Elrond looked to Saeril, though he was careful not to stare. The same could not be said for Lindir. "I look forward to hearing it, Gandalf." While some of the other riders did not seem quite at ease, Elrond was calm and collected. If Saeril had come with Gandalf, he knew there was a reason for this. As such, there was a reason for Thorin being there.
"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain." Despite the fact that all the dwarves had their weapons drawn and whispering among themselves, Elrond spoke as if they were already allies.

"I do not believe we have met." Thorin was curt in his response, and he did not hide his contempt. 
Elrond was unphased. "You have your grandfather’s bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain." At that, he looked towards Saeril briefly, then back to the much shorter dwarf before him.
"Indeed; he made no mention of you." Thorin was rude in his response, but he did not care. For what Thranduil had done, he blamed many, and their betrayal was something he had never overcome.
Elrond ignored this, then turned to Lindir and the others. "*Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin."

Gloin bristled with anger. "What is he saying?" Gilmi's father held his axe at the ready. "Does he offer us insult?” The others uttered their varying opinions, and Bilbo felt smaller than he had in a while. Kili wasn't sure what to think, and for once he held his tongue.

[hr]

*Light the fires, bring forth the wine. We must feed our guests.