Thranduil tenderly rubbed at his good eye and shifted his glance from the ancient textbook in his lap to the tiny swallow that had alighted outside his window. In his drive to learn and perfect Aiwendil's glamour spell Hall Thurin as soon as possible, Thranduil had spent nearly every waking hour for the past week alternatively studying the spell book Aiwendil had lent him and staring at his most recent portrait of himself. The mechanics and instructions for how to effectively cast the glamour were all held in the book which Thranduil knew back to front by this point; the portrait of himself also played a great role for Hall Thurin called for intricacy, precision and attention to detail. If the glamour was to be at all convincing and successful not only would Thranduil need to master the concentration and magical power Hall Thurin required but he'd also need to know every single tiny little detail in regards to his face.

And so, the blonde King had spent hours staring at the portrait that had been done only the previous winter careful to take note of every single aspect of his face. The fullness of his eyebrows, the exact shade of his icy blue eyes, the way his nose was ever so slightly upturned at the tip, his strong, proud jawline and the fullness of his lower lip were all details Thranduil could now call to his mind's eye effortlessly.

He felt ready – as ready as he ever would be to put the spell into practice – there was nothing further for him to study or learn; he needed the practical experience now. And for that he needed to find a way to convince Calelon to let him start practising. The Elven King pursed his lips, he could see no real reason for Calelon to deny him; a mere hour ago as they had gone through the daily routine of administering his painkiller and checking on and tending Thranduil's wounds the royal healer had stated how pleased he was with the progress made thus far. His open wounds and burns had healed significantly – the smallest of them now completely closed and scabbed over whilst all his bruising had faded into nothing. The sight in his right eye was again as sharp as he ever remembered it and Thranduil could feel that his magic store was greatly replenished if not yet fully restored.

Yes, the King decided as he turned from his small break in watching the swallow to again stare at his portrait, he would ask Calelon to allow him to begin to practise the glamour in its entirety as of today.

Thranduil glanced up then as his door opened to reveal Calelon himself – as if summoned by Thranduil's thought's and the blonde smiled at the healer with intent.

Calelon looked back warily, "Why do you smile so at me Aran-nin? I would have thought that by now the novelty of being able to see my handsome face once again would have worn off."

Thranduil almost rolled his eye but remembered in time that that action still hurt and settled for clucking his tongue at his healer instead. "Such cheek Calelon. Can I not simply be happy to see you?"

Calelon huffed, "No one is ever pleased to see a healer – least of all you. I know you want something from me but whatever that might be you can just hold off on asking for now and have this first." With that Calelon removed the spell book from the King's lap and instead replaced it with a silver tray laden with a glass of his usual blended fruit drink and a plate of scrambled eggs. "Today we start you on solid food again; I feel it is only right – you are making great progress in your healing and for that to continue you will require appropriate sustenance."

Thranduil looked down at the plate of eggs blankly. Despite how much time had passed nausea still plagued him from time to time and he simply seemed to have lost all interest in food. He had exactly zero appetite.

"That is a rather large plate of eggs."

"Oh please Aran-nin, don't start fussing already, there is not that much there and I know for a fact prior to this you used to eat three times that amount of eggs as a mere side dish in your breakfast. So please will you just eat this? It has been done exactly as you like with plenty of butter and herbs."

Thranduil scowled and sighed heavily bur ere he could get out any further words of protest Calelon held up a hand.

"If you eat all of the eggs, I will grant you permission to begin with practising Hall Thurin." Calelon flashed a devious smile, "That is what you wanted to ask me when I came in is it not?"

Thranduil glared for a moment at the triumphant healer but said nothing and reached for his fork. He was somewhat clumsy as he did so due to his bandaged hands but also the fork was ever so slightly off from where Thranduil had expected it to be. He fared no better with the eggs – Thranduil crashed the fork harshly into the plate having expected the eggs to be further from him than they actually were and his first bite was entirely misjudged and hit his bandaged chin before it was clumsily shoved into his mouth.

Thranduil put a lot more concentration into exactly where he was placing his fork the second time round but he was still just off and the loud clank of metal hitting porcelain filled the room. Thranduil grit his teeth and instead eyed the mouthful he had managed to pick up on his fork; he brought it to his lips slowly, carefully but still managed to just graze his bottom lip rather than meeting his open mouth directly and he felt heat climb up his cheeks embarrassed at how clumsy he was with so simple a task.

"Do not fret Aran-nin," Calelon soothed as if able to sense the Elven King's embarrassment. "Your depth perception is greatly lacking just now – you will get used to it in time and be able to compensate and adjust but as with all things it will be difficult at first."

Thranduil ate a few more clumsy spoonful's getting more and more irritated with each clank of the fork on the plate and every small crumb of egg that missed his mouth. There were so many small crumbs of egg on the tray and his blankets from where he had missed his mouth and the King felt embarrassment join his irritation. He should be able to do this – it was an easy task – and more that he was concentrating so hard on getting it right that he was giving himself a headache due to the eye strain brought on by his intense focus on the task.

When another tiny bit off egg fell off his fork as a result of him not quite getting his mouth yet again Thranduil tossed the utensil down onto the tray with a loud metallic clank. "This is embarrassing."

"As I said Aran-nin worry not – it will come, this is only your first attempt at using cutlery since you lost half your sight. It was bound to be tricky."

"Eggs Calelon – it's just bloody eggs and I cannot eat them without spilling half over me like some elfling child," Thranduil glared down at the tray to cover up the discouragement he felt. "What's worse I've a headache now from concentrating so bloody hard on the stupid eggs only to have them end up covering me anyways."

Calelon frowned, "You are hardly covered Aran-nin, you should not beat yourself up so. As for the headache I'm afraid that will become commonplace for you for the next few weeks as you adjust; there will be some eyestrain to begin with hence the headaches and you may find that you also get some neck pain due to how much more you will have to turn your head to see things toward your left." The healer placed a consoling hand upon the blonde before him, "It will get worse before it gets better – but it will get better – and you are an elf, it will get better fairly quickly but you must endure for now."

