"Is he awake yet?" Legolas asked as Palandir entered the sitting room. When Palandir nodded, Legolas made to go and see him but Palandir caught his arm and gave him a warning look. Lianna, who had been working out where the Dwarves were likely to be using a map and an abacus, looked up,
"What's wrong?"
"It's… best if you don't visit him just yet."
Legolas looked aghast and yanked himself free of Palandir's grasp, "He is my father; why on earth should I not go and see him?"
"He's in a bad way," Palandir said, slowly, "in here." He tapped his head. Lianna got up and placed a hand on Legolas's shoulder and both listened to Palandir intently. "He's been hallucinating. And when I told him that what he was seeing wasn't real he couldn't take it. I tried to comfort him but he kept pushing me away and accusing me of all sorts. He wouldn't stop screaming until Galion returned – he's with him now. We'll take him to the healers when he's calmed down enough."
"This has happened before," Legolas said, quietly, "though not for a long time." Palandir pursed his lips and nodded. "And he's always got better before," Legolas continued.
"Let us hope that is again the case."
oOo
"You are real, aren't you?" Thranduil whispered.
Galion, sitting next to him with his arms round him, nodded, "Yes, gwador, I'm real." He was crying. Thranduil wasn't, he was staring blankly into the distance with terrified eyes.
"And Palandir and Legolas and Lianna? You see them too?"
"Yes, I see them."
"And Mithras and Eruwest and-"
Galion kissed his forehead, "We are all real, meldir. All of us are, apart from Nenros."
"And the Noldor and their conspiracy? Are they really trying to kill us?"
"No," Galion stroked the hair away from Thranduil's eyes, "no, they aren't real either." He made a note to mention them to Palandir.
"Am I real?" Thranduil asked, his wide eyes looking up at Galion now. He lifted a hand and gently traced the bark splint on his friend's nose. Galion smiled as best he could,
"Of course you are. You're as real as can be."
"Nenros was terrified of not being real," Thranduil murmured, "Whenever I asked if he wasn't you could see it in his eyes. He must be so scared."
Galion didn't know how to answer that, so he eased his friend's head into the hollow of his neck and rocked him gently. "Hush, don't think of him now."
This was how Palandir found them when he returned some time later. "How is he?" He asked, quietly.
"He's half asleep," Galion said, smiling through his tears.
Palandir nodded, "We should move him soon then. How are you?"
"Shaken," Galion said, truthfully, "I was with him all yesterday; why didn't I notice?"
Palandir shook his head and put a hand on Galion's shoulder, "No one is to blame for this. It's often hard to notice except for in certain circumstances."
"But I knew something was wrong!" Galion continued, "I asked him if he was alright. He said strange things but when I pressed him he snapped so I let it be. I should have made him tell me."
"That wouldn't have achieved anything. He would just have got as upset at you as he did at me. What you need to do now is not get yourself wound up about it. You're the only one we know that he trusts enough to take care of him."
"No pressure," Galion whispered, his smile surfacing again.
"Are you alright to do this?"
"I'll have to be," Galion sighed. "No, I'd do anything for him, and in my times of need he's always stayed with me no matter what. I want to help him."
Palandir nodded and stepped back, "Good. Wake him now and we'll move him while he's calm."
Thranduil was surprisingly easy to move. Galion gently shook him awake and told him what was going on. The king looked dazed though, and Palandir predicted that he'd have forgotten all this by noon – it was now early morning two days after the incident with the Dwarves. He looked at Galion with glazed eyes as the butler explained things to him, and followed obediently as he was led out of his room on his companions' arms. The palace was just waking up, but those whom the trio passed were sympathetic rather than judgemental. The phrase 'bad strike on the head' was bounded around between groups and Galion and Palandir were glad of the unexpected excuse for the king's current state.
The healers knew what was actually wrong with Thranduil, though, and had made preparations – mostly mental – for his arrival by the time the group reached their houses. Two came forward to take him off Palandir and Galion's hands but, though he allowed a healer to take Palandir's place, Thranduil refused to let go of Galion. When the healer tried to separate them with more force Thranduil mumbled his name, and his voice was so slurred that the healers decided to break protocol and let Galion remain, so long as he got out of the way if need be. Those who still looked like they might protest were stared down by the butler. Thranduil clung onto his friend like a limpet; even when placed in a bed he laced his fingers between Galion's and squeezed so tightly that Galion winced.
