Slowly he strolled through the garden, his chest and head still ached. The wounds refused to heal, as if death refused to let the elf go who should have died. Died as so many others had.

He had read the lists with the names of those who didn't return, he had known them all, known their families. When he suddenly reached his father's name he had crumpled up the pieces of paper in his hand as tears obscured his view and tossed them through the room.

As he had left the room angrily, one of the servant women, Lindëlas picked up the pieces of paper and smoothed the creases out of the paper before putting them back on the desk with a sigh. Absently she allowed her fingertips to caress one single name on the list before moving away from the desk, after the king.

He could see the looks on their faces as he passed them by, they bowed for him but he could see in their eyes they didn't approve of him. From the moment he got back, his father's advisors had swarmed him with reports and lists and numbers. Frankly, those where the last things he needed right now, and the last things Mirkwood needed.

Mostly he just nodded and did what they told him to do, but as soon as he could get away from them, he'd walk into the garden to have some peace and quiet. Usually the memories of times past flew in before his eyes.

The same reason he hadn't slept since they had came back home. His father's things had all been removed from his bedroom and replaced by Thanduil's. He hated being in that room, everything still brought memories to his mind.

The big bed he had slept in with his father and mother as an elfling when scared by sounds that seemed to originate from everywhere.

The place he had shattered naneth's precious vase. The times he spent under their bed, pretending to search for treasures which were nothing but his mother's jewellery.

He remembered all those things so vividly, although thousands of years had passed by since then. He could see them dancing his their room, he saw them even in colour, where now he only saw shades of grey.

"My Lord?" a voice suddenly pulled him from his dreams and he looked up at where it had come from blinking several times. He saw an elleth standing in front of him, looking worried and he smiled.

"Lindëlas" he thought, "she always worries"

"My Lord, it is pouring, please come inside" she spoke again and reached for his arm.

Suddenly he realised it was indeed raining, lifting his hands and looked at his garments which were entirely soaked and started laughing.

"Indeed it is raining" he spoke, "I had not noticed it until now" and looked up at the elleth who was also soaked now. He slowly stood but made no movements to go inside.

"Are you not well?" Lindëlas asked frowning at his comment, "it has been raining all day. Come we need to get those wet clothes off of you."

"Wet clothes?" he mused and looked at the elleth again. Her blond hair sticked to her face and her dress clung to her body. He could see drops of rain trail down from her head over her cheeks and neck and suddenly snapped out of his reveries completely. "You are soaked!" he exclaimed and wrapped his arms around her trying to warm her up again.

"I'm not cold my Lord" she pushed him away. "It's you I'm worried about, you have been sitting here all evening. Please come inside. Your wounds need to be treated."

He snorted and turned his back to her again.

"My wounds are fine" he muttered. "It's my heart that needs treatment" he thought.

"My Lord please" Lindëlas asked him again and pulled his arm. "Please come inside, I beg of you."

"They all left me behind Lindëlas" he sighed and turned his head to her again, "everybody leaves me behind. Will you leave me behind as well?"

"My Lord" Lindëlas exclaimed, "I am but a servant, I can not leave you" she paused briefly and lowered her head. "Unless that is your wish" she whispered.

"Dear Lindëlas" Thranduil spoke softly and turned around to face her completely, "you have been much more to me then my servant. You have been with me for as long as I can remember. You have taken care of me for so long... I would understand if you grew tired of me, after all, everybody else seems to have..."

"My Lord" she spoke again, this time grabbing hold of his arm tightly. "You are delirious, I should get you to your bed and call the healers."

"Why?" he asked moving with her towards the palace finally. "I do not feel as if I have a fever."

"I am only in your service for 20 years now my Lord" she whispered and guided him inside. "You are mistaking me for your mother."

"Oh?" he asked and stared at her, "right right, you must be right" he mused and followed her willingly.

She led him into the King's chambers and started to rummage through the drawers to find him dry clothes and handed them.

"Help me?" he whispered as he tried to get his tunic over his head, but couldn't get his arms over his head. Gently she removed the piece of clothing and saw that his bandages had turned crimson yet again. "Thank you" he whispered, suddenly feeling drained of all strength and grabbed the dry shirt.

"Not yet my Lord" Lindëlas stopped him and took the shirt from his hands. "First I have to renew your bandage. It has soaked."

