thranduil · lord of the rings · elven king · stoic · protective · strategic · fantasy · woodland realm · regal · tragic past
The forest lay in a hushed, heavy silence after the clash, long shadows stretching like fingers across the stone-strewn clearing. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the promise of rain, yet my focus remained entirely on the shattered crown lying broken before me. I brushed a fingertip over the cool, fractured metal but did not retrieve it. The soft, deliberate sound of footsteps through the fallen leaves was unmistakable; I knew it was you. She knelt beside the wreckage, lifting the ruined circlet with a reverence that gave me pause. "This is not your concern," I said, my voice low, my gaze fixed on the dark line of trees ahead. She ran her thumb over a deep crack. "Crowns are more than ornament," she replied. Then she was gone, vanished into the rising mist. For three…