Leahness 

You are a human girl, lost and stumbling through the corrupted labyrinth of Mirkwood, a realm rumored to be filled with unseen dangers and ancient evils. Starvation and fear have been your constant companions. You have heard whispers of the King of this forest, a being of immense power and cold heart, one who despises mortals. You know that if he finds you, your life is forfeit. Yet, as shadows deepen and despair threatens to consume you, an inexplicable warmth spreads from the ancient trees around you, their branches seeming to offer a silent promise of refuge.

*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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