A/N: Elf angst ahead
Silence reigned in the room.
Thranduil was hardly surprised. He knew just how shocking his real face now looked; how far it now was from the standards of even basic elven beauty having spent considerable time (when Calelon was not looking) studying its horrors.
The wound was truly a gruesome sight and stretched repulsively from his eyebrow to his jaw. It stopped some centimetres short of his ear and was wide enough to just graze his nose. Red, raw and ugly – a wound so deep that it exposed the delicate tissues, muscles and sinew that made up his face. In fact a part of his face, just over his cheek, was nothing but sinew - stringy, tender and utterly disgusting to look at. Then of course there was his dead, glazed eye – an ashen grey sight that still gave the Elven King a curious emotional mix of both anger and utter despair over his lost sight.
And still the silence reigned.
Thranduil could not hear even so much as the breathing of his children and his own breath he held in anticipation of their judgement. It felt to the elder blonde as though time held still and Thranduil was suddenly afraid he'd made a grave error. He should never have let loose his glamour; he had stunned his children to silence, scared them, horrified them.
Thranduil summoned the last dregs of his strength and magic and put Hall Thurin firmly back in place, still rueing he'd ever thought it a good idea to drop the magical mask when the almost oppressive silence came to an abrupt end as seemingly time began to move once more and the room erupted into noise with a triumphant shout from his youngest.
"Valar Adar! That is amazing!"
Thranduil cocked his head ever so slightly, quizzical as to what his son referred. He was not long in finding out as Legolas' exuberance continued forth unchecked.
"That is a mighty scar – only a true warrior King could recover from such! None other has anything of the like; likely none other could have sustained such a wound and survived. But, elo! Adar you did – you defeated the dragons, protected the people and survived the wyrm's feeble attempts at smiting you."
Legolas had bounded up from his place at the table to bounce round Thranduil in that endearingly youthful way he still had when truly excited. "And your glamour – can you command it at will?"
Thranduil nodded still shocked at his son's reaction to his scars and blinded eye.
"That is truly masterful – I have never seen such powerful magic and I cannot even sense it about you Adar."
"You are not meant to – the glamour is such that only Istari will be able to sense it." Thranduil had found his voice again though it was somewhat hoarse with disbelief at Legolas' reception.
"Will you teach me? I would love to learn such a powerful spell!"
"You are perhaps a bit too untried in magic to learn Hall Thurin – for that is the glamour's name – just yet Las-nin. But, if you truly want I shall begin to teach you simpler magic and you can start there."
"Yes please!" And Thranduil suddenly found himself with a lapful of Legolas as his son crushed him into another huge hug. "I am sorry I ever doubted Adar, I was…I was scared…after…after Naneth…" the words were mumbled into the King's neck.
Legolas pulled back to beam at him, "Yet I ought not to have doubted – the songs do not lie after all – you are our greatest King!"
Rithel shook her head at her little brother's antics before she pulled him gently off Thranduil's lap and let him perch on hers instead, evidently still mindful of her father and his injuries.
Rithel had been quiet all this long while and Thranduil now almost hungrily sought her reaction. Legolas' was surprising and oddly comforting in the way only the truly young and innocent could give. Rithel was a full millennia and a half older than her brother and her reaction (without discrediting Legolas') would either truly give him hope or rob him of it altogether. His daughter was both pragmatic and unable to lie to him.
Rithel's face reflected a myriad of emotions; she looked thoughtful – likely having already run through several scenarios and obstacles that may result from his injures and how he could combat them in her mind. She looked proud – and Thranduil felt relief fill him, rather absurdly glad that his daughter could still look at him in such a way. And she looked sad – as though personally sorry for what he had suffered through and as if it caused her physical pain to see it.
At last Rithel reached out a hand and ever so gently cupped the left side of his face. "Does it hurt?"
Two pairs of eyes stared at him in clear worry and Thranduil felt the need to bring them both ease. Particularly Rithel; where Legolas' eyes still shone with youthful hope her eyes held deep sadness and Thranduil would not add to that if he could help it.
"There is some pain as with all healing wounds but it is well managed. I have had both Calelon our finest healer and Aiwendil mighty in herb lore aiding me in my recovery. The scars will remain as gruesome as ever for wounds from dragon fire never truly heal but the pain will fade to a distant memory in time – worry not."
Thranduil gave his hîn a beaming smile full of confidence that he did not truly feel. For he was still in dark as to his long term pain management but – well, that was his own worry and not knowledge his children needed to burden themselves with.
Rithel gave an answering smile before she replaced her hand with a gentle kiss to his cheek. "That I am glad to hear; and Adar – worry not – for you have not lost an eye but rather gained two more. For I will be your extra eyes from henceforth in whatsoever capacity you may have need of me - from the battle field to the council chambers - you need only say the word."
It was Thranduil's turn to surprise his children with a crushing hug as he scooped them both up into his arms. He was smiling so wide and so big that it hurt but for the first time in what seemed an Age he felt happiness. He was so glad he'd decided to take the risk and see his children and reveal his injuries to them, glad to know he had not lost their regard but that he'd actually gone up in their estimation and more than that he would now have their support throughout the rest of his recovery.
The elven King petted the heads of silver and gold as held them close – he felt renewed, alive in a way he hadn't since he'd first awoken all those weeks ago. Thranduil felt ready to tackle the rest of his recovery head on; for this reveal had been the hardest obstacle he'd imagined to face. He'd been so worried over how his children would receive him and yet it hadn't gone anything as he'd imagined. It had been far and away better than anything Thranduil had dared to hope for and that gave him a renewed strength to push on and move forward on the path – long though it may be – to full recovery and his throne.
~o~
Thranduil looked up from the heady glass of Dorwinion (that Calelon finally, finally allowed him to partake of again) and gestured with it at Rithel. "You can bring some of that to me now you know – now that my handwriting no longer resembles that of a drunkard I could aid you with some of the paperwork."
For his daughter had been complaining over dinner (a now nightly occurrence that Thranduil took with both his children and Aglardaer) of the upcoming trade talks with the Men of Esgaroth and Dale and all the extra paperwork suddenly produced by the impending trips the trade council would be taking.
The King felt confident once more in his writing skills and was certain his offer would help rather than hinder his iell.
For the first meeting with his hîn ten days prior really had given Thranduil an extra spring in his step and had reignited his determination to move his recovery forward. With the aid of Aglardaer (and under the ever watchful presence of Calelon) the King had set about mastering all of the smaller tasks set to him until there was nary a trace of his disability to be seen when he performed them. Thranduil had perfected the art of cutlery use and eating, pouring drinks without spillage, walking once more in a regal un-clumsy way and writing in neat straight lines (even if his tengwar letters were now somewhat larger than they had been before).
Every day that'd passed had seen the Elven King gain more and more confidence hence his offer now to take back some of his paperwork from Rithel – eager to put his regained writing skills to practical use.
