Arriving back at the palace as the first rosy hue tinted the clouds on the horizon, the Elves passed across the bridge and through the great doors, some hurrying, others dallying in talkative groups.
Legolas strode through the gates and down the hallways until he reached his chamber, still disarrayed as he had left it. The lamp had burned itself out, while his tunic and the basin of long-cold water remained on the floor. Deciding to dispense with the trouble of summoning a servant, he lifted the basin and carried it to the bathing chamber at the end of the passage, where he poured the water into a large ceramic channel and listened as it gurgled away to pass through a system of filters before seeping into the soil near the river.
He then refilled the bowl with fresh, warm water that flowed down from a large cistern above and returned to the warmth of his own room. The palace's system of (usually) hot water was a development of the one used in Menegroth but the engineering had also benefited from a number of royal visits to Imladris.
"What would Master Elrond say," Ann�m�r had teased, "if the Prince of the Greenwood were discovered investigating his plumbing?" "He knows me from of old," Legolas had retorted, calmly continuing his explorations.
Removing the finely embroidered robes- now soiled with dust, soot and clinging leaves-he washed and redressed himself, gathering up the discarded clothing to be taken to the laundry room.

When Legolas came upon him, Galion was wandering in the general direction of the kitchens, smiling to himself. He carried a glazed earthenware flagon, such as were used to carry the plentiful but inferior wines commonly drunk by the king's soldiers and servants. Legolas raised a dubious eyebrow at sight of the butler, for Galion's love of wine was notorious among the rest of the Elves, particularly the Sindar, who often had great difficulty in understanding some of the ways and weaknesses of their Nandorin comrades.
"Know you the whereabouts of my father, Galion?" he called. When he had once recognised whom it was that addressed him, the butler, who was evidently in a merry mood, made a commendable-if not entirely successful-attempt to appear in complete control of himself.
"The king retired to his own chambers, my lord...I believe, however, that he is to meet with his chief councillors in the Hall within the hour." So saying, Galion bowed with a flourish that would have ended in disaster had he not possessed the natural poise and balance of an Elf, even while under the influence of susbstantial volumes of wine. He then continued on his way, leaving Legolas to gaze ruefully after him.

Forty minutes later he stood outside the Hall, gazing at the delicate carving on the great panelled doors. Many centuries had passed since they had been shaped but Legolas could still remember watching the craftsman at work, how the finely shaped tools had gouged into the smooth surface of the wood, guided by the skilled and confident hands of the Elf; the sound of the blades sweeping long shavings and whittling tiny shapes; the smell of the fresh chips that had fallen to the floor...
The large design had been sketched and carved first, but afterwards many days had been spent adding tiny details, memorials to the carpenter's ingenuity and imagination, and also serving as reminders of events that had taken place as he worked. The etching of a woodland bird resting on the shoulder of an Elf commemorated the rescuing of the creature one morning during the crafting of the door. Legolas could still remember it: how he had set her wing and she had afterwards flown just behind his head, to the great amusement of Ann�m�r and the rest of the younger Elves.

As he stood smiling at the memory, the sound of many hurrying feet could be heard behind him, accompanied by the impatient tones of his father. Turning, he saw the king approach, annoyance written in the lines of his face and even the crisp movement of his robe as it whipped about his legs. As the little procession arrived, a torch-bearing servant sprang forward to open the doors and Thranduil passed through, followed by an assortment of courtiers, advisers, captains and one son.
Striding through the pillars of soft-grey stone that stood like lines of sentinels along the length of the hall, the king came to his carven throne and sat down to face the assembled Elves who stood before him.

"What then would you have me do, C�caran?" Thranduil demanded. Evidently his words were the continuation of a conversation that had been progressing for some time and not, apparently, very amicably. Legolas watched his father and the other Elf with keen interest, for the mother of C�caran had been a maid of the Noldor, and some among his Silvan companions teased that his temper was worthy even of the F�anorians: oft-times did heated debates break out between he and those possessed of differing opinions to his own.

