Searing pain wracked savagely inside his head, making it feel as though it would certainly split in half, hammering against his forehead, behind his eyes and spreading all through his skull in an agonizing throb. Everything spun around him, making him feel so dizzy he could barely orient himself by noticing that he was indeed lying down on the soft bed, but nothing felt remotely close to comfortable at the moment.

Thranduil could not tell how long it had been since that penetrating force had release the attack- or had it been the one to break free? Everything was foggy- he could not tell if it had been bare minutes or hours, was the sun out yet? Or was it still dark? All he could register was the agonizing pain in his head, the overwhelming dizziness, the rising nausea that did not seem to abate, and he swallowed reflectively in an effort not to be sick for what felt like the hundredths time that night. The many healers in the room had already tried to force down his throat all different sorts of teas, some for the pain and other for the nausea but he had not been able to keep a single one down, not even the water. He could feel their worry, hear the urgency in their voices as they seemed to b e running out of options of what to give him, but the pain inside his head was too much for him to even pretend to be listening to their hushed voices.

He opened his mouth but only a pathetic whimper escaped from it, and he was absently aware on gentle fingers sliding overly carefully down his hair. Alarya. It was the only thing that kept his mind occupied, the only thing that offered both distraction and comfort from this torturing pain, and he was sure she would never know just how much that simple gesture, those delicate fingers stroking his hair, was helping. It was the kind of comfort he longed for, the only kind of comfort that could help at the moment. Valar, he felt terrible. He had never felt pain like this one before, this was beyond the pain any other attack had ever left him. He felt so weak, moving even a finger seemed to require enormous effort, and he could still feel tremors wracking his body. He had never felt this horrible before, had never felt as exhausted as he did at the moment, it was as if all his energy had been sucked away from him, barely leaving him alive.

He was barely aware that at some point Alarya had also climbed on the bed, sitting against the headboard with his head cradled on her lap, but he could still feel his hand clutching to the silken fabric of her dress like a lifeline. She was worried, he could feel it clearly through their bond, she was scared.

"Alarya…" He moaned, a pitiful and desperate plea for help. Her name had been the only coherent word leaving his mouth at the moment, but his brain could not process anything else at the time. His rational mind tried to tell him that she could do nothing else to help him, she could not make his torturing headache go away, and yet he kept calling on her, pleading her to do anything to at least lessen it.

"Shh, I am here." Came her gentle reply once more, delicate fingers continuing to gently thread down his hair as he felt her other hand rubbing up and down his right arm and he tried to focus on the feeling of her warm skin underneath the fabric of her dress, where his head rested. "Try to sleep, Thran, try to rest." Her voice broke. Had she been crying?

No. He could not sleep. He did not want to sleep. The memory of that force brutally ripping him form is sleep was still too vivid in his mind, the feeling of being puled beyond his control, so forcefully that it had exhausted him within a fragment of a second. He could still feel how all his defenses had been down, how he felt like he was being spun in a turmoil, a loud voice hammering inside his head words he could not understand because of the pain, pain that no longer was only confined to his head as in previous attacks but spread to his while body. And the eye, that firely red eye that had seen over Mirkwood, had seen beyond his defenses and into the realm….Valar, how was even still alive? And what if it found him again in his sleep? It would surely kill him.

"How bad is it?" The Elvenking could hear Doronor's voice grilling one of the healers in a hushed whisper some distance away from the bed, but he did not open his eyes to see, instead focusing on his breathing in order to calm the persistent nausea. He felt so dizzy. She shivered one more, freezing even underneath the pile of soft blankets.

"Melnor, he is cold again." Alarya's voice informed immediately, sounding scared, desperate, reminding him that she too could feel everything through their bond. The healers were beside him in a flash, and felt another thick blanket being spread over him just as a hand felt over his forehead and cheeks, the fingers feeling burning against his cold skin. He did not need to see their faces to picture their troubled expressions. Elves did not feel hot or cold, temperature did not affect them normally. And feeling cold…feeling cold was never a good sign.

"Help him sit up to see if he can manage to drink this." Melnor whispered next to him, and he was grateful that the healers were keeping their voices low as to not add to his painful migraine.

Gentle arms carefully lifted him into a sitting position, slowly, supporting him fully as he was not able to even try to support his own weight at the moment. The movement was making him even dizzier as the room spun widely for a moment, making another pitiful whimper unwillingly escape his lips.

"Let me." He heard Doronor's voice telling one of the healers, and the next thing he knew there was the cold rim of a cup pressing against his lips. The Elvenking shut his mouth, feeling the nausea rise at the sole contact of the hot tea against his lips, yet Doronor did not insist, moving the cup some distance away and giving a few moments to breathe before trying to coax him to drink again.

