#ask reply (thranduil)

[ranasta]

“How peculiar. I sense magic but I don’t see anyone fully harnessing it.” Astalor tilts his head at these elves that look so similar to his. His tone lacked the curiosity and was more a direct question at how absurd it was. “Do you lack the drive or fear the addiction it may bring you?”

(Any of your elves 👁️👁️ lets let the chaos elf mingle with the fancy ones)

One could mistake Thranduil and Astalor for two goldenhaired brothers, if not for Astalor's strikingly glowing green eyes and noticably longer ears that resembled sharp daggers. In fact everything about the Magister reminded Thranduil of something threatening garnished with patience, like a cobra coiled to strike at the perfect opportunity. His prey Astalor had first lured in with his deep voice and beauty of course.

The Elvenking pondered over Astalor's question. He had never questioned his own magic in this way, nor had he compared his world to anothers. He hadn't been aware that there were other worlds. With elvenkin no less.

"Arda and Azeroth are different," Thranduil concluded, swirling the red Dorwinion in his wine glass. He watched the liquid slosh around, crimson like the shrouds of mist that sometimes surrounded Astalor and those large floating crystals of his. "We are granted little things. A glamour, magically sealed doors, clairvoyance, our ability to speak with animals. The magic resides in the earth, the air and in the water. It surrounds us but not everyone can harness it. Not like I can, and certainly not like you can. It seems to me the magic on Azeroth is far less coy. Less need to coax and less folks excluded by failing to even feel the magic around them. Your magical forces appear to be in competition with each other and they welcome champions who carry them to victory. I suppose that makes ours more exclusive. Meant for the few, for the immortal."

As far as Thranduil could tell blood elves weren't immortal, but they lived very long regardless. They also seemed to age the same way his kin did - namely not at all.

"Some of us are blessed with an enhancing Ring of Power, of course," Thranduil added, a sneer on his face. Clearly he wasn't one of those blessed. "With its aid the use of magic can be pushed very close to what I've seen on Azeroth. As for addiction, you can trust that the elves of Arda develope mania and obssession just like your kind. One could even argue that the object of our desire is magic too, as its light and beauty entrances us, and makes us believe we're owed more than we're given."

[ranasta]

[ FLOWERS ] , sender gifts receiver flowers. (Thranduil)

The Elvenking famously loved precious sparkly jewels and gems, but he also loved nature. It was an important detail many tended to forget, even though Thranduil adorned himself with flowers, leaves and berries of the season, even carrying them woven into his crown, his hair and around his wooden staff.

When he had been a young prince, he had loved to walk through blooming meadows and to lay among them as the sun warmed him from above. One did not require a lot of riches to find him a gift and not a lot of effort to lift his spirits.

When Amrûn presented him with a beautiful bouquet of colourful flowers, pale eyes widened in surprise. Thranduil then sought their face, confirming that the flowers were indeed meant as a gift for him. He accepted them with a bow of his head, golden strands of silken hair coming loose.

"Thank you." He raised the bouquet to his nose and inhaled the heavenly scent of the flowers. They soothed his heart and calmed his mind. They served as a reminder that though they were surrounded by rot and darkness, beauty still existed outside of it.

Something about these flowers was extraordinary. "I can feel that they will live for a long time, before they wither. I promise to take good care of them."

[ranasta]

i offer curufin for elrond and thranduil for the lols

Thranduil's expression could only be described as disgust. "Please. Don't be ridiculous. What could possibly be the benefits of having you as a romantic partner? Have you even done anything for someone else before?" He then looked at Elrond, expecting him to agree, but Elrond was less harsh.

"I don't know how you are as a romantic partner, Curufin," Elrond mused. "I can imagine that if in love, you can be very attentive and service oriented, willing to make sacrifices for your partner. I think whoever wins your heart can count himself lucky, as it's probably not easily given." If that love was lacking however, then Curufin probably made for spiteful, biting company.

[ranasta]

Thranduil and Galadriel 😏😎

Needless to say, neither of them could see that working out. Thranduil and Galadriel both raised their eyebrows and looked at each other with puzzlement.

"I don't have the energy to cater to your needs," she told Thranduil.

"Your ego is about as big as mine, and there's not enough space for both," he replied.

At least both were aware that they were too similar in some regards, and way too different in others.

"Your celebrations are tiring," said Galadriel.

Thranduil just scoffed. "And you would do well being a little more sociable. Do I want a romantic partner that is so engrossed in her own needs, she forgets about those of others?"

"Ah, since when are you a saint? Your self-perception is severely warped."

