Chapter 2: Incomprehension

"My Lord?" Tauriel decided to make her presence known with the uncharacteristically timid and concerned words.

It was unnerving how Thranduil didn't even seem to have noticed her stepping in or standing there for a while scrutinisingly. Pale and with his eyes glassed over as if in a different world, he raised his chalice to his lips with shaky, uncoordinated fingers, his head seemingly swimming too as he leaned forward to help himself to the next measure of alcohol. For an elf to be this drunk, it had to have been huge quantities he would've imbibed, some of which had clearly stained his robes and yet he had no care for his appearance, with long blond tresses that looked like they've not seen a brush for days. Mouth lying agape, she stood there astonished at the state he was in before she got herself together enough to step up close and try to attract his attention, "Your Majesty." She addressed him softly, as if talking to a child. "Is there anything I can help you with?" She offered, her original intents for coming to see him momentarily swept aside by the instinct to aid her king.

He raised his head to gape in her vague direction, but his eyes remained hazy and his expression blank to the extent the elleth felt the need to specify, "My King, you don't look well. Shall I call for Galion to help you to bed?" The foolish servant was outside, too scared of Thranduil to stand on alert. But then again, he probably had to deal with the king being like this for days at least.

Thranduil stared at her for a long while with half lidded eyes, chin dropping slightly before he shook himself to a sharper awareness at last, just in time afore the redhead was about to decide he was in no shape for any conversation. He stood abruptly, both palms splayed on the desk in front of him to keep him steady, "Tauriel! Tauriel, Tauriel, Tauriel!" He expressed anger by shoving books and pens and letters off his desk in a flurry of motion, making her step backwards mortified before he flopped back into his seat, face buried behind a hand. "What do you want? Regular diplomatic correspondence with Erebor?" He moaned sarcastically, rubbing his temples.

"It would be none of my business to ask such a thing," she responded quickly and defensively.

"Damn right it isn't!" Thranduil boomed again, mood swinging like a yo-yo between angry outbursts and quiet, apathetic moments. He reached for his chalice, downed it, and poured it full again, just to down that too in quick succession.

"I do not want to aggravate you with my presence, My Lord," she regarded him distraught, more concerned about the state he was in, rather than what he was intending to do with her in his anger. "If you so wish, I will leave, at this very moment."

Thranduil banged down the empty chalice, making her flinch, "if I so wish? Playing obedient today, are we? Well then," he gestured towards the empty wine carafe, knocking it over in the process, "bring me more wine."

Tauriel blanched, understanding fully now why Galion wasn't present. But she wasn't some insignificant domestic help who never dared to voice what was right, "your healers forbade it, My Lord. You are too unwell for it."

Instead of the next outburst Tauriel anticipated, Thranduil leaned forward, whispering conspirationally, "can you go to the forest and bring me something better? Lissuin flower nectar instead?"

The redhead shook her head, "I am prisoner of the Halls on your order, My Lord," she reminded him. Not that she would willingly bring him no recreational hallucinogenic plant extract.

The outburst was still pending. "Can you bring me Legolas then?" He spat at her in a mocking, teasing voice. "Can you bring me peace of mind? Relief from guilt? My wife?"

Tauriel bit her lips in desperation and swallowed against her own guilt. She had rejected Legolas in a way he couldn't stand being in her company countrywide no more. "I can bring you none of those things, you know that My Lord, but I can be here for you, whatever else you need," she frowned, knowing it wasn't much she could offer, "you have got to stop drinking, it won't help," she advised.

"It helps," he slurred, rage completely drawn out of him by the exhaustion that weighed on his limbs. He leaned his head on his hand and closed his eyes, "I just need a little more to fall asleep."

The redhead nodded, glancing towards his poster bed. Perhaps letting him sleep by any means would be beneficial, "let me help you to your bed," she offered, not confident in his chances to make it there by himself without falling over, "we'll settle you in, and if you still need some wine to aid you falling asleep, I will get it myself personally."

