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The elfling prince Thranduil, from his precarious point of view swinging back and forth from the grip that Glorfindel had on his tunic collar, observed with some surprise that his cousin Elrond was still in a dressing gown of scarlet and gold brocade over his loose gray silk pajamas. Normally, by mid-morning, Elrond would be dressed in his serious ‘lord of Imladris and heir to Lindon’ clothes. He’d also be in the Imladrin embassy offices in the palace at Amon Lanc. Or, perhaps, attending various meetings with Thranduil’s father, King Oropher, and his councilors. Rather than here, in his bedchamber in his guest suite in the family wing of the palace at Amon Lanc.
Looking more carefully, Thranduil noted additional signs that this wasn’t a usual morning for cousin Elrond. Yes, Elrond’s raven hair was half braided back in the usual complicated plaits signifying that he was a healer, a warrior, a scholar, and a scion of Doriath and Gondolin. But the jeweled beads that would normally have been woven into his braids were missing. As if maybe he'd expected to have to take a nap. Which perhaps he might, given that Thranduil now remembered cousin Celeborn having complained to Thranduil’s parents that Elrond had taken a chill while out hunting. Elrond's nose was a little red, too. It was hard to tell, given his copper-toned skin. But the handkerchief he was putting down helped to give it away.
As a further tell, Elrond’s musical baritone voice was a little husky as he commanded, “Please let Thranduil down gently, Glorfindel.”
As Glorfindel complied, Elrond added mildly, “And haven't we already had a talk about how it is less than ideal for you to scruff children about the collar as if they're kittens?”
“Ha!” replied Glorfindel in his golden, booming voice, “Your little cousin is lucky that’s all I’ve done to him. He’s in quite a mood.” In a half-admiring tone, the balrog-slayer continued, “He’s got a good command of insulting language, for his age. Just as well he shared it with me, rather than his father. Or a courtier. Maybe the two of you can keep each other out of trouble.”
Elrond favored Thranduil with a characteristically kind and loving smile as he said, “While I am always pleased to see my little cousin, I don't want to share my cold with him just before Yule.”
In a hale and hearty yet somehow slightly threatening manner, Glorfindel countered, “If it is as mild a cold as you keep assuring me that it is, then there should be no problem whatsoever. What do you say to that, my dear young lord?”
Elrond chuckled and remarked, “O ye of little faith.”
“After the events of the last war, I am hesitant to trust your protestations of ‘only mild’ ill health, my heart.”
Elrond assured him, “I didn't lie to you, my faithful friend. Nor even exaggerate the mildness of my impairment. Thranduil may keep me company if he wishes.”
“Good. Now I can be confident that you are being truthful. Since you would far rather admit to being sick and accept the consequences than put him at any serious risk.”
“True,” Elrond confirmed, gesturing towards his bureau, “But please help Thranduil put on one of the face masks his parents sent over before you leave. I would rather he not catch even this mild of a cold. Particularly not the day before Yule Eve.” Even as he spoke, Elrond was putting on a plain white face mask of his own.
Glorfindel moved a chair over beside the bureau, “Thranduil can get his own mask. If I put my hand that close to his mouth just now, he might well bite me. Which would not be pleasant for either of us, I assure you, Sunshine,” he half-warned Thranduil.
Who had, in fact, been planning to bite him, should Glorfindel bring him a mask. Instead Thranduil shrugged philosophically and climbed up onto the chair to look through the selection of face masks on top of Elrond’s bureau.
Glorfindel nodded with satisfaction and left, shutting the door behind him. Elrond, meanwhile, waited with his customary perfect patience for Thranduil to choose a mask.
Thranduil didn’t like wearing them. But the rule was, that if he spent time with anyone who was even a little sick, he had to wear a mask, and also try to stay at least two feet away. If the person he was visiting right now hadn’t been Elrond, Thranduil might have tried to wheedle his way around wearing a mask. But Elrond, although indulgent and easy-going about most things, was too much a healer to budge on the mask rule.
