"Ada, that is Annabon the Oliphaunt.  Edwen Nana has made an entire line of them circling above the hem.  See how each uses its trunk to hold the tale of the Annabon that precedes it?  But, truly, Ada, she says that I am not hard enough on my clothes, so she does not have enough mending to fill the hours.  Therefore, she must use her time to sew me new tunics instead."

            His son needed new tunics because he was not wearing out his old ones?  Thranduil did not even attempt to analyze the logic of this assertion.  "Well, for the love of the Valar, put a few rents in your garments, will you!?"

            "I will do my best, Ada," said Legolas with pretend obedience.  "But I have so few opportunities to tear my tunics and leggings," he added, alluding to an ongoing disagreement between father and son.

            Thranduil frowned.  He did not want his son to leave his side, but both Gilglîr and Legolas were now badgering him on the subject well nigh on a daily basis.  He also had received repeated letters from both Celeborn and Elrond, letters that were diplomatic but forthright.  Legolas was no Elfling.  Mirkwood—for it was Greenwood no more—needed his skills as an archer; moreover, Legolas should be acquiring as much experience as possible, both as a fighter and as a leader.  Even Galadriel had sent a missive, reminding him that Legolas, as a small Elfling, had alone and on foot journeyed from Thranduil's kingdom to the realm of Imladris.  He had, she wrote, faced many foes and overcome many obstacles.  Surely he could be entrusted with the leadership not only of routine patrols but even of sorties responding to Orc incursions.  He was, she opined, more than capable.  Indeed, she hinted, Legolas's father perhaps did not appreciate that his son had escaped a particularly grievous peril whilst relying solely on his own devices.  Always so enigmatic, that Lady!  Still, in spite of all arguments, Thranduil could not yet bring himself to allow Legolas to accompany the warriors.  Ai!  He had lost Legolas once already; he could not bear the thought of losing him again.  But each day that passed brought news of more assaults on Elvendom in general and Mirkwood in particular.  The time of Legolas's riding could not be delayed much longer.

            A hubbub at the door interrupted Thranduil's thoughts.  A warrior was admitted.  The Elf was dirty, bloody, and disheveled.  Clearly he did not bring good news.

            "My Lord, a large company of Orcs has barely been driven back.  We suffered many casualties—dead, wounded, and prisoners."

            Thranduil, as King, fought to keep the dismay from his face.

            "Get yourself to the healer, warrior.  Gilglîr …" he began, looking to his Seneschal.

            "But my Lord, I have more to report."

            Thranduil turned back to the warrior.  The King was startled at being interrupted but forbearing because of the warrior's urgent tone.

            "My Lord, once the Orcs were driven back, we discovered that the creature Gollum had vanished, his guards captured or slain.  In truth, we believe that the attack may have been undertaken to secure his escape."

            This was grievous news indeed.  Thranduil had given Mithrandir his solemn oath that his people would guard that creature with the greatest of vigilance.  They had failed in their duty.  Mithrandir must be told at once so that he could take whatever steps he deemed necessary to repair the damage—if reparable it was.

            "Gilglîr, we must send word to Rivendell at once.  It may be that Mithrandir is there.  If not, Elrond is likely to know his whereabouts."

            "Adar-nîn!"  Legolas tried to look solemn, but he could not hide the gleam of excitement in his eyes.

            "My Lord and my Father, allow me to take this message.  You know that I am familiar with the way and that I can reach Rivendell more swiftly than any other rider you might choose."

            Thranduil considered.  Surely this would be one of the least perilous of the tasks that Legolas might try to lay claim to.  A journey to Rivendell and back as a messenger—and he would insist that Legolas accept an escort of several warriors.  Yes, this would be far preferable than allowing Legolas to lead a patrol to the south of Mirkwood, as he had been begging.  Thranduil carefully hid his relief.  It wouldn't do to let Legolas know that he was permitting him to go in order to keep him out of trouble.

            "Very well, ion-nîn.  You will carry this message to the Lord Elrond."

            Legolas arose hastily, as if afraid that his father would change his mind.  "Adar-nîn, may I be permitted to leave the hall before you in order to prepare for this journey?"

            Thranduil sighed, reluctantly inclining his head and gesturing his son's dismissal.  Then, after Legolas had exited the dining hall, Thranduil thought of another reason why it would be good for his son to journey to Imladris.  "It is certain," he said to Gilglîr, "that once my son arrives at Rivendell he will not want to immediately return to Mirkwood.  Much as I will miss him, perhaps that would be for the best, for he would be far from all the dangers of this kingdom.  Gilglîr, you will draft a letter to Elrond giving my permission for Legolas to remain away as long as it shall please either Elrond or Legolas.  Mayhap if Legolas can spend time in the company of one of Elrond's sons, he will be too occupied to yearn for greater adventure.  There is that Estel, now, isn't there?  He gets along quite well with him, doesn't he?"

            "You mean Aragorn, son of Arathorn?"

            "Oh, is that what they call him now.  No one ever seems to keep the same name, eh, Gilglîr."  Gilglîr joined Thranduil in laughing at a very private joke.

            The next morning Thranduil and Gilglîr stood outside the Hall to bid Legolas and his escort farewell.

            "Ion-nîn."

            "Yes, Adar-nîn."

            "At Rivendell you will be the representative of this realm, and you will comport yourself accordingly."

            "Of, course, Adar-nîn."

            "I see that you are wearing one of your better robes."

            "Yes, Ada."

            "And you have packed your diadem?"

            Legolas flushed and acknowledged that he had not.

            "Legolas, you may be sure that Elrond will be wearing his."