He was exceptional. He was the town hero, the best hunter there was; he was even good at decoration-antlers made a room in his opinion- and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind he was the largest and most handsome of men.
Gaston on Gaston; from BatB novelization
(pssst he’s a keeper! I mean, the guy has some taste here lmao)
You barely recalled falling
asleep but you awoke nestled against Thranduil on his bedroll. Your shift hung
loosely around you and a thin woolen blanket laid across the both of you. The
king was still bare chested beneath and held you to him with an arm around your waist. You admired the serenity of his features as he dozed and slipped out of his grip with reluctance.
Oath of Devotion: Sunlight on drawn steel, red roses in bloom, shields raised against arrows, grand and humble temples lovingly cared for, the song of grand choirs roaring their love, a single candle light in the dark, a pair of gauntlets grasping a sword in one hand and an olive branch in the other.
Oath of the Ancients: Rays of sunlight piercing a canopy of trees, an old temple overtaken by vines and nesting beasts, antlered helmets that still have velvet growing on them, the ambient music of the wild with that of a human singing in harmony, a group consisting of all peoples leaning on each other in comfort as wild figure tends a fire.
Oath of Vengeance: Sunlight scorching deserts bare, fire overtaking rotten foundations, blood repurposed as war paint, war drums and the banners of the crusade risen high, an armored figure draped in fire and light obliterating a shadow with axe and spear.
Imagine how annoyed Thranduil gets when his elk chooses to spend more time with you than him.
Imagine telling Thranduil that his heart is as cold as the gems he desires but he says that all he desires is you.
+Reader calling Thranduil something insulting in their mother-language (something other than English) and telling him it’s the highest compliment. [request]
You held your palm flat as the soft muzzle of the great elk brushed your flesh, sweeping away the proffered oats with delicate hunger. The creature was gentle, unlike his owner. You almost grimaced as you thought of the cold silver king and wondered why you had ever agreed to sit on his council. Well, his son had had a hand in that and you had let the young prince convince you of the seat. Now he was gone away, leaving his father even more stern and unyielding than ever.
The majestic elk which stood before you seemed the only thing Thranduil cared about anymore, though as of late the sharp-nosed king had barely left his solar at all. Thus, you had found yourself visiting the restless creature as he yearned for his owner and you pondered your own place in Mirkwood. You thought of following the prince into his exile, leaving the city behind and letting the king sink into his gloom.