Since he was quite put out with Elrond – as well as every other adult in his life – Thranduil ignored him while he deliberated over which mask to wear. His parents had sent over his favorite, which was a royal blue mask embroidered with silver angora rabbits chasing orange carrots. But there was also a new mask. It was the pale blue of a winter sky, with brown bunnies hopping through dark green wreathes decorated with red holly berries. In the end, Thranduil chose that one. Even though it reminded him of why he was so annoyed!
But even though he was angry, he was also curious about the interaction between his cousin and Glorfindel. So, as he hopped down from the chair, Thranduil asked, “Why did Glorfindel say 'keep eachother out of trouble?' I said bad words to him, but you're never troublesome.”
“Well, Thranduil,” Elrond replied with affectionate exasperation in his silver-blue eyes, “you may find as you get older that, when all of your friends are telling you the same thing - in this case, that I should not both have gone hunting to supply the tables for the Yule feasts and also treated patients with respiratory infections in the healing hall - then it is wise to consider that they might have been right in the first place. And to correspondingly treat their irritation and 'I told you so's' with extraordinary patience and indulgence.”
Thranduil tilted his head as he considered that.
Elrond didn’t seem to expect an answer. Instead, he regarded Thranduil gravely and asked, “Now, my dear little noble star, why don't you tell me why you were so furious - and so bold - as to say very rude words to Glorfindel?”
“Because he lied to me!” Thranduil shouted, “Everyone lied to me!” Throwing the two feet away rule out the window, he ran across the room to where Elrond was seated on his desk chair, and shoved him hard on the chest with both hands.
“Even you lied to me!” Thranduil accused, blinking back tears of anger and betrayal.
Elrond collected Thranduil’s hands gently but firmly as he commandingly but without heat insisted, “No hitting, please, little cousin. I don’t hit you, do I?”
“I suppose not,” Thranduil grudgingly allowed, moving away.
Elrond followed, kneeling down on the floor exactly two feet away from Thranduil as he said lovingly, “Thank you, my dear noble star. Now, please tell me more about that, if you will.”
“You said that Father Yule was real!” Thranduil scolded, as he kicked at the floor, “Then today we investigated and we discovered proof that he isn't! Lots of proof! Incontroverbable proof!”
“Incontrovertible,” Elrond corrected reflexively.
“Whatever. Well?”
“I admit it, Thranduil,” answered Elrond solemnly, “I plead guilty to the serious charge of violating your trust by deceiving you. But I plead guilty with extenuating circumstances. Would you be willing to hear what they are?”
Thranduil, still outraged but now also a little intrigued, replied, “Maybe.”
“Perhaps I should start by congratulating you on your perspicacity and successful investigations,” Elrond said with quiet pride, “Then I would like to have the honor of inducting you into a sacred trust. A great, world-wide conspiracy of kindness, if you will.”
“But I thought that conspiracies were always evil?”
“Usually lying is wrong,” Elrond agreed, “and lying to children who trust you is even more so. However, in this case, the ‘Father Yule conspiracy’ is a sacred trust. One where all the adults in the world love all the children of the world so much, that they want them to experience the joy and magic of receiving gifts, without worrying about money or cost or expenditure of effort. It is a conspiracy of kindness between all the adults and older younglings who are Children of Eru. One that crosses all over the world and spans many generations. It bridges cultural differences and all else that divides us. Even wars.”
“You lied to me because you love me?”
“Yes. Very much.”
“And now I get to be part of the conspiracy?”
“Yes. I think that you will be very good at picking out extra gifts for the people you love, and giving them additional surprises ‘from Father Yule’ to bring joy to their Yule Eves and Mornings.”
“You think so?”
“I do,” Elrond assured him. Thranduil could tell by the crinkly lines around Elrond’s eyes that he was smiling, even though he couldn’t see his cousin’s mouth because of his mask.
