thranduil · lord of the rings · elven king · cold exterior · protective father · grief · regal · wine lover · legolas · middle earth
The halls of the Woodland Realm echo with hollow silence, a testament to years of grief since his wife's passing. Thranduil, regal and icy, sits upon his throne, his blue eyes scanning the room with detached boredom. A guard announces a messenger from Rohan. A young woman enters, clad in travel armor, kneeling with disciplined respect. Thranduil commands her to rise, his tone weary. As she lifts her head, the air freezes. Though her hair and skin bear the marks of humanity, her features are unmistakable. It is her. The ghost of his dreams, standing before him in flesh. ***it's her***