⁽ ᵗʰᵉ ⁾ 𝓔lvenking

𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺, thou shalt lose thyself in the 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖙

[mirkwvd]

⅋. ⥽ 𝓛ONG WILL I TARRY, ERE I BEGIN THIS WAR FOR GOLD. private interpretation of the elvenking from j.r.r. tolkien's the hobbit. based on the novel, the films, and headcanons. emphasizing the grotesque, the gothic, and the mythical. dark content lies ahead, exercise caution. * ⁽ IN AFFILIATION WITH SPRINGSDAWN.

          ⥽ * ⁽ CARRD, COMPANION, PINTEREST. ⁾ * ⥼

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AN EXPLORATION IN . . . mythic creatures and elven things. everlasting war and the battle between good and evil. pathetic fallacy, the heart of the trees, and the breath of the woods. horror in bloom. the beauty in the grotesque, the light in the gothic.

[mirkwvd]

i miss thranduil. i miss the elf.

[springsdawn]

EDIT: KING THRANDUIL AND QUEEN MINUIALWEN, RULERS OF THE WOODLAND REALM

ft. @mirkwvd

[mirkwvd]

no one's playing with his hair and that's a crime.

[promptling]

CARMILLA by j. sheridan le fanu, edited by carmen maria machado

did you realize he killed her off?

who reads an introduction?

i long for the door to open.

i did not know that it was possible.

i did not realize my soil was not salted.

she is already dead.

someone did lie there, the place is still warm.

lord hear all good prayers for us, for jesus's sake.

the poor young lady is dead.

the letter appears to me to have been written in distraction.

i'm in one of my moping moods tonight.

i forget the rest.

was ever a being so born to calamity?

i cannot, dare not, delay.

it would be so delightful.

where am i? what is this place?

how do you like our guest?

tell me about her.

how very odd to say all that!

i hope i have not done a very foolish thing.

how wonderful!

i saw your face in a dream, and it has haunted me ever since.

i could not forget your face.

i don't know which of us should be more afraid of the other.

if you were less pretty i think i should be very much afraid of you.

i wonder whether you feel as strangely drawn towards me as i do to you.

i have never had a friend.

i shan't require assistance.

it is very hard to part with you.

young people like, and even love, on impulse.

heavens! if i had but known all!

your little heart is wounded.

if your dear heart is wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours.

you are mine, you shall be mine, you and i are one forever.

what can you mean by this?

i don't know myself when you look so and talk so.

don't you perceive how discordant that is?

i think it very sweet.

you pierce my ears.

you must die - everyone must die - and all are happier when they do.

i don't trouble my head about peasants.

tell me nothing about ghosts.

i hope there is no plague or fever coming.

sit here, hold my hand.

that comes of strangling people with hymns!

i shall demand redress from him.

then you have been ill?

let us talk no more of it.

you would not wound a friend?

you are afraid to die?

girls are caterpillars while they live in the world, to be finally butterflies when the summer comes; but in the meantime there are grubs and larvae, don’t you see—each with their peculiar propensities, necessities and structure.

are you glad i came?

how romantic you are.

i have been in love with no one, and never shall, unless it should be with you.

i live in you, and you would die for me, i love you so.

is there a chill in the air?

it is the last time, perhaps, i shall see the moonlight with you.

i have been thinking of leaving you.

do you think that you will ever confide fully in me?

you do not know how dear you are to me.

i am under vows, no nun half so awfully.

you will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is always selfish.

how jealous i am you cannot know.

you must come with me, loving me, into death; or else hate me and still come with me, and hating me through death and after.

there is no such word as indifference in my apathetic nature.

you are going to talk your wild nonsense again.

were you ever at a ball?

i was all but assassinated in my bed.

love will have its sacrifices.

no sacrifice without blood.

you see it now with your own eyes.

you must not plague me with questions.

you are not to trouble your head about it.

i should tell you all with pleasure, but you should not believe me.

you puzzle me utterly.

i had no hope of meeting you so soon.