Yet ere Rithel could even answer – and the shining gleam in her eyes told Thranduil she'd been about to jump at the offer – Calelon cut in.
"Nay Aran-nin I'm afraid I cannot allow that…"
"But Calelon my writing is markedly improved – you cannot deny that – and I do not even get the headaches anymore. And it is hardly as though I am asking Rithel to stand down, I am only offering to help her with the trade talk paperwork – it will be easy enough for me – I have been doing it for millennia now." Thranduil was doing his best not to sulk at his healer, especially in front of his impressionable son but still…he was mildly hurt and somewhat confused by Calelon's point blank refusal.
"Sîdh Aran-nin," Calelon held up his hands in a placating manner, "Instead of taking on paperwork I was thinking you might take on the next phase in your recovery instead." The healer paused then continued at an arched eyebrow from the blonde King. "I was thinking you might start on regaining more of your mobility now – jogging, running, stairs and the like."
A happy grin split Thranduil's face immediately at Calelon's words, pleased to finally be moving up a gear in his recovery. "Of course Calelon if you think it is time."
"It is indeed." The healer gave an emphatic nod and Thranduil turned an apologetic smile to his daughter.
"I am sorry iell-nin but do not despair I will send word to Bôr that he is to handle all the trade paperwork. I hope that will free you up some?"
"That would be marvellous Adar hannon-le," Rithel raised her glass in a toast, "And here's to your next steps and a full recovery."
"Cheers!"
The shout went up from them all and Thranduil felt excitement fill him at the thought of yet more progress.
~o~
"I do not understand," Thranduil rubbed ruefully at his sore shoulder, "Why can I walk and not collide into things but completely lose that ability if I move my pace up even to a moderate jog?"
The Elven King gave his shoulder one more rub before he swung to face Calelon and Aglardaer silently imploring them to have an answer for him. They were in a section of the healing wing that was used for the physical rehabilitation of the warriors of the realm and in a room Calelon had set aside for Thranduil's sole personal use and continued convalescence. It was a huge room, empty aside from handrails that wound the length of the walls and some props to assist in physical therapy in one corner. The room was in a part of the stronghold caverns that allowed for huge skylight windows overhead to flood the room with cheery natural light but Thranduil felt anything but cheered just then.
It was the third day of his more moderate exercises – all aimed at increasing his mobility – and yet he still could not manage anything past a walk without somehow ending up veering to his blind side and bouncing into the walls. When he walked at a sedate pace he managed to walk in a straight line without issue. Anything faster and he'd find himself colliding with the walls. It was frustrating and his left shoulder which took the brunt of said collisions– already tender from his still healing burns - was really beginning to ache.
Aglardaer wore a look of puzzlement that Thranduil felt sure he mirrored but Calelon gave him a calculating look before he prodded, "What are you doing when you walk that you are not doing when you move up to a jog?"
"If I knew I'd not be asking you Calelon," Thranduil grit between his clenched teeth. This was not at all going as he'd hoped and it was really starting to irritate him.
Calelon however either missed the aggravation in the King's voice or simply did not care as he remained resolute. "Nay, you need to figure this out for yourself Aran-nin. Think it through properly; go through everything you now do when walking and then apply exactly that to your jogging. It is not as difficult as you believe – sit, give yourself a moment to think it through and you will figure this out."
Thranduil tamped down on his urge to growl in frustration and went over to the far side of the room, as far away as he could possibly get from Calelon, and rested against the handrail. Slowly he broke down his gait; the way he did it now – Calelon had stressed that point and the blonde King closed his eye to further aide his visualisation. He tilted his head ever so slightly up toward the sunbeams that filtered down upon him enjoying the warmth. It made him long for the outdoors, long to regain simple normal things such as walks in the summer sun and it reignited the spark for completing his rehabilitation that had begun to flag in the face of this latest setback.
After a good long moment Thranduil took a steadying breath and after making sure to check his left side and give the length of the room he planned to jog across a quick but thorough scan he moved.
A huge smile split the blonde's face as he came to a smooth halt before his best friend and the royal healer having not once veered off course or come into any contact at all with the walls.
"I had every confidence in you Aran-nin." Calelon was giving him a proud smile.
Aglardaer however was still looking somewhat confused, "What was it? What did you change?"
"It was simple really, I don't know why it only occurred to me just then," Thranduil gave a rueful shake of his head. "When I walk I always check my blind side and give the path ahead a scan before I move off. Yet when I tried to jog I forgot to check my left side altogether and only gave my forward route a cursory glance. So I guess I could not properly judge my distance from the wall…?" Thranduil trailed off and raised an eyebrow at Calelon.
The healer nodded, "Yes, you need to remember now that with only one eye you will need to scan the path ahead – move your head side to side, it doesn't have to be a great exaggerated movement you can be subtle - and always check your blind side when first moving off. This will help you gain your bearing and the scanning will keep you steady on your path as well as aware of any trip hazards. Remember to do this even when moving at speed and these collisions will be a thing of the past."
Thranduil bobbed his head in understanding, "I was so focussed on where I was placing my feet and not tripping that I forgot to check my surroundings and keep my eye on where I was headed." The King rubbed his chin contemplatively, "It will be a difficult habit to cultivate this checking and scanning…"
"Not at all Thranduil," Aglardaer was quick as ever to bolster the King in face of his doubts. "You have already managed to make a habit of it with walking - that came only after lots of practise. Once you've had time to put in the same amount of practice with jogging and running the checking and scanning will become more than habit but rather second nature."
Thranduil wrinkled his nose in some doubt but said nothing. He was pleased enough for now that he'd figured out the problem and that his poor shoulder would no longer be taking such a battering.
"Well Aran-nin, Hir Aglardaer is right – practise makes perfect and this session has only just begun." The healer nodded with intent across the cavernous room back to Thranduil's original starting point. "Let's begin again shall we?"
With a deep, yet determined sigh Thranduil strode purposefully back across the room.
~o~
Thranduil stared down at Calelon's hands where they determinedly pressed a thick swathe of bandages to his equally determinedly bleeding thigh. It was the last of his injuries to be treated after a rather spectacular fall he'd taken down a flight of stairs. His upper arm, lower arm and side had already been seen to and bandaged but the wound in his thigh continued to bleed without showing any sign of stopping. Thranduil watched on with detached apathy.
It wasn't his first fall since Calelon had moved him onto tackling staircases but it was the worst one he'd had thus far and the Elven King was grateful that the only one who had been privy to the embarrassing and painful event had been the royal healer; with Aglardaer busy attending his previously neglected duties as Crown Commander and the staircase having been in a little used area of the healing halls, cleared and placed under heavy guard prior to Thranduil's session.
