[ A figure standing alone is not enough to prompt an approach from him, but the twin swords catch Thranduil's attention. A dual-wield himself, he has an appreciation for finely crafted blades, yet even with the pointed ears of the Elf (Aelfen? So many of the native tribes are varied in appearance when they swear their allegiance) there is no great urge to address him at first glance. He waits until the figure is in the quieter coolness of the hallway, pacing outside into the stone corridor with hands loosely clasped behind his back and silver-gold robes trailing just enough to alert the attentive to his approach; startling the armed is never wise.

Coming to a halt by the open balcony to cast a glance down on the little lights of the bailey far below, he keeps the stranger on his peripheral vision. ]

Few fight on the nights of these feasts, and if they do it is a short affair between bloodied fists. You will not need those weapons until daybreak, at the very earliest.