It wasn’t dead.
Oh, he’d known his
crazed son ( for he had to be crazed, to choose willingly to live with
that…that
dwarf… ag! Of all the beings!!) had sailed to the West, with his strange
companion in tow but…but…
“They have settled in a rather
darling house of stone and wood, about a ten minute walk from here,”
said
Galadriel with a smile. “Isn’t it wonderful, Thranduil?”
Thranduil blinked and stared. “It isn’t dead…?”
Later, the former King
of Mirkwood would wonder idly, as Elrond tended to the rather prominent bump
on
his head, where Galadriel had managed to get such a large and heavy frying
pan on such short notice.