When Thranduil heard of Lord Elrond' invitation to visit the hidden valley of Imladris, he was hesitant at first. His memories of the half-elven lord were largely overshadowed by the pall of death and battle. The enthusiasm in Anthelísse's eyes even made Thranduil a bit jealous before he reminded himself that Elrond was a long time friend of both Anthelísse and her brother Gil-Galad.
So it was that Thranduil agreed that a visit to the Last Homely House might be a pleasant interlude from governing the Woodland Realm. Queen Nellas was not opposed to ruling in his stead for a short time when they approached her on the matter. Thus as winter's snows began to recede Thranduil, Anthelísse and their escort rode out from Emyn Duir toward the west.
The Misty Mountains were still treacherous in places, their narrow passes slick with melting ice. Still it was far from impossible for the clever elf-horses to manage. They met no orcs nor goblins on their journey, much to the relief of all. By the time the first blossoms of spring were beginning to open, Thranduil and Anthelísse were riding down the mountain paths onto the rolling foothills beyond.
The way to Imladris was hidden from the eyes of the casual observer, and even proved difficult to spot with their keen elvish vision. Finally Gurithon cried out in discovery, waving the way down onto a winding road. The banners of both the Wooland Realm and the Noldor flew above their party, and Thranduil ordered Gurithon to sound horns to herald their arrival. The twisted ox horn rang long and clear over the valley beyond. By the time they reached a stone bridge over the River Bruinen elves were already gathering all around.
Having been warned of their coming beforehand by a messenger bird from Anthelísse, the lord of Imladris awaited them at the great entrance of the Last Homely House. Elrond looked just as Thranduil remembered him; dark of hair and grey of eye. He greeted them with a smile though, looking far gladder than he ever had in the aftermath of the Last Alliance.
"Hiril Anthelísse, melon-nin." Elrond greeted her as she dismounted. The two elves bowed to one another before clasping hands.
"Elrond." Said Anthelísse. "It is ever so good to see you again, Earendilion."
"May I have the pleasure of welcoming you to Imladris, our haven west of the mountains." Elrond lifted one of Anthelísse's long hands to his lips and brushed a kiss on her knuckles.
Thranduil stood slightly behind, watching this exchange with a growing sense of annoyance. He did not begrudge Elrond greeting Anthelísse first, far from it. The easy familiarity and fondness which he and the Lady of the Noldor seemed to share irked him though.
As if sensing the Greenwood king's angst, Elrond smoothly transitioned his attention from Anthelísse to Thranduil.
"King Thranduil, son of Oropher. Welcome to Imladris, you are both honored and admired here. Our people compose songs of your father's courage in battle and shall sing them through the ages."
He and Thranduil exchanged polite bows as befitted individuals of equal rank. Elrond may not bear the title of 'king', but here in his element it was clear the son of Earendil the Mariner was accorded the same measure of respect. Thranduil kept this in mind despite his previous irritation when he replied.
"You honor us with your invitation, Lord Elrond. The Lady Anthelísse and I are glad to be able to pay a visit to your beautiful home."
It was bold of Thranduil to speak for both himself and Anthelísse, to say the least. A few of the Noldor in her entourage murmured softly among themselves in Quenya. If Anthelísse noticed she let the matter slide.
"My home shall be as yours for so long as you are here." Said Elrond, gesturing to the tall graven stairs behind him. He indicated a noble looking pair of elves who awaited them at the top. The golden light of the sun upon Imladris's roofs was reflected and magnified by the shining tresses of the lady, while the lord who stood at her side was as silvery as the moon.
"Come, I have other guests visiting from Lorien whom I should be very pleased to introduce to you. Lady Galadriel and her husband Lord Celeborn have been with us since last summer, as has their daughter Celebrian."
Throughout the introductions Thranduil continued to watch how Anthelísse and Elrond interacted. The sleeve of her night-blue gown practically brushed the hem of his cloak, so close the two of them stood. Even the arrival of Celebrian and the introduction of the willowy elf maiden did little to distract Thranduil from his growing sour mood. It did not help that he was well aware of just who the Lady Galadriel was. The rumors of her eldritch power, cultivated by years of tutelage under Queen Melian the Maia of Doriath was one of the primary reasons why Oropher had led his followers away from that realm. Thranduil's father had not trusted the golden haired lady with Nenya, one of the three elvish rings of power. The sight of its white jewels winking on Galadriel's finger only curdled Thranduil's thoughts further.
Later after Thranduil, Anthelísse and their followers had been settled in, all gathered around a generously set dining table out on a balcony overlooking the valley. The diamond spray of the waterfall fell nearby; an accompaniment to the sweet music of harps and flutes.
