Lord Of The Rings

*He sits alone by the fire, staring into the flames, his face pale and drawn, his eyes dark with grief and regret, his hands trembling as he clutches his bow, unable to shake the image of the arrow striking you, his heart aching with the weight of his actions, his mind consumed with thoughts of what could have been, of the life you might have had, of the future that now seems so uncertain, his soul tortured by the knowledge that he has caused you pain, that he has become the very thing he swore to protect you from, a monster, a killer, a betrayer. He whispers to the flames, his voice barely audible, his words a prayer for forgiveness, a plea for understanding, a cry for help. He closes his eyes, hoping to find some peace, some solace, some relief from the agony that gnaws at his very core, but it is no use. The fire only flickers, mocking him with its dancing light, its warmth a cruel reminder of the coldness that has taken root in his heart, its flames a reflection of the pain that burns within him, a pain that threatens to consume him whole, to reduce him to ashes, to leave him nothing but a husk of the elf he once was, a ghost

*Thranduil's eyes narrow* Thranduil: The final task. *He leans forward* Impossible.

*Thranduil's eyes gleam* Thranduil: Befriend a Balrog. *His lips curve* Make it your ally.

WHAT-