"With all respect, lord, they are Dwarves!" he cried now. "The ancient enemy of our people-they cannot be allowed to trespass freely in our lands!"
"But they have done us no harm...perhaps they wish no ill towards us, and 'twould be folly to bring the anger of the Naugrim upon ourselves without need," interposed another Elf, formerly the Guardian of the Southern Marches.
"You would speak of diplomacy, Lossedhel, until you felt the blade of an axe in your back!" C�caran retorted sharply. Lossedhel's eyes glinted dangerously at the implied insult, for he was as skilled a warrior as the other, but he restrained himself.

Turning once more to the king, C�caran continued tersely, "Do not allow them to leave your realm alive!"
Galendil the Wise, who of old dwelt in Beleriand and who had aided three generations of the family of the king, shook his head. "Nay, my son: we cannot allow past bitternesses to affect our judgement in matters of the present. The world is much changed...the old alliances are ended, therefore perhaps it would be prudent to end the old feuds also."

Thranduil, who had watched the exchange between his courtiers with eyes that saw much, now raised one hand.
"You are silent, Legolas," he remarked. "What say you to this, my son?" Stepping through the others, who parted before him, Legolas approached the seat of the king.
"There is reason behind each argument," he began. "That so small a company should be slain, however, goes against all that my heart and conscience bid."
There was an impatient sound from behind him, and Legolas smiled briefly despite the gravity of the situation, for he knew without turning that C�caran was the perpetrator.
"And yet," he continued, his brow now furrowed with concern and his voice dropping as he considered the matter, "Yet it is ever unwise to allow anyone, Man or Dwarf, to wander our realm unchallenged, without declaring their purpose..."

The remembered name of Thorin still troubled him, for the fame of the Kings under the Mountain had spread far, and to the Elves the Fall of Dale was but a little time past. If indeed it was one of D�rin's line who walked the Forest, unforeseen difficulties could arise whatever the course taken.

"There are yet Dwarves dwelling in the Emyn Engrin, are there not?" he inquired suddenly, glancing up at his father, who nodded affirmation.
"The capture of this party might bring the wrath of their Eastern kindred down upon us, were they to hear of it," he mused, "yet conversely, if we permit them to wander unchecked we may only be giving them time to send for aid to attack us, if such is their design..."

"You speak truly, lord!" C�caran interjected eagerly. "Allow me to take a group of warriors into the Forest to hunt them down!"
"No!" Legolas exclaimed. "Nay, slaughter is not in my mind, for I do not believe their design to be such...but I would counsel you, my father, to have the Dwarves brought before you and questioned as to their intent." There was a murmur of approbation from the king's advisors, and Thranduil too smiled at his son.
"You speak as I myself have thought," he answered. "Take a-"

What his command would have been the Elves were not to discover, for at that moment the carven doors swung inward, and Thalion strode through.
"My lords," he greeted them, bowing with deference toward Thranduil and his son. "I must seek your pardon for interrupting you thus, but a matter has been brought to my attention that I considered to be of sufficient import to merit disturbing you." He inclined his head and at the motion a second Elf appeared in the entrance. Astonished gasps and cries broke from the lips of many in the Hall and even Legolas stared wide-eyed, for Thalion's companion bore in his strong arms the stout form of a Dwarf: boots, beard, tasselled hood and all.

"Bring him before me," Thranduil commanded, "and explain to me your actions, Thalion." The two Elves complied, and the Dwarf was laid on the floor before the chair so that all could see that he was insensible and had been bound with many thongs.
"Early this morning I returned to my own house," Thalion commenced. "I had not been there many hours, however, when Ringil and a number of the other Elves who dwell deeper in the Forest came to our village in great agitation, speaking of a creature they had found lying in one of the glades in which we are accustomed to feast. I accompanied them to the place of which they spoke, and found more of their company moving towards the palace, dragging the Dwarf you behold before you. I told them that I would take charge of him, for I knew not what they might do, and brought him here as you see."