"Maybe it would be better if you left now," the Master Healer suggested. Thranduil's blurry eyes suddenly focused on the man, blue flames burning in them. He hated the master healer; he thought (unjustly) that he was dancing on Míriel's grave. The healer didn't fail to notice and, posed with two intimidating glares, he backed down, "Of course you don't have to but it would be easier if you… left for a few moments."
"Galion stays," Thranduil said, his tone icy despite his persisting slur.
The healer inclined his head: "Sire." He smoothed his tunic and hurried off. Thranduil watched him, still scowling.
Galion put his free hand over his and Thranduil's interlinked ones: "Worry not, gwador; I'm not leaving until you do."
As night fell, Galion moved to the bed next to Thranduil's and was asleep far quicker than his sovereign. Thranduil remained motionless for a long while as the darkness gathered around him. He could rest if he wanted to but his mind was finally clear again so he'd rather be using it than dreaming. It was dark in the healing houses, so not even his eyes could pierce the gloom, but there was some comfort in that. No distractions. And it meant he could see the lights dancing on the ceiling better. They looked like stars though they were much larger, and seemed to be chasing each other across the stonework. He smiled as he watched them, though the nagging feeling which had come when he returned to himself still hadn't left.
He pulled himself up further and reached for the candle by his bedside. When he'd found it, he fumbled around in the dark for the matches by it and, eventually finding the box, lit the candle. It showed what he had expected; Galion was the only Elf near him for a long way either side. This wasn't the main room of the healing houses and therefore was fairly empty. He leant towards Galion's sleeping form and whispered his name. No reply. So he whispered it louder and louder, as loud as he dared. Still nothing. He was lucky; Galion was in a deep sleep that night.
He climbed out of bed and crept over to him. Still Galion made no sign. His breathing was slow and deep as it is in sleep. Smiling in the dark, Thranduil bent down and reached for something under Galion's bed. He found it soon enough and his fingers closed round it in triumph. Then he took the candle and moved over to the other side of the room; the side without any beds where he could sit against the wall. He put his plan into action.
A short while later and he was trying to wake Galion up this time. He put the candle back on the table and nudged his butler with the back of his hand.
"Galion," he called, his voice reasonably low so as not to get the attention of anyone in another room. Galion muttered a little but remained asleep. So Thranduil shook him this time and that woke him up. He rolled onto his back and blinked up at his king, whom he could just see as a silhouette on the edge of the flame's light.
"Why are you up, meldir? And why is the candle lit?" He sat up, blinking rapidly as his eyes got used to the light.
"I need to ask you if something's real or not," Thranduil stated.
"Oh," Galion mumbled, "of… of course, meldir. What is it?"
Thranduil stepped into the candlelight and held up his wrists. Galion looked at them and his heart flew to his mouth.
"This is a dream," he said, "this must be one of those anxiety dreams; this cannot really be happening."
He looked up into Thranduil's face. The king's expression was serious, deadly serious. "Ai! This is real, isn't it?"
"Can you see them?" Thranduil asked, flatly.
There was no doubt as to what 'they' were. Several neat cuts on each wrist, from which blood had run down to make webs over the backs of Thranduil's hands and dark red pools in his palms. Though Galion didn't know it yet there was a red hand print on his shirt from where Thranduil had shaken him awake. Galion made a choking sound in his throat as he stirred himself into action and swung his feet out of bed. "Yes," he managed, "of course I can see them!"
"It's alright," Thranduil said, reassuringly, as Galion stood up, wrapped his hands around his friend's wrists and brought them together above his head. Within seconds small rivulets were running down to his elbows. "You don't need to worry; I made them."
