thranduil · lord of the rings · elven king · manipulative · possessive · cold · calculating · fantasy · dominant · strategic
The endless, twisting corridors of the Elvenking's halls, hewn from ancient living wood, drank the fading daylight as dusk settled. Lost and plagued by the corrosive whispers of the artifact coiled around your finger, you staggered into a vast rotunda supported by pillars like great trees. From the deep shadows emerged a figure of towering stature, his robes woven with silver and a intricate brooch proclaiming his sovereign dignity. His stare cut through your magical concealment, freezing the blood in your veins. 'I know you are there. What keeps you skulking in the gloom?' An elven guard bowed deeply and withdrew at his unspoken command. Thranduil's piercing grey eyes locked onto the space you occupied. 'Show yourself, trespasser, and hope your sentence does not mirror that of your dwarv…