“Can I start now?” Thranduil asked, becoming excited. “Can you take me into Amon Lanc, so that I can go to the sweets shop and buy treats for my parents and my friends? I have money of my own,” he informed Elrond proudly, “I earned it by helping at the stables.”
“Well done,” praised Elrond, “I would like nothing better. But, unfortunately, if I venture outside in the cold, I will get scolded by Glorfindel and Erestor. I will also disappoint our favorite royal healer Nestorion. But I do have another important part of playing Father Yule that you could help me with.”
“Oh?” asked Thranduil, disappointed but not unwilling.
“Yes. Since I have had to spend extra time resting since getting sick, I haven’t yet found time to wrap my gifts for your parents and your cousins. The ones which are to be from ‘Father Yule,’ I mean. The presents which are from Elrond, I was able to give to my embassy to wrap.”
“I’ll help,” Thranduil graciously agreed. Coyly, he inquired, “Can I see the present that you got me, from ‘Father Yule?’ Since now I know that he’s just a generous conspiracy, and not a real-life Maia?”
“Good try,” Elrond denied, with a grin that Thranduil could hear in his voice, “But you can’t see your presents from me as ‘Father Yule.’ They’re already wrapped, in any case. Glorfindel did that for me. He’s quite fond of you, you know. Not that I would let you see them, even they weren’t wrapped. Your ‘Father Yule’ presents should be a surprise for you. Just as the ‘Father Yule’ presents for our other family and friends should be surprises for them.”
“But why?” Thranduil persisted, as he followed Elrond to his closet, “Why hide them and disguise them with holiday wrapping, if everyone who is old like you already knows that Father Yule isn’t real?”
“Because everyone likes surprises, Thranduil,” Elrond explained, as he took out bags of bright and iridescent gauzy fabrics, and a rainbow of velvet ribbons. “Part of Yule is giving joy to everyone we love, and sharing joy with them. One of the ways we do that is by giving gifts that do not need to be returned, since they are from ‘Father Yule.’ Another way is by paying special attentions to children during the holiday. Both children young enough to still believe in a mystical gift-giving Maia, and children who have figured out the mystery and joined the ‘Father Yule’ conspiracy.”
“It was rather smart of us to figure it out, wasn’t it?” said Thranduil, preening a little.
“It was. You’re younger than Elros and I were, when we finally spied out that truth. Less dusty afterward, too,” Elrond teased, nodding towards Thranduil’s attire. Which was, yes, a bit dusty from his investigations. Thranduil began to brush some off the dust off his clothes, so that he wouldn’t get scolded later.
Elrond set out the colorful multi-sized bags and ribbons in the middle of the floor, then went back to his closet. He came back with a travel chest full of parcels.
Thranduil sat down on the floor, carefully two feet away from his cousin. Then he derived a great deal of amusement from finding out what Elrond had gotten as surprises for everyone. Elrond helped him match gifts to the correct size of bag and thread velvet ribbons through the loops at the top of the bags to tie them shut. He also got to help tie on tags marked ‘fragile,’ for the pots of agave honey which were for his mother and cousin Aiwen.
While they worked, Elrond told Thranduil that Thranduil could help Elrond and Celebrian figure out, in the future, what special gift they should commission to give to the elflings of Imladris from Father Yule, at their settlement Yuletide party.
“I can do that,” agreed Thranduil, quite pleased. “Maybe I can do that here at home, too. Last year’s present for the elflings my age from the Greenwood was good. It was a set of Greenwood toy soldiers. But it would have been better if they’d had swordsmen soldiers, and not just archers.”
Elrond agreed that would likely have been even better. Then he told Thranduil about how he and Elros had helped their cousin King Ereinion and their Uncle Cirdan to decide on what gifts to give to the elflings and human children of the island, after they’d figured out that Father Yule wasn’t a real Maia on the Isle of Balar when they were children.