Galion stared at him, "You did this?" Thranduil smiled and nodded. "What is wrong with you? Can you not see that that just makes this worse!" With that he dragged Thranduil across the room, screaming for help at the top of his lungs. Healers came from every direction like ants and soon half a dozen were whisking their king away. Candles flared from the far end of the room and in the confusion Galion's hand slipped from round Thranduil's wrists. So amongst the raised voices of the healers was his screaming for him. But Galion didn't move. He couldn't. He stood where he had ben when he gave Thranduil into more capable hands, his own hands in front of him and tears slipping unnoticed down his cheeks. Thranduil's cries for him seemed to echo round the inside of his head, then they were muffled as a healer gave him a sedative, and then there was silence when they took effect. Somehow the silence was even worse.
Galion returned early the next morning. He couldn't bare staying, especially after one of the trainee healers had coughed politely and asked him if he wanted his knife back, and Galion had realised just how Thranduil had done what he did. He'd taken the knife and thrown it in the river. He never wanted to see it again.
Thranduil was slumped against the wall again, though there was no evidence of the night before on the floor. His knees were up under his chin and his chin was in the hand of the arm resting on his knee. The other was lying across his knees, dejectedly. The healers had taken everything metal off him; he was in a light robe, shirt and hoes. A pair of soft shoes lay some distance away where Thranduil had thrown them. Where his wide sleeves had fallen down, Galion could see the bandages now round his wrists and lower arms, slightly brown on the inside where the blood had seeped through. His sudden elation told him that he had been expecting something else had happened during his absence.
The king looked up as Galion approached and stretched out his arms. Galion came over, knelt down and embraced him.
"They've stolen my wedding ring."
"I'm sure they haven't stolen it, removed maybe-"
"And my necklace."
Galion's heart sank. The necklace in question was a moonstone pendant on a fine mithril chain. Míriel had given it to Thranduil many ages ago and the king always wore it; it meant the world to him. "I'm sure they haven't really," he reassured his friend, settled himself next to himand looked round the room for the jewellery. He quickly found them, "They're on the side, just over there. See?"
Thranduil acknowledged their location grudgingly. "They treat me like a glass doll."
"How so?"
"They're pathetic; they tiptoe around me without talking. They're too scared to ask me why I'm down here."
Galion smiled, "Alright then; why are you down here?"
"They can't control me from down here. They order you about if you're in bed, make you take things, keep poking and prodding you. Down here they ignore you."
"They're just trying to help," Galion said calmly.
"I hate them," Thranduil said and sniffed, "They're keeping me here against my will."
"Why don't you leave?" Galion asked, hoping Thranduil wouldn't.
"I've tried that. I tried it last night. When you abandoned me."
Galion blinked and hung his head.
"I was trying to find you. I told them that and they still wouldn't let me go."
"You were trying to find me?"
Thranduil nodded, glumly, "You promised you wouldn't leave until I did."
There was no accusation in his voice but Galion felt as though he'd been struck. "Yes, I did."
"You lied to me."
"I know. I'm sorry," Galion replied, tearfully, "but I'm back now, aren't I?"
"How should I know?" Thranduil snapped, "I might be imagining all this."
"Well you aren't," Galion whispered, "I can guarantee that you aren't."
Thranduil wiped his eyes and reverted to his original pose, except this time his head was bowed. Even so, Galion could tell he was crying; his shoulders trembled and his breathing was short and shallow.
"It'll be alright," Galion murmured, reaching out to touch his friend's arm. But this time Thranduil shook him off. Galion's hand stayed in mid-air for a while before he slowly lowered it back to his side.
A small cough alerted Galion to the fact that the same trainee healer who had returned his knife the previous night was standing a respectful distance away. Galion looked at him: "What?"
"His Highness and Lianna are here to see His Majesty, sir. I came to ask His Majesty if he wishes to see them."
"No!" Thranduil spoke as though the word was painful. Galion failed to hide his surprise,
"Meldir?"
"I said no!" Thranduil repeated with gasping breaths, "I don't want them to see me. Not like this. Tell them to go away."
Galion looked to the doors and saw a concerned Legolas and Lianna watching the exchange. They could hear every word.
"Thranduil, they come through worry for you. If you won't see Lianna at least let Legolas come; he is your son. He cares greatly for you."
"Yes, he is my son; no son should see their father like this."
