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The laughter of an elfling echoed along the corridors of the Woodland Realm, lending an air of magic to the graceful caverns and passageways. Few sounds in all of Arda are so well documented for the sheer joy that they bring to those who are lucky enough to hear it. It was toward this sound that Galion hurried, the robes of the king's steward sweeping over polished stone floors in his wake.

When Galion came upon the royal family, he hesitated upon the chamber threshold. Such a scene of familial contentment greeted his eyes that the young steward was loathe to interrupt.

Thranduil and Anthelísse reclined on their favorite lounge couch, the king's silvery robes spilling over to pool on the floor with the queen's pale green gown. Thranduil's head lay in Anthelísse's lap, and her long clever finger were dancing among the strands of his hair. Aislinn, the queen's favored handmaiden sat nearby on a bench, her dark eyes flashing as she laughed in merriment at the scene before them.

In the center of the spacious room, a young elfling stood toe-to-toe with the much taller Captain of the Guard. Gurithon crouched in a loose wrestling posture, and the young prince Legolas was darting forward over and over trying to tackle one of the Silvan elf's legs. Every time young Legolas missed, Gurithon would retaliate by shooting out a hand and tickling the prince under an outstretched arm. The golden-haired ellon shrieked with laughter but kept on trying to get past the captain's nimble defences. From the sidelines Thranduil, Anthelísse and Aislinn cheered on one or both 'opponents' in the match.

Finally, Legolas got close enough to wrap an arm around one of Gurithon's knees. Gurithon feigned shock, then scooped up the prince over his shoulders. Legolas giggled and squirmed, but couldn't escape as Gurithon presented his captive to Thranduil and Anthelísse.

"What do you make of this, my lord and lady?" Gurithon asked with mock gravity. "Such a strange creature, and so short! Perhaps I ought to send it back to live amongst the dwarves where it belongs?"

With a laugh, Thranduil sat upright, taking care not to muss the elaborate weaving Anthelísse had done in his hair. "If that is a dwarf Gurithon, then it must be teased horribly by its kind for its utter lack of beard!"

"Ada, I'm not a dwarf!" Legolas cried, still squirming valiantly. With some effort he managed to lift himself up to grin at his father over Gurithon's shoulder. "See?" When Thranduil just smiled and quirked an eyebrow, the young prince appealed to his mother. "Naneth, don't let them send me away to live with the dwarves!"

"Fear not little leaf." Anthelísse laughed. "I shall not let anyone send you away. Besides, whatever would the dwarves do with so energetic a child?"

Galion smiled to himself, then sighed and straightened the front of his robes. The messenger waiting in the audience hall would not be kept long waiting. Clearing his throat, Galion made his presence known.

"Ah Galion." Thranduil said, waving the steward forward. "Come, no need to stand in the shadows." Seeing the younger elf's solemn expression the king frowned. "What is it, has Maechenel more complaints regarding the planning of Mereth Nuin Giliath?"

"No my lord." Galion said, bowing deeply. "Although Lord Maechenel does send his regrets that the Feast of Starlight needs must take place indoors this year on account of the weather. I have come to inform you that a human messenger has arrived from the forest road. He bears the crest of Gondor, and awaits you at the soonest convenience."

"A human?" Aislinn asked curiously. Galion felt the tips of his ears heat slightly as the Noldo handmaiden tossed a long black tress over one shoulder. He kept his face professionally aloof though. "This would be the first time in centuries that a mortal has actually sought an audience with this realm."

"The last time a human came before the throne of the Woodland Realm..." Thranduil started a thought, but let it hang. Last time, his father Oropher had been king, and it had been an emissary from Elendil seeking support for the Last Alliance. Anthelísse glanced sideways at him, and the thought passed between them. She reached out a hand to Gurithon, who set Legolas down and sent the prince to his mother's side.

Drawing in a deep breath, Thranduil stood. "Very well then. Galion, tell our guest that I will meet with him from the royal seat."

Once the steward had departed, Thranduil knelt down to eye level with his son. He recalled Nellas's words to him on the morning of Legolas's birth. 'As light and golden an ellon as Lúthien Tinúviel was dark and beautiful an elleth'. His mother's description brought a smile to his face. Legolas really was a beautiful child, even by the lofty standards of elves. His enormous blue eyes were framed by long lashes the likes of which would make any elf maiden green with envy. Playing with Gurithon had brought a pink flush to his cheeks, and even the tousled disarray of his fine gold hair was endearing. But then, Thranduil was seeing through the eyes of a parent.

"What do you say, little leaf? Would you like to join your mother and I as we greet our human visitor?" Thranduil asked.

"O yes Ada!" Legolas exclaimed, bouncing on the spot with excitement. "I want to see the human too!"

"Yes please, ion-nin." Anthelísse reminded the bubbly elfling.

"Yes please Ada."

Thranduil chuckled. "Very well then. Shall we go down to the throne chamber then?" When Legolas nodded vigorously, Thranduil straightened and took his son's free hand. With Legolas between them, Thranduil and Anthelísse started toward the hall with Gurithon and Aislinn following behind.

They followed the many winding passages and subterranean stairways to come to the open chamber where the throne of the Woodland Realm sat. The beautifully carved seat had been transplanted from Emyn Duir with the elves when they had uprooted themselves nearly thirty years ago. It's twining back reached for the vast stone ceiling far above, and the twining embellishments were reminiscent of the horns of a stag. A second seat was built onto the side of the main throne; smaller and less embellished than the seat of the king. It had been at Anthelísse's abject insistence that a second throne the equal to the first had not been built. Yet another way in which the she tried to emphasize the realm's Sindarin king over its Noldo queen for the sake of the prince.