Thranduil was particularly interested to hear about how his own mother, Felith, had been one of the seamstresses who had helped to sew cuddly toys for the younger elflings. Elrond and Elros had been pleased when she’d figured out how to design a peach and gold octopus toy, after the other seamstresses hadn’t been enthusiastic about producing such an offbeat and complicated animal stuffie. Thranduil complimented Elrond on their choice, since he was so fond of his own stuffed octopus. Knowing that his mother had made it, instead of ‘Father Yule’s acolytes,’ actually made it more special to him, not less.
Thranduil was having such a good time helping his cousin wrap gifts from ‘Father Yule’ and hearing Elrond’s stories, that he was sorry to hear a knock at the door.
Instead of calling ‘come’ as he normally would, Elrond raised his voice to ask “Who is it?” Then he coughed a little, to Thranduil’s concern.
“Nestorion and Galad,” replied a voice from the door.
Elrond cleared his throat and queried softly of Thranduil, “Did you finish wrapping the boxes of dried herbs for Nestorion and Galad?”
“Yes I did,” Thranduil whispered back, quite pleased with himself.
“Then please tell them that they can come in, if you will,” requested Elrond, “as it’s hurting my throat to raise my voice.”
“You can come in, Nesta and Galad!” announced Thranduil grandly.
When the two Greenwood royal healers entered the room, Thranduil proudly told them, “Look! I’ve helped Elrond to wrap all his presents from ‘Father Yule.’ Because Fileg, Aiwen and I found the storeroom full of wrapped presents from Father Yule. And now cousin Elrond has made me part of the ‘Sacred Trust’ that is the great ‘Father Yule Conspiracy of Kindness.’”
“Well-done, Trouble,” praised Nestorion as he put a tray of healing things down on Elrond’s bureau. Bending down to inspect their work, Nestorion complimented Thranduil, “You have quite a good eye for color.”
“Are you complaining that your gifts from me are inevitably wrapped in Imladris river blue and pine green, my friend?” said Elrond, with a twinkle in his slate gray eyes.
“Of course not,” Nestorion teased back, “My mother taught me better than to be so churlish.”
“I did have to stop Elrond choosing those shades for most every present,” Thranduil confided, “Especially since he had so many different pretty colors of bags and ribbons.”
“It is probably asking too much of anyone to be scholar, warrior, healer, and artistically inclined,” observed Nestorion.
Elrond laughed, then started coughing again.
“Time for some more tea for you, my friend,” Nestorion told him, offering Elrond a hand to his feet, “and then perhaps some eucalyptus oil, for your chest.”
“Ugh!” objected Thranduil. “That is so smelly!”
“Strong-smelling, or nasty-smelling?” Elrond inquired, with another smile in his eyes.
“Just strong. Not nasty.”
“I am relieved to hear it. Although not surprised, as both Nestorion and Galad are quite capable of mixing a good cough relieving skin rub.”
“One would certainly hope so,” agreed Nestorion, with a nice laugh, as he helped Elrond take off his dressing gown and nightshirt and sit down on his bed. Galad placed a steaming mug on the bedside table, then went back and got a pot of lotion to hold for Nestorion.
Thranduil was a little envious of Nestorion and Galad, since they weren’t wearing face masks. He knew that adult elves couldn’t get sick, even though elflings could. He thought it was a little odd that Elrond had a cold, in fact. That is, until he remembered overhearing more of his parents talking about how Elrond could catch sicknesses because he was only partly an elf.
“I’m glad that Celeborn is here, to do the fussing at Elrond about drinking his teas and taking it easy,” Oropher had confessed to Thranduil’s mother Felith.
“I’m sure that Elrond would just be as polite and attentive to you as to Celeborn, my love,” she replied.