Thranduil sighed as he saw the fall again in his mind's eye. He'd so very nearly done it –there'd been perhaps seven or eight steps left to the bottom when he'd looked down and misjudged the depth of the next stair. It had led to a slip which he'd hastily tried to correct by moving onto the next stair after but alas Thranduil's poor depth perception played havoc with him again and he'd found himself falling, flailing uselessly for the by then out of reach hand rail and he'd hit the next set of stairs below him hard before tumbling head over heels down to the landing where he came to rest with a resounding smack against the pristinely polished and utterly unyielding stone floor. He'd been dazed, shocked and more than a little shaken by the fall. So much so that the fact he'd torn open several of his burns and wounds and was bleeding didn't even register with the King until Calelon had abruptly appeared beside him fussing and asking again and again if he was okay.
And now here he sat – back in his room in the healing halls - in naught but a towel loosely wrapped about his hips for the sake of granting Calelon easy access to his burnt and re-injured left side.
"I'm afraid this will require stitches Aran-nin. It just won't stop bleeding on its own. Will you keep a firm pressure just here until I can gather all the implements I need for the stitches?" Calelon did not wait for Thranduil to answer but rather replaced the blood soaked cloth he'd been using with another clean white piece and directed the King's hands over it just so.
"You need to keep the pressure on it just like that Aran-nin – I know it must hurt but we need to at least try and slow the bleeding. I won't be long, I'll just gather the twine and needles and I'll bring you something for your pain too."
Calelon disappeared from the room in a flutter of long healer's robes and Thranduil refocussed his attention to putting pressure on the wound exactly as the royal healer had commanded. It did hurt and the blonde was glad that Calelon had promised to bring back pain relief. He hoped it would be a dose of his special painkiller for he could feel the warning tell-tale tingle that said the evil of dragon fire that still maligned his wounds was about to make a painful appearance.
Thranduil was in luck, for scarcely a minute or two after he'd disappeared Calelon re-appeared with a tray laden with healing supplies and a tiny glass of the now familiar pain-killer. Had he not been so exhausted and discouraged the Elven King may have smiled at the sight of it. Instead Thranduil simply swallowed the medicine and willed it to take effect quickly. He could feel the beginnings of what felt like small flames beginning to lick at his wounds and he really wanted things to progress no further than that. That was more than pain enough.
Thranduil instead focussed on his breathing and let Calelon gently swap out the blood soaked bandage he held for a new one.
In and out. In and out. In and out.
Thranduil stared down at the clean, gentle hands that pressed a new bandage to his wound and Valar! The pain was intense and the blonde could not hold back a small gasp.
"Sorry, I am sorry Aran-nin I know this cannot be easy for you – but the painkiller works quickly – just a few moments more and I can stitch this up and you will be rid of my fussing."
Calelon gave him a small, hope-filled smile and it was all Thranduil could do to return it with a grimace rather than the ear splitting scream of agony that desperately wanted to fight its way past his lips. He needed the painkiller to take effect now, now, now! The deep burning sensation was horrific and made Thranduil want to claw his skin off; a feeling so desperately real and distracting that the King had to forcibly clench his hands into tight fists as he again began to measure his breathing.
In and out. In and out. In and out…
~o~
"There, I am all done Aran-nin."
Thranduil jumped a little at the light tap on his good, right thigh even as he opened his eye wondering when he'd closed it in the first place. One moment he'd been measuring his breaths then the next…
The Elven King let loose a breath he'd been unaware of holding and unclenched his hands and flexed to awaken them from the tight fists they'd been folded into.
"That pain was more than just the fall and me putting pressure on your wound was it not Aran-nin?" Calelon had been quietly packing away his things but stopped then to look Thranduil in the eye.
The King sighed again deeply. "Yes, the…the pain…it was beginning to flare up."
Calelon cocked his head to the side in a thinking manner before he gave nod. "Yes, I suppose it was about a little after the time you'd have received your afternoon dose of medicine."
Calelon began again to gather his things and Thranduil said nothing more. He did not like to think of the way he'd gone from having a morning and evening dose of his special painkiller to needing a morning, afternoon and evening dose. It suggested things the Elven King was not yet ready to contemplate and besides Calelon hardly seemed worried at the increased dosage and so Thranduil had determined to himself that he would refuse to be worried also and would not confront the issue until Calelon brought it up himself.
Thranduil knew that Mithrandir had taken leave of his realm a week prior with a promise of returning again in due course and the King could only hope that this disappearance would lead to the wizard returning with something to aid in his long-term pain management as he'd talked about before. In the meantime he could only hope that his dosage would remain steady.
The blonde gave himself a shake then – he was becoming maudlin and worrying about the very thing he'd promised himself he would not.
"Am I free to get dressed now Calelon?" Thranduil canted look at the position of the slowly sinking Anor outside his window – it would soon be time for dinner with his children and Aglardaer. "My dinner guests will be due soon enough."
Calelon waved a hand at him, "Oh yes, yes, apologies Aran-nin – you may get dressed and ready yourself for dinner. You have certainly earned it today. We will switch from stair work and practise some other exercises tomorrow. It will give your wounds time to heal."
"As you wish it." Thranduil gathered his towel more tightly about him and limped over toward his temporary wardrobe. Truthfully he would be glad to move away from the daunting (and painful) practise on stairs for a day or two. He'd well and truly had his fill of trips, slips and falls.
~o~
"I am extremely pleased with your progress Aran-nin."
Calelon was smirking like a cat that had gotten all the cream and Thranduil could not help it when the corners of his own mouth lifted in response.
"I am pleased with my progress as well Calelon."
And that was no lie; the Elven King had been hard at work over the past two months with the aid of the royal healer and (most days) his best friend Crown Commander Aglardaer. Together they'd practised long and hard to help Thranduil in regaining a full range of mobility and it had truly paid off. Thranduil was now well able to walk, jog and run unaided (and in a straight line) as well as take on the numerous staircases his palace stronghold was so liberally littered with.
He was even able to descend and ascend the balustrade-less stairs to and from the dungeons and wine cellars. For Calelon had taken great care to expose him to all the differing staircases found in the stronghold; always having them shut off and guarded from the general palace populace first – a fact Thranduil had been most glad for after several ignoble trips and falls. He'd practised on them all from the broad shallow ones that lead into the feast hall to the winding, steep ones that lead down to the food stores. Thranduil had perfected the art of it - using his lead leg to firmly establish where the next step was before moving – and was now confident that no matter where duty called him to he'd be able to get there, slowly or in a hurry, completely unaided.
"I am also most grateful for your help in all this Calelon; truly le athae." Thranduil gave a small bow of his head toward his healer who sat across from him as they took breakfast.
Calelon predictably waved away the praise, "I do my job and duty Aran-nin – I do not require thanks as though I do some special thing."