"He shan't think any less of you, gwador. I think you should see them-"
"Don't tell me what I should and should not do!" Thranduil screamed, taking Galion and the healer aback. He glared at them through the crook of his elbow, but then recovered himself somewhat, "Make them leave." When the healer didn't move, he added, "That's an order!" The healer jerked, bowed and hurried down the room. Galion watched for a short while before getting up,
"Well if you won't see them then at least let me explain things to them."
Thranduil scowled at him for a while, then nodded. Galion just caught them and explained the situation as hurriedly as he could. Both understood, though Lianna was unsettled by the news. She gave the king a long, hard look,
"And what's happened to him? He's dissolved into a jibbering wreck. He's pathetic."
"He's sared!" Galion snapped at his daughter, "How do you think you would react if suddenly people and events you thought were real only existed in your head, hmm?"
Lianna's eyes flicked back to her father then down to the floor, "I wouldn't dare do anything for fear it was an illusion." Galion shot her a withering look. "I'm sorry," she continued, "I don't know why I spoke so harshly. I suppose I'm afraid too."
"Let Adar know," Legolas said, pretending to speak to Galion but talking loudly enough for Thranduil to hear, "that he has but to ask for me and I shall come running."
Galion smiled and put a hand on the prince's shoulder. "He knows. He will call for you, soon."
"I hope," Legolas replied and he and Lianna took their leave.
"I love them too much," Thranduil said when Galion settled next to him again, "to let them see me now. Do you understand?"
"I think so, though I wouldn't act thus myself," was Galion's honest reply.
Mithras put his head round the door a short while later but got no further. A few hours later, however, when Thranduil had calmed down somewhat, Eruwest fared a little better. She crouched down in front of the king with a smile.
"You might like to know that Palandir, Mithras and I have explained the Dwarves," she said. "We said they succumbed to the same thing their fellow did, but weren't so lucky. In fact that's how we're explaining your absence from office too."
"Do you know the real reason?" Thranduil asked the floor.
"Yes; Palandir told me."
"They think I'm seeing things, but I'm not," Thranduil told her anyway, "they're all lying or mistaken." He missed Galion's pained sigh but Eruwest didn't. Though she didn't look at him for Thranduil was looking at her now and she couldn't look away from his pained blue eyes. "You believe me, don't you? You believe I saw Nenros."
Eruwest touched her fellow Sinda's arm with the tips of her fingers. "I wish I could," she said, sincerely, "I wish to the Valar that he were still alive. But he isn't. I know he isn't. And I know you know too."
"He faked it," Thranduil told her, his eyes intense, "he faked his death."
"No," she whispered, voice thick with emotion, "no, my dear, he didn't. Please, Thranduil, trust me. Trust the one woman who loved him."
The last to visit during the day was Palandir, who went to the healers first before returning to Thranduil.
"How are we?"
Thranduil didn't answer so Palandir turned to Galion.
"He's been surly like that for most of the day," Galion told him.
Palandir nodded, "But you do know now what's real at what isn't? You do know that Nenros is no longer with us?"
"No, he isn't," was Thranduil's reply. Palandir grinned but then Thranduil continued, "he's off trying to stop this conspiracy all on his own because you're all keeping me here." Palandir's smile faltered and faded completely. "We're all going to die because of you."
"I know it's hard to accept," Palandir said, calmly, "that someone you saw so vividly wasn't really there but you have to accept it or you'll never get well again."
"I'm not sick."
"You are sick, gwador," Galion whispered, placing his hand on Thranduil's, "really quite badly sick."
Palandir hitched up one corner of his mouth before clapping his hands, "Right, and how are your wrists doing? May I have a look?"
Thranduil offered up an arm, watching his old friend closely. Where Galion saw rather matronly care, Thranduil saw patronisation and he hated it. But he let Palandir check his wounds all the same.
"Not bad!" Palandir said, happily. "Not bad at all, considering." He smiled then called to one of the healers to come and change the bandages. "We'll have you back on your feet in no time, penneth."
"I wish," Thranduil began, icily, then stopped.
"What do you wish, meldir?" Palandir asked, eyes sparkling.
"I wish Nenros was real," Thranduil said flatly, pausing for effect, "and that you were imaginary."
Palandir was shocked into silence, and Galion almost was: "Gwador, you know not what you say!"
