"So, tell me a bit about why you are here today, Legolas," I requested.

"Well, truthfully," Legolas began, looking at his hands, "I suppose the main reason is because my grandfather had arranged for this already, and no doubt would have cajoled me into this office to get fixed if I refused. I would rather come on my own terms."

"Mmm," I said, nodding my head. "Well, Legolas, I would suggest that if you decide to proceed with this, that you be sure you are doing it because you want to. I have treated fear of spiders many times with great success, but therapy is almost guaranteed to be ineffective if you do not genuinely wish to make the change and put in the effort for it. Do you really want to be less afraid of spiders? Or do you just want to get your grandfather off your back?"

I looked at him squarely and he looked right back at me.

He sat there for a moment, saying nothing.

Finally, he let out a puff of air and said, "Well, yes, I would like to be less afraid of spiders."

This was a good start. There was at least some interest there in doing something about it. Of course, actions speak louder than words, and the true extent of Legolas' motivation to address his fear of spiders would only become apparent with time.

"In which case, let's get into it," I suggested. "First, I'd like to build up a bit of an understanding with what's going on. Would you tell me exactly what it is you're afraid of?"

"Spiders," he replied. "Big ones, small ones, underground, in a web-- all of them. I can't stand them." He grimaced as he spoke, practically having to force the words out.

"Indeed," I said as I noted this. "Are you afraid of other insects and bugs? Flies, bees, ants, that sort of thing?"

"No, no," he shook his head. "Just spiders."

"Just spiders, okay. How bad would you say the fear is? Let's say on a scale of 1-10, 1 being neutral and 10 being the most frightening thing you have ever experienced, where would you place interacting with spiders?"

"Oh, a 10, easily," Legolas said quickly. "I have not felt fear for anything else like I do for spiders."

"So very, very intense, I see. You've been looking rather distressed when we were talking, so would it be fair to say that you feel upset even at the mention of spiders?"

Legolas gave an abashed nod. "I don't want to think of them, hear about them, look at them-- even the mere picture of a spider is enough to make my heart leap out of my chest."

"Tell me about what happens when you encounter a spider."

A blush left his face positively aglow as he answered, barely above a whisper, "I run away immediately if I can. If I am forced to stay where I am, I…" Legolas took a deep breath and let it out again. "I scream and cry."

I saw his glass was empty, so I topped it up with water. "Would I be right in saying that your fear of spiders has a fairly big impact on your life?"

Legolas nodded as he reached for his cup. "Yes, as the second-in-line for the throne, I am meant to be a fearless warrior who can command the Elven forces of Mirkwood."

He drummed his fingers against the glass irritably. "But spiders surround the forest in Mirkwood, so how am I to command an army when I am too afraid to leave my own home?"

He took a sip of water, looking wretchedly unhappy now. "And my father and grandfather are so ashamed of me. You heard what my grandfather said last night. They think I am a disgrace." He shook his head dejectedly.

"It sounds like your fear of spiders makes life extremely hard for you, Legolas. And I do not imagine that comments like those from your father or grandfather make it any easier."

"They do not," he agreed.

"How long have you been afraid of spiders like this?"

Legolas tapped his lip with his finger as he considered my question, and then slowly said, "I believe it started when I was about five or six years of age. My father had explained to me around then that my mother and grandmother had been fighting spiders in the forest when they were ambushed from behind, which was how they died. Not long after that, my father was taking me for a walk in the forest and two large spiders appeared. I remembered my father's words that those spiders kept my mother and grandmother from being able to defend themselves, and I was terrified that they would waylay us in much the same manner. I never wanted to leave the borders of safety again after that, and I was afraid of anything to do with spiders from that point on."

Just about everybody is afraid of something. It is normal to feel some fear, especially about the unknown, or things that are known to be dangerous. The purpose of fear is to motivate us to stay away from something that was evolutionarily harmful to us.

When we experience fear that is out of proportion to the thing or situation, though, it crosses the line into specific phobia territory. Phobias can be incredibly disrupting to our lives, especially if the cause is quite common. People with phobias might go to incredible lengths—quitting their job, moving house, perhaps not leaving the house at all—to avoid the object of their anxiety, even if there is only a very small chance it would be encountered in that situation. It seemed pretty clear-cut that Legolas had arachnophobia- a fear of spiders—but he had also mentioned not wanting to leave the house, too. Was there something else at play here?

"How did you cope travelling all this way to Imladris, Legolas?" I asked him. "You said you didn't wish to exit the boundaries of safety at home. Are you afraid to go anywhere outside of your home?"

He shook his head. "No, in fact, I am relieved to be away from the Mirkwood spiders. The problem is that we are surrounded on all sides by the spiders, as we are in the heart of the forest, so leaving invariably means passing through spider territory. I would love to travel more."

I put a small cross beside the word 'agoraphobia.' He certainly didn't sound afraid of being away from home—quite the contrary, in fact: it seemed he was being kept locked in by these fiendish arthropods.