Calelon motioned to the tray, "Please finish the eggs you are nearly there and both the sustenance and the practice with cutlery is good for you. See it as a form of mild rehab in preparation for the more difficult things to come."

Thranduil did not feel any more heartened by what Calelon had to say – for if so seemingly simple a task had proved this frustrating he did not want to think how aggravating it would be when it came time for him to take to walking, climbing stairs and using his weapons again. With a small resigned sigh the blonde picked up his fork from where it had been rather petulantly tossed and scooped up another forkful; he did want to start on practising the glamour today and finishing the meal was the condition Calelon had set before him.

Also, never let it be said that Thranduil had been defeated by so modest a thing as eggs.

~o~

"Suilad Oropherion."

"Ah, ah yes – greetings Thranduil."

The brown wizard beamed at Thranduil and the Elf King smiled back at both his Istari companions as Calelon showed them in – it was at long last time to begin work on practising and perfecting this glamour. Thranduil was more than ready to get his life and his throne back and getting Hall Thurin nailed down would go a long way toward those goals.

"Mae govannen to you both. I trust Calelon has informed you of why I've summoned you? Well…at least I summoned Aiwendil," Thranduil gave a playful smirk toward the grey wizard, "I do not know why you have troubled yourself to come Mithrandir. Do you not have important Istar related things to meddle in?"

"Silence Oropherion and focus on learning your spell lest I cast a spell and make you silent." There was no heat in the threat though and Gandalf's eyes shone with merriment at the King's ever improved state.

Thranduil smirked a little more before he turned his full attention toward Radagast. "I have studied both Hall Thurin and my face an excessive amount. I feel ready to try to bring it all together now; as you have extensive experience in wielding this glamour, I'd appreciate it if you would oversee my attempts at it."

"Of course Thranduil, of course – Calelon said it was fine and, and don't worry Thranduil. You'll do it just fine – I'm sure, I'm sure. A little tricky at first perhaps but you'll do it just fine, yes, yes, yes."

Thranduil smiled at Aiwendil's confidence in him and willed away his nerves as he hoped said confidence would be justified. He could feel all eyes on him as Calelon gently begun to unwrap the bandages from his face before he turned and brought Thranduil a small ornate standing mirror. The blonde took it with hands that shook ever so slightly and peered into the looking glass. It was still quite the shock to see just what a mess his face had become.

He resolutely ignored his cloudy blinded eye and instead studied the gaping hole that spanned from just under said eye all the way down to his jaw - it was just as hideously gruesome as it had been the first time Calelon had let him look upon his ruined face. The burnt, torn red muscle and exposed pink stringy sinew made Thranduil's stomach roil slightly if he studied them too closely; if he could not stand the look of his own face what chance then anyone else? Hall Thurin had to work, he had to master it. There was no other way. He'd never be able to take back his rule otherwise.

Thranduil took a deep breath in and out to calm himself and clear his mind. He forced back all his concerns over his face and the future. It was time to put into practise all that he had spent the past week painstakingly learning. He concentrated first on drawing forth his magical power before he focused and centred it on his face. Then he willed the magic he could feel pooling under and skimming over his face to reflect the image he cast in his mind's eye of his face as it should be – a study in typical elven beauty.

Thranduil closed his eyes as he felt a surge and pull on his magic before he opened them again and dared to look at himself in the mirror.

The reflection that looked back at him was not what Thranduil had hoped for and to be quite frank he felt just as horrified with the glamour reflection as he did with his own real face; for though he'd managed to conjure up the glamour to cover up the hole in his cheek it was nowhere near as precise as it needed to be. The result looked as though his face was slowly melting off.

The blonde was snapped out of his horrified gaze by Gandalf's soft chuckles. "Oh Valar Oropherion you are a picture – I suppose that is how you would have looked had you not been rescued from the flames in good time."

Thranduil was in no laughing mood, "Do you find my suffering amusing Mithrandir?" The King's voice was dangerously soft and laced with poison but the grey wizard was unconcerned.

"I'm sorry, but you do look funny – don't be so sensitive. Did you truly expect to get it perfect on your very first try?" Gandalf continued to smile.

Thranduil did not deign to answer him but instead let the glamour drop and turned toward the brown wizard in puzzlement. "Where did I go wrong Aiwendil?"

"Not enough power Thranduil," Radagast shuffled closer to the King. "You need to really push your magic into the spell. It is a powerful one, remember, very powerful indeed Thranduil. Much more magic is needed. You can do it – try it, try again."

Radagast made an encouraging gesture with his hand and with one last venomous glare thrown in Gandalf's direction Thranduil heaved another deep breath and tried again. He had held back on the amount of magic he brought forth the first-time round – keeping some of his recovering store back – and he was a little disconcerted that he'd need still more. He had thought what he'd used had been plenty; it was certainly more magic than he'd ever put into any spell before. Still, determined to succeed Thranduil pulled up nearly all the magic he had within him and again focused and centred it on his face before he willed the glamour into place.

Before he'd even glanced in the mirror – the small huff of breath that left Gandalf (which Thranduil was under no illusion was a badly hidden laugh) let him know he hadn't been successful this time either. Thoroughly ignoring the grey wizard the King looked into the mirror for himself. The image reflected back was a lot clearer than his first attempt and thankfully did not look anything like melting flesh. However, it was far from perfect; the areas Thranduil had paid such careful attention to in his study of his portrait were the ones that were reflected perfectly by the glamour – his eyebrows, the blue of his eyes, the tip of his nose, the strength of his jaw and his full lower lip. As for the rest of his face there was nothing there at all and combined it made him look very odd indeed. He could perhaps appreciate why Mithrandir had stifled a laugh but he'd be damned if he let the Istar know that.