That was utter hogwash and well they both knew it but the blonde King said nothing and simply sipped his tea. Calelon had gone far and above his duty in his treatment and rehabilitation of his King. The royal healer had gone to a great many pains to maintain Thranduil's privacy and also did things that were not truly required of him such as to have breakfast with Thranduil every morning. Calelon spent his every waking moment working with Thranduil be it helping him through a therapy session or encouraging him when his disability threw up yet another stumbling block. However the King had learned in their months cloistered together that Calelon was bad at receiving thanks and even worse at accepting any sort of praise so he held his peace not wanting to spoil the tranquillity of the morning with an inane and pointless argument.
They continued on in friendly silence as they finished off the last of their meal before Calelon put down his teacup and looked at Thranduil with purpose. The Elven King hurriedly swallowed down the rest of his tea before he too set down his cup and sat up a little straighter. Calelon had that look about him that said he was going to introduce something new (and initially torturous) to Thranduil's rehabilitation. Still, despite being prepared for Calelon to throw something at him the King was caught by surprise at the healer's next words.
"Well Aran-nin I am sure you will be pleased to hear this – you are ready to leave the healing halls."
Thranduil only gaped in a rather un-royal manner and Calelon gave him a somewhat sharp look.
"Do not look so surprised; surely you did not think you'd be kept here forever? And you must realise, must feel how much stronger you have become? More than that you have regained much of your skills and have adapted very well to your handicap. There is no use in keeping you here away from your own rooms, your family and indeed the wider population anymore. You are free to leave these halls and return to your own suite as of this morn."
Thranduil blinked in shock and Calelon laughed.
"Come Aran-nin, let us gather your things together ere Hir Aglardaer arrives for your morning practises – I am sure he will be most glad to help you move back into your rooms instead."
~o~
Thranduil stared out from his balcony revelling in the cooling caress of the early autumn breeze as it blew through his ash blonde locks. Valar, he hadn't realised how much he'd missed his balcony and this view over all his realm. It was truly beautiful and utterly captivating. As evinced by the fact that Aglardaer had to give Thranduil a good jab with his elbow into the King's uninjured right side to recapture his attention.
"Ah, sorry mellon you were saying?" Thranduil murmured sheepishly even as his eyes snuck away from Aglardaer's somewhat exasperated ones and back to the much loved scene of his wood far below.
"I was saying," Aglardaer gave him a little bump again to gain his full attention, "that now that you have been freed from the healing halls it is time to meet with Lord Arahaelon and the Elite and explain and discuss things with them."
Thranduil winced. He knew full well that by 'things' his best friend meant his disability and despite the thus far positive reactions of his nearest and dearest Thranduil still did not relish the idea of disclosing his partial blindness. It felt far too much like exposing a weakness.
Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face for he found Aglardaer gave him a stern look then.
"You must disclose your handicap to them Thranduil. You know you must. How can the Elite guard you properly if they do not know that they are now needed as your left eye? And Lord Arahaelon needs to know also – he can now sit at your left side instead of your right and subtly assist you should it be needed; can keep an eye on counsellors and tradesmen on that side of the room for you. And besides all of that the hardest part of your recovery – getting you back to battle fitness – still remains and they will all be needed to accomplish that task. Please do not try and fight me on this."
Thranduil sighed aggravated. He knew Aglardaer was right and that just made him loathe to do what had to be done all the more.
Still, Thranduil knew there was no point in putting off a dread thing - for it would only loom ever larger over him. Instead, he thought, he'd start with the easier part of the difficult task.
"Fine Aglardaer, I will not fight you on this. I will meet with them as you say – only I will meet with my Elite first. I will see to Arahaelon afterwards."
"Hmm," Aglardaer crossed his arms over his broad chest and gave Thranduil a sceptical look. "I do not think that the best idea mellon, for Lord Arahaelon – though he has made no actual mention of it – is already annoyed you have not yet seen fit to send for him all this time you have been able to have visitors."
Thranduil sighed again and pushed a stray hair from his face; Lord Arahaelon was a situation Thranduil did not yet feel up to dealing with.
"I know Arahaelon will be upset but I will smooth things with him once the time comes. It will be as I have said - I'll speak to my Elite first."
That, figured the Elven King would be by far the easier task.
~o~
"Enter," Thranduil called pleasantly over his shoulder in response to Arodon's request for entry to his chambers. The King did not look up at the sound of the main doors to his suite being opened and instead busily fiddled with securing a brooch upon his robes - for he planned to talk and have lunch with his Elite in his late wife's rose garden. Getting to the garden would require passing through a great length of the palace and as this was the first time he would be appearing in public for months Thranduil had put special care into his appearance and attire.
Brooch at last firmly secured and robes and hair smoothed one last time Thranduil placed his circlet – one of his simpler, less elaborate ones – upon his brow and turned to greet his Elite. They knelt upon one knee with heads down in supplication and Thranduil smiled to see them again and genially commanded them up out of their respectful stance.
"Rise, rise – there is no need for such over formality. You may be at ease."
Yet his Elite – Arodon, Duron and Arthon – did not so much as twitch.
"I said you may rise." Thranduil gave his voice a bit more volume in case somehow they had not heard him at first.
Still they did not move and Thranduil could not stop the irritation that began to smoulder quietly within him and was hard pressed to keep it from his voice when he next spoke.
"Have I lost my authority in the months I have been gone?" The blonde King wondered aloud.
Arodon snapped his head up then though he remained kneeling, "Nay Aran-nin, of course not."
"That is odd then is it not? For I could have sworn I just commanded you all to get up and face me. Yet there you all are still on the ground."
The words came out with more bite than Thranduil wanted and he felt a pang of regret; his aim was to have a pleasant lunch with his bodyguards and get the awkwardness of his revelations out of the way yet the sight of them still kneeling threatened to ignite irritation and turn it into ire.
It was Arthon who then peeked up from behind a blonde braid that had fallen across his face to speak next. "We do not deserve to face you; we do not deserve to stand in your presence."
"You do not… you…you what?" Thranduil was bewildered for a second before it hit him.
Oh. Oh dear. He had dealt with this once, centuries before, and it had certainly taken some doing back then; he was loathe to have to deal with it again.
Resisting the urge to sigh Thranduil spoke more gently this time patience lacing his tone, "Arise and I do not expect to have to repeat myself nor find myself disobeyed again."
Arodon, Duron and Arthon rose then as one, heads held high, though none of them would meet his eyes. Thranduil resisted the urge to sigh again.
"Now, what do you mean by your little display of defiance? What do you mean you do not deserve to face me? I called you did I not? I asked you to face me – why then the disobedience?"
It was Duron's turn to speak. "Tis not defiance nor disobedience Aran-nin but the truth – we…we failed you. We do not deserve the favour of standing in your presence."
Hearing the statement repeated once more by his usually unflappable and confident Avari guard Thranduil had his suspicions confirmed. This was a case of survivor's guilt – or well, not quite survivor's guilt - but guilt nonetheless. And it was a rather acute case too if even Duron was affected.