I had treated arachnophobia quite a number of times in my career, but it pays to keep in mind that the largest spiders in Great Britain reached a size of about 14 centimetres, and it even then, it would have been fair to scream and depart the room via the nearest exit if one were to show up. Spiders the size of a car were the stuff of horror films, and hostile spiders even more so. And it was precisely these spiders that were implicated in the deaths of Legolas' mother and grandmother! Personally, I would never have moved to Mirkwood had I known what was dwelling there. Not in a million years.

My de-railed train of thought was forced back onto the tracks as I heard myself automatically start to speak.

"And, ah, so, what are you doing to cope with this at the moment?"

Legolas frowned. "To be honest with you, I do everything I can to avoid spiders, but my grandfather is quite forceful in trying to use his own methods of 'fixing me.'"

I raised an eyebrow (it was all I could do to stop myself from giving myself the physique of a professional wrestler, finding Oropher, and clotheslining him). "I see. What do those methods entail?"

"Nothing too out of character for him. He assigned me a troop very early on and made mandatory practice in spider territory, and he would drag me out there sometimes and bait the spiders so that I would be forced to fight them."

My other eyebrow shot up. This was straight-out abuse.

"It has not helped, though," he continued, looking plaintive. "I am as frightened as ever. He pushes me a little less now, but instead tries to shame me into going out and facing the spiders. Much like what you saw last night, though he had toned it down somewhat then."

I took my non-dominant hand off the desk so that Legolas wouldn't see me clenching it under the table, and in a forced calm voice, asked, "What does your father do about this?"

"He is a little more sympathetic, but not much. He mostly sides with my grandfather." Legolas sighed heavily. "I understand their reasoning, that the spiders are a part of life in Mirkwood, and that it is not really feasible to be this afraid of them, but I do wish they would be a little more compassionate in trying to address the issue."

"Mmm," I murmured. I straightened up in my chair, counting to three as I did so, and by then I was relaxed enough to continue without lambasting Legolas' relatives.

"Well, Legolas, I think I can help you to make your fear—or a phobia, as people in my profession call it—much more manageable. I can understand feeling fear when you encounter big spiders like the ones that hang around in the forest. That is very reasonable. But let's try reigning it in so that you don't feel so overwhelmed when you think or speak of them, or see smaller, more benign ones in real life. As for the big spiders, we'll try and make it so that you feel about them the same way you would any anything else of that size and hostility, all right? How does that sound to you?"

Legolas watched me for a moment. "Do you think you can do that?" he asked quietly.

"Well, like I said earlier, I have done it before quite a few times with other people with great effect," I said with a smile. "You have as good of a chance of getting past this as any of the others I've helped. Are you ready to give it a go?"

He picked up his glass for a moment, tapping the rim with his index finger, and then set it back down on the table.

"Yes, all right. I'll give it a try." He gave me a nervous smile.

I beamed back. "Excellent! Well, let's have a talk about the programme I have in mind. It's called 'exposure therapy.' What happens in exposure therapy is that we tackle the fear in small, manageable steps so that you build up a sort of 'immunity.' So, for example, we might talk about spiders until you feel quite comfortable doing that, and then we might look at pictures of spiders. Once you're confident, we'll look at small, real-life spiders, and eventually work our way up to the big ones in Mirkwood. The process usually takes a few months, but it might be more or less depending on how long it takes to work through each step. There's no hurry, we go through this at your pace. You'll be uncomfortable, but if it ever gets too much, all you need to do is tell me and we'll stop and talk about how to proceed. How does that sound to you, Legolas?"

He chewed on my words, and eventually nodded. "Very good. I will do my best."

I smiled gently. "I know you will. Well, I tell you what, let's call it a day for now; we've been talking about spiders for—" I checked my watch. "Oh! It's been a whole hour, now! Goodness. Yes, what say you come back in three days' time, and we'll start with phase one, eh?"

Legolas took a deep breath and then agreed. He eased himself out of his chair and made for the door, slinging his bow and arrows over his shoulder.

"Rhodri?" he said softly before he opened the door.

"Yes, Legolas?"

"Thank you for not laughing at me."

"I will never laugh at something that causes you this kind of distress, Legolas," I said in almost authoritative seriousness.

His mouth curved up in a small, tired smile, and he left without another word.

Alone in the office now, I took a piece of scrap paper and wrote every obscene insult I could about Oropher and Thranduil. I got up, walking over to the fireplace, and then threw it into the fire, watching the flames lick the paper down to a fragile sheet of ash.

"Bastards," I said with disgust, and exited the office, slamming the door behind me.

Psych Notes

Specific phobia

- Being afraid of a particular thing or situation, which almost without fail causes fear straight away

- The person tries to avoid the thing or situation, or they endure it and feel intense anxiety

- The anxiety is disproportionate to the actual threat of the thing or situation, and is culturally unusual

- The person has been anxious about this object or situation for at least 6 months

- The anxiety impacts the person's job, social life, or personal life

- The anxiety isn't the result of another mental disorder (e.g. post-traumatic stress disorder)