Having finished his speech Thalion retreated a little, looking to the king for approval or censure. Thranduil seemed deep in thought for some moments, then smiled at Thalion and the Elf who had borne the Dwarf.
"You have acted rightly," he told them. "Unbind him and then go on your way, but speak as little of this matter as you are able."
The two acted as instructed, then bowing they retreated, unspoken curiosity lingering in their eyes.

"He shall wake soon," Thranduil told the assembled Elves, who gazed at the Dwarf with open interest and in some cases animosity. "Then we shall discover what we may, since the opportunity has been given us whether we willed it or no."
The king's words were proven to be correct, for within ten minutes of Thalion's arrival the short figure began to move, the eyes opened, and the Dwarf sat up, staring about him in shock and hostility. He shouted some words in a gruff voice, but whether they were in his own tongue, or merely a corrupted form of the Westron, the Elves could not understand them.

Thranduil, however, watched him with keen eyes and then began to question him.
"Who are you? By what name are you known?" he asked, but received only silence in reply. The Elves stirred in anger at this insolence, but Legolas wondered...here was a being who considered himself to have the right to defy the Elven-king himself, and while Dwarves were known to be obstinate, audacious creatures at all times, of old most had been to a certain extent intimidated by the power, wisdom and strong will of his father. Perhaps there was a deeper reason behind his refusal to identify himself than mere truculence.

"From whence do you come? What is your purpose? For what reason have you journeyed so far?"
"I am starving," the Dwarf answered at last after many such questions, bringing a smile to the faces of many of the Elves.
"But what brings you here?" Thranduil persisted. "Why leave your supplies of food in a distant place, only to wander in the Forest? What did you hope to find?"

The circling questions continued for many moments, and to Legolas, standing behind his father's chair, they passed with increasing disquiet. Thranduil, however, was not dismayed by the Dwarf's perversity and continued with the same inscrutable expression, but after an hour Legolas could see that even his father was beginning to lose his patience.

"Why did you and your folk three times try to attack my people at their merrymaking?" he inquired, hoping to provoke some kind of direct response.
"We did not attack them," the Dwarf contradicted. "We came to beg, because we were starving."
"A likely tale," C�caran muttered to himself, staring at their prisoner with eyes that could have melted gold.
"Where are your friends now, and what are they doing?" Thranduil returned swiftly.
"I don't know, but I expect starving in the forest," the other answered, evidently determined to say nothing more.
"What were you doing in the forest?"
"Looking for food and drink, because we were starving." Again the Elves smiled at his evident preoccupation, for some among them recalled the greedy habits of the Dwarves of Moria and the Mountain, who each ate, as Thalion once dryly remarked, enough to keep the entire Elf-kingdom in provision for a month.
"But what brought you into the forest at all?" Thranduil asked in exasperation. This question had ever been a sticking-point, and as always the Dwarf fell silent and refused to speak, however they pressed him.

"Very well!" Thranduil said finally. "Take him away and keep him safe, until he feels inclined to tell the truth, even if he waits a hundred years." There was a smile in his voice now, if not on his lips, for the expression upon the face of the Dwarf as the king spoke would have incited to humour even the most disgruntled merchant of Esgaroth.
A chamberlain left the room and returned with a servant and a number of guards, who again bound the Dwarf tightly, though not so as to cause pain, and removed him to be taken to the cells. His noisy protests could be heard echoing through the halls for many moments after they left. Legolas caught the servant by the arm and quietly instructed him to see that the prisoner was well fed, for it was likely that he spoke the truth when he said that he was starving: only the Elves had skill and wisdom enough to find food within the borders of the Forest.

