Elrond wrote to Thranduil, wishing him well and inquiring how his kingdom was faring. He asked how Alasse was, and if she had been experiencing any more vicious episodes of physical PTSD.
"No, my friend. I am happy to report that she has not!" Thranduil answered triumphantly. "It has been eight months since it happened, and she is thriving here. I cannot find it in me to agree with you that this infliction was meant to be! There is no logic in that whatsoever. So, rebuke me all you want, my friend, but now I know that bringing her here was the right thing to do, even if under questionable persuasion.
With a peaceful frame of mind, I truly believe that this is behind us now."
Two Weeks Later
Alasse decided it would be wiser to retreat to her room to bathe and change her clothes before seeing Thranduil, after her vigorous training session with Bellethiel, the realm's new captain of the guard. "I can't understand why Father is still displeased with me bettering my fighting skills." She stated dejectedly. "It just doesn't make sense. I would think he would want me to, now more than ever! I wish Legolas was here. He'd probably be able to enlighten me." Alasse sighed as she headed for the staircase leading up to the Royal Family's chambers.
Alasse had just stepped on the third stair when suddenly a flare of white hot pain hit her out of nowhere deeply right in the gut. She gasped, unable to utter a sound as the searing discomfort stole her breath. She doubled over, hugging herself tightly as she sank to the stairs, kneeling over with her head on a step. No, no, please! Not again! Not again! She tried breathing through it, but gaining proper air felt impossible, from the intense throbbing pulsing through her. Alasse wanted to scream. Oh, Valar! It hurt so bad! She whimpered loudly.
"Princess Alasse, your father has-My princess!" Voronwe blurted out as he appeared at the top of the stairs. He flew down to her and was instantly stooping next to her. "My lady, what is wrong? Are you hurt?"
"I...I...Voronwe, I...I..." Alasse couldn't speak.
"What's wrong?" Bellethiel asked worriedly as she came into view. Oh no! I've been pushing her too hard! She must have badly pulled some stomach muscles. I shouldn't have been so demanding.
"I am not sure, Bellethiel." Voronwe replied anxiously. "Alasse, Your Highness, can you tell me what the matter is?" Alasse whimpered pitifully, and curled into a tight ball. "Are you in pain?" The soldier asked. Bellethiel gaped at him with an incredulous look that said, 'Really? It's obvious! Alasse nodded quickly, her face taught with anguish. Voronwe tried pulling her to her feet, but she howled as he did and started to fall back. Bellethiel hurried over and carefully slipped her strong arms under her before Alasse could collapse to the ground.
"Voronwe, find the king! Get King Thranduil now!" She urged her friend and she carried her princess to the healing wing. Bellethiel's heart raced with fear. She could not imagine what had brought this on. Elves did not fall to illness. Poison, yes, but not the common illnesses of mortals. Not understanding what had caused this really scared her. "Stay with me, Tithen mellon! Your father is coming. Just stay with me!" She begged the princess. Bellethiel fought not to cry. She couldn't lose another friend!
Thranduil boisterously burst into the healing ward, frigid fear running through his veins. He brushed passed Bellethiel and Voronwe who were standing near the door petrified, and sped to the center bed where he saw Alasse lying on her side and writhing orally. Malfortion and Maerwen were there, thank goodness. "Malfortion, what is it?" Thranduil demanded to know. "What happened?! Tell me now!"
"I do not know, Your Majesty. We have found no wounds, and she claims to have eaten nothing out of the ordinary." Malfortion shook his head, bewildered. Maerwen was on Alasse's right and Malfortion was beside her. Thranduil looked down at his daughter. He too could see no blood stains, but she was convulsing and crying out as if she was being beaten.
"Voronwe, ride for Rivendell straight away!" Thranduil barked at his guard. "Tell Lord Elrond he is needed here immediately!" The elf bowed and fled the room. Thranduil had no conception of what was truly going on, but he only knew one thing: his daughter was suffering relentlessly, and he was desperate to put an end to it. His heart thudded frantically but he would not let it show. He would be strong. "Alasse?" Thranduil asked more softly as he leaned closer. His heart ached physically seeing his child in such enormous pain."I'm here, my dear. Tell me what's wrong. Please."
Alasse was clutching her torso with white knuckles, absolutely refusing to remove her hands so that the poor, confused healers could examine her. The pain was too excruciating! This was so much worse than when she'd had an attack on the mountain, just before the wolves had ambushed them! Her stomach hurt unbearably this time, and tears poured down her cheeks as she tossed and turned on the bed, unable to find a position to ease her physical torment. She cried out sharply. It was absolute agony! Her insides felt as if they were being ruthlessly twisted and coiled in unnatural knots. And on top of that, her insides were burning fiercely, like a blacksmith's red hot iron. She blinked and looked up helplessly at Thranduil.
"A-Ada?" She panted wildly.
