NOTE - I am SERIOUSLY craving an RP with an off-balanced, not all there Thranduil. Seeking a Thranduil.
Thranduil was in love once. But not just any love, the kind of love you never recover from. The kind of love that comes only once in a life time, or so he thought.
500 years into their marriage, his wife gave birth to a beautiful baby boy whom they named Legolas, "Green Leaf". It was the first child the woodland elves had seen in a Millenia. Feasts were given for months, festivities lasted for years and never before had such joy been seen on King Thranduil's face.
However a decade later, while in a caravan on her way from visiting her family in Lothlorien, the queen, her son, and their company was attacked just on the borders of the woodland realm. She was brutally raped then nearly beaten to death. Thranduil and his guard rode hard to her aid. Fear and anger coursed through him faster than the blood in his veins. The horse became exhausted and collapsed half a mile from her, throwing Thranduil from it's back. He hit the ground but did not falter. He ran faster then he'd ever run in his life, disregarding the call of his guards as he recklessly sprinted through the darkening woods.
He came upon a figure in the path, her body broken and the light nearly gone from her eyes. He fell to his knees, agony itself manifested on his face as he took her limp body in his arms. He felt something run down his cheeks...tears. Tears were a foreign thing to the elves. Very seldom did an elf cry save for immeasurable sadness, which usually led to fading away from grief. Death was even more foreign to them.
He cradled his wife in his arms, no words were spoken. They did not need words. His guard slowly arrived, but gave their King space to mourn. He kissed her lips gently, and when he pulled back, she was gone. Thranduil cried out with sorrow and grief, if that is what you could call it. No words could really capture what the three guards witnessed on their king's face. And none of them spoke of it.
A cry had been heard from the bushes nearby as they carefully wrapped the Queen's body in silk to transport her back to the caves. Thranduil turned and followed the cry to find his son buried beneath branches and leaves. With the utmost care and tenderness, Thranduil picked his child up and cradled him to his breast the entire ride home.
For days, he locked himself away in his room with his son. No servant or guard ever entered his chamber, leaving food for both babe and father outside the door. Always the food for Legolas disappeared, but the King left his untouched. His people mourned for the loss of their queen and the pain inflicted upon their King. Elrond and Galadriel came an paid their respects, trying but failing to coax Thranduil from his depressive state in the locked room. Grief seemed just a whisper away from consuming his heart and soul - a death sentence to any elf.
And then, one day the King emerged, baby Legolas at his breast. He resumed his post as King of the Woodland realm, but he had changed. Everyone knew it, could sense it. He had chosen to live for his son and for the welfare of his people, but as for himself, he was dead inside. He had constructed a breechless wall around his heart, hardened his countenance and became ruthless in his commands. Cold dead eyes, seeming devoid of love or warmth watched over his land, the fierce passion he once exuded eliciting only when his realm or people were under threat. He ruled with an iron fist; if anyone stepped out of line, his judgement fell swift and sever against the perpetrators. Outsiders were treated with suspicion and rarely allowed past their gates.
Years passed and Greenland soon became Mirkwood. A once green, light-filled place now dark with evil and creatures of old. Thranduil's self-induced isolation lost the realm many allies, damning the dwarves and ignoring the race of men, leaving no one save their kin in Rivendell and Lothlorien. Trade continued with Laketown, but that was all. Known for their festivities and endless barrels of wine, the woodland elves still had many feasts, festivals and merrymaking, the king overseeing everything as he always did, but rarely did he partake.
He became selfish and unkind, pushing away those closest to him, even his own son when he was of age. He often demanded to be left alone, his own thoughts and imaginings consuming him until whispers began, saying the King was not all there. This was surely true. Thranduil now had an unstable glint in
his eye; he was prone to bursts of anger and reckless action, he enjoyed taunting and playing those unlucky enough to become his prey, and often he was seen smiling unnervingly at passerby. His greed and obsession for beautiful things grew - treasure and finery, and even women, however once one caught his attention and he took her into his room that night, none ever came out speaking of what had happened. Their were rumors that he was impotent, that he only took the elleths into his room so as to avoid suspicion, but nothing was ever confirmed.
And so the Woodland realm existed in relative peace and prosperity, but all who resided in it with memory of what it once was like desperately wished for those days again when Thranduil remembered how to smile.Looking for someone to play a Lord of the Rings/Hobbit RP with me that involves lots of sex but also plot. Very character driven. Would prefer someone to play Thranduil like in the Hobbit. He's unbalanced, slightly insane, physically aggressive, with cold, dead eyes and a quick temper. Yet beneath that veneer, he's still unstable, but fiercely passionate, dominant and capable of a love deeper than any elf has ever known. And he knows exactly what he wants. He wants her. My feisty, outspoken, opinionated, fiery Tauriel or OC. A woman with a mind of her own and one of the only elves to ever defy him. Must be literate and enjoy deeply thought out posts - not necessarily long but descriptive as this is what you'll get from me