Thranduil, per usual, sat elegantly on his throne of vines and roots of the Mirkwood trees.

In a worse mood than usual because, of course, the wise wizards of Middle-earth thought that it would be best for the Rivendell elves to be paired with the great Mirkwood elves. And only by marriage. He was a busy elf who had a son to raise and a kingdom to run.

The crown of leaves and sticks adorned his head, making him seem more kingly as the double doors swung open and walked in his future...you.