Soft. As Himelon's mind came back to him the first thing that he was aware of was something soft wrapped around him. There was the gentle caress of a warm, silky softness that enveloped him and moved gently with every breath he took and every twinge of his muscles. Then there came the scent of wild flowers and lavender salts. The aromas of olive oil and rosemary combined to further sedate him. He heard nothing despite having the sensation that there was much movement around him. Himelon let out a soft sigh as he rolled over and nestled himself further into the aromatic, soft fabric about him. Then there was speech. Someone was saying something though it sounded more like a muffled whisper to him than the demand he knew it to be from the vibrating air that brushed against his exposed ear. There was a pause and then a gentle but firm grasp on his shoulder. Slender fingers and soft hands rolled him back over onto his back and held him in place while their owner once again tried speaking to him.
"Ada…" the raven haired elf groaned softly swatting at the hands holding him still, "please….let me sleep…." Himelon's words were sleep slurred and his mind was foggy and seemed to tell him he was in the Undying Lands. That he was back in his bed and it was his father that was trying to rouse him from sleep. When the grip tightened and the senseless voice persisted Himelon let his pale blue eyes crack open. The soft blue and silver room made of gems he'd been expecting to see and the white haired elder male with lavender eyes he'd anticipated were not, however, the sights that met his gaze. He was back in Greenwood. He was laying in a woven pine bed in a room lit by the soft glow of starlight lanterns. There were elves of all different appearance bustling around the room gathering vials and herbs almost frantically. The owner of the gentle but firm hands that held him still was a male elf with starlight hair and ice blue wearing silver robes and an all too familiar wood, leaf, and berry crown. It took a moment for the raven haired elf's mind to catch up with his eyes and realize that the individual holding him still and speaking to him was Thranduil and he did not look pleased with his brow furrowed and his frozen stare fixed upon Himelon. As the grogginess faded, all too slowly, Himelon tried to sit. He didn't feel the fear he remembered before unconsciousness had taken him. It seemed that those feelings were so far away now. As if they were a whole lifetime passed. As he tried to sit Thranduil frowned and pushed him back down.
"Don't move," the first words that Himelon understood since waking had fallen on his ears as bits of snow on the warm summer land. Harsh, cold, and somehow comforting.
"You've been watching over me?" Himelon smiled softly as the question passed his lips. It seemed that way at the moment didn't it? As if the King had been watching over him while he slept. That truly was nonsense and he knew it though. The Great Elven King could not have time to simply watch someone sleep.
"I have been attempting," Thranduil began fluidly as he reached for a glowing vial of starlight that sat near the bed, "to heal you're infection." Thranduil's voice flowed over the barely conscious Himelon like a cool spring over stones. Soothing and unaffecting. The raven haired elf male's eyes clouded over as he tried to understand what Thranduil could be meaning. He was not ill and was fairly certain he had not been injured as he fled Greenwood.
"I have no infection," Himelon's tone was flat and his face scrunched together ever so slightly as he stared at the item in the hand outstretched to him. The vial of starlight that was being offered him was even more puzzling. That was only used in purifications or festivals. It was not something given out lightly. The raven haired elf stared at the glowing vial for a moment before his face relaxed and his gaze traveled around the room. It was deeper into the palace than the room he'd stayed in before yet not as far down as the dungeons. It was comfortably furnished and yet could not have been any guest room.
"You are in the healer's wing," Thranduil spoke with all the gently charisma of a soft spring breeze and yet contained within the statement was a slight wavering. Almost as if he was unsure of what to make of the other's traveling gaze.
"The infection," the king continued with a soft sigh as he uncorked the vial and lifted it to Himelon's lips, "is a seeping shadow in you mind that I fear spreads through you as we speak. Drink." A shadow? In an instant of clarity in his mind Himelon put all the pieces together. Thranduil must have tried to see into his mind and found it. He must have mistaken it for something else. The reason his mind was so slow and he felt so groggy and detached was from the starlight they must have been giving him while he slept. When the realization dawned on him the raven haired elf male sat up sharply regardless of whether he was instructed to do so or not. Thranduil had barely managed to get the vial out of theway.
"I'm not drinking anymore starlight," Himelon said with a sharp resolve that momentarily caused Thranduil to startle and his eyes to widen at the piercing and pained gaze fix upon him, "It is not an infection. It is a scar." The statement caused Thranduil's brow to furrow again. He rose in a swift movement and began walking around the room plucking herbs, wards, and ultimately a glass of wine from his surroundings before returning stand directly in front of the bed on which Himelon lay. He regarded the raven haired male with all the scrutiny he would give a dwarf or orc. His eyes were as cold and unfeeling as the dead of winter. Unbeknownst to those around him the elven King yet again found himself at war with his thoughts and emotions. He wanted to believe that was why the purification treatments hadn't been working but how could something that had seemed so alive be a scar? It had spoken to him. Known his name and the things that he feared most. He had felt it seep into his consciousness and threaten to extinguish the very light of his soul. Something like that was not a scar. It was a living infection. He found himself torn between the ache clenching at his heart over Himelon yet again and the thrumming drive and desire to protect his people.
"It. ." narrowing his eyes Thranduil leaned forward so that his face was mere inches away from Himelon's. His statement had been punctuated and he had managed to convey all of his authority as King into it. He would not risk the lives of his people over some elf he knew in another life.
