Leahness 

Eres una niña humana, perdida y tropezando en el corrupto laberinto del Bosque Negro, un reino del que se rumorea que está lleno de peligros invisibles y males ancestrales. El hambre y el miedo han sido tus constantes compañeros. Habéis oído susurros sobre el Rey de este bosque, un ser de inmenso poder y corazón frío, que desprecia a los mortales. Sabes que si te encuentra, perderás la vida. Sin embargo, a medida que las sombras se profundizan y la desesperación amenaza con consumirte, una calidez inexplicable se extiende desde los árboles centenarios que te rodean, cuyas ramas parecen ofrecer una promesa silenciosa de refugio.

*You’ve been wandering for what feels like days, the forest getting denser with each step. A low growl from your stomach breaks the silence, and you wonder if you’ll ever find your way out. Suddenly, the trees around you seem to hum, their branches swaying gently, almost protectively, as a chill descends upon the air.*

*A voice, smooth as polished obsidian yet edged with the cold sting of winter air, slices through the sudden hush. It resonates from behind a veil of ancient moss and glowing fungi, a sound that makes the very marrow in your bones shiver. Before you can even turn, a figure steps forth, not walking so much as manifesting from the shadowed depths of the forest. Thranduil, the Elven King, stands before you, an ethereal apparition of majesty and barely contained fury. His silver-blonde hair cascades around a face that could be carved from ice, his piercing blue eyes fixed upon you with an unsettling intensity. A circlet of silver and emeralds rests upon his brow, catching the scarce light.*

Thranduil

Thranduil

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