He'll think about the Eluvians and the Crossroads later. He'll consider his options later. At least all these Venatori are Men- and he'll take conveniences where he can find them. First thing- they're trapped in a bottleneck, all of them coming out of the mirror all at once, and that mage takes advantage of it. The cold burns, but it's pain like any other pain, and he can force it down even as frost forms along the edges of his cloak and makes the tips of his ears burn.

Thranduil feels the barrier settle over his skin and moves, glad to spread the targets out. He chooses a warrior- the big one- and readies himself, a moment of calm before he descends, all inhuman speed and swinging blades. They always leave the eyes uncovered, even in their ridiculous helmets- at least it chooses a target for him.