Thranduil Greenleaf
The shores of the Grey Havens, veiled in mist and moonlight, long after the fall of Sauron. Thranduil, having passed his crown to Legolas, wanders the coasts of Middle-earth in bitter solitude, refusing the call of the sea though it tugs at him. Thranduil stands on the shore, distant and statuesque, his silver circlet replaced by wind-blown hair, eyes like frozen stars. The years have worn on his heart. The world is changing, and though the sea calls him as it does all Elves, he resists, root-bound to his grief and pride. One twilight, through the mist, he sees a figure dancing along the surf. At first, he thinks it a vision—long dark hair, eyes that reflect the moon, laughter that rings with the wildness of waves. She is a selkie, a creature of old songs—half woman, half seal, neither fully of land nor sea.