"I know exactly what I'm saying."
Palandir backed away and stood, blinking quickly. He made for the door and Galion found himself up and following him. When Thranduil called him he retorted, "You know what you've done? You've made him cry. He was helping you through his love for you and you've made him cry! You don't deserve friends like him, you really don't!"
"Galion!" Thranduil screamed but Galion had disappeared to comfort Palandir. Thranduil didn't call again but watched the door for a long time. He didn't notice when a healer came to change his bandages.
When it became apparent that Galion wasn't coming back any time soon, Thranduil curled up on the floor and wept. Several healers came to aid him but he didn't even hear their questions to him. Unable to get a response, and deeming that the king was in no actual danger, they left him to sort himself out.
But presently he did notice that someone was there. He uncurled himself and sat up. The sunset flowed in through the windows with a brilliant red and made the whole room glow in strange colours.
And there was Nenros, watching him with concern etched in his face. Thranduil had no sympathy for him: "You've ruined my life."
"I know," Nenros said, apologetically, "but please, you have to help me."
"Why should I help you? You don't exist!"
"Sire?" A nearby healer looked anxiously at the king, then down the room and back to the king again. "Your Majesty, are you alright?"
Thranduil didn't hear her; he was too busy staring at Nenros. Nenros was visibly afraid now; "They've blinded you, I see." He rushed closer and took Thranduil's hand in his. His skin was cold and clammy with fear, "They're manipulating you into thinking things that fit in with their view of the world. Please, you have to help me; they've found me."
"I don't care!"
"You're my only hope."
"I said I don't care!"
Three healers were moving closer now, though Thranduil's utter obliviousness to them somehow prevented them from actually intervening.
"They'll kill me!" Nenros said, eyes emploring.
Thranduil regarded him with utter loathing, "I'm imprisoned here because of you. I could lose my position because of you. Why should I help you?"
"You believe them, don't you?" Nenros whispered. Then, desperation, he tried a different technique, "Look, if I and the Noldor don't exist then you'll be putting yourself in no danger. But if we do and you do nothing then I shall be dead and you'll have no defence against them. Please!"
There was a short pause which seemed to last for ever, then Thranduil spoke: "Get out of my sight."
Nenros watched him for a moment, then let his hands drop and backed away, "They're waiting in the lower halls for me. I shall never see the forest again. By staying here you make my death your doing."
Thranduil made no sign, so he turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
The Sinda didn't move for a long while, debating whether or not he should go and see what was happening in the lower halls. He swung from one extreme to the other, though one question quickly rose to the surface: what if he is real and he does die because of me?
It was that question that saw him padding barefoot along the lower corridors a short while later.
As he approached the main stairs down the reception halls, he heard voices mocking him.
"Come out, Sinda! Come and save your friend before he gets it in the neck. Literally."
He reached the balustrade and looked down at the scene below. Nenros had been pushed to the floor and was kneeling there, hands tied behind his back and blade at his neck. He was looking desperately at Thranduil now. The Noldo who held him there looked at the Sinda with glee.
"Finally, he appears. Sense got through to him at last."
"What do I have to do to set Nenros free?" Thranduil asked, coming down the stairs and stopping half way down.
"You know what all this is about, penneth. Give us the contraption you've made to get the Silmaril, or even the plans if they're all you have."
"I have no such thing," Thranduil insisted. In answer, the Noldo drew his blade slightly against the taught skin of Nenros' neck. Blood beaded along the cut. The Noldo feigned surprise,
"And I wasn't even applying pressure! Imagine what damage I could do if I really tried."
Nenros whimpered and the Noldo yanked his hair back, "Hold your tongue, traitor."
"I don't have anything; it's impossible!" Thranduil exclaimed, "You can check my rooms if you wish."
The Noldor took him up on the offer, pushing past him and up the stairs like dark ghosts on a breeze. Only Thranduil, Nenros and his Noldo captor remained in the hall. "You, Sinda; you stay here," the Noldo ordered, "I'm not having you playing a merry dance with us and moving the plans about all over the place. My fellows shall turn this place upside down; we will find it."
"And what if there's nothing to find? Will you let Nenros go?"