Thranduil dropped the glamour again and arched an enquiring eyebrow at Radagast but it was Calelon who had been keenly and silently spectating all the while who spoke up first.

"I think because you have put so much into the study of the finer details of your face that is what you have ended up concentrating the glamour upon. Those details are important but you need to remember to include the rest of your face too." The healer swivelled to face Radagast, "Am I correct?"

The brown wizard hummed his agreement, "Correct Calelon. Exactly that. You must remember the whole image you want to create and then Hall Thurin will project that perfectly." He nodded excitedly brown hat flopping around and dangerously close to falling off altogether, "You are close Thranduil so close. Try again."

The King nodded at the advice he'd been given and tried again determined.

The snort of laughter Gandalf gave made Thranduil's eyebrow twitch in irritation. He looked in the mirror to see that somehow, he had managed to do the exact opposite of what he'd just done with the glamour. This time instead of the finer points of his face being reflected in great detail they were fuzzy if not altogether absent whilst the rest of his face was perfectly reflected. The look was frighteningly comical and as Thranduil again dropped the glamour he could not help but let his lips curl upwards in a slight smile. If he did not laugh, he'd cry and that was definitely not an option.

The King's next attempt at the glamour saw him manage to reflect his face in its entirety that time – the only issue being it appeared slightly blurred – as though a fine painting that had been moved and smudged ere it had time to dry.

Thranduil did not wait for any correction nor comment upon the attempt and launched straight into trying the glamour again. He was getting the hang of it he reckoned, despite what his attempts had looked like thus far. He had learned now how much magical power to put forth (which was a truly disconcerting amount if Thranduil were honest with himself) and he was learning how to better focus his mind on what he wanted Hall Thurin to reflect.

His renewed attempt was the best by far. Thranduil's face was reflected clearly – all details sparkling in their perfection – there was only one small problem. It was as though someone had drawn an invisible line down the middle of the Elven King's face and the right side of his face hung slightly lower down than the left which was positioned exactly where it should be. The lop-sided effect had even Calelon sniggering softly to himself and Thranduil shook his head both amused and slightly exasperated.

He wanted to get the glamour right at some point today but the longer he continued with his mistakes the more he feared he'd not be able to achieve that goal. For the sheer magical power needed to cast Hall Thurin was so much more than Thranduil had expected to put forth and he was really beginning to feel the draining effects of using such vast quantities of magic when not at his strongest. And as much as he dearly wanted to get the glamour right at least just the once he was really beginning to flag and Calelon with his hawk sharp eyes would soon be bound to notice and put a stop to the practise session for the day.

Thranduil carefully concealed any sign of weariness and turned toward his audience, "What did I do wrong that time?"

"Not very much – you were almost perfect then – it was very good, very good indeed," Radagast studied the blonde King for a moment his head tilted like a bird. "Tell me Thranduil are you casting the spell over your entire face or just the left? I think your face went funny that time as you put more concentration and more power into one side of your face than the other."

Thranduil blinked in surprise at the question, "I…I have been casting it over my entire face…I must admit I did not think to cast it only on the left side of my face."

Gandalf snorted, "Why on earth have you been doing that? Tis only the left side of your face that is harmed. Are you that vain Oropherion?"

Thranduil glared at the grey wizard but before one of their famed verbal spats could get going Radagst intervened with a reprimand for his fellow Istar and a smile for the Elf King. "Oh, hush Gandalf. Try just the left Thranduil – you'll use less magic that way too. Try again doing exactly as you just did, you'll get it perfect for sure this time. Yes, perfect for sure."

Thranduil held back a sigh at the brown wizard's enthusiasm and hoped he would be able to pull it off this time. He was tiring rapidly and probably had only another two or three attempts left to him before he'd no longer be able to hide his exhaustion from Calelon.

The Elven King concentrated once more and cast Hall Thurin this time focussing solely on the left side of his face before he glanced down into the mirror upon his lap and smiled.

It had worked.

At long, long last Thranduil had managed to cast the glamour perfectly and the face he was still used to seeing – his face as it should be – was the one reflected up at him.

"I did it." Thranduil could not help his beaming smile nor the deep sense of pride he felt at mastering the difficult spell.

"Oh very good Thranduil, very good I knew you'd get it, I knew it."

"Well done Oropherion, very well done indeed."

"You've done a marvellous job Aran-nin, I'm so pleased for you."

Thranduil smiled at the praise before he frowned as without his conscious command the glamour loosened and faded away. He cast the spell again and the glamour again appeared perfectly and the blonde studied his masked face from all angles marvelling at the wonder that was Hall Thurin. Yet less than two minutes later the glamour again fell without Thranduil's express command. The King immediately tried to cast the spell again but Calelon's arm on his gave Thranduil pause.

"It falls because you are tired are you not? You've been at this all morning and I can tell the use of such a vast amount of power has drained you Aran-nin."

Thranduil sighed; Calelon as expected had seen through his bravado to how utterly drained he really was.

"I am somewhat tired," Thranduil allowed, "but I'd like to practise just a bit more. I have only just got the glamour right these past two times but I haven't been able to hold it up for very long."

"Nor are you likely to if you are as exhausted as you appear to my eyes." Calelon eyed the King shrewdly.

"I am well enough Calelon. Let me practise for at least an hour more and then you may have your way with me and command me to rest or whatever else you like. I just want to be able to get the glamour right and hold it up for a sustained period of time."

Calelon folded his arms face a picture of sternness, "You'll only frustrate yourself Aran-nin. The glamour will continue to fall as you've likely exhausted your magic stores by now. You'll not be able to hold it up for any sustained period of time – not now. Am I not correct Aiwendil?"

The brown wizard looked at his royal friend shyly, "Ah…that is correct Thranduil…if you are tired or your magic exhausted then the spell…it will not work."

Thranduil scowled, "How can I combat that?"