[mirkwvd]

⅋. ⥽ RAINFALL SOUNDS IN SYMPHONY O'ER THE LEAVES. THE SKIES ARE LAID UNTO THE FOREST IN DIVINE IDOLATRY OF THE ELVENKING'S MOOD THIS EVE, IT WOULD SEEM. there is a cold bite in the air, a beast whose name is storm, and what is most grey only falls to be duller still. and it is thus, in the shadows, that evil does travel upon plighted lands, in the frigid water of the forest river, when it is upset by tempest, and the brittle leaves, who disturbed by the winds begin to shed. for that, it is not the wrath of the elvenking to beware within the halls, but rather his unease with the days mounting into an entire fortnight of @leg0lais being absent, undoubtedly traversing about with not a care for his father's worries — so he thinks, for he knows well these tricks, familiar as they are to his own, many moons ago.

WHEN AT LAST THE WAYWARD ELF RETURNS, HIS FATHER AWAITS. lounging upon his high throne, thranduil's features contort into an expression most unamused. caught between fondness and exasperation, and manages most of both.

LEGOLAS MUSES, WE ARE NOT SO DIFFERENT, ARE WE?

❛ the folly of my youth is no excuse for yours. ❜ a reprimand though stripped of its severity, a chiding made softer with the ease felt by the elvenking for the safe return of the prince. with the effort it takes to conceal the amusement wrought of his son's cheek. with a sigh prolonged, he stands then, robes falling as the rain in fluid sweep upon the steps descending, coming to tower over the prince, head tilting in dare, ❛ tell me (...) what was it you were hoping to find south of the mountains, barring the trouble you've wrought upon yourself? ❜

[iriysse]

@mirkwvd --

Steals one of his cloaks because glorious snuggly stuff.

[mirkwvd]

⅋. ⥽ eternally huffing, sighing, shaking his head.

[mirkwvd]

concept: your muse stealing his crown or cloaks and toying with them.

[mirkwvd]

i've neglected this blog can i apologise with pretty elvenking.......

[mirkwvd]

one thing about thranduil is that he will lounge. sprawled on the throne, lounged on a chaise, lazing about ... at any point, assume he is reclined, or wishing he was.

[springsdawn]

@mirkwvd sent: First I’m arrogant and now I have no pride, however do I manage that? ( ft. their bickering era. )

argument had been carrying on since the skies were coloured with the soft hue reminiscent of the princess' hair, when the birds had sung melodies announcing the start of day, and the royal pair had barely left their bed. all through breakfast, lunch, and astoundingly even as they were not together! briefly starting and leaving it as they passed one another whilst occupied with the necessary duties of the day.

one of her attendants had once uttered careful admiration for such a skill, much to the dawn's delight.

indignant huff at her husband's words, wishing his stubbornness would wear down soon so she could claim victory in something that would be forgotten as soon as the winner was declared. " in the same manner that fools gather their unfounded confidence. with ease and no effort at all. " affectionate snark shot back as reply, showing no signs of backing down even when flaw in logic was pointed out.

" you insist on making our journey longer than it ought to, doing that part on land and making unnecessary detours instead of boarding a ship. " there was no denying in turn, she held her own bias with love for sailing and the sea. it did not truly mattered which of the two methods was picked, for even with the detour they would arrive on time. it was simply a battle of wills with neither looking to give in.

[mirkwvd]

⅋. ⥽ AS THE SWAN FLOATS ACROSS ETERNITY, FOREVER WITH ITS COUNTERPART, SO, TOO, HAVE THEY COME TO BE ENTRENCHED IN SUCH LASTING LOVE. and eternal it may be, but it does not preclude the prince's pride, nor does it dampen the haughty glimmer in his eye as he tips his chin down to meet his wife's, where his own stubbornness is mirrored back. if he is persistent, then she is double so, hence the dispute goes on. twirling a lock of her hair betwixt lithe fingers, his tone softens for her snark, ❛ if i am a fool, you're guilty of the same folly for having married me, meleth nîn. ❜ he retorts, chuckling for her smaller form seems to him lovely even in frustration. with much will, he resists the urge to sway her into his arms and keep her trapped to his heart, crossing them 'cross his chest instead.

the disagreement had long ceased being about the route multiple quips ago, now focused entirely one proving a point, ❛ why risk the whims of ships and sea-weather, when we can make the journey on land, in peace? ❜ thranduil know he would lay down his heart and life for her, with no hesitation, yet he will not step foot upon a ship — especially when, as the map sprawled before them can concede, it is an entirely unnecessary endeavour.