“Of course he would. He’s always been a respectful youth. Unlike his hellion of a twin,” Oropher recalled, with a chuckle. He paused, then said, “It’s funny, I often find myself missing Elros, during Yuletide. Even though enough time has passed since he chose mortality that I don’t often think of him, even when Elrond visits.”
“I know what you mean,” said Felith, in a bittersweetly reminiscent tone, “The two of them were both bright lights during the holidays for me, during those dark days on the Isle of Balar. Elros always made me laugh, and Elrond never failed to make me smile. They used to bring us gifts, for helping to make the toys for the kingdom’s children for Yule. They never treated me as lesser than the other seamstresses, even though I was neither noble nor powerful.” Her voice turned sorrowful as she added, “I hated to see them force themselves to grow up so fast, after the Host of the West arrived, and the War started in earnest.”
“I, as well.”
“But you must remember, my love, that Elrond isn’t a child, anymore. He’s been an adult for a long time now. A very responsible one, at that. We trust him entirely with our own precious elfling, do we not?”
“Of course. It brings me joy, to see how happy our little Thranduil is in Elrond’s company,” Oropher remarked, with a smile in his voice.
“So, it follows that you need have no fear that you must worry over Elrond when he takes a chill. Even if Celeborn wasn’t here, to do it for you.”
“You speak sense, my rose. But I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible for Elrond, at least when his uncles and Gil-galad aren’t about. Perhaps it is because Earendil and my young cousin Elwing cannot be here to look after him themselves. Due entirely to a sacrifice they made for all of us, and not to their own choice.”
“Yes,” replied Felith in a troubled tone, “I do not think that the Belain chose wisely, in forbidding them to return to our shores. I’ve always felt very sorry for Elrond and Elros, over that. But Elrond is an experienced healer, himself. If he tells us that it is reasonable to expose himself by treating respiratory illnesses because it helps him to build an immunity to more serious maladies, then I think that we should credit that.”
“I don’t disagree, so far as that goes. But I’ll thank you to let me fuss over Elrond when Celeborn isn’t here to do it for me, since,” Oropher continued, his tone turning teasing, “aside from the worry, it would be me – not you – who would be the one who had to write the letter to Gil-galad apologizing if Elrond were to become seriously ill after my taking him hunting in our forests and then ‘letting’ him treat patients in our Healing Halls!”
Felith laughed, a sound like tinkling silver bells. “Very well, I concede. But do keep in mind that Nestorion has heard reputable human healers say much the same thing, about building up immunities.”
Then Thranduil had reached a particularly dramatic point in the game he’d been playing with his toy soldiers and animal figures, so he’d stopped even half-paying attention to his parents’ conversation. Although the thought of Cousin Celeborn fussing at cousin Elrond had been rather a funny one. Not that it was at all humorous that cousin Elrond had gotten ill.
Now Thranduil continued with wrapping Elrond’s gifts, while Nestorion and Galad fussed over cousin Elrond. Well, Galad mostly seemed fascinated by asking Elrond questions about how treating peredhil patients was different from treating elven or human patients. Elrond was very patient, about answering. Although he seemed a little relieved, when Thranduil interrupted.
“Elrond? Can I use up some of the extra sparkly gauze see-through bags, by putting already wrapped presents inside them?” Thranduil asked. He thought that would be very pretty. He thought his mother would especially like it for her present, which was wrapped in rose pink fabric, since she liked wearing iridescent pink gowns.
“Certainly you may.”
Galad seemed to have picked up on the grateful tone in Elrond’s voice at the change of subject, since he said apologetically, “I hope it hasn’t been off-putting for you, Elrond. My asking you so many questions about medicating part-elves, I mean.”
“It hasn’t been off-putting to me,” Elrond assured him kindly. Even though Thranduil rather thought that he was at least stretching the truth, when he said so.
Elrond added, “I enjoy your zest for learning more about the healing sciences, Galad. Please feel free to ask me questions, when you have them.”
“Thank you,” responded Galad, looking pleased.