Thranduil took in the look on the face of the tall Avari. Duron looked an utter misery – completely dejected and his guilt shone in his eyes now that he'd finally braved looking at Thranduil and the look was enough to give the Elven King a jolt. Duron had been Thranduil's first ever bodyguard, appointed a great many yéni ago when Thranduil had still been a rather wild living and carefree Crown Prince. Oropher had insisted it was high time his son had a bodyguard of his own as things had darkened toward the end of the Age and Thranduil had given in without too much of a fight. Upon being introduced to his new grim faced guard however, the then Prince had wished he'd shown a bit more resistance to the idea certain that all his fun, adventures and daring warrior ways were about to be severely curtailed by his new sombre shadow who was older than him by a full half millennia.
Thranduil had had no time to whine to Oropher about it however for the very next day after his appointment Duron had dragged him off far into the wilds near the River Running and there they proceeded to camp out for three weeks. The Avari ellon had insisted they bring nothing but their weapons and a change of clothing then proceeded to do absolutely nothing to help Thranduil in setting up and maintaining a camp for them for the duration of the three weeks. Thranduil had had to build a talan from scratch, hunt, cook, clean and even fight off a wild and ravenous bear all on his own. At the end of it as they made to leave Duron had simply clapped Thranduil heartily on the back and gave a tiny rare smile of approval. After that they had worked together beautifully, the older ellon never fussing needlessly nor interfering in Thranduil's plans save to perhaps improve them by offering a bit of timely advice. He had fit into Thranduil's then troop and life seamlessly and they had over time developed a close bond where Thranduil had come to appreciate the Avari ellon's quiet and perpetual calm.
So to see him so disturbed was truly perturbing for the Elven King.
Thranduil let his eyes move along to next rest upon Arodon. He too held the same guilt ridden and miserable expression as Duron with unabashed worry shining in his eyes as he tried to subtly look Thranduil over for any lingering sign of injury. To see this look upon the head of his Elite did not trouble Thranduil in the same way however for Arodon was an extremely anxiety prone ellon. Arodon's face looked like that to some degree or another practically every day as he fussed and worried endlessly over all things concerning Thranduil.
Technically, Arodon was his third appointed bodyguard; when Oropher had gotten it into his head as war loomed ever nearer that Thranduil would do well to get a second bodyguard the then Prince had been not at all amused. He was not guaranteed to strike it lucky a second time in gaining a genial bodyguard like Duron and he'd protested long and loudly to his Adar only to be resolutely ignored. The Trials for the choosing of his next bodyguard came and Thranduil sourly ignored the invitation Oropher had extended him to come down and watch and had instead turned up only as the victor was being crowned so that he might get a glimpse of his new babysitter. Thranduil had been shocked to see Aglardaer, his (sneaky) best friend, as the one declared champion of the Trials and next bodyguard of the Crown Prince.
Things had then run smoothly for some time after that; Duron and Aglardaer already knew each other and got on (surprisingly in Thranduil's opinion) well and made a good team. Essentially nothing had changed in Thranduil's life and that suited him well. Of course his ever interfering Adar had had other plans and he sprung them upon Thranduil apropos of nothing the day after they had settled their camp at Dagorlad. He'd been summoned to his Adar's tent to find a blonde, rather nervy looking ellon already there standing to attention. Thranduil had known him vaguely though he had been unable to recall the other's name at the time; they were of an age and had taken Quenya and arithmetic lessons together some centuries before. Thranduil had nodded politely to the ellon and turned to Oropher who had promptly declared the ellon as his new bodyguard. Thranduil had been furious and argued back and forth with his Adar (uncaring of the presence of the other) that he had more than enough guards and that to appoint him another would mean he'd have far more than Oropher himself – King of their people.
Oropher had calmly replied that as Aglardaer was a Commander in his own right he was unable to give Thranduil the full, constant protection that was needed and had ordered them both out of the tent brokering no further argument. It had been difficult at first – being introduced in the midst of a war which would turn out to be devastating for both their people and Thranduil personally was not ideal and that coupled with Arodon's anxious mothering had driven Thranduil almost to madness. Duron (who'd had his own issues in getting used to working with Arodon) had stepped in after a particularly tense disagreement had seen Thranduil swearing to strip Arodon of his rank and title. Things had gradually gotten a little better after that though Arodon had never ceased in his mothering, worrying ways – he just knew now when to speak and when to hold his tongue and Thranduil had learned when to suffer his care and when to ignore him utterly in a strange tandem that worked for them both.
To look at him now though Thranduil knew he'd have to spend some time letting himself be subjected to Arodon's mother-henning if he were to have any hope of trying to ease the clear guilt and misery upon his now much valued blonde guard.
The silence had stretched whilst Thranduil had been caught in his musings and memories and at last seemingly unable to bear his continued silence Arthon spoke up again.
"We will bear whatever punishment you so see fit Aran-nin."
Thranduil studied the youngest of his Elite who still did not have the courage to raise his usually playful, happy blue eyes to meet the King's own and that simple act in and of itself again reinforced just how strongly the guilt his Elite was feeling must be. He would have to be careful not to brush this off or make it seem as though he were casting their feelings aside without consideration. For if even Arthon felt thusly…
Arthon was his happiest, pluckiest and most impulsive bodyguard and Thranduil liked him immensely. Thranduil had had his doubts in the beginning; firstly he hadn't wanted another bodyguard, resistant to the idea of ever more interference in his life and it had taken Lord Arahaelon, Aglardaer and countless other councillors to persuade Thranduil to take on yet another guard and so make his Elite complete. Secondly Arthon was young – only two hundred and fifty years older than Rithel and millennia younger than Thranduil, Duron, Aglardaer and his own older brother Arodon. (And you could have knocked Thranduil over with a feather when he'd heard the two were related – never had he seen two such disparate personalities in siblings before.)
Yet as predicted by a quietly confident Arodon, Arthon had aced the Trials with flying colours and was soon inducted as the fourth and final member of the King's Elite Guard. Arthon had had a little trouble settling in at first with all the rules, regulation and expectant behaviours for an Elite bodyguard to the King – he was always so anxious to head out and meet trouble head on – and when he'd realised that for the most part Thranduil's battling and war-mongering days were behind him he'd been sorely disappointed. Still, he had taken to his more sedate duties with just as much vigour as one riding victorious from a battlefield and the King could not help but dote on him. He reminded Thranduil of his own wild, hungry-for-adventure youth and kept the King feeling young with his constant stream of outlandish tales and the latest titillating gossip. Arthon made friends easily with his relaxed, gregarious demeanour and bright ever smiling face.
Thranduil shook himself from his musings again to study said face before him now – it was not smiling – it was expecting punishment. Thranduil rubbed a hand tiredly across his brow and finally spoke up.