Calelon butt in immediately, "By agreeing now to take a rest so you can gather yourself and your magic again and also by having something to eat to further aide in your recovery of your full magical power."

Thranduil shook his head pityingly at Calelon, "Your attempts at bribery need a lot of work."

Calelon shrugged unconcerned, "Regardless, what I say stands; you cannot hold the glamour in its perfected form for more than a few minutes at best as you lack the sufficient power to do so at present. Only rest and proper nutrition will see you heal and regain your full magical power. Only then will you be able to truly have the full power of Hall Thurin at your command Aran-nin."

"Hmm…I don't know Calelon," murmured Gandalf as the wizard shifted slightly in his seat. "Even once Thranduil is back to full health this glamour will take up a rather large amount of his magic store. As I've suggested before would it not be more prudent to have a magical ring cast? Then he need not be conscious of holding up the glamour nor constantly expend the energy needed to keep it in place. It would be most unfortunate if the glamour were to slip at some inopportune time."

"I do not want to discuss that option again Mithrandir. I would rather learn and strengthen myself to uphold this glamour under my own power. Magic is like a muscle and magic stores can be expanded upon as well you know; I did not have even half the magic that I possess now when I first started to learn how to deal in it." Thranduil arched an eyebrow at Gandalf, "Or is it simply that you do not think me capable?"

"Save me from the pride of elves and their foolish Kings. I said nor suggested no such thing. I simply wish to make things easier for you. A magic ring would help you greatly. Sure it is good that you learn to do the glamour and uphold it yourself for that is a skill that may become a necessity at points but to have a ring uphold it for you otherwise would be only logical and for the best. Think you Oropherion that Radagast keeps his home hidden from the Enemy and his minions by keeping Hall Thurin cast over his abode continually using his mind alone? Nay, he has had a stone imbued with the properties of the spell and that keeps it in place for him. Is that not so mellon?"

Radagast nodded his affirmation, "Yes, it is so Gandalf. But if Thranduil does not want to use a ring…"

"But nothing," Gandalf interrupted with a harrumph, "If use of a magical object to uphold Hall Thurin is good enough for one of the Istar why then is it not good enough for an elf?"

"I did not say I am too good for a magical ring, I simply said I do not want one! And it would do you well to remember Mithrandir that this elf is King here and can have you thrown into the dungeons should you not watch your tone and tongue."

"Why must you be so stubborn and prideful? Just as your Adar for all the good it did him. What if you ever have need of putting great amounts of your magic to use elsewhere? What will you do then? If you had a ring to uphold the glamour for you that would not be an issue." Gandalf was unrepentant in his opinion.

"Should ever such a situation arise I will cross that bridge and deal with it then." Thranduil's voice was ice cold as he fought back his ire at Gandalf's blasé mention of his Adar, "And I will warn you but once Mithrandir – make mention of my Adar again and I will summon the dungeon guards."

Calelon clapped his hands loudly then ere the grey wizard said something that they would all regret. "Right that is enough for today. Aiwendil I thank you for your time with Aran-nin today and Mithrandir with all due respect you are upsetting my patient now; I think it best if King Thranduil ate something and got some rest now. I do not mean to seem ungrateful and throw you both out after all you have done for us but I think it is best you leave for today."

"Ah yes, of course – novaer Thranduil. I am glad you were able to practise Hall Thurin with success today."

"Le fael Aiwendil I am in your debt. Until the 'morrow - navaer."

"Yes, yes, yes." Radagast shrugged off the Elven King's thanks embarrassed and hustled out the door anxious to check in with his rabbits.

Gandalf was not far behind him; the wizard nodded to Calelon before he fixed Thranduil with a look. "Think on the ring Oropherion."

Thranduil resisted the temptation to throw the very heavy mirror he still held at the insufferable Istar and instead settled for a silent death glare.

Calelon chuckled as he shut the door behind the two. "I must say I am glad to see you have so much of your spirit back Aran-nin but you ought not to pay too much attention to Mithrandir's antics – he means well enough."

"Mithrandir is a meddler," Thranduil sniffed with an air of finality.

"That may be but at least he is a meddler with a heart of love for you. Now," Calelon set a tray filled with bandages and medicine on Thranduil's bedside table. "Let us get you bandaged back up then I shall send for some lunch. After that I shall leave you in peace to get some rest – sleep preferably."

Thranduil sighed deeply but let himself fall back more comfortably into the pillows at his back that propped him up. He was exceptionally tired; too tired to even give a glib reply or mount any form of protest against Calelon's plans for his afternoon.

"Do as you must Calelon – though tell me, what do you plan on for my lunch?" Thranduil enquired as he remembered the egg fiasco earlier that morn. The King hoped Calelon would simply give him another blended fruit drink and leave off the solid foods and not force him to face another humiliating round with cutlery.

"Soup Aran-nin – a nice light vegetable one – I'm sure it shall be to your liking; the palace chefs do like to out-do themselves when it comes to you."

Thranduil relaxed at the answer – soup was easy. Soup he could do.

~o~

Thranduil's confidence had been greatly misplaced – soup was most definitely not easy- not when Calelon insisted on giving it to him in a deep bowl and forced him to eat it with a spoon. Thranduil glared for a moment more at the soup before him before he transferred the glare to his healer. "Why can you not just have the soup put into a mug Calelon? I have actually regained some appetite and am hungry yet instead of letting me eat it in peace you insist on having me fumble unnecessarily with cutlery."

"It is not unnecessary Aran-nin, as I said earlier this morning - think of it as a part of your rehab."

"I fail to see how me spilling soup upon myself counts as a rehabilitation exercise Calelon. I know you healers oft have cruel and unusual methods of healing but even this is a bit much is it not?"