"My Lord you need to drink it. It will lessen the pain." Doronor spoke in a gentle voice also stained with deep worry and fear. Thranduil knew the tea would help, knew the healers where desperate to alleviate his pain, to exhaust any possibility they could find to help him, it was easier said than done. And yet, when the cold up pressed once again against his lips he managed to take a tiny sip of the hot liquid, regretting it instantly as his stomach suddenly lurched, the healers barely having time to quickly place a bowl in front of him before he heaved violently into it, even if there was nothing else left in his stomach to expel. And yet every heave made the hammering in his head double, until he was certain it would split.

He collapsed against Alarya in a shaking mess, taking gasping breaths as the incessant doubled pain pierced his head. Valar, it hurt too much, he could no longer tolerate the pain, even as he lay still halfway sitting up against Alarya's body it seemed to rip his skull apart. He could barely register Alarya's gentle arms wrapping around him comfortingly, the pain in his head was too much for him to take. Why could not simply pass out, please, he begged to the Valar to let him pass out. And the pain did nothing to lessen his nausea, leaving him fighting once more to not be sick yet again.

"No more teas." He heard Doronor's pained voice ordering the healers, leaving no room for argument, and instead felt as a cool wet cloth was once again placed over his forehead, doing nearly nothing to relieve his pounding migraine.

"Alary…" His voice broke, the end of the word mixing with a painful whimper. It hurt too much, he could no longer take this pain. His head was going to break in half. He tried desperately to breathe calmly, to ease the pounding in his head, but nothing was helping, this was beyond what anyone could ever possibly tolerate. And still, the more he tried to calm his breathing the tighter the knot in this threat became, his breaths coming now in desperate shaky half-whimpers half sobs, and he could feel tears of pain starting to prickle at his eyes, but he would not let them fall, keeping both of his eyes firmly shut. He felt so horrible, too exhausted, too weak, too dizzy, too nauseous….in too much pain. Valar, let him pass out form the pain, let him at least get some respite in the welcoming darkness.

"Alarya…" He pleaded again, his voice now coming out in a full pitiful sob, and he felt something wet sliding down his left cheek. A tear. He was crying. When was the last time he had cried because of pain? Had he ever? But the pain was too much, and his body was still shaking uncontrollably in exhaustion, his skin cold and clammy.

"I am here. I will not leave. I am here. You will be all right. I am here." Came Alarya's reply, her fingers once again trailing down his long golden hair or rubbing up and down his arms, and he did into miss the new panic and despair in her voice, as she too wished more that anything that she could help. And he tried to regain his breathing but it was useless now, ever breath coming out in shaky sobs and whimpers as silver tears continued to trail down his cheeks. Could someone die of pain? It felt as though he would.

"Hurts…." He chocked out with another tremor, once again pleading for anything to lessen his pain. Of course the healers had already known of the brutal migraine he was suffering from as a consequence of such forceful attack, but he had never once vocalized his pain. But he was desperate now, tears streaming down his face as his head hammered mercilessly, not offering the slightest respite, the pain was extreme.

"Can you not do anything else?" He distantly heard Alarya hissing at the healers, but the King never caught their response.

The only warning the Elvenking got was a familiar painful twinge in his head before suddenly being pulled forcefully away from reality, his head searing mercilessly as the pain once against spread through his whole body as he felt everything spinning wildly, the invading force too powerful for him to even attempt to fight it in his weakened state. He had feared this would happened, had feared that the attacking force would try once again. It had already found him in his sleep, which meant it had been precisely looking for him, not encountering him by accident. And the only thought that engulfed his mind, his only need, his only despair was that he was not blocking Alarya away, he was not able to shield her, to keep her unaware of his pain, to not worry and scare her anymore than she already was. And he felt exhausted, drained beyond anything, as the pain spread trough him like burning flames, his ears ringing loudly, deep taunting voices whispering inside his head in what he could identify as the black tongue, the forceful presence pulling at him like one would a ragged doll. He could not resist it, could not fight it, he had no energy left to do so, and he felt it brutally seeking to reach the most guarded places inside his mind. He could feel himself drifting, his spirit not able to fight any longer, he was too weak against this attacker, it was killing him. The voices were becoming louder, ringing in his ears and hammering inside his splitting head as everything continued to spin. And then there was something else reaching out for him in this nightmarish turmoil, but it felt different, almost like a weak beam of light in the overwhelming darkness that surrounded him. And he reached for it too, letting it easily find him, feeling somehow familiar, warm, as he clung to that presence, his spirit latching to it almost instinctively, pulling him away from the attacker, panting desperately for breath as the room came once again to focus.

Panicked, urgent voices reached his ears, but they somehow felt distant, foggy, surrounding him from all sides, but he could not pick up on the words, seeming too far away. He could also make out the blurry shapes of faces around him, their lips moving, pronouncing words that reached his ears too muffled to understand.