"I have not any punishment in store for any of you for it is my opinion that you do not deserve any – certainly not for anything that happened during the battle with the fire serpents. But come," Thranduil waved a regal and heavily jewelled hand, "we will discuss all this over lunch."
He was hungry and it would soon be time for his afternoon dose of medication and the Elven King was certain he would not be able to talk his bodyguards out of their guilt as well as disclose his disability to them on an empty stomach and even less should the dreaded dragon fire pain make itself known. The sooner they headed down to the gardens the better – they had wasted time enough.
Thranduil swept from his chambers in a flourish of silver-green robes and made his way down the hall and toward the staircase that would lead them down to ground level. He was confident in each of his steps and acknowledged every pleased and surprised greeting that was called out to him en-route. Soon the palace and then the wider realm would be abuzz with the news that their King was out of the healing halls and back on his own two feet and Thranduil could not keep the pleased smile from his face even as he was sure to subtly scan for any potential trip hazards.
He strode on ahead of his Elite hopeful that by the time they got to the gardens the sight of him hale and leading them as they were so used to would be enough to begin to shake them out of their stupor and show them there was no need for such extreme guilt.
Thranduil could but hope.
~o~
Thranduil settled himself at the table that had been laid out for them and smiled to feel the sun upon his skin once more. He revelled in the slight breeze that wafted the delicate smell of his late wife's roses around the garden and rather happily accepted the glass of chilled white wine proffered to him by a beaming servant. The only thing that marred the perfection of the moment for the Elven King was to see his bodyguards still so guilt ridden and upset. He sipped his wine and sighed uncertain how to proceed. He'd missed his Elite – so used to their nigh constant presence – and he'd been looking forward to meeting them. The fact that they might feel guilt over what had happened to him had never entered Thranduil's mind; though now that he thought on it, it should have been apparent to him. After all he'd spent months upon months feeling guilt over the death of his Adar and even now just over two decades later Thranduil still felt lingering guilt over his wife's untimely demise. It was unfair of him to expect his bodyguards to not have similar feelings but that did not make it any easier to deal with.
The King was momentarily spared just then as one of Calelon's apprentices approached with his afternoon dose of medication on a small silver tray.
The young ellon bowed low and proffered the tray with a flourish, "For you Aran-nin. Tis grand to see you hale again."
Thranduil took the small cup that held his bitter pain relief, tipped it back with the barest hint of a grimace that he quickly smoothed into a smile. "Le fael tithen nestron – I must admit I am glad to have finally been released from your place of work."
The young healer in training smiled broadly before taking away the emptied cup and tray.
No sooner had he disappeared than Thranduil found himself accosted by Arodon.
"Was that medicine Aran-nin?" The other blonde held deep concern in his eyes. "If you are still partaking of medicine should you really be out here, up and about?"
"Calelon has deemed me well enough to leave the healing halls. Should you have concerns about that decision or want to debate it then you'll have to take it up with him."
Whatever else Arodon wanted to say in protest was interrupted as their meal was then brought before them. They held their tongues until all the food was laid out and the servants thanked and then it was Duron who spoke up.
"That was medicine, for the smell of the herbs was very strong. I myself will not question the wisdom of Calelon's decisions but I do want to know what still ails you Aran-nin. For we have already failed dismally at our jobs to protect you once and we will not do so again."
Thranduil sighed again both at the sad way in which Duron declared their perceived failings as well as in trepidation at the revelations he needed to make.
"The medicine I took is for pain relief…" Thranduil began slowly, feeling suddenly glad that their lunch was only a cold chicken salad rather than something hot. For it was clear by the looks upon his guards faces that he was going to have to spend a rather long time talking before he could even contemplate touching his lunch.
~o~
"Ah, Aran-nin – here you are – I have been looking for you. Have you been out here all this time?"
Thranduil looked up at Calelon and gave the healer a tired nod, "Aye – we have had much to discuss." The King waved a hand to encompass his Elite. "We have been discussing my next steps in terms of getting me back up to battle fitness again."
"Indeed," Calelon looked them all over in turn. "I am glad to hear you are all eager and willing to aid Aran Thranduil back to full health. Be warned though it will be a lengthy process and often times trying. Also, any plans or proposed exercises need to be run by me first for approval. It would not do to have a relapse now."
Calelon directed his stern gaze toward Thranduil before he let it soften again. "Well come now Aran-nin – I have come to fetch you for dinner. Your hîn will be expecting you."
Thranduil started at that; he knew they'd been outside for some time as evinced by their drinks that had been replenished several times over and the appearance of a platter of snack foods. He'd not thought it was quite so late however though a quick glance up at the sky which was just beginning to turn a dusky pink confirmed it was indeed almost dinner time. He'd have to hurry if he was to be on time. His talk with his Elite had gone on far longer than anticipated.
Though perhaps it was to be expected. Thranduil had certainly had his hands full in trying to assure his bodyguards that yes, though there was still some pain he was perfectly fine to be up and about. He'd also spent considerable time going over his partial loss of sight with them. They'd been shocked and devastated to know their charge and King had been permanently harmed and Thranduil had had a hard time in trying to get them not to fall even further into guilt. It was difficult however and not a task likely to be completed in one afternoon for Duron, Arodon and Arthon all felt deeply guilty over their roles in the battle with the fires serpents - lamenting they had not done enough and agonising over what they felt they ought to have done instead in order to have prevented such an outcome.
Thranduil for his part had let them talk. It was better for his guards to get their feelings out into the open and discuss it with him now rather than have it linger within their minds slowly poisoning their fëa. It hadn't made for easy listening; it was hard for the Elven King to listen to his warriors so berate themselves and eventually he'd called a halt to it sensing the talk was approaching a point where it would no longer be helpful but harmful.
Thranduil though he still could not remember the particulars of the battle (a fact he did not let on to his Elite) had reminded them of one overall fact – and that was to ask themselves who was truly responsible for his injuries and subsequent disability.
Was it their fault because they had gotten out of formation? Or was it the fault of the dragon who'd saw fit to rain down fiery hell upon Thranduil?
The King had reminded his bodyguards that they were fine to look over their tactics to aid them in future battles but not to let it become a case of them taking culpability for an act of evil over which they ultimately had no control. Eventually he'd swung their talk round to his recovery and rehabilitation and had managed to successfully distract them with an update on all he'd already managed to relearn. It was then that he'd asked for their help in completing the rest of his recovery.
Thranduil was well aware that guilt could be a motivator for purposeful action and he intended to use it. Hopefully once his Elite saw how well he was recovering and felt like they had had a hand in it, it would lessen the burden of their guilt. He could but hope.
With a grace that hid how tired he actually felt, Thranduil pushed up and away from the table and gingerly stretched. "Let us be off then Calelon – it would not do to keep my hîn waiting lest they get fretful."
Calelon nodded and turned to leave. Thranduil pinned his Elite with a look as he made to follow the royal healer. "I would appreciate it if you could all put what we have discussed today into a plan of action for Calelon to look over and approve."