It was Calelon's turn to glare, "I do not try to be cruel and I do not see how you can accuse me of that Aran-nin; I am trying to help you find a way to work out the depth of field issue you are having just now." At Thranduil's continued glare the royal healer sighed, "Relearning cutlery use is a simple and necessary exercise and a step forward. It is frustrating for you now but you will learn how to compensate and find another way to accurately judge distance and depth in time and that will aide you further down the road of recovery when you wish to take on bigger tasks such as stairs and weapons use."

"And besides all that you claim you want to regain your life and take back your throne – well, the life of a King is filled with formal dinners, feasts and banquets of all kinds. Cutlery use is something you will need to conquer sooner rather than later if you are truly serious about taking the throne again."

Thranduil bristled at the insinuation but said nothing; he knew he was being rather childish over this but still… "This is humiliating Calelon." Thranduil's voice was soft and filled with embarrassment that he could not quite manage to hide.

Calelon gave his disheartened King a soft smile and flapped a hand at him, "No one else is here but me Aran-nin and I am not even paying you any mind. I am trying to finish up these notes on the pain killer Aiwendil and I developed for you – there may be many other uses we can put it to for the troops with a few adaptations and that is my main preoccupation right now. You may eat in peace and worry not that any will see nor judge you should you fumble. Take it not just as a meal but a rehabilitation exercise as I said before; take it slow, take your time and you will figure it out. Trust me in this Aran-nin."

Thranduil's scowl lessened its hold upon his mostly bandaged face at Calelon's gently spoken words and the blonde picked up his spoon determined to find a way to eat less clumsily and not be so easily beaten by the first real obstacle his new disability had presented him.

It was still fairly difficult at least for the first several spoonful's. Every loud crash of silver spoon meeting fine boned china made Thranduil cringe and look up to see if Calelon was staring at him in pity but the royal healer was as good as his word and focussed solely upon his books and the writings in front of him. Even Thranduil's softly hissed oaths at the small splodges of soup that splashed down onto him when he misjudged exactly where his open mouth ought to be did not get Calelon to look up or to come fussing round and for that Thranduil was grateful.

He was even happier when about halfway through the bowl of soup his sight seemed to have adjusted and he found himself eating with more of the grace to which he was accustomed. He finished the bowl off with a smile and found that his eye ached only a minimal amount compared to the great strain he had felt upon it earlier that morn when he had first attempted to eat his eggs.

That was when Calelon chose to look up at Thranduil and smile at the empty bowl.

"How was that this time round Aran-nin?"

"Still difficult at first," Thranduil huffed with displeasure at having to admit to such a weakness, "but it seemed to get easier to focus as I continued and I managed alright in the end. Even the eyestrain and headache are not as bad as they were this morning."

Calelon nodded with a pleased look on his face, "Worry not, you are an elf and soon this will be but a distant memory as your sight adjusts itself and you adapt. Give it another few days and eating will no longer be a challenge to you."

"That I am glad to hear."

Calelon nodded, "Once you are satisfied you are able to manage your meals yourself and without eyestrain or headache we will continue onto more difficult things in your recovery." The healer rubbed at his chin in thought, "Perhaps I will task you with pouring out glasses of wine or serving tea from a teapot then after that you could try your hand at writing."

A horrified look crossed Thranduil's face; he had not truly thought through just how much his loss of depth perception would affect so many small and seemingly insignificant areas of his life. It was not only the depth perception issue he'd have to contend with either there was also the fact he'd lost half his field of sight and a godly amount of his peripheral vision too.

"This is going to be a truly hideously slow recovery process isn't it? Am I likely to even make it back to my throne this year if this is the pace of the rehabilitation I must undertake?"

"It will be a long recovery that is true," Calelon allowed, "but it need not be slow. Many of the smaller tasks you need to practise can all be done in the same day – eating, pouring drinks and writing for example need not be allocated a day each. The key to this is taking it at a pace that you can manage and that will not cause you any relapse. The Kingdom is in fine hands at the moment and can wait for your return. You need to be a bit selfish right now Aran-nin – getting well and adapting to your new disability should be your main concern just now."

"Selfishness is a poor trait in a King but I shall heed your words for now," Thranduil grumbled for he understood Calelon's sentiment. He needed to give his recovery his all and his full undivided attention for the ultimate good of his eledhrim and Kingdom.

"None will begrudge you the time needed to recover Aran-nin – your people love you far more than I think you realise."

Thranduil said nothing to that – declarations of the undying loyalty and love of his eledhrim always made him feel somewhat uncomfortable. Instead he focussed on smothering a yawn lest Calelon saw it; for despite the fact that Thranduil was in actual fact exhausted after the morning's magical exertions he was not really all that keen to go to sleep. The Elven King was still regularly plagued by the most terrifyingly vivid night terrors despite all his best attempts to stay on pleasant dream paths. Thranduil suppressed a shudder at the mere recollection of some of his nightmares – nay – he had no intention going to sleep just now.

Unfortunately for the blonde King, Calelon with his hawk sharp eyes had seen the stifled yawn. "You are exhausted Aran-nin and I will leave you to get some sleep now."

"I am a bit tired is all Calelon – I would hardly say exhausted. I will rest if you fetch me a book or something to while away the time but I do not need to sleep."

The royal healer gathered his notes, scrolls and inks before he made his way over to the large bay windows and threw them open. He whispered something to the great oak that stood sentinel just outside so softly that even Thranduil with his sharp hearing could not pick up the words before the healer turned to once again face him. "You need to sleep Aran-nin; you'll never regain your full magical abilities nor your strength otherwise. This morn was a productive and tiring one for you. Please rest now and let nature lull you onto pleasant dream paths."

Calelon approached Thranduil's seeing side and pointed to his bedside table. "There is water should you need a drink and here," the healer fumbled a small silver bell from his pocket and placed it on the table. "I will leave you for now but I shan't be far. Ring this and the Palace Guard have been instructed to fetch me immediately. Ring if you need anything at all. Do not attempt to get out of bed for any reason whatsoever."

