Thranduil knew that Elrond expected him to arrive for the Winter Festival with an impossibly huge retinue of elves, if not the entire population of Mirkwood. This was part of the reason why he decided to surprise his old friend and come alone. First of all, there would be more wine for him. The second part of the reason was more personal -- he truly wished to get away from his duties and his people, even if just for a short amount of time. Lately it all seemed so overwhelming, something that it was difficult for the young king to admit even to himself.

He wondered if he would be able to loosen his pride enough to ask Elrond for some advice. The half-elf was very wise, and much more experienced than Thranduil, but he could also be so bloody condescending that sometimes he was hard to talk to. It was easier to pick arguments with him, and Thranduil loved nothing better than a good, rousing argument. His father had always told him he was too hot-headed.

Lately Thranduil had been missing Oropher... so much. Had it truly been over a hundred years since he had perished in the battle with Sauron? It seemed during his entire journey from Mirkwood to Imladris, Thranduil could think of nothing but his dead father. It only served to make him melancholic and taciturn. He was not going to be good company, to be sure.

Half-way to Rivendell, Thranduil had felt the urge to simply disappear into the world. Outside of the lands of elves, no one knew who he was. He could explore all of Arda, leave his responsibilities behind. What did he truly owe Mirkwood? Did he want to remain trapped forever in his stone palace that his father had hewn from a cave, sitting on a pile of treasure and drinking wine to forget his troubles? They could not even grow their own grapes in the wood. Thranduil had to trade for his wine from Laketown, and from Imladris.

Thranduil knew Oropher would not have wanted him to forsake his responsibilities. This alone was what kept him plodding towards Rivendell. That, and the hope that maybe seeing Elrond again would kindle some hope inside Thranduil. He always did manage to have a good time in Rivendell, even if it was usually at Elrond's expense.

He had just dismounted his horse when the doors of the House of Elrond were flung open and a pair of young elves marched forth, residents of Rivendell whose names Thranduil could not recall. They bowed to him properly, bid him welcome, and took his horse off to be cared for. Two more elves came behind them and greeted him, and Thranduil expected that they had been sent to feed and water him the same as the others had done for his horse, but before they could offer him any sort of hospitality Lord Glorfindel burst forth from the palace as a run, nearly knocking the welcoming party over in his haste.

Glorfindel was a few inches shorter than Thranduil, but broader in the shoulders and more muscular. Their hair was a similar shade of gold, but while Thranduil wore his long and loose, held back by only a small circlet crown, Glorfindel had his elaborately braided. In fact, most of the elves of Rivendell had far more elaborate hair styles than Thranduil's own people, but perhaps they had more time to sit around braiding each other's hair rather than having to fight orcs and giant spiders, Thranduil thought. Still, he could not think ill of Glorfindel, whom he had always liked and whose handsome face was split in a broad grin. He wore a long sky-blue robe that exactly matched his eyes, which were paler than the King of Mirkwood's. The robe split below the waist to show off a resplendent pair of white leggings that were embroidered in blue with designs of some sort of large bird that Thranduil did not recognize. His own green and brown tunic and leggings seemed shoddy in comparison.

"Are those new boots, Glorfindel?" Thranduil asked, ignoring the rest of the ensemble.

Both Glorfindel and Elrond had a passion for clothing that would have embarrassed any elf of Mirkwood, Thranduil thought. He forgave them for it, mostly because he knew he was simply jealous. Maybe he would carry off one of Elrond's seamstresses when he returned home, or barring that, a great trunk full of new outfits.

"Yes, they are! Do you like them, Thranduil? I have six pair, in all different colors," Glorfindel said with more excitement than vanity. Thranduil knew this sort of luxury was taken for granted in Rivendell. Glorfindel lifted up his boot, showing off the white suede boot that went up to his knee and folded over in a large bell at the top. Thranduil had no idea how he could keep them so spotless. "I'll send the boot-maker to you tomorrow if you like. These would look wonderful on you," Glorfindel said graciously. Thranduil nodded curtly, pretending he didn't envy the boots, but secretly he was pleased.

"It is good to see you," he said softly, clasping Glorfindel's arm. The War Councilor could always be counted on to make Thranduil feel welcome. Glorfindel drew Thranduil into an embrace, clapping him heartily on the back, then waved a hand at the other elves who had been sent to welcome the king, dismissing them.

"And you, my lord. I hope you will stay long and lift the boredom of this winter season. The first snowfall came two days ago and it shows no sign of melting."

"But of course, I am here for Elrond's Winter Festival. I have not attended one of these in a great many years! If I recall, there was always much merriment to distract one from the weather. However, even I can admit that Imladris is enchanting with a soft blanket of snow gracing her."

"I suppose, but I prefer to ignore it all with a warm fire and a hot mug of spiced wine!"

"And good company," Thranduil added. He looked up as he saw Elrond coming down the stairs towards them, smiling politely. His red velvet robe well suited his dark hair and grey eyes. It was just as ornate as Glorfindel's outfit. "You will have to provide that, my dear Glorfindel."

"Welcome, King Thranduil," Elrond said, giving the proper Elvish gesture of respect and reminding Thranduil that he was more than just a visitor coming to spend time with old friends. This piqued him somewhat, for in the company of Glorfindel he had almost been able to forget his royal status. With his father's voice ringing in his ears and telling him to behave himself, Thranduil bowed in return even while his mind was scheming of ways he could turn Elrond's safe, ordered little world on its ear.

