Later that day, Elrond was not-so-calmly finishing a long, deeply personal, disturbingly open letter for the King of Mirkwood, Thranduil Oropherion.
By Eru, he wished it would be enough to bridge the gap between the clans. Elrond knew well that it had been only the dire need to meet Gandalf that made Thranduil send Legolas to his valley. The prince was bound to be needed in the defence of his own homeland.
And Elrond had sent him to Mordor.
Iluvatar Almighty. What a mess.
... and it is only the deep belief that he will be the most apt to perceive and battle the shadow, still not be tracked by the Enemy or his minions that convinced me he was the elf for the Quest. Your son is a mighty warrior, but above all he is a sensible character, and I have faith he will be fundamental in the destruction of the Shadow.
I know well it is little comfort for you. But we are both rulers, both blessed and cursed with the responsibility of the welfare of others. I am aware you will feel robbed of your son, and mayhap furious that I should send him in stead of any of the powerful lords of the Eldar.
I, too, am a father, Thranduil.
He paused at that. The king was likely to see it as a further insult, Elrond thought. But yet his instinct told him to be straightforward. Blunt, even. So be it.
I pray you do not see in it any ill feeling of me towards you or yours. It was his valour and prowess that guided my hand, no more. If they suceed, the lond twilight of Endor will be over, and great honor bestowed upon your house. I wish it should be so. If they fail, we shall have war upon our doorsteps of the likes we have not seen since the ancient wars. Endor is tired, our numbers are diminished, and our list of allies grows thin.
I do not think we have any other path to walk.
Call me a fool if you like, if that eases your parental fears any. Know that my own sons will be outside the protections of my borders soon, battling the shadow on their own, beyond my reach.
I pray you find it in yourself to look kindly upon my envoy when the worst of your anger has passed.
The lord of Imladris studied the missive in dark and brooding silence. It was not the most eloquent work he'd ever done, but it would do. It had to do.
A timid know on his door startled his thoughts. the door to his office was rarely closed, and when so, few interrupted his labours. Therefore Elrond knew who it was.
Come, Lady Alassiel. I have been waiting for you.