Thranduil huffed in aggravation, "You needn't mother me so Calelon, I know my limits, I will lie here as instructed like a good little elfling – only at least fetch me a book first to pass the time. I am not tired enough to sleep."

Calelon gave the King a withering look. "I very much beg to differ Aran-nin, I can feel the exhaustion rolling off you in waves. Just lie back and relax, listen to the sounds of summer outside and you'll be off to the land of nod ere you know it."

Thranduil scowled but said nothing more – Calelon was just as stubborn as he and a formidable opponent. Thranduil knew when he had been beaten; more than that he need to stay on Calelon's good side so that the healer would continue to allow him to practise Hall Thurin. He would simply have to reconcile himself to a boring afternoon – he had no intention whatsoever of actually doing any sleeping.

Calelon nodded in satisfaction at Thranduil's seeming submission and made for the door once more, "Remember Aran-nin, ring the bell if anything."

Thranduil gave a begrudging noise and watched the silver haired healer disappear through the door before he returned his attention to the room he was in and attempted to find something to alleviate his boredom. His good eye landed upon the intricately carved and painted vaulted ceiling in his room and the King began to follow the delicate pattern of flowing leaves, vines and flowers etched into it. The action proved to be headache inducing however as it caused his one eye to ache and strain as Thranduil followed the flowing pattern and after only a few moments the Elven King gave it up with a muttered curse and firm shake of his head. He did not want to go to sleep; he did not want to face the demons his dreams had in store for him but he was also unwilling to inflict unnecessary pain upon himself.

Thranduil gave an aggravated sigh; he was tired – exhausted even – and he would sleep if there were but some way he could be guaranteed pleasant dreams. Or even no dreams at all. That too would be desirable; yet it seemed the only time he got respite was when he was forcibly put under by Calelon or when he was so deeply drained that his mind had no strength left to trouble him. Thranduil was not yet at that point of acute weariness and he knew Calelon would not consent to putting him under again (besides which that would include explanations and Thranduil was not about to explain or talk about his nightmares to anyone).

The Elven King was just contemplating whether a few more attempts at Hall Thurin would be enough to send him into the oblivion needed for a nightmare free night when soft susurrations coming from the oak that stood just outside his windows caught his attention. They were so soft Thranduil was certain that had he been any further away he would not have heard them at all. It was as if the oak meant for him and him only to hear its song; for the gentle whisper was indeed a song, now that Thranduil listened closely. Twas a song that spoke of slow rising sap, baby acorns, tender shoots stretching in Anor's light and mischievous squirrels. Twas a song that was as effective as a lullaby as Thranduil found himself nodding off, his eye slowly sliding out of focus.

Thranduil's last thought as he slipped away into sleep was that Calelon was far too observant and sneaky for his own good. The blonde recalled that his healer had held a hushed conversation with the oak before taking his leave. It was clear to Thranduil now that he hadn't hid his nightmares and dread of sleep as well as he thought he had – at least not from Calelon – and in that moment Thranduil was glad. Glad his healer hadn't forced him to speak of it and had found this simple and effective solution for him instead.

The Elven King at last gave up the fight, let sleep claim him fully and slid slowly off onto pleasant dream paths filled with oak leaves, the scent of sap and balmy summer sunshine.

Calelon returned to watch over his King as Thranduil slept the rest of the day through – this time with no tossing, no turning nor any murmuring or screaming to disturb him. It was a true, peaceful and natural healing sleep that saw Calelon bowing his thanks to the oak with broad smile firmly upon his lips.

~o~

The next two weeks saw Thranduil fall into a pattern as well as make great progress. Calelon would tend his wounds and administer his painkiller before he took breakfast. The royal healer had been correct in saying that Thranduil would learn to adapt to his loss of depth perception and find a way to manage his cutlery. He had indeed done so and though he now ate in a much slower and more deliberate way the blonde King had enough innate grace and cunning to be able to make the way he now ate still look regal.

Breakfast was then followed by a long morning of practice with Hall Thurin under the watchful gazes of Calelon, Gandalf and Radagast. Thranduil had perfected the glamour; was now able to cast it to look exactly as he so wished with unerring accuracy every time he used it. With that skill firmly under his belt the Elven King turned his focus to upholding the perfected form of the glamour for longer periods of time.

It was difficult – his magic stores and abilities were still not fully where they ought to be – but Thranduil persevered; gaining at first mere minutes before he at last begun to be able to hold Hall Thurin perfectly in place for first half an hour then a full hour gaining more and more time with each practice session.

Thranduil would have practised himself into oblivion in his eagerness to completely master Hall Thurin were it not for the watchful eye of Calelon who made sure he did not over tax either himself or his still recovering magic with timely interventions of lunch and an enforced rest time thereafter. Despite the royal healer claiming that Thranduil did not have to sleep during this time in the early afternoon, more often than not due to the oak Calelon had ensorcelled Thranduil found himself slipping off to sleep for a few hours – his dreams all still blessedly nightmare free.

Once he awoke there was further rehab as Calelon put it, though the blonde King could hardly bring himself to refer to the late afternoon sessions of menial tasks as such. Calelon had him practice with pouring drinks – tea from teapots into tiny fine china cups, water into tall glass glasses from a huge jug and wine (of which he was not allowed to partake) from heavy flagons into mithril wine cups. Thranduil had at first thought this particular task completely menial and unimportant and easy but he had quickly and very grudgingly accepted the fact that it was anything but, and that perhaps Calelon indeed knew best when it came to the matter of his rehabilitation.

It was well that they practised with tea that had been cooled first or Thranduil would have found himself burned all over again as he sloshed the liquids rather messily over himself, the table and the cups and glasses. Calelon offered no help nor direction; insisting Thranduil had to learn to overcome and adapt to these things for himself, which had frustrated the Elven King no end. At last however he learnt that the trick was to very slowly place the lip of the jug or kettle directly on the rim of the cup or glass to avoid the embarrassing and messy spillages. It was another oddity added to the way in which he now had to partake of his meals but Thranduil had begun to accept that his blindness and the losses that came with it would have an all-encompassing effect on every aspect of his life.