Looking down he realised she was right and sighed.

"That damn wound just refuses to heal" he muttered.

"Perhaps it is due to the fact that you refuse to stay in bed yourself?" Lindëlas told him while she gathered the necessary items to change the bandage.

"That might be it" he mused and changed his wet leggings with dry ones before she got back and laid back on the bed.

"Here, a towel for you hair" she said when she returned and handed him a warm towel.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked when he draped the towel around his hair.

"My Lord?" she asked, surprised by his question.

"You heard me" he answered, "why do you care for me, when everybody else hates me? Hates me for returning when their loved one did not?"

"You must not speak about such things my Lord" she replied, "nobody hates you. You are their king."

"They hate me" he spoke again, "I can see it in their eyes."

"You must have been mistaken" she repeated again when she sat down carefully next to him and started removing the bandages from his chest. Carefully she applied the balm that would disinfect the wound as well as speed up the healing proces.

Not feeling up to arguing Thranduil laid back and closed his eyes. When she covered the wound again with a clean bandage and pulled the shirt over his head, Aranlin entered the room.

"Leave us" the advisor spoke insolent to Lindëlas and motionned her to leave the room.

"Aranlin?" Thranduil asked, "What do you want?" he asked while he watched the elleth leaving the room quickly.

"We have urgent matters to discuss" the advisor started and walked up to the bed. "Our financial state has been reduced to nihil because of this war, we need to increase taxes."

"We already took their loved ones, now you want me to take their money?" Thranduil exclaimed pushing himself up, ignoring the pain it caused him. "We can't ask them for more money!"

"We must my King, there is nothing left."

"And if I refuse?"

"You can not refuse, my King."

"Still I am" Thranduil answered stuborn. "I will not ask them for it."

"But then we can not pay them" Aranlin spoke outraged.

"Take the money from my desk" Thranduil spoke and left his bed angrily. "I will be damned if I ask them even more than they already gave!"

"As you wish my king" Aranlin bowed, but he remained standing where he was.

"Anything else?" Thranduil asked as he walked towards the fireplace.

"Yes my Lord" Aranlin bowed again, "we need to hold a meeting to discuss how we will be able to replenish our treasury."

"Valar!" Thranduil shouted and turned around briskly, aggravating his injury even further, "Is money everything you think about? Have you no compassion for your fellow elves? Some have lost everything! And all you think about is money?"

"My king, I..." Aranlin tried.

"GET OUT!" Thranduil raged and pointed to the door.

"But my Lord" Aranlin tried again.

"OUT!" Thranduil shouted, "By the Valar, get out of my room!"

The financial advisor turned so quickly he almost fell over his own feet as he ran towards the door.

Alarmed by the loud screams that came from the king's room Lindëlas had run towards the door as well and opened it quickly, almost hitting the advisor in the progress.

"What happened?" she asked bewilderd as she looked from Thranduil to Aranlin.

"He's gone mad!" the elf muttered. "I tried to tell him we need more money for our treasury and he started yelling at me! Mad I tell you! Compared to him, Oropher was reasonable!" Aranlin muttered and pushed his way out of the room.

"My Lord?" Lindëlas asked as she stepped into the room and looked at Thranduil as he leaned heavily against the mantelpiece.

"No more money!" he spoke tired and waved at her to go away.

"My Lord, you should lay down" Lindëlas spoke softly and took a step closer.

"Oh... Lindëlas" he whispered, "I didn't see you come in" he continued and turned to face her again. "Maybe you are right" he spoke softly, "I am not feeling very well".

The elleth's eyes went wide as she saw the crimson staines on his shirt and quickly closed the distance as she saw him sink through his legs grabbing his arm just in time and supported him to the bed again.

"Tell me what I am to do Lindëlas" he whispered as he laid down on the bed and closed his eyes. "Tell me, and this time I will listen."

"Rest my Lord, I only want you to rest" she spoke softly and started to remove his shirt and bandages again. When she returned with the ointment to stop the bleeding she found he had already lost consciousness. Supressing a sigh she finished her work and covered him up with the sheet. "You try to hard my love" she whispered and caressed his hair after making sure he couldn't hear her and placed a kiss on his forehead before leaving the room silently.