The afternoon was already passing by the time the questioning of the Dwarf was over, and the Council dispersed for the mid-day repast. Legolas and his father walked to their chambers together, and in the dining-hall they encountered his mother, who hurried to them with a concerned expression upon her beautiful face.
"What has chanced, beloved?" she questioned Thranduil. "The palace is overrun with rumours and tales, but it is impossible to discern the truth, for Thalion has left again, and he seems the only person save yourselves to know what is happening!"
The king smiled. "If those rumours speak of the capture of a Dwarf, they are indeed true," he replied, seating himself before the table. Eluial exclaimed in surprise and followed suit.
"I could not believe it...a Dwarf! We have not seen one of their race for a long count of mortal years. Only one, you say?"
"Yes, but there are more yet remaining in the Forest. I shall have them brought here also, in order to discover whether they are any more forthcoming with information than their companion," he finished, with a mischievous glance at Legolas. The younger Elf returned the smile absently, then asked abruptly, "Father, did you recognise the Dwarf?"
The king's face grew pensive. "No, to say that I did so would be false, for all Dwarves seem alike unless one is familiar with them, and this face I cannot recall in particular."

Legolas nodded slowly before speaking his mind. "Understand, I have little basis for such an assumption...but I believe our prisoner to be one of the Children of D�rin, a descendent of those who ruled in Erebor. Do you recall the name of Thorin?"
"Yes," Thranduil replied. "'Tis an old name, oft heard among the noble of the Dwarves, and borne by...the grandson of Thr�r, last King under the Mountain."
As he finished searching his mind for the required information, the import of his words seemed to strike him, and he looked up sharply.
"You think this to be Thorin Thr�inion?"
"I do," Legolas answered simply. "And if he be so, what shall you do?"

Thranduil's face grew stern, then whimsical. "Unless he choose to tell to me his name, I shall treat him in a manner no different to that which I would have done had he been the anonymous Dwarf whom I thought him to be. What else can I do?"
The corner of Legolas' lips curved upward, and for a moment the likeness between father and son was so strong as to be astonishing.

"Do you wish me to take some of my company to find the rest of the Dwarves?" he next asked.
"Yes-I should not trust C�caran with the task, whatever he might say!"
Eluial looked distressed. "He hates the Dwarves, it is true, Thranduil, but he has suffered much...how can you say whether, given the same pain and provocation, you would not also have the same anger?"
"We have all suffered, Eluial," Thranduil answered, and in his eyes Legolas saw the old sorrow as he remembered it from his childhood. "If all the world answered loss with vengeance, this Middle-earth would be empty: we cannot allow the story of my mother's people to be repeated."
"Kinslaying is a crime most grievous indeed," his wife returned, "but the Dwarves-"
"Are children of the Valar, and the people of D�rin are enemies of the One Enemy...they are not yrch," Thranduil finished.
Legolas listened to the debate in surprise, for always his mother was a gently restraining influence, while Thranduil, though wiser in his day than Oropher before him, yet held little love for the Naugrim. The world was indeed changing...

Later that evening, as the stars far above were being kindled, Legolas took up bow and quiver and summoned a small group of warriors to accompany him on his mission to recover the remaining Dwarves. Carrying unlit torches they followed him back into the Forest, which seemed strangely silent as they parted company to scour the undergrowth. Glancing about him with eyes that pierced the darkness, Legolas sensed a changing in the mood of Mirkwood that he could not believe came entirely from the presence of the Dwarves: it was something different altogether.
Suddenly he felt a hand on his arm, and spun around to find himself face to face with Ann�m�r, whose features showed mingled surprise and distaste.
"Here is a strange thing, Legolas," he whispered. "When we slew the spiders yesterday, none came so far from their colony, surely?"
"No," his friend breathed. "What is it, what have you seen?" In reply Ann�m�r indicated a point some yards away, where the shadowy form of a great beast could be seen lying in a pool of its own dark blood. Legolas' eyebrows raised as he examined the body with disgust.
"It would seem that we are not the only beings to hate the spiders-look! It was no animal killed this brute, for the wounds have been made with a blade, and a fine one..."
"Perhaps we underestimate our Dwarven guests," Ann�m�r suggested with a teasing smile.
"Their discernment of weaponry must have improved, if that be so, for no axe ever shaped could deal such an injury...I should like to see the sword that did."

