Contemplating the caves in his future, Legolas stared morosely into his empty wine glass, unable to decide which prospect dismayed him more, the expedition to Gimli’s Glittering Caves or displeasing Thranduil by recruiting for Ithilien in his father’s halls.

A servitor refilled his glass and placed the new bottle of wine on the table. Legolas had no pretensions to being a connoisseur, but in Minas Tirith, the dark ruby red and crimson color, so like the Dorwinion, usually portended a heavy, resinous taste. He took a careless gulp.

It was a very good wine. He took another, careful sip and rolled the full-bodied liquid around his palate. The herby nose of black cherries and earth, redolent of sunny hillsides and long summer days, overwhelmed him with a complex array of flavors, and lingered to a long, smooth finish. If Gondor had this, perhaps there was something Ithilien could offer Thranduil.