Thranduil stood in front of a wall in his room. Looking at the strange red smears upon it, wondering how they might have gotten there. There was a draft, slight but noticeable. Someone had entered his chamber. Again.
"Why am I called king, when everyone seems to ignore my orders?" he growled, turning around to see who had dared to enter this time. As he looked upon the fair and perfect being who stood now in the middle of his destroyed room, something inside him shattered. He became aware of his own appearance. The clothes that were hanging in shreds on his scarred body, stained with blood and wine. The hair that was a tangled mess and partly full with clotted blood as well. All of that made him feel embarrassed beyond believe. It made him choke. He couldn't breathe and felt like his weakened body started to tremble. He couldn't stop it and then he realized something else.
His face! His scar! It was visible! He could see it in the other elf's eyes, the shock, the disgust, the curiosity.
Thranduil tried to collect his thoughts, to concentrate long enough on the spell that would conceal his scar again. To his dismay he couldn't. His thoughts behaved like butterflies, too fast, too unpredictable, too hard to catch. His head began to pound again, the dizziness returned. He leaned on the wall for support. Disgust and frustration bubbling up inside him. This was humiliating and Thranduil couldn't take it any longer. He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands and in doing so, opened up cuts that had barely healed. The pain made him hiss, but it also helped to transform all these paralyzing feelings into anger.
"Why are you here, Elrond?", he growled in a low threatening voice. "Just to stare at me? I didn't send for you and I most certainly did not allow you to enter my private chamber. So leave, now!"
"I won't leave, Thranduil. Your son, Legolas has send for me. I am here to help you."
"I do not require your help."
"Do you recall what has happened in this room? Why it looks the way it does? Do you remember how long you have locked yourself up in here? If you can answer these questions without lying, I will go."
Thranduil frowned, searching desperately for the answers inside his head. He let his eyes wander around the interior of his once beautiful room. All the destruction, the chaos, the stains...was that blood? And all the wine bottles? Did he drink them all? How long had he been in here?
The king realized that he couldn't answer one single question that Elrond had asked him. Not one! He couldn't even recall what day it was today. It made him feel disoriented and lost. He made a few hesitant steps towards Elrond, anxious about keeping what little dignity was left. When he stood right in front of the other elf he said:
"I do not have to give you any answers and now...LEAVE!" The last word he shouted and by digging his fingernails even deeper into his palms, he was able to muster enough anger to disguise the fear and doubt that would have been clearly visible otherwise.
Elrond simply stood there, unimpressed and took the kings hands into his own. He looked at the blood that was trickling down from the palms, then back into Thranduils eyes.
With a soft and soothing voice he said: "Stop that, please. You don't have to be strong now. It's just you and me in this room. No one else can see you."
The Peredhel saw that the carefully placed mask of anger on the kings face began to crack. A shudder went through Thranduils body and a single tear made its way down one cheek.
"I won't leave, Thranduil. I will stay", Elrond said and was surprised when the other elf seemed to lose all his strength at once and almost collapsed to the floor. The king staggered forward and Elrond was able to catch him before he fell.
And for a while the two elves just stood there in an embrace until Elrond heard a weak voice whispering next to his ear: "I am lost. I need your help."