The Noldo closed one eye and regarded the Sinda, but so convinced was he that he agreed, "But if we do find it, we have our way with both of you."
"That's not fair!" Thranduil exclaimed, suddenly afraid that they may find it after all.
"Oh," the Noldo said, toying with the two Elves, "would you rather it were the other way round?"
Thranduil bit his lip and shook his head. The Noldo laughed and closed his arm around Nenros' chest. The traveller chocked, "I can't breathe! Thranduil, I can't breathe!"
Thranduil moved forwards to help but as he did so he felt a cold, strong arm close about him and he was lifted off his feet. A second hand came over his mouth when he tried to call out. He arched his back and looked up at his captor, and though his hoodwas up Thranduil caught a glint of auburn hair. He made a noise of surprise and fear and doubled his efforts to get away.
"Try harder," the redhead jeered, easily holding the Sinda still. Thranduil twisted and struggled so the Noldo tipped him sideways so he could get no purchase on the floor. "How can this be imagined?" His captor asked, "For if I wasn't holding you you'd be floating in the air."
"Enough," their leader drawled, "I'm getting tired of waiting." To Thranduil's surprise he let Nenros go, but Nenros didn't move. Instead he just stared straight ahead. Straight at the Sinda. "Kneel." Nenros knelt and swallowed, distorting the mark on his neck.
Thranduil bit the hand covering his mouth until the Noldo was forced to remove it: "Leave him alone! You promised!"
"Why do you care about him?" The Noldo asked, genuinely curious, "he has no race. He belongs to no one."
"How can you say that?"
"Easily; he disowned the Noldor, didn't you, traitor?" He kicked Nenros in the back but Nenros made no sign. But his eyes were sad. "Do you know why, Sinda? He did that because your precious king promised to make him Sinda, but as so often happened Thingol turned his back on his promises, so then our dear Nenros was left with nothing." He put both hands in his sword hilt, rested the point where Nenros' left shoulder net his neck and then raised the weapon high above his head. There he stopped, and made silent tears run, unbidden, down Nenros' steeled face with a handful of carefully chosen words: "No people. No home. Did you never wonder, when you first met him, how he'd managed to fall so far?"
Thranduil looked duley horrified for a few seconds, then his shock disappeared: "I know all this already," he realised, "Nenros told me, many years ago." He looked round the scene, "And this is familiar. I've been imagining it since the Second Age." He looked straight into the Noldo's eyes, "None of this is new... and therefore none of this is true!"
The Noldo's face was thunder. He dodged round Nenros and ran at the Sinda, screaming and cursing. But before he could make contact the searchers returned, forcing the attacker to halt. The searchers had returned empty handed. A brief, rough discussion ensued in Quenya before the leader turned back to Thranduil.
"Here," he said, "have your rat." With that he pulled Nenros to his feet and practically threw him at the Sinda. "Take him and be thankful you've tricked us this time, but we shall return. And you shan't be so lucky."
When Thranduil's captor dropped him on the floor, he rushed down the remaining stairs as Nenros rushed towards him. As he took Nenros in his arms the Noldo disappeared.
"I thought you weren't coming!" Nenros wept, "I thought you'd forsaken me."
"No," Thranduil replied, "never." He let go of the older Elf and the two regarded each other, "Though now you must leave, for both our sakes."
But Nenros looked at him and shook his head. "Why would I be leaving? True we have overcome the Noldor this time but they shall be back."
"No," Thranduil insisted, "I've done what you wanted me to; now you must leave!"
"You have no power over me."
Thranduil tried to push him but Nenros refused to move, so he stopped and threw his hands in the air, "Leave me alone! Stop this, you aren't real!"
Nenros' eyes flashed, "What do you mean? Of course I'm real; you just fought me, you just saved me!"
"None of this is real!" Thranduil shouted, then turned and ran up the stairs. Nenros ran after him.
"They've closed your mind; I knew they would. Thranduil, you have to see beyond the obvious; you have to see what they are too scared to!"
Thranduil burst into his son's room: "Where is Palandir?"
Legolas, rudely aroused from slumber, rolled over and asked his father to repeat the question.
"Palandir; where is he?"
