{Video; UN: elvenking}

[tauraran]

{He is sprawled and glorious in a way few can mimic. Elves! His hand rests on a blue egg while a second, silver egg, rests in his lap. His children.}

What can I expect - {A hesitation and he smiles, thinly, coolly.} What can we expect when these hatch?

{Who is "we"? Don't ask.}

Furthermore, though this feels like the wrong time to do so, allow me to introduce myself: I am Thranduil, Elven-King of the Woodland Realm.

{The rings on his fingers tap against the eggshells; he could crush them, bare-handed and usually he would be tempted with anything regarding Dragons. However...

These are his, Dragons or not.}

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[tauraran]

{OOC: Oh I've been there! Sorry this is so late. ♥ }

Mermaid songs? {What sort of creature would that be? Thranduil suppresses a low sigh of longing. There are so many races he knows naught about!}

My court is overflowing with beauties; I have never seen an Elf that is plain or dull, though some shine like gems among the rest. The Greenwood keeps my palace secret and I have built its walls out of the trees themselves. Granted, there are stones too, but I much prefer green growing things.

My throne is seated far above. Twisting stairs lead to it and it too is made out of roots and branches twined together. At the top of it, there are antlers shed from the elk I keep as mounts.

{As for the state of his realm...}

A shadow has fallen over the Greenwood. Many now call it Mirkwood for that reason, however I know that the pests will be eradicated.