Thranduil looks at him, startled. "The last I had known, we had been fighting it for a thousand years. The shadow over Mirkwood-" he disliked the name, missed the days when it had been Greenwood, "-has yet to lift." If it would ever.

Thranduil, at least, understood the sentiment of not wanting to be inside. Why would he wish to here? He smiled a little at the invitation. "If you wish it."