"I don't know, haven't seen him all day."
Thranduil clambered onto the bed and, grabbing his son's collar, pulled Legolas towards him. Suddenly Legolas was very afraid.
"Don't lie to me!" A panicking king demanded.
"Thranduil," Nenros pleaded from the doorway, "don't do this!"
Thranduil twisted round towards the doorway and screamed: "Shut up!" Then he shook his son.
"I'm sorry, adar, I'd tell you if I knew!" Legolas stammered, looking up at his father with terrified eyes, "Have you tried the living room? He's often there at this time."
Thranduil was gone as quickly as he'd arrived, running down the corridor with Nenros beside him, shouting at him to reconsider. "Why do you run to him? He'll blind you; he stop you thinking properly! He is the delusional one! He's the one who needs help!" When Thranduil didn't stop he jumped at him and tackled him to the floor. Thranduil writhed beneath him and threw him off. Nenros flew backwards and cracked his head on the tiles. He moaned as he raised his head and, putting his fingers to his lip, found it badly split. Stumbling to his feet Thranduil slammed into the living room door and stayed there, one hand resting on the handle.
"Go through that door," Nenros said, panting, "and you are doomed."
"No," Thranduil whispered, "I go through this door, and you are."
Legolas was thankfully right; Palandir was slouching in a chair by the fire and Galion was standing up a short distance away. The former looked up when Thranduil swept in but the former didn't. Thranduil in turn ignored Galion and rushed to kneel before Palandir. Palandir had a finger resting on his lips and it gave him an air of disdain as he looked down at the Sinda.
"I've done all he asked of me but he's not leaving me alone," Thranduil whispered, frantically. Looking beyond Palandir, he could see the door and the irked, afraid traveller leaning on the doorframe. "He's here right now. I'm scared, Palandir, I can't make him leave."
"Not so fond of him now as you were a few hours ago," Palandir replied, icily, his old selfishness resurfacing.
"I was wrong before," Thranduil pleaded, "I was stupid. I didn't think. He's using me. I can't make him go! Help me!"
"What about Galion?"
Thranduil turned to his gwador and reached out to him.
"I can't do it on my own," Galion said, staying where he was but smiling at the Sinda. "No matter how much I want to I can't care for him by myself."
Thranduil turned back to Palandir, "I'll have to go back to the healers. Please, don't make me go there! Don't make me go there."
"Have you tried ignoring him?"
"Yes! He's too real, I can't do it," Thranduil said. He raised a trembling hand to his face and wiped his eyes, "Palandir, I'm sick. I need people to tell me what's real and what isn't; people I can trust. There aren't many of them, not many at all. But Galion's one of them, and you're another." He spread out his arms and looked pleadingly into his eyes. Their ancient, private way of seeking forgiveness.
Thranduil's words, coupled with the exceedingly rare scene of him begging, softened Palandir's heart. And when the king brought a poignant past into the room, all pride he had dissolved.
"You are forgiven, meldir," he said, standing and pulling Thranduil to his feet before hugging him tightly, "completely and utterly forgiven."
Thranduil hugged him back and looked over his friend's shoulder at Nenros, who now wore a tortured expression on his face.
"You are a fool!" Nenros shouted, "They Noldor will come back and you shall have no defence against them! You've flown to the wrong person, you idiot Sinda!"
"He's insulting me," Thranduil whispered.
Palandir put a hand on the back of Thranduil's head, "Pay him no heed, penneth. Pay him no heed at all."
But Thranduil couldn't. He couldn't ignore the accusation in those ancient grey eyes, "You don't dare think this isn't real, do you? Because if it isn't then what did those five Dwarves die for?"
"You made me do it!" Thranduil screamed at him, ignoring Palandir's rocking and hushing, and Galion's hand on his back. "It was you! You told me, you tricked me!"
"I tried to talk you out of it!"
Thranduil stopped, wide eyed, "Yes. Yes you did." Then he wailed and collapsed against Palandir's chest, "Oh god, oh, Eru; I'm a murderer! I murdered them!"