"Thranduil? Thranduil, can you hear me?" It was Doronor's voice, sounding equally distant, his familiar face coming in and out of focus from his right, dark blue eyes wide in fear and worry. Yes, yes he could hear him. But he could not let him know, his lips would not respond, his voice would not come out. He was tired, too tired. And he felt warm, that welcoming presence, as gentle and bright as the stars above still latched to him, making him feel safe, holding onto is spirit as if it was the only thing keeping him together, the only thing preventing his far too weakened spirit form drifting away to place it could never return from. And he welcomed that presence, he would always welcome that presence, that light, not needing to verify to know who it was, he would recognize her spirit anywhere.

Foggy ice blue eyes drifted to where his hand lay lifelessly over the silken bedcovers, finding Alarya's delicate pale fingers intertwined with his inert ones, reaching for their bond, reaching for him, keeping his spirit intertwined with hers. He wanted to squeeze her hand in return, but his fingers would not move, he did not have the strength to even do that, black spots already dancing on his cloudy vision as the panicked, desperate voices only grew fainter and fainter, and he only had time to look for her eyes, finding those large emerald orbs he loved looking back at him, scared yet relieved.

"Rest, Thranduil. I will not leave. I am here." And then everything turned black….

He was first aware of a throbbing pain in his head, but it was not as bad as it had been before, it hurt but it was manageable, and as he slowly woke up he was met with the full force of how utterly drained he felt, fluttering his eyes open and blinking a couple of times in order to adjust to the light. Light? So it was day now. He let his tired ice blue eyes scan around the room, finding that he was still on his bed inside his spacious bedchamber, the golden light of day filtering brightly through a single tall window in the far corner to the room, where the deep red curtains had been left open as to not let the room in complete darkness. Judging by the brightness it had to be past noon. Good, he had not wanted to wake up early after how horrible last night had been.

"Good afternoon." The gentle whisper, as bright and warm as the golden filtering light, made his head turn to the side, eyes quickly finding the beautiful owner of that voice, drowning in those deep shimmering emerald irises. Her long golden hair fell freely over her shoulders and down her back, flickering under the daylight as she sat snuggled on a comfortable chair that had been placed next to the bed. He felt fingers gently squeezing his hand and with a quick glance down he found that her fingers still remained intertwined with his, but this time he was able to deliver a squeeze – although weak and pathetic- in return. He could still feel her spirit close to his through their bond, but it no longer felt as the only thing that was keeping his weakened spirit from fading, the only thing keeping him alive.

Some many thoughts were dancing through his mind at the moment, so many questions, that it was leaving him dizzy. She had reached for him during that attack, no one had ever done that before. But than again no one had access to his spirit like she did. He had not once thought that would be able to help him pull away, but it had. He would have died, had it not been for her. The Elvenking opened his mouth to speak only to cough at how dry his throat felt.

"Here." He watched Alarya's pale hand reaching for a glass of water that had been standing on the bedside table before helping him sit up against the mountain of pillows and allowing him to take small sips of the cool refreshing liquid. He tried to take the glass in his own hands but his fingers had been too shaky to hold the glass steady, leaving it to Alarya's steady grip to hold the glass.

"How long have you sat there?" He croaked as she placed the glass once more on the bedside table, his voice barely even audible, but the sound at least managed to draw a smile on Alarya's face. She smiled so beautifully.

"Not too long." She answered, once again speaking as easily as she always did. "I moved to this chair after I woke up a couple of hours ago." His ice blue eyes traveled to the bed beside him, where he found the blankets and covers left in a mess next to him, marking the spot where someone had clearly been sleeping. And it warmed his heart to know that she had at least slept comfortably, and he only wished he had not been unconscious to be able to hold her as she slept.

"How do you feel?" Alarya's voice seemed to sober somewhat as she spoke, deep emerald eyes searching for his, and he cursed himself for ever scaring her this much, feeling her finger sliding once down his hair.

"Awful." He spoke truthfully, letting his eyes fall closed for a second before opening them. He would not lie to her, besides there was no one else in the room to hear him admit to feeling anything but fine. A light chuckle reached his ears at his honest reply, and it seemed that Alarya too had expected him to not be this honest, and she seemed happy about it.

"Melnor said to expect you would be feeling weary for some days." She spoke again, one soft hand resting over his cheek and he immediately reached his hand to rest over hers. It was his turn to chuckle dryly now. Weary. Weary did not even begin to describe the utter exhaustion that he felt at the moment, it was as if his body felt as heavy as lead and as light as a feather at the same time, floating yet sinking, constantly tired and dizzy. He was getting lightheaded.