Once Thranduil and Anthelísse were settled, Thranduil called Legolas over to his side. The elfling didn't often get a chance to greet audiences from the royal throne, and was veritably humming with excitement. With a smile, Thranduil laid a hand on Legolas's small shoulder.

"Now Legolas, you must be very polite when I introduce you to our visitor. When I tell them your name, you may raise your head to greet them, and even put a hand to your heart if you like. You mustn't bow though, as you did when Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian came to visit. They were our friends and also elvish nobility, so it was proper then. This is merely a messenger though, and you as a prince are of a higher station. You understand?"

"Yes Ada." Legolas said, his chin bobbing.

Legolas had been simply beside himself with excitement when he had been told some years ago that the lord and lady of Imladris were coming to visit. The excitement had dimmed somewhat when he found out that their three children, the Lady Arwen, Lord Elladan and Lord Elrohir were in Lothlorien visiting their grandparents at the time and could not come as well. Still, the mention of Elrond and Celebrian brought a happy gleam to the prince's eyes. He had been positively spoiled with affection and admiration by both Elrond and Celebrian during their time in the Woodland Realm.

"Ready, meleth-nin?" Anthelísse asked, her gaze flickering toward the causeway toward the front gates with a hint of anxiety. It was not just Thranduil who associated mortals with trouble.

Thranduil nodded. "Galion, send for the messenger."

A few minutes later, two guards approached along the causeway, flanking a human man between them. He was a somewhat unremarkable individual, save for the impressive scar that bridged his nose and puckered his cheeks. Thranduil was aware of the human tendency to regard such marks as badges of courage. Elves on the other hand saw such a marring as what came from a lack of due care on the battlefield.

Once he was led to the foot of the throne, the man saluted Thranduil with a banging of a fist to his iron breastplate and a bow. Sure enough, the armor bore the sigil of Gondor; a single tree beneath a spangling of seven stars.

"My name is Oren, and I bring greetings on behalf of Prince Eärnur of Gondor to you, Thranduil King of the Woodland Realm." The man spoke in a rumbling voice that brought to mind shifting gravel. "As well as this token of friendship from the arbors of the south." The man shifted and produced a small cedar box stamped with an unfamiliar crest from beneath his blue cloak. "This bottle of wine comes from the vineyards of Dorwinion, and is acclaimed as being of the finest flavors ever brewed in all the kingdoms of Man."

"Greetings to you Oren, servant of Gondor, and to your Prince Eärnur." Thranduil replied, leaning forward on his throne. The crown of the Woodland Realm poked him unexpectedly in the temple, and it took all of his elven restraint to keep a smooth face. "Myself, Queen Anthelísse and Prince Legolas accept your token of friendship and offer you the hospitality of the Woodland Realm. It has been some years since last a son of Men ventured beneath the eaves of our forest though. Come, what happenings in the world beyond have prompted your prince to seek us out now?"

Oren gave over the box of wine to Galion, who stood near the foot of the throne, before clearing his throat loudly. "Prince Eärnur sends word of dark happenings in the north, not far from your own borders, King Thranduil. The armies of Angmar have been on the move for the past year, and have in recent months overtaken the previously held Dunedain realms of Arthedain and Fornost. My prince Eärnur has marshalled an army to confront Angmar, and we have sent word to Elrond of Rivendell asking for his support in this campaign as well."

"And has Lord Elrond given you a response?" Anthelísse asked, her even tone hiding the concern that Thranduil knew was there. Elrond had long been like a brother to Anthelísse.

The scarred messenger looked momentarily surprised that an elf queen would respond first before her lord and husband. To his credit though, he quickly recovered himself and nodded. "Aye Your Majesty, we have word that Imladris had pledged a contingent of elf knights under the command of one Lord Glorfindel."

Thranduil frowned darkly, his grip on the royal scepter tightening. Legolas noticed his father's reaction and looked puzzled. The elfling had not yet learned the full history of the Last Alliance, although he likely would have by now if he paid his tutors half as much attention as he paid the little bow and arrows Gurithon had made him.

"And you have come to extract a similar pledge from the Woodland Realm I take it?" Thranduil asked. Exactly what he had feared was coming to pass. The very last thing he wanted in all of Arda was to embroil his people in yet another war that was not of their making.

The human called Oren bowed again. "That is my prince's request, Your Majesty. He also prays that you remember the proximity of your own realm to that of Angmar. The Hills of Evendim run directly between the northern borders of the Greenwood and the lands of Angmar. If none oppose the evil that grows in the north, there will be nothing to prevent Angmar from coming down and laying ruin to you and your people along with everyone else."

"I am aware of the geography of my realm, human." Thranduil replied evenly.

"Begging your pardon, King Thranduil." Oren deferred, but did not back away. "Prince Eärnur's request still stands though. Can we look to the Woodland Realm for support in the campaign against the forces of Angmar?"

Thranduil was about to utter a vehement and rather final refusal when he felt a pressure on his wrist. Anthelísse gazed long and beseechingly into his eyes. He knew what she wished; if Elrond was going into battle yet again against this new darkness, she did not want him to go alone.

"...I will consider your prince's request." Thranduil said at length. "You shall have your answer in three days hence. In that time, you are free to enjoy the hospitality of our realm. Galion." The steward reappeared as if by magic from the side of the throne. "See to it that our guest is quartered and attended to."

"Your Majesty." Oren bowed and turned to leave with Galion. Just as he was about to step down from the audience dias though, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Tales of the courage of the Woodland Realm are oft included in the retelling of the Last Alliance among our people. My generation and the generations before mine have grown up believing the wild elves of the north to be unmatched in their boldness on the field. I do hope I can pass the same tales on to my own children."

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