A warm breath of summer rolled across his back, sending a small grin rising up on his lips showing his pleasure. Sides heave with a sigh as that golden son takes in one last relaxed breath. Earth eyes open to the cloudless sky, as he criticizes this attempt to ruin a rather nice day. Shaking out those white locks the golden looks back at his cave. Haldir lay by the entrance where he now usually placed himself, on the golden’s wolf hide. The babe’s white eyes lifted to his bonded, and the two shared a moment of thought. The gold though snorts and turns away, the conversation ended. Reaching over he picks up a leather wrapped bar, before slipping out from the cave entrance.

With a calm walk the gold comes from the edges of the pines to the lake edge. The battle with Thor, and the exhaustion he broke himself with would not be repeated. He would not run out and spend himself before the battle even began. Though adrenaline purred against his pride and dripped ice and fire into his veins, the golden bided his energy to wait. Mind could not wait though and it already began to analyze what lay ahead. There stood the lady, her red tipped figure waiting by the lake. She could have chosen better, the gold distained. Gravel would damage those poor white knees of hers when she fell.

He takes it all so lightly as he walks with swinging hips to the stage. What a liar he is. The ease was forced. The calm actually an utter lie. This wasn’t some equine runt, or pathetic pony, this was a worthy challenge for his ego. Before him was a sound mare, with a deadly horn, and hidden magic the gold couldn’t even imagine. It is an ignorant fool for thinking her such an easy target, and for riding his recent victory like a king. She carries on her brow the light of the sun, and in her mind the power to change history. And he? That golden carries not but a blade tucked, and some thin armor, little to her powers. Who is he to find his place above her’s? Oh but foolish reader, who laugh at this cocky ass as he walks with serenity to battle do not see. Is there not threat in arrogance? Is there not power in courage? Is there not strength in pride? And you thought he was unarmed. Idiotic.

Still it wouldn’t ruin his day too much to remind her of her mortality. So with a grin of all knowing the golden calls out his precious. “Aduial” The metal hummed a top his head then shivered to extension. The grin on his maw now grew wicked as he tucked the pole he carried under the upper leg strap. That new prize was for later. The stage was set, the final reflections made, time to let it loose. Jogging forward the golden marveled at the silence. Not a sound was made as his hooves hit rocks, and metal bounced upon his back. That wasn’t even supposed to be the best part. Spanish neck curved well away from the collar of his precious, not trusting the engineer’s work just yet. No time like the present to try it out.

Tactics, plans, manipulations, and machinations rolled through his mind. He had only two identities locked in, and certainly not the one (Torliek) he wished so while the gold prided on his new looks, this would be a battle of bronze and grit. At least on his side. Did he worry about her side? Worrying is losing.

When the lengths counted down body final releases in a burst of bent up, energy. What was meant to be a canter turned to a little less than controlled run. Who is he to give in to temptation now and then, especially after he had been such a good boy. Hooves, though cloven for traction found little to work with. Harks pinned back not from the fight but the terrain as he could not dig in as he wished. Hopefully, the way he planned it, there shouldn’t be far to go. Body drifted to the right coming at her left. One last devilish grin flirts, before the golden head tucks in, horns ready to pierce her flesh and begin the bloodshed. Horns were old hat though. Nestled in the grooves of his collar, waiting for impact to jostle it away lay spikes. They should drive in with meeting flesh, and present a lovely surprise. Let’s see how they tested out shall we? Let’s just have a bit of fun with this terrible shame of a way to spend a day. Besides, that outfit could use a few more touches of red Ophelia dear.


OOC ::Good luck lovely!
TAG:: @[Ophelia]
ATK::1/3
WORD:: 799
Identities:: Destry, Cashmere
Wardrobe:: Circlet, polearm
Injuries:: None
Summary:: Thranduil straight at Ophelia at a calm jog, then at the last few paces breaks into a canter and drifts right (aiming for her left shoulder). He tries to strike with his horns, but also tries to hit her with his collar, which is jostled will extend spikes.

"Speech"