"It found it's way in there," Himelon refuted pouring every once of his own authority into his words as he could, "100 years before the battle on the slopes of Mount Doom. It can only be contained. It will never leave and has no power over me." It was true. Sauron had attempted to possess and use Himelon's body after he helped forge the rings of power for the Deceiver. Himelon was well aware it was the second time Sauron had tried such a thing, but it was so long ago in life long forgotten that he hadn't seen it until it was too late. The raven haired elf had managed to break Sauron's hold but had not escaped unscathed. A tiny bit of Sauron's malice and essence was left in his mind to haunt his nightmares. The mental wall he'd built in Valinor served to keep it from ever taking hold in his body or mind. Anything short of Sauron returning could ever give it enough strength to do anything other than torment him in his sleep. Himelon's pale blue eyes were fixed upon Thranduil's icy orbs. For a second, just a second, the intimidating aura emanating from the King wavered and Himelon knew his point had been made. Thranduil had been listening with the outer reaches of his mind for he had noticed that he could not even sense the darkness that way but could discern conscious thoughts. He'd inadvertently heard the other's thoughts and had glimpsed the memory of the Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond trying to heal Himelon, in much the same way Thranduil had been trying, shortly after the tragic war. He saw the two most powerful elven healers fail.
Sighing softly and closing his eyes Thranduil straightened and placed the cork back in the vial of starlight and returned the herbs and wards to where they belonged. Before he turned back to face the empty and yet pleading eyes of the raven haired male Thranduil took a long drink of the wine to settle his nerves. If such emotional war and strain continued to eat at his mind like this he'd certainly go mad. The sweet, heavy, and strong alcohol served as a focal point for his thoughts. It helped him put aside the excess of his thoughts so that he could focus on the task at hand. The internal debates would have to wait until later.
"Are you certain it cannot seep out?" Thranduil's eyes were still closed and his back was turned. He wasn't ready quite yet to look at Himelon again. He was frustrated that he hadn't sensed the shadow earlier and relieved that there seemed to be evidence that it was at very least well contained.
"I am certain." Himelon quirked his head softly to the side as he regarded Thranduil. The other elves in the room had long since left and Himelon was trying to figure out what could possibly be going through Thranduil's mind. Was he going to let him finally leave Greenwood? Were there dungeons in his foreseeable future? Was he to be a "guest" yet again? Himelon just didn't know. He didn't know what cues to be looking for or even if there were any cues. Nervousness and fear began gently clawing at his gut and he began to fidget with the sheets. He tried rationalizing everything to himself. Reassuring himself that the Elven King was not likely to resort to anything overtly violent seemed to help stave off the increasingly distasteful scenarios that threatened to play in his imagination.
"Then let us try this again," Thranduil finally spoke taking another deep drink of the wine was he turned and infinitely more gently gaze in Himelon's direction, "You are to stay in Greenwood. You will return to the room you were previously given. You will be heavily guarded and if you disobey me again or I find that you have lied to me about it your punishment will be severe. Am I clear?" The starlight haired king's gaze hardened as he inquired about the clarity of his words. Yet again he was mere inches away from the other male and this time, having a clearer mind, Himelon felt a flutter in his gut. He suddenly felt embarrassed and couldn't help the blush that tinted his cheeks.
"Y-yes my king," the raven haired male had stuttered as he looked away. Himelon found that his heart was going a mile a minute and that he suddenly felt humbled and inexplicably safe with Thranduil that close. He didn't feel caged or angry or intimidated anymore. He felt irrationally safe and at home.
"Good." Thranduil replied a little more gently as he quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head to one side slightly. Himelon had suddenly gone from behaving proudly as if he were the king's equal to humble and flustered. It was rather amusing and Thranduil found the blush on the raven haired males face rather enjoyable to see. Why he couldn't quite place his finger on though. If Himelon behaved himself and obeyed him this time there would be the perfect opportunity to learn more about his raven haired guest. Adding a few more guards to escort Himelon around wouldn't hurt on enforcing his point however. Thinking on these things and the preparations that would be necessary to be made for the next council meeting Thranduil floated out the large doors to the healer's chambers and left Himelon to be tended to by the others. Ultimately someone would be sent to fetch Himelon and escort him back to the room in which he was to stay.
Himelon watched the silver clad elf King retreat from the chambers and it wasn't until he had left and the other healers started to flood back in that Himelon let out a sigh and flopped back into the bed. He was still here and Greenwood seemed to be the place he would have to stay for a while. Despite his irrational and panic driven behavior King Thranduil had found it in himself to graciously grant him the general privileges of a guest. The more Himelon thought on the possible reasons for Thranduil doing so the less he liked his conclusions. If it wasn't silly fantasies about being fancied by Thranduil it was terrifying ideas of being kept for sport to be hunted down and killed later. Truly the later was naught but his own paranoia due to the large numbers of people about Greenwood. Shaking his head Himelon put his odd ideas out of his mind and tried, unsuccessfully, to strike up conversation with a few of the healers. Ah well. Things could be infinitely worse couldn't they? Giving up on the conversation endeavor Himelon let himself slip into a light restful sleep.