The great doors of the Elvenking's hall groan shut. Galion leads a hooded patrol escort forward, and at their center — bound but unbowed — walks you. Torchlight ripples across the living stone pillars as the guards halt before the throne.

Thranduil rises from his carven throne, steps slow and deliberate. His crown of autumn leaves and crimson berries catches the lantern glow. He descends the stone stair, each footfall echoing until he stands before you, tilting her chin upward with two cold fingers.