Thranduil took some time to give indication that he had given her any consideration, but then nodded approvingly and categorically, ending it in a moan as the movement sent off sharp shooting pins inside his skull, "my head pains me," he complained.

"I wouldn't be surprised by that," Tauriel offered, rounding the paraphernalia lying tossed to the floor and arriving by his side at the other end of the desk. "Can you stand?" She placed a comforting hand on his arm.

Thranduil took some deep breaths and raised his head slowly, eyes closed still while he psyched himself up and rose out the seat, using its arms as support. Tauriel moved close in without being asked or given permission, one hand behind his back to steady him and one gripping his arm steadily for support. They stood for a moment, waiting while Thranduil swayed and struggled to gain balance, something he could apparently only achieve by leaning onto her more. Tauriel readjusted her hold to his need and he finally initiated a few steps forward till he stopped again, looking lost without any furniture to hold onto close by on any side. His breathing quickened, somewhat panicky, "my stomach hurts."

Tauriel felt at a loss herself at that, she was way out of her depth nursing an indisposed elvenking, "let's get you to lie down first. Should I call the healers?"

"Audacious!" Thranduil grunted his displeasure and the redhead couldn't tell whether he meant the comment for her or the healers, but she gathered as much that calling for help was undesirable. He pushed her away too and Tauriel thought he must've been intent on making it over himself and keeping some of his poise, but Thranduil steered in the wrong direction, grabbed onto a commode and leaned forward to spew without any warning to her, in a thick and almost continuous cascade of foul red, probably the amount he had been drinking for the last few hours, a large puddle that would give the servants a hefty job to clean out the rugs.

The suspended guard was at a loss at what to do again. Part of her wondered whether she should disappear and pretend she never saw what happened, give the king his dignity, otherwise she wondered how she could even get round the quickly growing indoor pond. The liquid was leaving him in a thinner streak now and he seemed to struggle with it, keeping his hold on the furniture in a knuckle whitening grip, knees wobbly, other hand rubbing at his own belly chaotically, as if not sure what he was doing. His face, under the sweat, was taking on a greyish colour, but what made her act at last was the whimperish noise that left him in between disgorging and trying to catch his breath. Tauriel grabbed a chair swiftly, pushed it right behind him and snaked her hands around him to manoeuvre him onto it.

There were no objections from the king, he was just leaning forward with his head almost at his knees, moaning and swallowing. "There's room, just open your legs if you need to throw up more," Tauriel assured him. "Tell me if you're ready to move," she advised and stepped back a bit, giving him space. She only watched as he forced himself to take deeper breaths and straighten up somewhat, even though it was obvious it was causing him pain.

Tauriel shook her head in disbelief, "whatever had happened to you, Sire?" She whispered, not expecting an answer.

"I can't…" He started, needing to swallow again. He didn't act drunk anymore, only pained.

"Take your time," Tauriel encouraged.

"I can't live like this," Thranduil finished the sentence, "a life without loved ones near, is no life at all."

It was Tauriel's turn to swallow. Another brutally honest moment between them. They were starting to make a habit out of it. And she knew that truth he voiced as much as he did. "Legolas will return, My Lord."

Thranduil nodded at that, not willing to elaborate more. He didn't think he could find it in himself to wait a long time, but his remaining pride kept him from articulating that, although it was probably obvious. His reverie over his own state kept him from bodily sensations for a moment, so the next bout of stomach cramps surprised him. He gasped, eyes closing, head swimming with the disorientating pain. He grit his teeth to ride it out and found strong, lithe arms around him as the skilled archer steadied him and did not let go till he opened his eyes.

"My Lord," Tauriel started very seriously, "I would very much prefer if you'd let me take you to bed and allowed the healers to be called.

Thranduil leaned his forehead against her chest, all his strength having left him. What was there to keep up pretences for? "Do as you think best," he moaned, knowing he was past the stage alcohol would be beneficial for the time being.

Tbc