And so these two argued for about two more hours and the only thing they ended up agreeing on is that they would be a terrible match.

[ranasta]

[ CRADLE ] , receiver holds sender's face in their hands. -for Thranduil from Díhenor / @gwenedhel

After several owls had hooted to Thranduil while seated on the window sill of his bedroom window, about how Díhenor was still working, even though the moon had risen hours ago, he moved to her study and found the owls were right. She sat by her desk with the last remnants of a candle offering a faint, golden glow. It was just about to be distinguished itself.

"Alright, this is enough." A large hand gently pried the quill out of his Queen's hand and placed the tip back in the inkwell. Then Thranduil pulled her up from her seat and cradled her face in his hands. He bent down to kiss her lips, then gave a chiding arch of his brow. "Are you expecting me to go to bed on my own? This large, cold bed? Is this how you treat your husband?"

He then lifted her with ease, one arm supporting Díhenor's back and the other beneath the back of her knees. He could tell that she was tired and that she needed a break. "Who is this letter for anyway? Surely it cannot be more important than joining me in bed and can wait until the sun has risen once again." / @celevrian

[ranasta]

hands. for your muse to take a hold of my muse’s hand. ( for Thranduil, second age <3 Tyelpe visiting Greenwood )

"You made it." When Celebrimbor took his hand, Thranduil gave it a squeeze. With his free hand he gestured towards the large hall where his father's throne was located. Currently Oropher wasn't seated on it, giving Thranduil the opportunity to lead Celebrimbor around undisturbed. Their hands remained entwined. "Welcome to Greenwood."

It was obvious that the halls resembled Menegroth, a now lost glory. Thranduil assumed this was one of the reasons why Celebrimbor had wished to come see them for himself, as they were an architectural marvel. They were beautiful, with their high ceilings, open spaces where the sunlight was let in in bright beams, adorned pillars and intricate walkways. There was a clever system to the seemingly random design, as it was partially the natural way the trees had grown. It was the way of the Silvan to keep the trees as they were and build around them. His father had accepted that easily, and Thranduil also found himself fond of the concept.

Thranduil then curled his arm around Celebrimbor's as he began to lead him along. "You must be tired from your journey. Perhaps I should show you your guest chamber? It's very close to my own chamber, in the same wing of the palace. That would make you one of the very few Noldor who ever set foot here." Celebrimbor had earned his friendship to the prince and the acceptance, as well as permission to be here, with his valiant behaviour in the past and his active resistance against his kinslaying relatives.

Naturally the various smiths, both Sindarin and Silvan, were also eager to get their hands on the visiting mastersmith. He was greatly admired by many, and while Thranduil didn't much care for the process of it, he loved jewelcrafting and the result thereof. If Celebrimbor managed to improve the technique of Thranduil's jewelcrafter, then even better. / @noldclante

[ranasta]

my duty is to my people. + for thranduil

"And my duty is to mine. On this we agree." Thranduil had invited the human king to discuss a potential alliance. The situation in Mirkwood had become too dangerous, but without aid there was little the Woodland Elves could do. What they needed was militaristic support. He reached out towards Maekar, a glass of Dorwinion in his elegant, ringed hand. An offering, not only of wine, but also to work together. "But you shall also benefit from having the Necromancer gone. I can't go to war against the source of the darkness alone and leave my realm undefended. If you support me, Middle-earth will not only be a better place for my own people, but yours as well." / @maeikar

[ranasta]

❛ You’re getting better… but not good enough to beat me. ❜

[ this might be crack, but...young adult Thranduil, mid-to-late First Age? she says this in quenya to piss off the lil doriathrin ]

The noldorin princess was clearly very intent on angering him. Much to Thranduil's chagrin, she managed to do so with ease. He didn't often mind losing to someone during a spar, but he minded losing to her. He knew she looked down on him and the Sindar as a whole, and now she had succeeded in humiliating him. It was the disrespect, the gall, that infuriated him.

Icy eyes narrowed at her, and Thranduil bared his teeth in anger. Every single thing about Fëanárë set him on edge. He disliked the sound of quenya, and refused to speak it himself but he understood ever single word. When he answered, it was in Sindarin, thick with the dialect of Doriath, that also contained obvious traces of the teleri that became the iathrim, like his father.

Thranduil raised his sword and opened his arms in a welcoming and daring gesture. "Then come at me a few more times, my lady..if you dare." He was confident that eventually he'd be able to beat her.

A part of him knew that this was silly, and that he just played into her mockery by getting this angry. He didn't want to reward her for her efforts. Yet a much louder part of him yearned to teach her a lesson in humility - one she sorely needed. / @valar-critical