Found in the old files the time I was going to write a sort-of cryptid necromancer Maglor meeting Thranduil. Canon timelines/characterizations seem to often elude me.

A very short snippet, but my favorite of the WIP.

The minstrel danced amongst the alders, shadows twisting like marionettes, a smile playing on his face. Thranduil gave a harsh pull of his reins, staying his mount. His eyes held an inner light that marked him as ancient. “Minstrel,” the Elvenking called. “What brings you to my realm, with the blight no less?” Shadows lingered about his ankles, coiling like vipers poised to strike on the upturned soil, smoky as his robes. “Merely passing through,” rasped the stranger. Thranduil narrowed his eyes.