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Moron. Gold chest inhaled slowly, Spanish head turned to the brute. It had been mongrel, you’re the moron. There were bigger problems though. The golden’s welcoming was being turned into a stage show to laugh upon the twin horned. And Thranduil did not laugh. He burned. Tasseled tail began to flick at the tip, but the rest of the remained still, with earth eyes following the damned brute. Inside though heart began to pound a terrible deep beat and it roared in the golden’s ears. Breaths were drawn slow and careful as if a ticking bomb lay beneath that dorsal stripe on his back. Though face was kept placid and smooth remembering its previous warnings, those earth eyes turned darker. Not a hard glare, he knew who else was watching, but he could not hide all of the growing anger. Harks pinned as the brute stepped closer, golden lips thinned as he took a stab at the golden neck. Gold head rose and twisted, but body held ground. Pressing in the brute prodded, scuffing off some golden hairs. Teeth ground as the tail lashed low and hit the gold’s hocks. He held his gaze on that damned brute though, mind raging at the hypocrisy. In all honestly his rage is not completely understood for Thranduil himself is a known hypocrite. For instance, the clown was only showing off what the golden son had done to the lass in the Threshold. No, it was not just what this brute was saying that caused the flames to burn so bright and hot in that golden chest. That golden son had been a flashy son at the top of his craft. He had waltz and nearly never before laughed at. He made the jokes. He had always caused the laughs. Oh but two years alone had apparently shaken groundings. The stallion had slipped and without a clear perspective had fumbled the game. That golden son had made a mistake. And it burned in him.
At last, the damned brute reserved and shut his own wide open hole of a mouth. Still, eyes did not leave that brute, rage burning too hot underneath a rather smooth exterior. Dark vocals cut in. It seeps across with the tones of a sentencing and funeral wrapped into one. The earth eyes are reluctant to move from one they wanted so badly to bury, but this was not about that damned stallion. No need. Tail lashed, and eyes narrowed. Talents years in the making reduced to a ‘flapping mouth’. Teeth pressed against each other, then he might want to investigate his lieutenant if that was a qualification. Jaw tight, yet breath draws. He was not about to….
He did. Storm let loose under the gold skin and it ragged against the stone and iron walls of the stallion’s levee of a mask. Keeping the rage tucked away it only stood solid. Jaw let loose and harks disappeared beneath those twin horns and tassels. Earth eyes now look out as hard as rock, too keep the emotions below well hid. Oh but they ragged and lashed. The golden hadn’t really wanted to come to this particular land. Cold wind blew across the gathering, but felt its biting bitterness no longer for he was ablaze. Born of sand and heat, and this place was a frozen graveyard of souls. Yet to be denied loaned the desire for entry. It was not that the brute felt he should have a welcome everywhere he walked, the golden son should just be able to speak his way through. Like those council meetings of old. Yes, yes, those council meetings. The real fun was not in chatting of the other daughters, but slipping into those locked walls. Rage focused. Seconds ticked. Mind was forming its words and actions. He would get in this damned land if just to have the satisfaction, of denying it to the di-colored brute.
Hooves. A new mare announces her presence with a snide remark. One hark swings forward. That was a rather tart way to address a lord, unless he holds no sway over her…. At her toe a young one trails and the golden finds he cannot look at it long. Now was not the time. Regardless, this gold bladed dark mare sweeps up to the group with an air of being above their heated moment. A cool breeze. It works slightly. She was halting his immediate banishment. The gold marked woman had the floor. Fire burning hard and bright pauses in curiosity and confusion. The mare was working in his favor, but to what end.
