Chapter 10: Colourful

Suddenly surrounded by silken sheets and velvety cushions, a stark contrast to the straw on hard rock she had been sleeping on of late, Tauriel wondered how she had landed in this situation. As Legolas' frequent companion, and captain of the guard, she was not a stranger to a certain familiarity with Thranduil and the intimate and intricate matters of the court, but sitting in the king's private chambers on his very bed was somewhat of a leap in type of surrounds. And this time, it had nothing to do with the prince, or her own professional merits, it appeared to be because somehow, after all that's happened, Thranduil expressed forgiveness, was fond of her and according to the chief healer, at some level needed her and her mostly.

Tauriel had to wonder if it had something to do with the king missing his son, with her being the next best thing, if he in some way thought of her as a foster child since it was him who had found her in the forest and taken her in, but when it came round to it, she felt like that was only part of why he wanted her around as opposed to locked away in his dungeons. They had a connection, beyond their links to Legolas, based on conversations of old, ideas discussed, even if opposed, a regard that separated the other party from those they merely coexisted with, and she was sure of that being mutual.

Sitting there, watching Thranduil in his restless sleep, fisting the covers, breaths uneven and pained, sometimes only calming when she squeezed his hand or placed a palm on his forehead, Tauriel admonished herself for being so harsh, judgemental and ignorant with him. Her time in the dungeons was beneficial in multiple ways-there was time and peace being left along to mourn and she had a chance to think, re-evaluate experiences. That Thranduil didn't love or knew how to, was a ridiculous assumption. He'd clearly loved his wife and every single one of his subjects. She still stood for the necessity of standing by the dwarves, but it saddened her that Thranduil blamed himself for his elves' deaths. She was faced head on with the weight of such responsibility in the form of his ill health and nightmares as proof. It was at this point that she inwardly promised him and herself that no matter of how he will regard other races and threats to their existence in the future, she will always care about or for him, if he allowed it, for his own sake and not having anything to do with duty or Legolas.

Her attempts to soothe him, facilitating a healing sleep were working, barely. Soon however, his movements and demeanour started to resemble that of how she had seen him at her vigil of him at Erebor, wasting his precious slight energy fighting imaginary battles in his sleep. Tauriel decided to wake him, calling out to him, squeezing his shoulder, patting his face gently, then on a sudden impulse, "it's not your fault." She established, remembering his ramblings. "My Lord, the people of Mirkwood forgive you, it was not your fault."

Thranduil's eyes snapped open, but at first, he didn't seem to snap out of his nightmare yet. "No." He moaned, "I'm so sorry. No…" He was breathing heavily, though too drained for other physical manifestations of his internal struggles.

"Hir vuin," she called in Sindarin, hoping his own language will make him listen more, "amin hi. Echuio! Im Tauriel."

He reached out for her as he rose to an elbow, as if she had been an anchor, getting his bearings, calming his breaths, his shaking fingers digging into her arm as he clung on. "It's alright, I've got you," Tauriel leaned close to provide the support necessary to steady him, "do you need to be sick?" She worried, judging by his grunting moans and excessive swallowing.

"Maybe," he agreed, taking deep breaths to counteract it and resting his forehead against Tauriel's chest.

"Will get you to sit up?" Tauriel suggested, eager to do something useful.

"No. I'll need to lie down," he nodded suggestively, a great deal more in control than before. Still, he used her to cling onto as he got himself down into a comfortable position. The ordeal of the nightmare and struggling to calm down had seemed to have taken it out of him and as soon as his head sank into the pillow, he became the impersonation of tranquillity, quiet and motionless. Tauriel reached for his hand, suddenly having to make sure he wasn't dead.

"I would like you to change the compress," Thranduil requested, serene.

"Of course, My Lord," she busied herself swiftly. Thankfully, her leather overcoat had enough pockets for the potion she was meant to put on the material and she placed the compress back on his unblemished, neat little stomach in no time. His hand moved to hold it there, brushing against hers as she retracted.

He sighed, closing his eyes, calming even more if that was possible. Tauriel assumed he was going back to sleep, but in a few seconds, when his fingers loosened, he had to readjust his hold on the poultice. "Do you want me to keep that in place?" The younger elf offered.

Thranduil raised his hand, letting hers under in its place and Tauriel found she had to readjust how she was sitting to be able to do what she'd set out to without putting too much pressure on, touching him elsewhere or making him uncomfortable in any other way, which made her end up hovering above him. It wasn't a station she could sustain for a very long time, certainly not as long as he had slept. Without moving her palm, she tried to get herself reasonably comfortable as well, gyrating her whole body back and forth, this way and that. It wasn't working.

The king opened a prying eye, frowning, "oh in the name of Valar, would you just lie down next to me."

"Lie down next to you, Your Majesty?" Tauriel parroted, perplexed.

Thranduil opened both his eyes just to roll them, "I said I was too tired to talk. Lie down." He ordered, conversation finished as far as he was concerned.

Tauriel blanched a little. It wasn't her place to do such a thing, but she had to comply nonetheless, finding that indeed, it was possible to hold the compress comfortably for both of them, though the no touch rule she set up for herself went straight out the window. They were touching, their whole bodies long, from leg to shoulder.

"You don't need to hover your head either," he grunted, displeased.

The redhead wasn't entirely sure what he meant for her to do, so she only slowly, gradually let her head rest on his shoulder. It must've been the right thing, as he didn't say anything, not for a long time. Tauriel assumed he was asleep till he suddenly spoke, out of the blue, "you do not have the authority to forgive me in the name of Mirkwood elves, Tauriel." He stated sleepily, proving he had been listening all along. And then judging by the loosening of the lines on his forehead, he truly fell asleep as if he had to state that before he could.

Tbc

Glossary:
Amin hi - I am here
Echuio – wake up