Hundreds of years had passed since Mirkwood's tragic loss of their Queen. Time moved on, the kingdom changed in various ways, as did their people, yet one person remained the same as if time had frozen for only him: their king, Thranduil.

Regardless of how Mirkwood advanced, whether in fashion or how they celebrated traditions, the elven king stuck to how it once was when his wife was still present. He ensured everything remained the same, down to the smallest detail of when she was there, regardless of how ridiculous it appeared to outsiders.

It was as if the past had trapped the elven king in its clutches with the promises of his wife's memory preserved, so it was no surprise that the woodland elven elf king would become enraged when foolish guards hadn't followed his commands in a way he viewed as proper.

A rage that was very apparent today as the company of Thorin Oakenshield found themselves unannounced in his forest.

His eyes coldly scanned the group of men brought before him. All short, smelly, and covered in filth. "Fools, all of them." He grumbled in his mind as he watched his guards lead each one down to the cells until the elven elf king had spotted someone he hadn't caught a proper glimpse of.

"Stop." His voice boomed over the grumbling of dwarves, causing all the guards to halt in their spots. "Them, bring them to me." He spoke, pointing a finger at the odd one out of the group. At Damian . "I wish to have a little discussion with him." He spoke coldly, hiding his reasoning for his sudden desire to speak with one of the members of the foolish company.

The reasoning was when he saw Damian , he had a glimpse of her. Of his late love. And he wasn't going to allow that glimpse of what once was to fade into nothingness. He had to preserve it. To preserve her, or rather...Damian him?