"Of course Aran-nin.
"Right away."
"It will be done Aran-nin."
Thranduil nodded at the affirmatives before he gave a leisurely wave of his hand as he departed. "Good. Aduial vaer. I shall see you all on the morrow."
~o~
Thranduil gave a resounding knock on the door before him not giving himself any chance to have second thoughts or fret about the meeting he was about to have. He'd done far too much of that already and besides the time had come. He could no longer avoid his Regent – certainly not after being spotted strolling through the palace and in Celeblassel's gardens the day prior. Nay, it was time to face Lord Arahaelon and whatever wrath he had in store for Thranduil for making the Regent wait this long to see him.
Thranduil gave the door another solid four knocks after a minute of waiting with no response.
A terse, "Who is it?" came from behind the solid oak door then and the Elven King took that as invite enough and let himself in.
Arahaelon did not look up as Thranduil eased himself into the study seemingly engrossed in the papers scattered before him. The blonde King shut the door with a soft click before he ambled over to the desk.
"Bloody hell Arahaelon – here I thought you wanted to see me yet this is the welcome I receive."
The sound of Thranduil's voice snapped Arahaelon out of whatever had so absorbed him and the Regent looked up at Thranduil with a look of shock he did not quite manage to hide before a scowl took over his face.
"Ah, Thranduil." Arahaelon dismissively lowered his head to once again regard his papers. "You have finally deigned to grace me with your presence I see."
Though the words were terse and clipped Thranduil knew Arahaelon as well as the other knew him and the King could hear the hint of underlying hurt. He gave a small wistful sigh at Arahaelon's continued (and forced) ignoring of him and stepped even closer. Arahaelon still remained doggedly invested in the papers before him – now writing something or the other.
"I am sorry it has taken this long for me to see you."
Still Arahaelon wrote not gracing Thranduil with even the barest of glances.
The Elven King gave a tiny smirk at his Regent's stubborn pride and moved again. Instead of taking the seat before the great mahogany desk as was likely expected of him Thranduil crossed round so that he stood right next to where Arahaelon remained seated. The Elven King crouched so they were near enough level and laid his hand on Arahaelon's busily scrawling one.
This finally got Thranduil a response – a look of severe irritation.
"I am busy now Thranduil. I will seek you out once I am free but as you are well aware a realm does not run itself," Arahaelon groused as he tried to free his hand.
Thranduil ignored his Regent's snippy words and wriggling hand entirely and instead pinned him even further as the King leaned his head so that it rested on Arahaelon's upper arm.
"I am sorry Arahaelon." Thranduil let his head rest more heavily upon Arahaelon feeling calm as he took in the others scent – cedar and a hint of balsam – a scent the King had long associated with a sense of home and safety. "It was not my intention to hurt you in any way. Goheno nin."
"Be at ease Tharan-min, there is naught to forgive."
Thranduil smiled at the endearment as well as the fingers that now ran gently through his hair.
"I am glad to see you hale again." Arahaelon's fingers idled in the King's ash blonde hair for a few moments longer before the older ellon begun to move as he pushed away from his desk and work at last. "Come, stand, let me take a good look at you – I feel as though I have not laid eyes upon you in an Age."
Thranduil huffed a small laugh and let himself be gently pulled to standing. He felt he did well not to squirm as the cool and assessing gaze of his Regent swept him from head to toe and back up again. They locked eyes and Arahaelon gave one of his rare smiles – the one that was all teeth that he seemed to save exclusively for Thranduil; he then pulled the King in close and gave him a kiss on the cheek before he enveloped the blonde in a crushing embrace.
"Nan Belain Thranduil! I have never been so worried."
"I am sure that is not true," Thranduil snorted, his words muffled against Arahaelon's shoulder.
The silver haired Regent said nothing only tightened his embrace as if to emphasise his words and Thranduil could not help but gasp at the extra pressure on his still not quite healed left side.
Arahaelon let him go and jumped back as if scalded.
"You are still injured!" There was a look of fright in his eyes before fury lit them up instead. "You had better not be hiding any injury from Calelon simply because you grew tired of the healing halls. For I shall drag you back there myself."
Thranduil chuckled again and held his hands up in supplication, "Sîdh, sîdh Arahaelon – Calelon is more than wise to any ruse I might pull. I am well enough to be freed of his halls worry not."
"Why then did you gasp? You sounded pained."
"And I was," Thranduil worried his lip before he took a deep fortifying breath. "Tis what I have come to speak to you about actually. That is," the blonde gave a wicked smirk, "if you have the time to see me now?"
"Impudent elfling," Arahaelon half-heartedly scolded even as he gestured for Thranduil to take a seat. The older ellon poured them both a drink – a vintage Dorwinion Thranduil was pleased to note – before he settled himself back behind his desk. "Talk."
Thranduil smiled into his wine glass at the blunt command, took a sip then began.
Arahaelon regarded him impassively the whole time Thranduil spoke – face a perfect blank mask that told the Elven King nothing of how he felt at what he was hearing.
At length Thranduil came to the end of his tale and settled himself back into his chair and took up his wine glass again as he watched his Regent process all he'd been told and its implications.
Thranduil had almost finished his generous glass of Dorwinion when at last Arahaelon finally spoke.
"Show me."
Thranduil canted an eyebrow at the older ellon, "I beg pardon? Show you what?"
"Do not be obtuse Thranduil – your face whatever else?"
Thranduil instantly felt defensive. Besides Calelon, his children alone had seen his now mangled face and that had been an impulsive action on his part. Aglardaer and his Elite hadn't seen it nor had they asked to, knowing it was not their place and that Thranduil would reveal only what he wished. Arahaelon on the other hand had no such compunctions; he was close to and familiar with Thranduil in a way no one else save his children were.
Arahaelon had been a part of Thranduil's life from birth, had watched him grow and had been a constant presence within the House of Oropher. For Arahaelon had been Oropher's best friend and his sole personal bodyguard; after the disaster that had been Dagorlad Arahaelon (once recovered) had taken it into his head to watch over his slain best friend's progeny and so had eventually become Thranduil's Regent. Over the centuries that followed the appointment the two had developed an even closer relationship akin to that of a father and son. Arahaelon alone was the only person on this side of the Seas who could ask or command anything of Thranduil and see it done and well the older ellon knew it.
Still, that did not mean Thranduil easily acquiesced to everything Arahaelon asked of him and this was no different. "Why do you need to see my face? Can you not use your imagination?"
The King shot his Regent a sour look. Truthfully he was worried over how Arahaelon would react to the sight. The reaction of his children had been surprisingly kind and accepting but that did not make Thranduil eager to expose his orc-like visage to any other. He was a vain ellon and the destruction of his face was a bitter and devastating blow.
