There, within Thranduils room where the pale threads of moonlight filtered in through the eastern window Annatar was at last able to see what had been so diligently hidden from view and what Thranduil had wished the intruder had never laid eyes upon. For across the elf's left cheek there stood a gaping wound, scarcely held together by thin lines of tissue. The eye was milky and scarred - and it was then Annatar realized the elf was blind on that side. He could see the clench of muscles in Thranduils jaw - the burned holes acting as grisly windows onto the mechanics beneath the skin.

"You should not have looked." Thranduil spoke with a voice that for it's softness was flat and choked with sorrow - for he would have preferred that such a grievous wound stay hidden; yet, here it was revealed to a mere stranger whom he had only known a day. And his mind thought to all those who had seen the mark of the dragon before and had turned away from him in pity and fear.

Yet the maia before him had not moved and Thranduil was compelled to continue.

"The glamour upon it only works on those who have not seen the truth." He explained in the faintest of whispers. "Now you can never see me as I was - but always now as this maimed creature; as I am."

Cold evening loomed over them and in the quiet of the night no sound intruded. The household was still and forlorn and it seemed that only they still stirred. Long was that hush that fell between the maia and the elf. Here Annatars curiosity overcame his anger. Closely he looked at the wound and to his clear golden eyes all was revealed of the damage the dragon had wrought. And to first his disbelief, then revulsion he came to realize that the great burn had not healed, yet remained as sore and raw as it had been the very day it had been created - though that day be many years past.

And he spoke; "What healers have done this? For not all wounds of the Eldar can be healed, yet this should have been at the least covered!"

Thranduil now moved his head away and with deep sorrow and anger he breathed.

"The healers say-" Here his ferocity faltered and his vulnerability shone through, for he withdrew into himself. "-they say they have no power to undo it. For the dragons will still lives in the skin and so long as it remains so shall the wound. And the will of the dragon they have no power to remove."

"And how long have you suffered so?" Annatar asked as once again, circling around Thranduil, he took gentle hold of the uninjured side, even as he brushed back pale hair from the wound. Yet it was not pity or kindness that guided him; but a hunger for knowledge - as he had yet to see for himself the destruction wrought by the invisible flame and he wished to know what powers such fire possessed. For if possible he meant to recover the beast responsible having now begun to understand it's ability.

Thranduil, however; had no knowledge of Annatars secret thought and so answered heedless of what he may confess by mistake.

"I have borne this wound for many centuries. It has followed me since the host of Aman left for the West, and since my father Oropher led our people East. It has burned since the sinking of Beleriand and the fall of Thangorodrim - yes even since that very day, since the ending of the War of Wrath."

"You were there?" Annatar responded quickly, the faintest trace of worry in his voice. For a moment Thranduil hesitated in sudden apprehension. There was something wrong in the stance of the maia's body, a flash of sorrow mingled with hatred had passed through his eyes and sent prickles of fear racing down Thranduils spine. So for a moment he did not speak, but only stared back into the deeps of Annatars eyes. However; in a moment he realized that he could not deny it. For the truth, once spoken, cannot be unheard. So with what pride and resolution he could conjure in such a vulnerable state he spoke:

"Yes. I was there all those long years ago in the final war against Angband - yes, even to the field before the black gate; my father alone among the Teleri and I alone among the Sindar. I was clad in that same armor which I have brought here, the armour of Eöl. Though, the helm early in that battle I lost and so suffered terribly - for my head alone was uncovered."

Once more the silence of the night enveloped them; yet they stood as statues in the moonlight that filled the small room. Now, Annatar was secretly enraged by this news and he seethed with malice in his heart - for he had never forgotten the loss of Angband nor would he forgive any who had assailed it. It was then that a flicker of memory lit within his mind. And they were memories of that terrible last battle of the forces of Melkor against the army of Aman. Among them was one that he had dismissed many centuries ago as a curiosity of little consequence, yet now it shone brightly in his mind with all of the terrible implications it heralded. And it was a vision of an elf in black armour, astride a black warg in it's fury.