"I was supposed to notify the healers as soon as you woke up." Alarya's voice pulled him out of his thoughts once more and he found himself smiling up at her. "Would you like me to go get them now?"

"No." He replied, swallowing once. He did not want the healers hovering over him at the moment. The only thing they would do was give him either pain-killers or sleeping draughts, after all there was no real physical wound for them to heal, and he was glad that Alarya seemed to have guessed his wishes. "Do not notify them yet."

"Very well." She smiled as she spoke, even though it did not reach her gorgeous green eyes, eyes that still looked scared, still looked worried, and sad. "I will at least ask Galion to bring you some food." She added as she stood up, seeming determined to reach the door before he could protest.

Galion? When had she become so familiar with his butler? He opened his mouth to tell her he was far from hungry at the moment, but she interrupted him before he could speak, seeming to once again know exactly what he would say.

"You need to eat something, Thranduil. Even if only a little bit. It has been too long since you ate anything." She looked worried once again, and knowing that it was because of him was making his heart ache.

"I had dinner." He explained, and he would have argued further had it not been for the new somber unreadable expression that crossed her face, still he watched her open the door slightly before peeking her head outside the chamber, speaking in a soft whisper before closing the door once more, heading back to the bed after the food had no doubt been requested.

This time, however, she chose to sit on the edge of the mattress instead of on the chair, and he was glad that it allowed her to be closer to him.

"Thran," She started, using that shortened name that would always earn her a kiss, but there would be no kiss this time. Her tone was anything but playful and mirthful. "You have been unconscious for six days. The healers thought….I thought…."

She trailed off, her voice breaking slightly at the end, her eyes dropping to look at her folded hands, and he felt his heart clench, his stomach tie in a tight knot. She was still scared, she was still shaken. Six days? He had been out for six days? He had never been unconscious that long before. And she….it sudden clicked in his mind with the most painful stab to his heart, the realization as cold as ice. He had been unconscious, spirit fading, for six days….and she had been the source holding onto him, keeping him in this world, keeping him alive, for six days.

"You were dying, Thranduil." Her whispered, broken words, felt as brutal as their meaning, hanging hollowly in the still air, and it took all his strength to face her, to look into those pained, tortured green eyes shimmering under the silver gleam of unshed tears, looking at him as if he was a ghost. And only now was starting to realize that the fear he could see on her face was nothing but a fragment of the real fear she had felt, and he felt guilty for it, even if it had been out of his control. "The healers could not tell if you would come back, it was only yesterday that you started to get strong enough for them to know you would make it."

A silent tear slid down her soft left cheek, but her hand angrily brushed it away, as if she was trying to remain strong, and he wanted to tell her she did not need to remain strong for him any longer, but no words would make it out of his mouth.

"Why did you push me away? Why do you always push me away when an attack like this happens?" She halfway yelled, a second silver tear streaming down her cheek, even though she seemed to be angry. But she was nor angry. He knew her way to well to know that this was her reaction to her fear. Every time she got too scared she would lash out. "You said…you had said this could kill you but you made it sound so unlikely…yet it was killing you. And I…I was only able to reach you the second time because you could not block me away any longer, Thranduil. I do not know why you kept pushing me away before. It did not hurt me when I reached for you….I could feel you were in pain but I could not feel the pain myself, but for the first time I was able to help you…"

She trailed off again, her hands once again angrily brushing tears from her cheeks, but it was useless now, they just kept falling, and it was his fault. He had always tried to shield her, to hide his pain from her, to keep her from worrying if she felt he was in pain, but opposite to what he expected, blocking her away only seemed to worry her more in the end…and he had needed her, he had needed her help that time, the attack would have instantly killed him otherwise.

"Please…"A sob broke her voice, but she seemed determined to continue speaking, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her, crying with a relief she had not thought she would ever get in the constant fear she must have lived for in six days. "Please, do not block me away, I cannot see you like that again…please…I cannot see you…dying again…."

And she broke, right in front of him she crumbled into pieces, his weak arms only strong enough to hold her, press her sobbing frame close as tight to him as he could, determined to never let her go. And this time it was his shaking fingers the ones sliding comfortably down her hair and rubbing her trembling back, and he found the knot in his throat was too tight for him to speak he managed to force some words out of it, this time being his turn to say those words that he had heard so many times.

"I am here. I will not leave."

And perhaps it was not about blocking her away in order to protect her, perhaps it was about letting her in…

And finally….finally!...Here's the next chapter! I really hope you are still enjoying this story even though this chapter is a little sad….next chapter will bring lots of laughter thought! I apologize for the wait, hopefully the next chapter will come out sooner than this one did. And if you are still sticking with Alarya and Thranduil's story I really want to thank you because I know it has been a really really long time sine my last update, anyway I hope the chapter can make up for it!

Love,

Elena