"Forgive me Thranduil but it is precisely because it is difficult to imagine that I ask you to show me. For I cannot reconcile in my mind what you have told me of your injuries and new disability when you seem hardly changed to before."
"Hardly changed?"
"Yes," Arahaelon nodded. "I say hardly changed for I have noticed the way you move is ever so slightly different."
Thranduil gave a tiny smile at that – Arahaelon was as sharp as a spider's fang and knew him exceptionally well. "The fact you can tell the way I move has changed should then give enough credence to my story for you to believe it." The King still wasn't going to give in easily to this request that made him feel all different types of uncomfortable.
"Of course I believe you, you stubborn git – I never said I didn't."
"Then why…"
"Just show me Thranduil…please. I…I need to know…I…" Arahaelon cut himself off with an irritated huff of breath and a sharp look at Thranduil that begged him to understand.
And understand Thranduil did – despite his outward composure and almost teasing words Thranduil knew that Arahaelon was shocked, hurt and horrified by what he'd been told. The older ellon was protective of him in his own (oftentimes strange) way and was likely wrought up on the inside over the permanent harm that had come to the King.
With a deep breath, Thranduil squared his shoulders and let Hall Thurin fall.
Arahaelon stared and a look of deep sadness filled his eyes and spread slowly into his usually emotionless face.
"Aye Tharan-min – you have suffered much."
Much to Thranduil's consternation he felt tears spring up in his one working eye and he snarled at the other. "Don't! Don't you dare Arahaelon! I do not want your pity. I do not need it." With that the King commanded his glamour firmly back into place.
"And you do not have it." Arahaelon got up from his seat and instead moved to perch upon the end of his desk in front Thranduil. "You have suffered much but I can see you are well on your way to overcoming it." He cradled Thranduil's jaw gently and wiped away the single tear that had fallen with his thumb. "I am very proud."
Thranduil felt what little remained of his composure slip entirely and he crushed his face against Arahaelon's chest as a sob shook him. "It has been so, so difficult."
"I know, I know," Arahaelon soothed as he let his fingers stroke through blonde locks again. "And as you tell me you still have yet to regain battle fitness there will be a lot more difficulty to come. But just look, just look at how far you have come already; how strong you have been to overcome all the adversity thrown in your path thus far. I know you will continue to do so. It may take a long time but believe me – all will be well."
Thranduil gave himself to his emotions for a few long moments more before he pulled back with a final sniff. "I am sorry."
"Again, there is naught to apologise for Tharan-min. I am forever here for you should you need me." Arahaelon placed a kiss atop the crown of the Kings head before he gave a wide smile. "Now that you are hale and freed of Calelon's halls we really ought to put the hearts of the people at ease and announce you in some sort of official way."
Thranduil nodded as he delicately wiped lingering moisture from his right eye feeling glad of Arahaelon's easy acceptance. "Yes, I have thought of that and I wish to host a feast to commemorate those who served and fell in the battle – I was unable to attend any of their funerals and wish to show my respects. That should do well enough for 'announcing' me."
Arahaelon nodded his agreement with a grin. "That sounds perfect. Come let us begin with the planning right away."
~o~
Thranduil looked himself over in the mirror before him. He had excused himself from the feasting and merry making in the palace's grand feast hall in order to return to his rooms for another dose of his painkiller. His second dose for the night. The fact gnawed at Thranduil but he did his best to ignore his worries and attempted to push them forcefully to the back of his mind. Still, they came at him unbidden and the biggest worry of all was that his painkiller was becoming ineffective.
The feast going on many floors below had started off in sombre fashion; in memory of the slain and injured but in the way of his people they had slowly brightened and found joy again – happy for those who'd survived the war, happy their forest had been spared from the dragon threat and most of all happy to see their King hale and walking tall amongst them again. Everyone had been having a grand time including Thranduil himself and the celebration showed no signs of slowing despite the lateness of the hour. The wood elves partied on even as the moon hit its zenith and began its retreat once more. Yet as things at the feast picked up and reached fever pitch a feeling Thranduil had come to dread had begun to tingle and gnaw at his senses. The malice of the dragon fire had threatened to come alive and had seen the King slipping away and back to his rooms for his second dose of the night.
A thing that had become common over the past few nights – the Elven King now routinely found himself being awakened in the dead of night by the feeling of being set alight again and had to quickly dash to his bathing chambers for his pain relief.
The King looked himself over in the mirror once more and sighed – it was late enough that had he been asleep the pain would've begun to wake him about now he supposed.
Thranduil fussed with his hair one final time before he turned and began to make his way back down to the celebrations all whilst he tried to push down the deep uneasiness he had over the ever increasing frequency of his doses of painkiller. What had started out as twice a day had become three and had now rather swiftly morphed into four doses a day. How much longer could he truly rely on his medicine before it lost all effectiveness? Perhaps it was time he stopped ignoring his fears and bring them to Calelon.
Perhaps, perhaps. Maybe, maybe.
Thranduil was brought out of his despondent thoughts the closer he got to the feast hall. He could hear the fast paced beat of Silvan drums and much drunken singing and laughter and his lips instantly quirked into a small smile. It did his heart good to hear and see his people so happy, care-free and at ease after their recent grief.
Thranduil slipped back into his seat at the head of the royal table, lined with the kin of those who'd fallen, and accepted the glass of wine proffered to him. He sipped at it delicately, it was his third of the night and he reckoned he could perhaps get away with one more before he called it a night. The King settled himself more comfortably and let the joyous atmosphere suffuse him and push away his lingering worries over his long-term health concerns.
There was peace, joy and laughter in his Realm again and after everything he'd so recently been through Thranduil fully intended to enjoy it.
TBC.
Hall Thurin – Veiled Secret. The name of Thranduil's facial glamour completely made up by me
Adar – Father
Elo – Wow
Istari – (Plural of Istar) – Quenya for Wizards
Las-nin – My Leaf
Naneth – Mother
Hîn – Children
Iell / Iell-nin – Daughter / My Daughter
Aran-nin/Aran - My King/King
Sîdh – Peace
Hannon-le – Thank you
Hir – Lord
Anor – Sun
Le athae – Literally: You are/were helpful/kind - Sindarin version of Thank you
Mellon - Friend
Yéni – (Quenya) Elvish measure of time equalling 144 years. Plural of yén.
Ellon – Male elf
Talan – also known as a flet; an open living space used by Elves
Le fael – Literally: You are generous – Sindarin version of Thank you
Tithen Nestron – Little (young) Healer (male)
Fëa – Soul (Quenya)
Aduial vaer – Good Evening
Goheno nin – Forgive me
Tharan-min – Vigourous One – a childhood nickname for Thranduil
Nan Belain – By the Valar
A/N: I have finally figured out this will have a total of 14 chapters :) (so much for a short story lol) and I'll do my best to get the remaining three written and posted up in good time. Thanks as ever for reading.