Then he knew to whom he spoke and knew also the elven-princes story to be true; for they had seen one another on that field of battle. Panic for a moment came upon Annatar; for if the elf remembered him in turn then his plans may well be utterly undone. And choices warred within him until one option clearer and more fell than the rest settled proudly in his mind. Annatar now knew what to do; and if he were successful than what might have been a terrible misfortune for him could well turn out to be an unexpected boon.

Gently and with all the tenderness Annatar could muster while trying to conceal such dark thoughts, he lightly touched the edges of that open wound. Thranduil moved slightly in his grasp, his one clear eye focusing intently on the maia's face, for he was still unsure of what to expect.

And with soft, deceptive sweetness Annatar spoke; "Where elven healers may not venture; I may yet be of service. For among the maia I am counted and my abilities are terrible and strange to the Eldar and beyond their understanding. If you would allow it I may be able to heal this injury Thranduil. Yet -"

Here he paused, as if hesitant to speak more. But his caution was a ruse which the prince unwillingly stumbled headlong into - for the hope rekindled of being whole once again drove all sense of caution from his weary mind.

"Please! If there is a way to no longer endure this wretched pain I will take it! For these many hundred years have I suffered from pain while waking and terror in the night; but the lives of elves are long and their years cannot be counted. Must I suffer until the ending of the world?"

Then Annatars black heart filled with glee for his bait had worked well beyond his hope. Still, his face remained passive and his demeanor gentle and only the malicious glint in his eyes would have betrayed his mind had Thranduil heeded that warning.

Annatar whispered: "You have suffered long enough indeed my young prince! Now is a time for healing. For are we not now in a long peace? Yet; as I said, the powers of the Ainur are great and terrible to the Children of Ilúvater. I bid you only this one request; that you do not speak of what is done here, for it is not my hope to frighten but to help."

Thranduil assured him: "Not one word shall I breathe of it - if only you would lift this burden!"

"Then let this be my gift to you Thranduil, that you be whole in body. Still-"

And here he drew the snare close; " - to be whole in body is one thing, in spirit another. What good is it to soothe the flesh if the Fëa remains so...fragile. If you would but trust me one step further - to allow me to simply glimpse your innermost mind and see into these powerful memories you hold and absolve them. For if I had to guess the night only holds bitter sorrow where no rest can be found and even Irmo's power may not avail you."

Now Thranduil much desired to be healed and this perhaps overrode his natural caution to such an extent that he took momentary leave of his senses - but even so he still did not fully trust Annatar even at that moment.

But. He thought bitterly. Will I ever have this chance again?

Though aloud he spoke; "I must confess that I know little of you, or of the maia in general. But I do believe that you possess this power. You may then see a little into my mind but only until such time as I deem it otherwise; and my word will be absolute in this."

Annatar smiled, seeming wise and benevolent in the fading moonlight. "Of course."

Then he motioned towards a low couch at the corner of the room, tucked against a rose hued wall. "It is wise for you to seat yourself for both of these cures."

And as Annatar spoke he moved toward a low table beside the door and found there a small lantern which he quickly lit with his mastery of flame. And light and shadow began to dance across the room in golden tones. Where they reached the pink-tinged walls they turned an infernal russet shade that sent a twist of worry through Thranduils being; for he had the suspicion that his choice was unwise. But unwise though it may be it was a gamble he felt needed to be taken - for he might only have one chance to be whole once more - or else spend all of Arda's long life in agony and sorrow. So Thranduil moved to take a seat upon the couch. Once there he laid the embroidered silken jacket aside, leaving a richly embroidered tunic and breeches shimmering in both the light of candles and moon as they vied with one another. As he passed by the couch Annatar did likewise, yet his jacket came to rest on the edge of the bed and glimmered like liquid fire in the light. The shadows of the room seemed long and were darker than pitch in the clear night as Annatar moved to the window as quiet as a wraith, his hair glinting reddish gold in the soft blue-tinged illumination of the moon even as he drew the shutters closed and secured the latch, leaving only the ruddy tones of lit candles as their sole source of light.

"Young prince? Thranduil, I must warn you. Both of these cures will hurt - are you prepared for that?"