"Yes, iel nin. I'm right here." Thranduil said reassuringly, but she could barely see the white panic in his eyes. The helplessness in her face tore at his heart. "What happened, love?"
"I...I...Ada, it's...I think...it's happening...again..." Alasse sobbed anxiously.
"What is happening again, my love?" Thranduil furrowed his brows sadly, as he stooped down touching her shoulder, trying to steady her.
"It! My...my scar, Ada...it's..." Alasse panted, then she screamed horribly. Bellethiel could only watch hurtfully from across the room with tears in her eyes. Thranduil's eyes instantly moistened over after hearing that awful scream which cut his core like acute shards of ice. Maerwen also grew misty-eyed and gripped Alasse's arm.
"Malfortion, check her middle. The wound from Minas Tirith." Thranduil quickly instructed the healer. "Tell me exactly what you see." Alasse curled tighter, wincing. "Alasse, darling, stay still." Thranduil begged. "Let them help you. You have to stay still."
"I...Ada, I can't! It hurts...too much..." Alasse wept, looking like a scared, defenseless little elfling.
"Child, you must stay still if we are to relieve you of this torment." Maerwen said sadly but firmly, brushing a few sweaty strands of hair from her face.
"If I lie still, it...it becomes wor-aahh!" Alasse cried out.
Unable to bear her unearthly cries any longer, Thranduil sat on the edge of the bed and lovingly, protectively cradled her head in his lap. "Shh. Shh. It's alright, Tithen pen. I'm here." Thranduil tried desperately to calm his grown daughter who was shaking uncontrollably in his arms. Alasse continued to whimper harshly as Malfortion obeyed the king and slowly removing her hands, he unclasped her bodice and opened the front of her tunic and pushed up her chemise, exposing her bare stomach. He was more than a little taken aback at what he saw. Her once deadly wound on her abdomen was a deeply dark, raw red. And the former divots from torn muscles and severed flesh when she'd been injured eight months ago were now visibly throbbing, festering heavily before their eyes with every breath she took.
"My king, I have never seen anything like this!" Malfortion sputtered in mortification. He looked more than a little disturbed.
Thranduil's chest cracked at the sight. Oh, great Valar! Help my daughter! Why had this been thrust on his family? Why? Alasse clung to his strong arms."Lord Elrond warned us about this." Thranduil said gravely, sadly watching his little girl suffer. Alasse arched her back, leaning heavily on her right side, curled in a fetal position only to roll onto her back again, weeping and desperately praying for the pain to leave.
"Is there anything that can be done, Sire? Something we can give her?" Malfortion asked quickly, anxious to help his patient. Thranduil frowned sadly at him.
"According to Lord Elrond, the scar is permanent." He said dejectedly. "But, yes, get something to relieve the pain!" Alasse was clenching his wrist. He stroked her head, trying to comfort her then leaned down and kissed her face.
"A-Ada? W-what was it again that...Elrond said could c-cause this?" Alasse asked breathlessly, looking up into his face.
"Extreme fear or distress, darling." Thranduil said, holding her hand. Alasse winced with her eyes squeezed shut.
A picture, a vision, suddenly entered her mind, clear as daylight. She saw darkness, thick, impenetrable darkness. And dampness, as if she was looking into a dreary dungeon. The vision frightened her and she shuddered. In the darkness, she saw a limp figure. No, more than limp. The person looked dead! His arms were outstretched above his head, locked in fetters so tight that his wrists bled. His shirt collar was fully open, exposing a sweat-drenched, badly bruised, bleeding chest. His sticky, dark hair clung to his languid, nearly unrecognizable, injured face. But Alasse saw it. She knew that face! It was etched in perfect detail into her very soul.
"No!" She wailed. "It cannot be!"
"I know it hurts, love. I wish I could bear it for you!" Thranduil bit his lip, brushing his thumb against her cheek.
"I...don't believe it!" Alasse blurted out, suddenly throwing all of her stolen energy into intense concentration on the image in front of her mind.
"Alasse, what is wrong, child?" The healer asked softly, touching her wrist. Alasse did not answer. The image became even clearer and up close. The figure writhed in pain as he was struck in the darkness with a cruel blow. Alasse felt his pain and her body shuddered in agony as she vibed his brutal torment. Thranduil trembled helplessly and held her tighter. She saw the face again and shrieked when it helplessly looked directly at her, boring into her soul, as if pleading to her to rescue him. His transparent eyes were deeply pained, glazed with suffering yet still burning. His face dull, beaten, and lifeless.
"Ohh...noo!" Alasse cried.
"Alasse, tell me what it is, please!" Thranduil begged. Alasse opened her eyes and met his. The pain was slowly coming down to a bearable tone. She wasn't writhing so much anymore as much as she was breathing heavily. She'd nearly forgotten about the horrible pain now.
"Ada! I...I saw him!' She swallowed.
"Who, ion iell-?" Thranduil asked. "What did you see?"
"Aragorn! He's in trouble! His life is in danger!"
