Hospitality

Glóin was beside himself. Gimli had returned a hero, but had brought with him... an Elf! And not just any Elf, but the son of that thrice-damned Elvenking who'd thrown him in the dungeon!

Bushy brows that had gone nearly silver over the last year lowered dangerously. By Mahal! He'd recognized that golden hair! But the laughter was like a crystal bell. Thranduil's, he remembered, was a deep chime. And those blue eyes - not green - held no guile.

He met Gimli's wary gaze and smiled cautiously. Dwarven hospitality could better Elven hospitality any day.

He could do this...