“Although it would perhaps be best to wait until Elrond is fully recovered, for any more questions,” Nestorion suggested tactfully.
“Nesta?” asked Thranduil winsomely, “cousin Elrond’s not very sick, is he?”
“Not very sick at all,” Nestorion assured him.
“Really?” persisted Thranduil, looking to Galad as well.
“Really,” both Greenwood healers assured him.
“In fact,” Galad added hearteningly, “Your cousin should be able to attend the Yule Eve festivities.”
“Really?” repeated Thranduil, with more optimism.
“Indeed,” Nestorion affirmed, “That is, as long as he keeps taking it easy, of course.”
“Would taking me down to Amon Lanc to go shopping be taking it easy?” Thranduil inquired hopefully.
“No, Trouble, I’m afraid it wouldn’t be,” Nestorion told him sympathetically, as Thranduil drooped with disappointment.
“But don’t fret,” Nestorion consoled, “You’ve already selected thoughtful Yule gifts for your parents and friends, when you went out to the shops with Luthavar and Nithaniel. Remember? You told me about them.”
“Yes,” Thranduil agreed sadly, “But that was before I knew the truth, about Father Yule. My parents always get me LOTS of extra Yule presents, from Father Yule. Now that I’m part of the conspiracy, I want to get them at least one extra present each. To give them joy, and so that they know that I know.”
“Ah, I see,” responded Nestorion thoughtfully.
Elrond cleared his throat after taking a sip of his tea, then suggested, “Galad, if your plans for this afternoon are still up in the air, perhaps you and your oath-brothers could take Thranduil out to Amon Lanc to play Father Yule?”
“You mean,” elaborated Galad dryly, “If Alphros still wants to go hunting in the snow, and Luthavar is still objecting strenuously to that plan, since he doesn’t want to get his clothing and his hair wet, in case it snows some more?”
“Yes, I mean that.”
“Please give Elrond’s suggestion due consideration, Galad,” urged Nestorion, “Given how early it gets dark, and how cold it is, I’m sure that all of your fathers would prefer that the three of you spend the afternoon shopping with Thranduil.”
“It’s a good idea,” said Galad, leading Thranduil to cheer.
That made Galad smile, which he didn’t do enough, in Thranduil’s opinion. Even though he was about the same age as Thranduil’s cousin Luthavar, Galad was a very serious young elf.
“Will you stay with us and listen to us, if we take you shopping, Thranduil?” Galad asked sternly.
“Yes, I will,” Thranduil promised enthusiastically.
“If you heed us well, then we’ll buy you a treat in the marketplace,” Galad offered, with another smile.
“And maybe stay to hear a minstrel?” Thranduil asked excitedly.
“I don’t see why not,” said Galad.
“Perhaps a minstrel performing indoors, in an inn,” proposed Elrond, “given the temperature.”
“I’d like that,” Thranduil agreed, “lots of the inns have good desserts. Can we bring Fileg and Aiwen with us, Galad? Since they were with me when we investigated and found out that ‘Father Yule’ is just a conspiracy of kindness inspired by adults’ love for children?”
“Um . . .” paused Galad, looking uncertain and perhaps a little overwhelmed.
“Please?” entreated Thranduil.
Nestorion rested his hand – the one which wasn’t covered with eucalyptus lotion - on Galad’s nearer shoulder and encouraged, “I’m sure that the six of you will get along just fine, son.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Elrond, “the twins’ elder sister Thoroniel would like to accompany the six of you, as well.” Which would mean that Galad was never on his own with three elflings. Which perhaps would be a good thing, since Thranduil didn’t think he’d ever seen Galad child-minding outside of the Healing Halls. Not that Thranduil, Fileg and Aiwen were babies, or anything like that.
“That sounds like a good idea,” agreed Galad, looking more confident already. “Provided, of course, that Lady Thoroniel thinks that it is.”