Thranduil nodded, though the slight playfulness with which those words were spoken troubled him and his stomach twisted with apprehension. And as if sensing this internal turmoil and reveling in it the maia moved with infuriating slowness and insufferable grace. First he tightly shuttered all of the rooms windows, barring even so much as a ray of pure light or the barest hint of stars. Then he returned to the door and after a quick glance outside shut it again and turned the lock. Then, with a sudden turn he once again faced the low couch and the barest hint of a crooked grin appeared upon his face.

"So. This will be an operation of utmost delicacy. Can you promise to cooperate?"

"Yes." Answered Thranduil, his heart fluttering nervously with every step Annatar made toward him.

"Completely?"

And Thranduil then felt indignation rise within him again and his eyes flashed in the dark.

"Yes." He answered resolutely, and with this Annatar seemed pleased. So as the maia took a seat beside him on the couch Thranduil tried his best to appear as one who is calm and collected in all his thoughts; though within he shivered with dread. A soft yet hauntingly cruel smile was upon Annatars face as he raised his hands, the left cradling Thranduils uninjured chin to hold the elf in a firm grasp. The other he placed near the wound, yet not quite touching it. And where Thranduil had expected to find the pressure of cool fingers he instead felt the radiating of intense heat, as if a brand were only inches from the burned flesh. He gasped then with surprise and would have jumped had he not been held so firmly in Annatars grasp.

"Two little things you must do." Annatar murmured sweetly, eyes glowing like dark flames. "Do not move..and do not scream."

At the touch of that fierce spirit the charged energy burned across Thranduils skin like fire, the radiant will of the Ainu scalded wherever it lingered and quickly were Thranduils assurances of compliance forgotten. For only a few moments he held fast before his mind was overrun with pain and fear. Deep within the reaches of his mind echoed the furious bellows of a dragon in its death throes and his blood pulsed with the fury of draconic force. And as Annatars will sought the dragons venom out ever deeper it delved into Thranduils mind seeking refuge; rending and destroying as it went. Yet fire pursued it until Thranduil felt as if his very core had burst into flames that spread through every vein, every muscle, down to the smallest tissue.

Thranduil moved, twisting to his left in a desperate attempt to remove himself from the agony now racing through his blood - for the burn of fire was fanned through every limb by his wildly pounding heart. Annatar was quick as lighting and with ruthlessness slammed the elf backwards again. He pinned him there by the virtue of his own weight and his free hand pressed against Thranduils throat so tightly that only the smallest gasps could escape. Frantic with fear Thranduil clawed at the choking hand and twisted himself desperately - but to no avail.

Thus it was that Annatar spoke to him; "You are anything but quiet or compliant, prince. I had thought restraint your forte yet you show little at the moment. Every movement makes your healing more difficult - stay still!"

Then Annatar shifted and removed his hand from Thranduils throat. After a wheezing gasp Thranduil once more cried out in pain, but only an instant passed before a great weight fell on this throat and the air was cut off. His panicked struggling was now restrained by the full strength of the maia. Yet even amid his thrashing the prince felt the very musculature of his face contort, growing and twisting unnaturally as charred flesh was filled with new life and pulled back into it's rightful place. Then it was that a final surge of power flared through Thranduil and only barely was Annatar able to stifle that cry - yet even as the pain crescendoed within the fibers of his being the light that had long been lost returned to his blind eye and the unfamiliar sensation of a hand upon skin could now be fully felt upon his left cheek.

It was only just before Thranduil thought he might lose consciousness that he was finally released. Now without Annatar restraining him he fell to the side, curling in on himself even as he grasped at his face. Coughing gasps from his bruised throat and echoed hollowly in the quiet room. But where he had for many years felt the gaping maw of that terrible wound he now felt flesh and bone and soft skin without mark or blemish. And he was all at once overjoyed and forgot his pain and grief and Thranduil turned to Annatar full of thankfulness and praise - for he had thought all hope of recovery lost. Yet Annatars gaze gave him pause, for the glower in those golden eyes spoke not of relief - as a healer who has served a patient in need - but of one who has tested another and found them sorely lacking. And from where he now stood Annatar spoke: "So much fuss over so small a wound."