Palandir held the crumpled Sinda at arm's length and shook him: "Stop this! Stop this now! You were sick. You still are. And you're making yourself worse!" But nothing either of them could say to him made any difference, so they had to sit it out. This was just one occasion of many where they had to sit him out.
Palandir stayed for the next few months while Thranduil struggled to ignore Nenros, who had the real Elf's determination when it came to getting his way. The longer Thranduil ignored him, the more persistent Nenros became, and for the first few weeks Palandir removed Thranduil from office because the king had so many shouting matches with his invisible antagonist and was generally in no fit state to do anything.
"I know it's much harder and more painful to ignore him than not," Palandir said after one particularly traumatic argument, when Thranduil was sitting on his chaise-long, head between his knees and Galion was sat beside him stopping him digging his nails into his scalp, "but it will get easier very soon, I promise. And you'll get back to yourself only when he holds no sway over you."
"What purpose does he serve?" Galion asked, suddenly. Thranduil looked up at him, confusion in his eyes. "Well for you to see him in particular there must be a reason."
Thranduil swallowed. "There was a time," he admitted, "when I was very young. My father asked him to swear that he would look after me if there was a time that he couldn't any more. I... first saw Nenros again outside the gates of Mordor. I... he looked after me when my father could not."
Galion swept forward, knelt before his friend and took Thranduil's hands in his. "But don't you see? That's what I'm doing, meldir. You don't need Nenros, not anymore. You have me to fall back on."
Palandir tossed his hair behind his shoulders, folded his arms and snorted: "You really think such a sentimental thing has any bearing on something as serious and complex as this?" But his retort fell on deaf ears as Thranduil smiled properly for the first time in a long time.
However Palandir was right when he'd said that the key was Thranduil shaking off Nenros' hold on him, though it was a far slower process than he'd imagined. Eventually, Thranduil began taking back his duties a little at a time, starting with the ones he preferred and those which were least stressful. Apart from a relapse when the Dwarves returned, earning the Dwarves a quiet hatred among those who knew what truly ailed the king, Thranduil succeeded in ignoring Nenros, even when – much later –he went down to the lower halls on his own. He saw Nenros from afar most days, watching him with an expression varying from sorrow to fury, but Nenros hardly ever spoke to him anymore. Though when Thranduil walked down the main stairs alone for the first time in months, Nenros accosted him.
"You can't ignore me forever!" He stated, "And when you're ready to see the truth again I'll be here."
"You are a lie," Thranduil stated, earning him confused glances from the Elves in earshot.
"I am no lie," Nenros retaliated, though as Thranduil walked past him he made no move to stop him, "I'm trying to help you but you're too weak to see that, or too scared. No matter! As I said, I'll be here waiting for you when you see reason!"
Thranduil kept walking, and after that it was far easier to ignore the Noldo, though the king still saw him in crowds or at the far end of deserted corridors. Nenros usually smiled now, though when Thranduil continued to ignore him his smile soured. As time passed, Thranduil stopped noticing him and presently he disappeared altogether. The final test came when Palandir returned to Lórien, though even then Nenros didn't reappear.
Galion beamed, swelling with pride, as he helped Thranduil dress for his first council meeting in almost half a year. His old gwador was back as he fussed over his hair and laughed at Galion's witty comments. When Galion placed Thranduil's crown on his head he felt as though he were crowning his king all over again.
"How do I look?" Thranduil asked, regarding his reflection with a critical eye.
"Beautiful," Galion replied as he smoothed down the shoulders of the king's outer robe, "simply beautiful."
"I just hope Legolas and Eruwest have filled me in well enough this past week for me not to be bombarded with new information," Thranduil said, half jokily, half genuinely fearful, as he turned to face Galion.
"Well, if you do start to feel strange again," Galion said as he handed Thranduil his staff, "sod convention and just get out of there."
Thranduil laughed as he took his staff and made for the door, "I am sure it will be fine, though I shall follow your advice if needs be." At the door he turned to Galion and smiled quietly, "Wish me luck."
"Good luck," Galion said, his expression mirroring Thranduil's. He stepped out into the corridor after Thranduil and watched him make his way to the stairs and be joined by Legolas half way down.
The smile never left his face, though he knew deep down that it was only a matter of time before the past few months happened all over again.
I meth