"I am glad to hear that your mother fares well, Hir-Thranduil." Celeborn was saying as the salad course ended. "I was briefly acquainted with Nellas in Doriath and knew that she took that sorrowful business with Turin son of Hurin and Beleg Strongbow badly."
Thranduil nodded shortly, glad that Elrond at least had good taste in wine. "Thank you Lord Celeborn, I will pass your greeting on to her."
"Speaking of greetings, we have a message for you from King Amroth, recently ascended king of Loríen." Galadriel spoke with the unhurried, measured tones of one used to being listened to. "Amdír's son sends you greetings, as well as his hopes that one day soon you shall likewise pay a visit to the Golden Wood. He reminds you of your fathers' respective alliance to one another, and it is his wish that such a link should continue to persist between the thrones of the Greenwood and Loríen."
"I shall bear Amroth's greetings in mind." Replied Thranduil.
From across the ovoid table Anthelísse shot a strange look at Thranduil. She was aware of Oropher's distrust of Lady Galadriel, but was perplexed as to why Thranduil should be behaving so aloof. His noncommittal response to a diplomatic message from King Amdír's son was far from polite.
From her father's side, the Lady Celebrian smiled sweetly. "It would be a joy to show both you and Lady Anthelísse the beautiful sights of the Golden Wood, Lord Thranduil. I do hope you are able to pay us a visit in the future."
"Have you ever been to Lorien, Lord Thranduil?" Elrond asked politely.
"No, I'm afraid I have not."
Elrond smiled. "Then Lady Celebrian's offer to guide you around Lorien is all the more excellent. Anthelísse, you remember the beauty of the mallorn trees by night?"
"Like a dream of the gardens of the Blessed Realm themselves." Anthelísse answered, nodding.
"I remember our moonlit walk there like it was yesterday." Said Elrond.
Thranduil would hear no more. Pushing back his chair so abruptly that its feet made a faint screeching against the marble floor, he stood.
"If you'll excuse me Lord Elrond." He said abruptly. "I could do with some air."
It was a ridiculous excuse, considering that they were dining on an open balcony. It was the best that Thranduil's angry mind could cough forth on short notice though. His stride lengthened by his stiff legs, Thranduil stalked away down the gracefully carved halls.
He had gotten about a dozen meters when Anthelísse's sharp voice brought him to a halt.
"Thranduil! Just what do you think you are doing?"
"What am I doing?" Thranduil turned on his heel, his voice an angry growl so as not to travel back to the balcony where Elrond and the others sat. "I might ask the same of Elrond. The nerve of the Peredhil!"
"What are you talking about Thranduil? Think carefully before you answer..." Anthelísse's blue eyes narrowed dangerous as she approached to stand toe to toe with him. Up close they were very nearly the same height.
"I am talking about how he always places himself so close to you, how he kisses your hand when you meet, how he speaks of your moonlit walks together!" Thranduil spat, his blood boiling and heating his pointed ears. "I am not blind, Anthelísse!"
"There you are wrong." Anthelísse hissed back, her voice carrying and making a nearby servant scurry away nervously. "You are both blind and a fool, Thranduil Oropherion!" Before Thranduil could shout back at her in earnest she cut him off. "Have you not seen what is as plain as the nose on my face?"
"...Seen what?" Thranduil asked despite himself.
"That Elrond is clearly infatuated by the Lady Celebrian, you silly Sindar!"
Thranduil was taken aback, so surprised that his anger started to ebb away unnoticed.
"Truly?" he asked tentatively.
Anthelísse rolled her eyes and threw her hands up to the adorned ceiling of the walkway. "O what lamentable sorrows could have been avoided in this world if hot-headed males could but glimpse through female eyes!" Arms crossed and fingers drumming impatiently, Anthelísse smirked at Thranduil. "If you had not been so occupied with your own invented troubles, you would have seen how Elrond has been hanging off of Celebrian's every word as if they were diamonds from the hands of Eru himself."
"Oh." Thranduil said dumbly, feeling very foolish indeed. Silence reigned supreme between them. Finally he felt the beginnings of a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Do you think I have offended Lord Elrond?"
"Not Elrond." Anthelísse replied, her eyes still narrowed but her tone already softer. "He is the closest thing to a brother yet remaining to me in Arda, and I know that he would be the last to take offense at another's folly. You owe him an apology though; him and Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn."
Now feeling rather ashamed of his earlier outburst, Thranduil looked down at his boots. "It seems I have made a poor diplomatic impression of myself."
With a sigh, Anthelísse slid her arm around his. "Come." She said, steering his back toward the balcony. "Let us go back. Even kings must sometimes make their apologies and be forgiven."