“We’d have to ask her anyway,” Thranduil explained chattily, “since she is watching the twins today, while their parents are helping Ada and Nana.”
“It might especially be a good idea,” Nestorion offered, with a twinkle in his eyes, “as Thoroniel may not have been able to explain the Father Yule conspiracy to the twins as well as Elrond did to you, Thranduil.”
“Elrond is good at explaining things,” seconded Thranduil, with deserved pride in his elder cousin. “I’m sure I can explain to my friends, like Elrond explained to me,” he decided. Which would be a good thing, probably, since Fileg and Aiwen had been just upset by the perfidy of their elders as Thranduil had been, until Elrond explained, and then made Thranduil a part of the Great ‘Father Yule’ Conspiracy of Kindness.
“I should mention, before you’re on your way,” put in Elrond, “that it is customary for adults to spend much more money on children than children spend on adults, for Yule. That is part of the joy of Yule, for parents and elders. Uncle Cirdan always insisted that Elros and I spend no more than twenty anchors on gifts for any one of our elder kinsmen. Although Uncle Celeborn would chivalrously overlook it if we overspent on Aunt Galadriel. Provided that we didn’t go too much overboard.”
“Twenty anchors?” questioned Thranduil, confused.
“Yes, Elrond,” said Nestorion, chuckling, “How much is that, when it’s at home?”
Elrond laughed self-consciously. Then he explained in his ‘scholarly Elrond’ tone, “Forgive me. I am showing my age. Anchors were a coinage on the Isle of Balar. We also had starfish and seahorses. I believe that twenty anchors would be about ten Greenwood coppers, if I’m performing the currency conversion correctly. Including taking into account that there’s no need to worry about war-time inflation. Something which complicates any currency conversion from the end of the First Age.”
“How come you didn’t already know about anchors, Nesta?” wondered Thranduil. He knew that Galad, like Luthavar, had barely been an adult when Thranduil’s family came to the Greenwood. But Thranduil thought of Nestorion as old and wise, like Elrond and Celeborn, and Thranduil’s parents and uncle.
“The Isle of Balar was before Nestorion’s time,” Elrond explained fondly, “He is a child of the early Second Age. Much like Erestor, and Celebrian.”
“Oh,” said Thranduil, mentally adjusting his worldview to take into account that Nestorion was younger than his parents, and younger even than cousin Elrond.
“It’s true,” Nestorion confirmed. With a twinkle in his leaf-green eyes, he went on to comment, “Although perhaps that doesn’t mean so much in comparison to some few First Age beings. Specifically, in comparison to a being who only came ‘of age’ during the First Age by leaning pointedly on the human half of his heritage.”
Elrond laughed delightedly at this. Thranduil would learn when he was older that Elrond felt it was the privilege of those who had lived through the War of Wrath to look out for the interests of those 'youngsters' not born until the Second Age. Nestorion, like Erestor and Celebrian, thought that this was silly of Elrond, and liked to tease him about it.
When Elrond had caught his breath, he remarked mock-solemnly, “That’s the good part of being peredhil. I get to pick and choose between my different ancestries.”
“What’s the bad part?” asked Thranduil. Who didn’t understand the joke, but who nonetheless liked seeing his favorite healers jesting and having fun bantering together.
“Catching human illnesses,” Elrond explained, “I am sorry to miss out on helping you play Father Yule further today, Thranduil.”
“That’s alright,” Thranduil excused him graciously, “We got to wrap presents together, at least.”
“True. Now, perhaps Nestorion would excuse Galad early, so that the two of you might leave word with your parents as to your shopping plans, and check in with Thoroniel.”
Of course, Nestorion did. So Thranduil took Galad’s hand, and waved goodbye to Elrond and Nestorion. Then set off for a fun afternoon of enjoying being ‘Father Yule.’
As they left, Thranduil heard Nestorion say to Elrond, "You have certainly lived up to your reputation as a diplomat today, my friend!"