Thranduil Merch Novelas e Histórias

Seti assumed it was full of gold. “Here, I’ll take them. You can leave us.” “Thank you, Lord Travion. Till the next auction.” Cirdan’s eyes beamed as he touched the pouch and left straight away. Meanwhile, Seti’s eyes immediately broadened when Cirdan mentioned the name of the elf who had just bought them. Could it be the same Travion she was seeking? Her questions were immediately answered when Hadir materialized from sight. He came through the door, and he appeared out of breath when he approached Travion.

It looked almost alive in the torchlight. "I carved it myself," the young warrior said. My throat tightened with emotion. "It's beautiful. Thank you—" "There's more," another voice called out. Behind the young warrior, others stepped forward. Each holding something. A handwoven blanket in Frostveil's colors—deep blue and silver. A leather-bound journal with my name embossed on the cover. A necklace with a small pendant shaped like a crescent moon. Hand-carved bookends in the shape of wolves.

Aurora clenched her hands in her lap. The Elder raised his chin. “And the first of them could be none other.” Pause. Our best warrior. “The heir to steel. The champion of Tron. Thales.” The hall exploded. Shouts. Whistles. Laughter. Women shouting names. Others blowing kisses into the air. A group of young men shouted obscene offers. One of them raised her glass and yelled: “Just one night, Thales! I'll give it back!” Thales closed his eyes for a second. Then he opened them and stood up calmly. Arms firm. Chest exposed under his open cloak. The symbol of Tron gleaming on his metal necklace.

Yet the more he struggled, the weaker he became. “What is this?” he growled, breath ragged. Theoden approached slowly, satisfaction dripping from every stride. “It’s made of moonstone harvested from your mountain rock. It bears the same symbols of enchantments that captured your mother.” Arlen’s blood ran cold. He looked at Luca, still in disbelief of the betrayal. “But this one is improved,” Theoden continued. “It shrinks and cuts its prey into neat little pieces. Haha, that saves me the trouble of doing so myself.” He leaned closer. “And only I know how to disarm it.” He then shot his son a dirty look.

I said weakly. Aiden immediately scoops me up, and Austin and Rebel come up and look at me with concern. “Thalia, is everything okay?” “Sinclair?” “I’m right here.” She says, running up with Isaiah, Kaia, and Rodrigo. “What is the keepsake?” “It’s a necklace with a pendant.” She said. Isaiah speaks up, though. “The pendant has a small Purple Altantonite.” Austin whips his head. “Are you serious?” “Yeah. I couldn’t believe it either, Dad, but it’s true.”

He appeared at the center of the Golden Plains, sitting on a throne made of woven wheat and rusted iron. Aethelred was the most human-looking of the brothers. He wore robes of burnt-sienna and a crown of dry, jagged brambles. His eyes were the color of a setting sun—a weary, satisfied orange. He held a scythe made of "Aether-Glass," its blade shimmering with the souls of the shifters he had already "reaped" from the distant archipelagoes.

"Alright, you have me!" The other lowered his sword, the grin infectious. "Another round?" "And another loss for you," his friend shot back, scooping up his weapon. "Princess Thalia!" The voice was bright and clear. I turned to see Bhaera jogging toward me, her smile as radiant as the morning sun. Light caught in the intricate silver beads woven into her blonde braids, and her hazel eyes sparkled with genuine warmth. A few glances were cast our way, whispers of curiosity, before the elves returned to their drills.

Queen Emerald I can't help the tears as I gaze down at Denu’s twins, they are beautiful. Thorne is slightly bigger than his sister, his jet black hair is the same colour as his Mama’s yet his bright blue eyes are all his father's. Even at two days old he always has a part of him touching his sister, it seems to sooth Nyx.

His beard was neatly trimmed. He was wearing a loose, sleeveless linen tunic, pale sand in color, that allowed every muscle of his torso to move freely, paired with lightweight, tapered trousers that hit just above the ankles, giving him freedom to stride and pivot without restriction. On his feet were soft leather sandals, worn and flexible, with maneuverability. A thin, dark leather belt wrapped around his waist, holding a small pouch with training implements. A light blue scarf was draped loosely around his neck, both for sun protection and a hint of exotic flair, fluttering slightly as he moved. Even in the stifling desert heat, Tharion radiated controlled power and effortless authority.

The boy had come straight through the front gate and knocked. “You may,” Darren said at last, and only I caught the grudge buried in the gravel of it. Thorin knelt so he and Lyra were eye to eye and offered the parcel on both palms, the way you present something to a queen. She tore into it with zero ceremony, because she was three, and paper went everywhere, and then she stopped. In her hands sat a small carved dragon, no bigger than her palm, worked from red-gold stone that caught the light like a living coal. Even from my seat I could feel the faint warmth rolling off it.