And Thranduil for a moment was ashamed, but it was only for that moment before indignation rose within him and he replied;

"Is it nothing to you then to endure fire, as a maia? Or perhaps you deem you would have better endured such pain? Though how you guess that I can not say, for I know not the ways of Valinor."

"It is long since I have fared in Valinor." Annatar replied, and for all the heat of his heart his words were cold as ice. "And know you this Thranduil, that even the maia endure pain - and can endure more than any elf could. Yet many elves have endured pain beyond yours with less complaint!"

And this time Thranduil fell into an abashed and chagrined silence. It was only when a glass was offered to him that he looked up once more at Annatar. Yet now the maia seemed contrite.

"However; you are here for healing, not to be chided - for you are a prince and as such I do not doubt that if faced with true peril you would remain steadfast though the cost to you be great. You did engage a dragon in single combat after all - and before Angband no less!"

Now Thranduil took the glass filled with some odd golden draught. "Is this mead? If so then I cannot drink it; nor wine for the alcohol burns me."

Annatar with one hand lightly pinched Thranduils reformed cheek. "Yet that is a problem no longer - drink."

This Thranduil did, the first taste of wine he had in many centuries and one he found to be intensely sweet and a great delight. The mead was slightly warmed- for autumn was coming on - and just a hint of fresh honey had been added to balance it. "And where did this come from?"

In the candlelight Annatar laughed, then pointed back toward a tall shelf with wooden doors against the far wall. "The cabinet is filled with wine and some imperishable foodstuffs, for the convenience of guests when the stores are closed and the feasting hall empty."

"Ah...and so our Lord Celebrimbor has thought even of that?" Thranduil mused with a smile, much relieved after his harrowing ordeal. "Well I am glad for it. And glad that this is over."

When Thranduil had finished two glasses and had quite forgotten his pain amid lively chatter with Annatar the maia spoke again.

"And now it comes to it..." He spoke softly, setting down his own empty glass. "There is yet more to be done Thranduil. Now I need you to think - if you are ready - of what the dragon spoke to you that day."

It was with great resignation that the prince tried to recall the events of that long ago battle.

"It...tried first to tell me that it would have me taken before the Iron Vala - bauglir. But I resisted with my mind and will. Then the beast sought to convince me that I had already been a thrall in his service - a thing I never was! But the stories changed so much they became tangled and hard to follow, and the memory is blurred in my mind."

"Trying on lies to see what fits." Annatar thought aloud, loosening the buttons at his throat. "And ultimately what lie did it use to ensnare you?"

Here Thranduil grew quiet, but at length the said;

"I was there with my father in Gondolin...the night it was besieged. I was charged with going to the hidden cleft to warn those there of the trap of the dark lord. Yet such were the fumes and heat of that place due to the dragons that I collapsed and fell into a long sleep. When I finally awoke under a pile of fallen stones I made my way into the forest - nearly witless. Long I wandered in those woods until at last I came back to the stone house of Eöl that I had taken over since his disappearance. It was there that the dragon sought to deceive me - by saying that instead of wandering the woods that I had been taken captive for many years and only escaped at the last."

And Annatar nodded with thought, then turned to Thranduil. "Allow me then to look upon your mind and see what I can mend of this dragons work. For if I had to guess the main cause of your sleepless nights is due to the false memories this dragon in it's haste left behind in your mind."

Thranduil did not wish to undergo yet more pain that night, but in the end he agreed for he sake of ending this torment once and for all. And so Annatar took hold of him, placing one hand on either side of his head. And he told him; "Think back...to Gondolin at it's ending and the lie the dragon left behind."

All at once it seemed that the room fell away and Thranduil slipped back into the troubled past. He was deep in memory, in a waking dream that felt as if he were re-living the wretched past. Yet all was blurred and hazy as if seen through fog at a great distance where only dim shapes could be seen and all was muffled and muted and uncertain.

And into these memories Annatars voice issued.

