Thranduil didn’t like the formal greeting one bit, he knew they both had certain airs to put on for a public setting but it felt wrong to his ears, ‘That’s such a mouthful and I am not your king… I started it and I will finish it, Elrond.’ It seemed foolish for old friends - lovers - to use titles. ‘I think we both know your stables won’t hold him.’
No sooner had he said it that the elk circled them both, snorting at Elrond once before wandering off on his own. Thranduil grinned slightly and looked at Elrond with a tilt of his head, still resisting the urge to touch him, even something as harmless as linking arms, ‘I’d expect some tiny elk of your own come next season.’
What did Thranduil expect, though? For Elrond to call him meleth and offer him an embrace. To be called mellon and to receive a warm welcome? For Elrond to ignore the time and distance that had kept them so far apart?
Elrond wished he could, but found himself unable to. Perhaps if Celebrian had still been there… but she had left, and that wound was too fresh. It made all Elrond’s old wounds hurt too.
“Well, that’s certainly something to look forward to,” Elrond said crisply, eyeing the elk’s retreating form. He turned back to Thranduil. “You must be tired. I’ll have Lindir prepare a room for you; would you like a drink, in the meantime?”
Thranduil kept his crestfallen feelings clear from his face and instead smiled graciously, ‘Don’t put yourself out for me, Elrond... Though a drink would be welcome, hopefully with yourself.’ He wanted to be alone with his old friend, he wanted to speak to him freely and without as many eyes.
‘I have something I need to speak to you of.’ It was the entire reason he had come, the little niggle in his mind for centuries that never let him fully rest...
His fingers twitched longingly, wanting to touch Elrond in some way, even to stroke the material of his robes, ‘I have much to say and for once I am not sure where or even how to start.’