseback nearing the gates. He was not alone. He was with three hobbits,– Thranduil recognised their kind from his dealings with Bilbo - Mithrandir, and by the Valar, was that a dwarf?!
"Father!" Legolas said, embracing his father at the gates. He had grown. He was the same height as Thranduil now. His father felt a tear enter his eye as he clutched his son close.
"My son, where have you been? You were meant to return days ago!"
"I am sorry father, I should have wrote to you. It was Aragorn's coronation as king of Gondor. As a friend, I had to stay and witness it." He said. He was the same Legolas that Thranduil had raised, but those big eyes that once had the power to make his father cancel his meetings and take him to the stream, now held a deep sadness and one could tell just by looking that he had witnessed some horrors in these months past. War destroys us all, Thranduil thought. He had not wanted his son to witness battle this young. He and his wife had both dreamed of a time when their son would be raised in peace and security.
"And who are your companions? I hope they are prepared for a feast, my son, for there will be celebrations all month to honour your home coming!" The king said, seeing the same shadows behind the eyes of all four of his son's small companions. It saddened him to see the effects of war after the victory had been celebrated. They had won the battle, but how many lives had they lost?
"Frodo Baggins of the Shire, our ring bearer – he took the ring right to Mount Doom and cast it in! His gardener, Samwise, went with him and is the most loyal creature I have ever known. Merriadoc and Pippin took different paths but both were of greatness and aid during the war. Merry was esquire of Rohan and Pippin, servant of Gondor. And there is Gimli, son of Gloin. I have found cause to believe that relations between elves and dwarves should not always be so unfriendly. There are none here more deserving of our honour, father." Legolas said grandly, smiling fondly at his small friends.
"I do believe you will recognise the name Baggins." Gandalf said and Thranduil smiled.
"Of course! Bilbo's nephew! Why, I never thought that such courage could be had in hobbits, never mind such a remarkable amount in one family! You are always welcome here, Frodo Baggins. And indeed, so are your friends. All of your kind are always welcome among these trees." Thranduil said, bowing his head in a sign of respect.
The hobbits, the dwarf and Gandalf stayed but one day, but the celebrations lasted for weeks. They started early in the morning and lasted well into the night. It seemed that the entire world was in celebration, and it seemed that a darkness would never again touch Middle Earth.

The time of the elves was drawing ever closer to its end. Legolas built his own ship to sail to Valinor in, and had chosen, much to his fathers slight distaste, to bring Gimli the dwarf. Thranduil himself left Middle Earth at the same time, just one day before his son. Bilbo and Frodo Baggins, as well as Gandalf, had also departed from the Grey Havens. As Thranduil sailed across the waters, he reflected upon his long, long life. It was rumoured that though the dead had passed into the Halls of Mandos, some still made appearance on the shores of Valinor, and Thranduil hoped beyond hope that this was true. Oh, how he wished he could see his beautiful wife once more, and how he longed to embrace his dear mother, who had departed when he was only young. How much he wanted his son to meet his grandfather, Oropher, and how much he desired a complete family for once in his life. As the waves slowly rocked the boat forwards, Thranduil recalled his wife and her long hair and bright eyes, and their first meeting. He remembered her face as she held their son, and he remembered how she tried with all her might to stay strong and to recover.
As the journey neared its end, Thranduil disembarked the boat. He glanced behind him, knowing his son was following in his footsteps and would be here within the day. As he turned, he saw the face he had longed for since her death. She had not changed. She looked as youthful and as bright as ever and she still filled his heart with a joy that he could not describe.
"My love," she said. "I have waited an incredibly long time for this." She said, taking his hand in her own and leading him up the shore.

A/N - I don't know if the dead would be in Valinor at all, and in fact I doubt they would, but for the sake of the story, suspend your disbelief. As always, nothing is mine, I simply bend these characters to my will (evil laugh).
Sarah x