'It seems that the dragon in it's haste has left the ghosts of memories, for this is very poor spellcraft.'

Thranduil felt no comfort in this even as he was jostled by orcs and dragged for what seemed like many miles. Yet the voices were dull in his ears and sounded flat and harsh and no scenery could be discerned.

'where is it then that you are being taken?'

And Thranduil thought back; To Angband, or so the dragon told me.

And here a strange feeling rippled through the elf's mind, as if ripples were created in a still pond and there was a mirth in Annatars voice as it echoed in the reaches of Thranduils thought.

'To Angband? And how is that possible then? For you know not what it looks like. Though this 'memory' is so bare and hazy that you could not tell even if the dragon itself were before you - I think I can work to fix this.'

There loomed something in front of Thranduil and he could sense it was the Black Gate of the Hells of Iron, unclear in his sight though they were. Darkness pressed in around him as he was ushered through. Rough hands pushed him forward, scraping unpleasantly off his armor as he passed. And he could feel himself being struck - but it all happened with the distant quality of a nightmare half-forgotten.

Then suddenly the walls fell away and a hush descended. And even Annatar in his mind went silent. But then the ripples stirred in his mind again, even as Thranduil sought to fight back.

'Just a moment more-' Annatar's voice echoed.

The solid blow of an orcish fist hitting his already bruised face jolted Thranduil from his thoughts, for the pain was startlingly real. Loud and clear in his ears echoed laughter in voices as sharp and cruel as glass, uttering harsh syllables in a language he loathed from the depths of his being.

Now he could feel the vice-like grip upon his arms as the servant of evil tried to hold him at bay. Eyes wide in the torchlight, Thranduil looked around in fear. The faces were now revealed in all their horrifying clarity - every scar and jagged tooth and dart of glowing yellow eyes. Every disdainful sneer as they drove him onward with taunts in mangled elvish was plain as day. And the reek of the orcs filled his nose above the stench of blood and filth from the battlefield.

'Much better.' Annatar purred. 'now we may see what memories this dragon has crafted for you.'

Better? Thranduil thought bitterly, 'things must seem most comfortable where you are.'

He was half pushed, half dragged through an archway into a hall with a high vaulted ceiling set upon massive columns of black basalt polished and adorned with spikes and tracings of finely wrought iron in the likeness of all the creatures of darkness. Upon the ceiling itself were banners smeared with blood and covered in dust - the trophies of battles won through the long ages and a gentle movement of air stirred the torn banners, though it did not move the heavy chains draped like webs below the captured arms.

But before he could gain a closer look he was driven down, his knees striking the polished stone floors with painful force. His head was bowed but as he began to look up he heard the sound of footsteps on the hard surface of the chamber-floor. Ahead a great figure approached and even as he watched the movement of those feet he saw how at first when one was placed tendrils of frost curled across the gleaming black surface of the floor, yet a moment later it was displaced with burning heat and with each step this was repeated - as if fire and ice traded places with alarming ease.

Slowly, Thranduil lifted his head, raising his eyes to look upon the being who approached though deep in his chest his heart had begun to race with fear and his limbs shook.

And as he looked up he saw the stern, yet noble face framed by long dark hair and glinting eyes that burned like embers. Clad the towering dark figure was in deepest sable embroidered with utmost care in scripts of power and domination so that he appeared as a ominous as a thundercloud above the young elf.

Annatar I had given my permission for this errand - now I revoke it! Take me back to the waking world!

'My prince, this is the only path to recovery that may be offered-'

'I care not! Then I will suffer!'

'You will do that no matter what you choose now...yet this will only be the once. Is this not better?' He cooed.

And Thranduil shivered to look into the cold eyes of Melkor, Lord of Angband at the height of his power and dominion.

'No...this is much, much worse...'

Authors note:

Annatar: Ready for round two?

Thranduil: WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!

Annatar: Such drama.

Thranduil: *deep breath* AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH-

Annatar: Okay that's enough

Thranduil: *screaming continues*

Annatar: OMG STAHP!

*meanwhile*

Celebrimbor: Where is everyone...I'm kinda lonely...

Thanks for Reading!