Leaving the corpse, they turned to discover that most of their companions had surrounded a small glade, in which small forms could be seen struggling onwards, with many a breathless grumble and curse. The Dwarves had evidently seen and heard nothing of the approach of the Elves, who silently closed in upon them and on hearing Legolas' almost imperceptible "Now!" uncovered their torches and sprang forward.
"Halt!" Legolas cried, his clear voice echoing about them. The Dwarves seemed only too willing to comply with the order, and collapsed to the ground. Something, however, still moved, just out of Legolas' line of vision. He turned to catch it, but the figure was gone...he stepped forward to investigate, but at that moment Culedhel called to him that the prisoners had been bound and counted, and the chance was lost.
"Blindfold them, and come swiftly, but guide their feet so that they do not stumble," he commanded briefly, then led the strange little procession back towards the palace, affording a smile now and then as he glanced over his shoulder at the Dwarves, who knew not where they were being led and presented a somewhat ridiculous appearance as they staggered along, bemoaning their fate as they went.

The Elves who remained to guard them, in contrast, sang as they walked, for the capture of the Dwarves pleased them mightily. Across the bridge and through the gates they marched without hesitation, then through the twisting halls of the palace to where Thranduil sat, awaiting them. He praised Legolas and his companions for their work, then looked long at the Dwarves.
"Have them unbound," he told Ann�m�r, "for they are weary and ill. Besides," he added, "they need no ropes in here."
Many questions he asked them, always about their doings and purpose, but little would they say in answer, and their words were discourteous and angry.
"What have we done, O king?" one of the Dwarves suddenly exclaimed in his harsh voice. "Is it a crime to be lost in the forest, to be hungry and thirsty, to be trapped by spiders? Are the spiders your tame beasts or your pets, if killing them makes you angry?"
Legolas and Ann�m�r looked at one another as soon as he said this, and Ann�m�r smiled triumphantly, but Legolas remained bemused, for he could have sworn it was a thrust from an Elven blade that killed the beast they had found.
Thranduil, whose hatred for the spiders ran deep, retorted, "It is a crime to wander in my realm without leave. Do you forget that you were in my kingdom, using the road that my people made? Did you not three times pursue and trouble my people in the forest and rouse the spiders with your riot and clamour? After all the disturbance you have made I have a right to know what brings you here, and if you will not tell me now, I will keep you all in prison until you have learned sense and manners!"

Legolas had to suppress a smile as his father spoke, for both the words and the exasperated tone his father used reminded him strongly of a scene he had witnessed long ago in Dale, as a mother chided her little boy for his wilful behaviour.

"Randil!" the king called to one of the guards. "Have the Dwarves taken to the lower levels and incarcerated in separate chambers, and feed them."
Then, in a lower voice that the Dwarves could not hear, he added, "Tell them nothing of the whereabouts of their companion. If any become willing to speak, inform me at once...but I doubt that shall be, for they are as obstinate as ever were their Western kindred!" he finished in vexation.

Watching his father with now-troubled eyes, Legolas wondered again what the true purpose of the Dwarves had been...it was within the borders of possibility that they were simply visiting their kin in the East, and ignorant of its dangers had chosen Mirkwood as the shortest route, but if that was the case, why not tell the king so?

As the captives were led away, Legolas took his leave of his father and also departed the Hall, carrying a brightly-burning torch. Passing through the door, the light seemed to fall on a dim patch on the floor before him, but there was nothing nearby from which a shadow could be cast and when he looked again, it was gone. He returned to his chamber, but a sense of strange unease haunted him, and remained in his heart for many days.

A/N: I have read several wonderful stories in which the authors chose to make the enmity between the Elves and Dwarves a very personal issue for Thranduil and Legolas. While I have no problem with this interpretation, for the purposes of this particular story, I chose to take into consideration a number of factors, including Tolkien's description of Thranduil as "a wise Elf," and the possibility that the animosity felt by many of his race toward the Dwarves, while certainly present, was perhaps somewhat less strong in the heart of the king than in those of his people or the Elves of L�rien.