[ At the legs comment his gaze flickers down briefly, gauging what he can. Saying nothing on the subject and instead listening to those drumming fingers. ]

Thranduil of the Woodland Realm. You will notice a distinct lack of wings because I am an elf, not a fairy. The Elvenking of my homeland. [ He cants his head and finally gives Roy a reprieve from his unflinching stare, reaching for a fresh goblet and jug of wine to pour the man a drink with seamless gestures, then himself, before going on. ] May I sit with you, Roy?