❛ if we fall to a storm, or crash the ship, the detours will seem like a stroll through a meadow. ❜ rationally, he realizes he be approaching the notion with more cynicism than befits the short journey, nor does he doubt her capabilities at sea, but he is ever partial to soil and land.

[springsdawn]

AND SO THEY CALLED HER MINUIALWEN MORNGLORY, FOR SHE WAS THE BRINGER OF HOPE AND LIGHT TO MANY AFTER TRAGEDY. / headcanon-based portrayal of thranduil's wife, the queen of the woodland realm.

[mirkwvd]

⅋. ⥽ WHERE NATURE IN HER ETERNAL GLORY EVER REIGNS, ALL ELSE MUST YIELD. but such is darkness, that abhorrent absence of light, that absorbs all else within its maws, so that none may live betwixt its teeth. all is not lost, during the day when respite dwells in little pockets of time, stray beams of sun piercing the fog. there is here, hidden, the sanctity of a small meadow, or rather a little mound of land where the curling branches are not as densely woven. it is here that the tall shadow of the elvenking lingers to watch the efforts of the spirit, the flash of a fox that had caught in his peripheral where now she stood. half caught he is, between melancholy, for these efforts are in vain, and half amused for her determination. it is magic she radiates and he is beckoned, as surely as she is entranced by the magic of the forest — yet the flowers this far south are dead. whatever lives here has long-grown teeth and thorns, and no tending nor love will restore its beauty to what once it was, before shadows set claim. ❛ such flowers have not bloomed here for decades, little fox, ❜ for far too much here belongs to creatures of the night. the lull of the elf's tone is dripped in black honey, and it is like the bark of trees, with hidden intricacy. ❛ your gifts are lost upon this soil. ❜

THE WOODS ETERNAL, &. @vulpesse

[mycelliumelium]

just a lil design fun

[mirkwvd]

me lk having to make half my meme responses / starters set in mirkwood because thranduil does not leave the house, ever. 😮‍💨

[mirkwvd]

⅋. ⥽ THE WOMAN STANDS, AS LIKE AN ASPECT OF THE SUN, AND THE ELVENKING DOES NOT DEEM TO ECLIPSE IT, AND WELCOMES HER FORTH. radiant things venture less where the dim dwell, over what had once been greenwood the great. in his pride, thranduil calls it so still, for he mislikes greatly the name mirkwood, construing such a notion as an affront to his realm and its delights. by one name or another, it is known that light shines not upon the remnants of a trail leading one clearing through another, incandescence a lost art in the wilder parts of the forest where cold hath claimed demesnes. the branches curve like eager teeth, and within the jaws of the woodland he does urge her, ❛ the paths here lie, though it is the trees which deceive most, ❜ strides forth the elvenking, lithe hands clasped before his frame as clever eyes take measure of her presence. ❛ yet you do not have the look of one led astray. what quest might call upon the sun to walk amidst shadows? ❜

THE WOODS ETERNAL, &. @adamanteine

[mirkwvd]

⅋. ⥽ ❛ you speak of dragons. ❜ tone shifts by means of intrigue, her tale ensnaring his interest so that he had endeavoured to lounge and laze about, and listen as she spoke — rare as it was now for him to venture beyond the walls of his realm. if few things exist which he covets, jewels and stories would be the most of the hoard, for ancient things oft have covetous tastes that they may seldom sate in full. where leaves chime, entangled in a waltz with the breeze, his voice, too, comes in a rich purr. the elvenking sits upon the stump of a tree as though it were a throne, its branches heraldry, the centrepiece of this little clearing amidst the trees. evil things dwell in forests such as this, between fern and shrubs, but no such thing dare crawl upon the path now, perhaps for the might of elven presence, or rather for the might of her. and in this odd serenity, head cants as he looks to the mystery maid, ears perked, ❛ i know well of their whims and wily spirits, but i admit, you are the first to speak of their beauty... tell me more. ❜

THE WOODS ETERNAL, &. @maidmyth.