Writing was another of his rehabilitation exercises and another where the effects of his injuries and blindness were very present. The blonde had of course expected that writing with his left hand would be difficult due to the burns he had suffered to the appendage but he had pushed on regardless, ignoring the dull ache and clumsiness of his fingers determined not to lose his elven ambidexterity. Yet that was not the end of his difficulties with writing; his eye ached with the strain of focussing on forming his Tengwar properly and he found it inordinately difficult to keep the letters neat and tidy as his eye tired. It was messy work too as Thranduil occasionally misjudged where he expected his ink pot to be leading to ink stained fingers and numerous smudges and smears across his sheets of paper.

Calelon remained encouraging and on some days it helped and on others it didn't. Thranduil knew he could always hire a scribe as well as use the magnifying glass Calelon had mentioned he could have made but as with his facial glamour Thranduil wanted to know that he could do his own writing himself; he did not want to become dependent on props or others. He far preferred to feel secure in the knowledge that he could still do things himself even if there was no real need to.

So, he persevered with his 'menial' rehab tasks making slow but steady and continuous improvement. By the end of the first week Calelon had been so satisfied with Thranduil's progress that he had let the Elf King finally leave his sick bed and take the six steps needed to cross over to a chair by the window by means of a new exercise in his continued convalescence.

The few simple steps were taken with much caution – Thranduil being very conscious of his lack of depth perception and reduced peripheral vison – and left the King weakly panting but ecstatic to have finally been allowed out of bed. The reward of sitting at the open window and being able to look out over his beloved Wood and bask in the summer sun and breeze was enough to make the weakness and pain he felt after the task worth it and became how Thranduil ended his days that had become just as long and gruelling as they had been when he sat upon the throne.

Now however Thranduil spent the long hours of his day fighting to regain said throne and his life – little by little, one small step at a time.

~o~

"You are doing exceptionally well today Aran-nin, this is the longest you have managed to uphold Hall Thurin in its perfected state. Seven hours and counting – very well done indeed."

Thranduil looked up at Calelon instantly feeling both his headache and eyestrain reduce as he looked away from the parchment before him upon which he had been trying his utmost to get his Tengwar to once again resemble his usual neat and beautifully flowing script.

"Is that how long it has been?" Thranduil wonderingly murmured. If that were the case it was little wonder he felt so utterly exhausted and drained. The level of magic the glamour required was not to be taken lightly.

Calelon beamed, "Yes – a full seven hours and ten minutes – how do you feel?"

"Tired." The past two weeks had seen Thranduil cease in trying to fool Calelon in regards to anything. The ellon had an uncanny ability to see through every bit of bluster, excuse or lie Thranduil attempted.

Calelon nodded in understanding as he approached Thranduil, "That is to be expected for that is powerful magic at work not to mention you have been working so diligently at all the other tasks I have set you. Perhaps you would like to call an early night in light of this achievement?"

The offer was tempting – to drop the glamour and forget about the parchment before him – to climb back into bed and fall into deep oblivion – but Thranduil resisted. "Nay, I really want to finish this first. I'm very nearly done."

Calelon moved so that he stood behind Thranduil's shoulder to see how his Tengwar was coming on. What he saw on the parchment was not the usual repetition of elven letters that he had expected and he was unable to stifle a gasp as he read.

"Is…is that a…a real missive Aran-nin…or…or is it just for…for practise?"

Thranduil gave a small huff. "It is rude to read over the shoulders of others Calelon – especially when said other is your King. But yes, this is a real missive…or at least it will be once I have finished with it."

Calelon nodded once with a huge smile firmly upon his face, "Of course Aran-nin, I shall leave you then to finish up in peace."

The royal healer turned on his heel and left with a quiet swish of his long robes and a gentle click of the door still unable to suppress his huge approving grin as he turned down the hallway in search of a page to be on standby ready for when Thranduil finished his missive.

~o~

Crown Commander Aglardaer secured his broadsword to his belt and with one last satisfied look at himself in his full length mirror he left his bedchamber and strolled through his living room as he made for the door to his suite, eager to get out to the training grounds for his morning sparring session.

A sturdy knocking on the door sounded ere he could get a hand to the handle and the warrior felt anxiety stir in him even as he firmly put his neutral face mask in place. He was not oft disturbed this early in the mornings and if he was it was usually due to some dire threat to the Kingdom or someone bringing word of something awful that had happened to one of his maethyr out on patrol.

Aglardaer opened the door and the sight of a page, arm raised to knock once more, did nothing to settle the nerves that fluttered uncomfortably in his stomach. Still, such was his life and such was his job and so the silver haired commander smiled benignly at the young messenger before him.

"Mae tollen singyll – what have you for me?" Better to just get it over with, Aglardaer thought, careful to keep his genial smile in place.

"A missive Hir-nin and…and…I think…I think it may be from Aran Thranduil."

Aglardaer found his eyes instantly upon the tightly bound scroll the young page held out to him. It was ringed with gold, the sign of it being a Royal missive, as well as stamped with Thranduil's seal. The tiniest bit of hope fluttered for a moment in his breast but Aglardaer was quick to ruthlessly supress it – after all, both Lord Arahaelon and Princess Rithel both had access to and authority to use the King's seal just now.

Aglardaer took the missive from the page with a quick hannon-le, broke it open and swiftly scanned the parchment before a frown marred his fair face.

Aglardaer was confused but not by the message, for that read simply enough:

Mellon,

I would be pleased and grateful if you would attend breakfast with me this morn. Please send word on whether or not you are able to attend me at your earliest convenience.

Hannon-le,

Thranduil.

