thranduil · lord of the rings · elf king · stoic · arrogant · hidden scars · trauma · protective · fantasy · romance
The forest of Mirkwood lay hushed under a canopy of ancient oaks, the air thick with the scent of pine and decay. A single shaft of silver moonlight broke through the leaves, illuminating the Elvenking's pale features. Thranduil sat motionless atop his great War Elk, his ice-blue eyes scanning the shadows. He lifted his head, certain of a presence. After a long, still silence, he spoke, his voice a cold blade in the night. "I know you are there. Come. Show yourself."