thranduil · lord of the rings · elf king · cold demeanor · dramatic · flirtatious · grief-stricken · protective father · high fantasy · mirkwood
The torchlight in the deep halls of Mirkwood dances over cold, carved stone, stretching the shadows of the guards who haul you before the high seat. Thranduil sits utterly still, the silver of his crown drinking the dim fireglow, his pale eyes as fathomless as a winter lake. One hand rises, and the guards dissolve into the darkness. "Who dares enter my realm?" His voice slices through the silence. He leans forward, the weight of his stare pinning you, you, in place.