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It is said that it is unwise to seek the counsel of elves for they will say both yes and no. In the case of Elrond, the lord of Imladris, the Last Homely House East of the Sea, West of the Misty Mountains and, as it turns out, South of Rhudaur, otherwise known as Rivendell, it is unlikely for someone to receive a straight answer.
It is also said that wood elves are less wise and more dangerous. Less wise indeed, as Galion soon discovered.
Galion sat down opposite his king with a strawberry pastry. He noticed Thranduil’s plate was empty, with no crumbs indicating he did have food and was just quick at eating it. “Would you like something?”
Thranduil looked at the pastry with desire in his eyes. “Yes, no. No. Yes, no. Yes?” He then shook his head. “No, thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Galion waited.
“No.” Thranduil changed his mind. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”
“Hir nin, are you alright?” He asked concerned, although he was almost certain he knew what the answer would be.
“Yes.” Thranduil assured, before shaking his head. “No.”
Galion sighed and leaned forwards. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” Thranduil said firmly. His shoulders then lowered and he sighed. “Yes.”
“Is it about the Dwarves?”
“Galion, my friend, I know you think you are helping,” Thranduil stole a piece of Galion’s pastry before continuing, “but please stop asking me yes no questions.”
Galion smiled softly. “I am sorry. What is wrong?”
Thranduil paused, trying to formulate a string of words in his mind that would relatively make sense. “I’ve changed my mind, I don’t wish to talk about it.”
“Are you scared history will repeat itself?”
“Galion!”
“Sorry, sorry.”
“But in this case... yes, I am.”