Trinathiel hurried through winding halls of the palace towards the stables, her footsteps soft and silent. She knew that her brother's horse and constant companion would be there, waiting for someone to come take care of him. While she could do nothing for Theo at the moment, she could help Morgan.

Entering the stables, she found Morgan, the elves who had found him and his rider outside the gates having left him in the isle, knowing she would come for him. Reaching out for his bridal, Trinathiel said softly, "Mae govannen, Morgandell, thank you for bringing my cousin to safety."

Morgan nodded his head as the bridal slipped off. Wickering his thanks to the princess. Rubbing his neck, Trinathiel reached out with her other hand and carefully opened a stall door and led Morgan through it.

Grabbing a brush, she began rubbing down Theo's horse. That was when she saw the blood.

"Morgan!" She cried, "What has happened?" She knew he wouldn't answer but she was still surprised. She grew even more worried when she found the wound. It was big but that was not what caused her worry. The real cause was that all that blood couldn't possibly belong all to him. Either they had been in a fight, or Theo's condition was worse than the healers were letting on.

Calima may not be willing to let Thranduil into the healing rooms, but that was because she dealt with him all the time and was no longer intimidated by him. Raging older sisters—or cousins in this case, though she was like a sister—, however, were another matter.

"Let me in," said Trinathiel. Calima hurried to comply, ignoring Thranduil's incredulous look as she opened the door.

She herself had an older sister, and was well aware that they were scary when they were upset. But however angry Calima's own sister was, Trinathiel could be worse. While some were huffy and loud when they were mad, this royal was more of a silent, disapproving type, brooding and dark like a thunder cloud, and just as dangerous as lightning.

Especially when it came to the princes. She loved them with all her heart, and put all her heart into protecting them. So Calima let her in and led her silently to Theo's bedside.

Once Calima left, Trinathiel sat down next to her cousin, her prince, who may as well be her brother. He was in bad shape, but he was getting better. With her limited knowledge of healing, she could tell that his wound had been poisoned, just by how still and pale he was.

Leaning over, she put her head on his chest, comforted by the sound of his heartbeat. It was sluggish and almost painful to hear, but it was there. She knew that the healers had done all they could, and unless they could pull Elrond himself out of thin air, he was going to have to heal on his own.

But this was the life led by those in Mirkwood, it was dangerous. And the threats weren't only from the woods.

Trinathiel didn't like to really think hard about the state of the forest around them. She was a warrior, yes, but she was also a daughter and a wife, despite the merciless nature of Mirkwood elves, those who loved her didn't want to see her hurt, and the best way to accomplish this was to keep her out of battle, so they did.

But she could still feel the forest, and it felt broken. Like a distorted reflection of her family. Theoaure, sunlight, day. She loved him like a brother, and she knew An tried his best to understand the crown prince, but she could feel the disappointment practically radiating off the older members of the family; Thranduil, Ruthiel, her own father. Her father, who so loved An and little Legolas, but couldn't see past Theo's ragged facade.

And yes, that was all it was, she knew, a facade, a cover, a shield for Theo to hide behind. He tried to stay strong, for An and Legolas and herself, but the mask had been cracking for the past few years. He hadn't had to tell her when he gave up trying to be Thranduil's perfect son, when everything became grey to him, she could tell when the mask he kept up went from sturdy to apathetic. He was fading, but only on the inside.

That was why he left. He would be gone for what seemed like forever, then he would return, wounded more often that not, and get patched up. He'd argue with Thranduil or her aunt or father, then he'd leave again. When he needed comfort, she would be there, but his own fading she could not help him with.

"Trina?" Theo's voice was soft, but she caught it, and sat up to look at him.

"I'm here, Theo. I'm here."