"I thank you for inviting me, Lord Elrond."

"The invitation included more than just yourself," Elrond said, but he looked slightly relieved.

"Did it? Had you but let me know, I would have brought many of my woodland kin."

"I had assumed--"

"Do not trouble yourself, Elrond, I will forgive you this time," Thranduil said, trying to sound magnanimous. Glorfindel looked as if he were trying not to laugh.

"Thank you," Elrond said crisply. "Well then, Thranduil, come inside and refresh yourself. The party from Lórien is expected this afternoon and the first feast of the season will be tonight. If you have any special requests, you may let me know and my cooks will do their best to accommodate them."

Thranduil put his arm over Glorfindel's shoulders and together the three elves turned to walk up the stairs and into the palace. Elrond wore his customary expression, a slightly irate look which indicated that he had much on his mind. Thranduil had rarely ever seen him smiling or happy or even content. It had occurred to him that his own presence might put that look onto Elrond's face, and in his more wicked moments, he considered this something of an accomplishment.

"Oh, I shall not trouble you for anything extra," Thranduil said in a modest tone, "Though you do know how much I enjoy that cabbage and hummingbird stew you had last time." Thranduil knew perfectly well that it was not in season, and seeing Elrond's eyes darken, he went on as they entered the marble front hall. "Then there was a salad made from some type of purple flower petals, and some truffles would be nice. If you can not get that, a whole roasted spider always reminds me of home--"

"Glorfindel! I have been waiting for you for nearly half an hour!" snapped Erestor, Elrond's Chief Councilor, who was standing in the entrance holding a thick sheaf of parchment. "We have six dozen things to do before the guests arrive, and-- Oh! King Thranduil, forgive me. Welcome to Rivendell."

Erestor bowed gracefully in an old-fashioned gesture of respect that reminded Thranduil of some of the lessons in etiquette that Oropher had once tried to instill in him and failed. Despite the grandness of the greeting, Thranduil was well aware that Erestor cared very little for him. He wondered vaguely if the thin, sharp advisor was sleeping with Glorfindel. Ahh, jealous, Thranduil?

"Master Erestor!" he said cheerfully, "And just in time. Lord Elrond was just telling me that you would be pleased to accommodate all my special dining requests while I am in Imladris. The list is rather extensive, so listen carefully. I--"

"But where are the rest of your elves?" Erestor interrupted, peering past him and momentarily forgetting his manners in his surprise.

"King Thranduil came alone this time," Elrond said, exchanging a look with the astounded councilor.

"Well! That is good news indeed. Ah, forgive me, that is, I mean, we will of course accommodate any requests you have, my lord, but if you will excuse me, Lord Glorfindel and I must really be on our way to finish preparations for tonight's banquet. I do have one chamber that is ready for you if you should like to rest, in the West Wing--"

"I prefer the East Wing," Thranduil interrupted. "The light is better there in the morning. I like to be able to see who I am waking up next to."

Erestor flushed and ground his teeth together. "Then I shall see to it that suitable accommodations are prepared right away."

"Make sure I have at least a dozen pillows. They are always so thin, here."

"There is nothing wrong with my pillows," Elrond said. Thranduil smiled at him condescendingly.

"Oh, and be sure to schedule the boot-maker to see Thranduil tomorrow," Glorfindel added.

"And a seamstress," said Elrond. "If what the king is wearing now is any indication of what clothing he has brought with him, he will be desperately needing those services."

Astounded, Thranduil turned to Elrond and grinned at him. That the Lord of Imladris should tease back pleased him, but in any case he meant still to take him up on the offer. Erestor had pulled out a quill and a bottle of ink, which he had shoved into Glorfindel's hand to hold for him while he scribbled down all of the requests.

"Will there be anything else?" Erestor asked Elrond.

"Yes," said Thranduil, prepared to continue harassing the councilor.

"No," Elrond cut him off. "King Thranduil and I have much to discuss, which we can sit in the great hall by the fireplace and do while you fetch his required number of pillows."

"Glorfindel, will you join us?" Thranduil asked. He was loathe to be separated from the one genuinely friendly face he ever saw in Imladris.

"I would love to," Glorfindel said enthusiastically, but then he curbed himself back when he saw the looks given to him by both Elrond and Erestor. "But I fear Master Erestor requires my help, or you will not have your cabbage and hummingbird stew tonight."

"His what?" Erestor said, looking pale. Glorfindel winked at Thranduil, capped the bottle of ink and slipped his arm through Erestor's.

"Until tonight, my lords," Glorfindel said and steered the excitable Erestor off down the marble corridor.

"Are both the Lord and Lady expected from Lórien, Elrond?" Thranduil asked idly as they entered the great hall and took seats in the plush, comfortable chairs by the fire. Elrond sent for refreshments and soon they had tea and some sort of pastries made from honey and almonds. Thranduil would have preferred wine but he made do with the tea as he was so delighted by the food. He had eaten nothing but rabbit stew, which he made himself during his journey, for the past three days. He did not tell Elrond this.

"Yes, both Galadriel and Celeborn are coming... along with their daughter," Elrond said. He met Thranduil's eyes for a moment, then looked away, as if he felt guilty about something. Thranduil frowned. "Have you met Celebrían?"

"No," said Thranduil. "Why? What is wrong with her?"

"There is something I wish to discuss with you," Elrond said, taking a deep breath. "Something serious."

"Very well," Thranduil replied. "Go ahead. What is it?"