Here’s 1,2 k words of what happened to Thranduil after that scene
You tightened your fingers around the carafe of summer wine and squared your shoulders before breezing into the meeting room as if you could not smell the rancid stench of sweat and anger like the fetid fumes of a cabbage soup turned sour.
Oh, Thranduil was in a murderous mood, you thought and – wicked as you were – the sight of the flashing glimmers of flame under the ice of his pupils sent shivers down your spine.