Now this mare thought as he. Fire resolved to embers. She was buying him excuses and time, but who was she? The gold crowned had a hand in his decision, could call the one beside her an arrogant fools, and toss about herself an air of invincibility. The swan spoke up for the first time, with most helpful information. This, was the lady. Gold dusted eyes glance to the swan. In his rage the youth had forgetten she had yet to speak. Clarity brings more thoughts. The lady is trusts the swan. Both harks lean forward as she settles her gaze back on the golden coat. Having not heard his name. A warning. Sneer and snide slip from her and worm into him. She was giving him what he needed, but the gold blade was just as devilish as them all. Everyone had to get in their laugh didn’t they. The golden boy could forgive her for that though, after all, the lady was doing much for him. So pensively, with a tightness, the golden volunteered with a slightest dip of his head, “Thranduil.” The dark lady must find qualification though, so she turned to the swan. Harks lean back, as the princess paints a picture, and her recounting of the story makes the golden lean back with an in roll at the exaggerations and misrepresentations these two were counting. While she did it was more tact than the brute he could no longer stand these ignorant fools. He’d had enough of it. Mind had shifted and shaped while the gold blade and swan bought him time. If it was to be judgment day the golden son was not about to be buried as a flapping mouth two year old. (Though he appreciated the comment on his wickedness, at least his epitaph would hint at something prideful.)
Head rose and eyes alighted less of stone stare to mimic, the gold blade’s lighter air. “Pardon me lord and lady, but I am do not like to be judged by strangers after only a moment’s conversation. And I’m having a terrible time these translations, so allow me to search for clarifications.” Earth eyes slipped from them to the swan who stood beside them. Lips hid the slightest hint of curl. In its full form it might has resembled the lady’s only moments ago, but he resisted as much as he could. “Dear swan, I am no thoughtless brute. The lass with the false glass horn was about to be eaten for supper by your friend. You don’t have to have a flapping mouth to speak threats.” Head tipped to that damned brute before back to her. She still held a nice figure, pleasing to say the least, even with those scars, but he also knew her to have intended to bring him for only judgment and mockery, when she promised welcome. Furthermore, she thought she knew enough to see through him, but unless she could read minds, that swan knew oh so little. “I also protest the request for a scuffle. As my coat will tell you I’m not a warhawk. It’s a skill that’s very rough at the current moment, and I’m not stupid enough to wave dagger at any sword fight.”He slipped to a grin.
It was coming easier now. Gaze slipped back to the dark ice lord, and his more like minded lady. If he ever got in this herd, he’d have to thank her. “I do plead that I am guilty of m’lady’s explanation though, when in Helovia do as the Helovians do? I plead also you find no blame in my reading what was plainly on Crash Course’s face.” Hesitating, with more consideration. “However, ignorance can be replaced by wisdom, but my talents will last.” Eyes narrowed but lips showed more a grin. “Some may win some by keeping quiet and that is a keen skill I’m working on, but words are just as dangerous.” Though he did not enjoy giving this long speech, it was showing himself too much but the golden’s favorite part was coming up. “Oh, I can destroy with a small meeting, and create it back up again a not a day later. I can make tangled webs faster than spiders themselves, and clear then with a flick of my tail.” Head mocked seriousness. “True, as an outsider you may not ask of me obedience, but as you may notice I’m not outside.” Grin regained and shoulders shrugged. “Think of only of this past incident as an audition of some of the talents I can bring to you, to serve you both.” Body straightened, hoof stepped forward, eyes kept on the dark lord’s. “For hounds are tamer under a masters’ hand, than running loose and wild beyond his and her door.” He side glanced to the golden blade, then retired himself, took his step back, his speech done. Rage once flared had, like heat to a jeweler’s furnace, been given purpose. It no longer flashed out but focused on the bottom of the pot and melted the metal to liquid gold. Craft it as you will.
OOC :: Yeah! I'm so excited to keep this going. XD Also I'm so sorry for the length, there's just so much he would be thinking about, and feeling. So to help out:
SUMMARY :: He stands still, with hidden inner rage. Then just read the speech.
"speech"
Finding gates bared and locked
The golden burned in his own fire.
Oh but if the fire could be caught,
And take the golden for hire.
Choose wisely on a flame this hot,
Before it all becomes dire.
The golden burned in his own fire.
Oh but if the fire could be caught,
And take the golden for hire.
Choose wisely on a flame this hot,
Before it all becomes dire.
![[Image: 5381546acbe33]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5381546acbe33)
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
