A shadow lies on Thranduil and his forest, and only a power stronger than the darkness of old can save them.
Grief and loss have turned him into a king with a heart of ice, and if he is ever to find redemption, the chains of guilt and remorse holdin...
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A picture of disaster and utter misery unfolded itself before Thranduil as he laid eyes on the city burnt to ashes by the dragon's wrath. It was not something that was new to him, but it ripped open old wounds, scars stinging anew at the sight of death on heated wings, visions resurfacing of the darker days that had brought upon him the fire, the flames branding his skin forever. Images he wished to keep under lock and key were rekindled in his mind, resurfacing from the murky waters of the bottomless pool of his memories, brewing within him their venomous concoction of anguish and helplessness.
Every step closer to the ruined city of Esgaroth was a step further into his own disastrous fires of hell. Bodies burnt to death alive, every inch of skin on fire, flesh melting away beneath the sizzling heat, limbs a blazing torch of scorching heat, the nauseating smell of burnt flesh filling his lungs.
A moment of hesitation, a blink of an eye that had kept him stunned and frozen in the red heat flickering before his eyes, one little moment that had meant everything and destroyed everything he had.
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"Angoroth," the word had fallen from Elhadron's mouth like a hammer on an anvil, ominous and heavy with the foreboding of doom as the elvish warriors had faced the horrid creature in the desolate valley overshadowed by the stronghold of Gundabad.
Distinctly outlined against the gloomy sky there loomed a massive creature with scales of matted grey, like an armour forged of iron, leathery wings with pointed claws, sharp like razors, a worm so terrible it instilled fear in anybody who had the misfortune to stand in its way. Eyes like flames, piercing and red like thick drops of blood with speckles of jet black and jaws with rows upon rows of teeth like knifes had greeted Thranduil and his companions on that fateful day so long ago.
Wisps of smoke hung thick and heavy beneath the cloud covered sky, leaving the ghostly silhouette of the massive fort nearly shrouded, only the occasional sharp edge poking through the grey veil bestowing on it an eerie and frightful look.
The beast crawled forth with remarkable speed and swift movement despite its colossal body, wriggling its way out of the orc's lair, the fortress of Gundabad, and barring the entrance with stubborn pride. It reared its forbidding head covered in innumerable spikes, towering like a dark pinnacle of iron in front of Thranduil in his gleaming black armour and his warriors all clad in brown and dark green, their oval shaped shields raised in protection of their king. Elhadron had taken a stance right beside Thranduil, being his closest advisor and most trusted warrior. Dark haired and nearly as tall as the king himself his bearing was proud, his face stern and sombre grey eyes under furrowed brows conveying caution and prudence.
"My lord, we must not allow this beast to ensnare us with the seductive and malicious words it surely will be throwing at us."
Elhadron had been an ever prescient counsellor, one of the few that had argued against setting out for Erebor to collect the necklace the dwarves had fashioned for Thranduil, seeing as the queen had shown some inexplicable concern over Thranduil's plans.