Nay, it was the way the missive looked that confused crown commander. For though the message was written in Thranduil's favoured emerald green ink the handwriting looked nothing like the elegant, neat and flowing Tengwar that was Thranduil's' signature. The words looked long laboured over, having been clearly pressed into the parchment with exaggerated precision at the very beginning only to fade to larger, more scrawl like letters as the message neared its end. Then there were the ink smears, drops and splodges that littered the paper and the commander had to wonder for a moment if this was some prank, for the message looked as though a drunken person had written it. But then again…

Aglardaer studied the parchment once more; it also looked like someone with a rather shaky and unsteady hand had written it, as though they had grown fatigued in the writing…as though it may have been written by one who was impaired or injured in some way. After all the words were too well spoken for a drunk…

"Who gave you this missive singyll? What makes you say you think it is from the King?" Aglardaer's tone was sharper than he'd intended as evinced by the widening of the now frightened page's eyes.

"C-C-Calelon gave me the missive Hir-nin, he…he summoned me to the Royal healing wing and…and Aran Thranduil's seal is…is on t-the missive that…that is why I thought it was from the King. F-forgive me for my assumptions and…and if I have o-overstepped."

The smile returned to Aglardaer's lips even brighter as he listened to the page, "Nay, penneth – tis I who should apologise for I did not mean to take such a harsh tone with you. You are correct I do believe – it seems the King is now well enough for visitors."

The crown commander pocketed his strange, messy missive and waved the page into his chambers both so he could write his own hasty message for the page to take back and to change into something more appropriate for breakfast with his King and dearest friend.

Aglardaer's mind was awhirl as he scribbled his affirmation to Thranduil, sent the page scurrying off with it and hurriedly began to strip and re-dress. The missive he'd received told him both a lot and nothing at all. It told him that Thranduil was hale enough to have visitors, but still unwell enough that his missive had personified the sloppiness his usually neat and proper friend could not abide. Yet the actual message itself was as bare and to the point as a message could be, offering up no actual information.

It was all exactly like Thranduil to be so damn mysterious and cryptic but Aglardaer could not force himself to put any heat into the thought. He was far too happy at the chance to see his best friend again at long last and he fumbled and very nearly tripped as he hustled to shrug on his trousers. He was due to meet Thranduil in just under half an hour and he needed to first seek out and speak with both Arahaelon and Rithel – Aglardaer smiled – perhaps they too had been summoned and they could all attend together.

The silver haired ellon hurriedly pulled on a tunic and fixed his braids before he bustled eagerly out the door.

~o~

Thranduil wrung his hands and fought off the urge to nervously worry at his lip. Aglardaer would have received his missive by now and the blonde King was beginning to regret having sent it. It had seemed a good idea the previous night but perhaps he had not thought things through as well as he ought. Perhaps it was still too soon to be having visitors.

A knock at his door all but gave Thranduil a heart attack and he glared hard as Calelon strolled through the door with a smile on his face as though he'd not just scared Thranduil halfway back to Mandos.

"Need you knock so loudly? It is my sight that is impaired not my hearing." Thranduil snapped waspishly by way of a greeting.

Calelon was unfazed, having now gained much experience in weathering his King's quick fire temper during the time they'd thus far spent closeted together as Thranduil recovered.

"Sîdh Aran-nin, I am sorry if I startled you but here," Calelon thrust out a hastily folded square of parchment to his King. "Tis Hir Aglardaer's reply – pray do not keep me in suspense and tell me what he has said."

Calelon looked excited but Thranduil felt anything but as a heavy sense of dread settled into the pit of his stomach. He peeled open the letter and read. Of course, Aglardaer had agreed to have breakfast with him. Thranduil had known he would regardless of whatever other plans Aglardaer may have had; Sauron himself would've been unable to stop the silver haired commander from coming when Thranduil called. Thranduil knew this because it was much the same for him - such was the nature of their friendship - a bond that had grown unbreakable over the millennia as they had grown together from elflinghood. Yet for all that the thought of seeing his best friend cheered him – it scared him just a little too.

Aglardaer knew him well- very, very well, and Thranduil was suddenly feeling a lot less confident in the skills he'd recently been working so hard to learn and regain. Aglardaer would know there was something wrong – of that much Thranduil was certain – and the Elven King wasn't at all sure he was prepared for the conversation that would ensue once his dear friend saw through him.

"Can Hir Aglardaer not make it? Has something happened?"

The concerned voice of his healer snapped Thranduil from his spiralling thoughts and he peered up at Calelon. "He will come."

"That is grand news Aran-nin. Is it not the answer you wished for? Why then do you look as though you have swallowed a beetle?"

Thranduil heaved a deep breath, "He will know."

Calelon stared for a moment before comprehension dawned and he gave a firm and approving nod. "Good – it is about time you had someone else – someone dear to you to support you on this journey. Fret not Aran-nin – it will be well. Now come," Calelon clapped his hands, "let us make you presentable for company."

Thranduil sighed and said no more as he heaved himself up, swung his feet off the bed and set Hall Thurin firmly in place.

Aglardaer was coming – his first visitor, his dearest friend.

Thranduil's stomach roiled with knots of anxiety that he could not hope to suppress.

Aglardaer was coming. Aglardaer would know.

TBC.

Hall Thurin – Veiled Secret. The name of Thranduil's facial glamour completely made up by me

Aran-nin/Aran - My King/King

Suilad – Greetings

Istari – (Plural of Istar) – Quenya for Wizards

Istar – Quenya for Wizard

Mae Govannen – Well met

Mellon – Friend

Adar – Father

Novaer – Farewell

Le fael – Literally: You are generous – Sindarin version of Thank you

Navaer – Farewell

Eledhrim – Elves

Maethyr – (plural) Warriors

Mae tollen - Welcome

Singyll – Page / Herald

Hir-nin / Hir – My Lord / Lord

Hannon-le – Thank you

Penneth – Young One

Ellon – Male elf

Sîdh – Peace