"My lord? My lord? Thranduil, wake up! It is just a dream!"

Thranduil's eyes flew open. Harune was shaking him. He sat up, gasping, tangled in sweaty sheets. His hair clung to his head and he was covered in icy sweat.

"Thranduil? Answer me! Are you all right?" Harune untangled the sheets speedily.

"I-I, oh, valar, Oropher was yelling at me again, telling me I was to obey him and that you were my slave and I was screaming for him to shut up and stop lying to me, and then you walked in and he killed you." Thranduil shuddered, collapsing against Harune. "There was blood—and, oh valar, help me!"

"Would you like me to call your son, Thranduil? Holding him might help you."

"No!" Thranduil cried. "He does not need to see me like this! Legolas cannot help me. He will only feel upset."

"As you wish. Let me change these sheets for you. I poured you a glass of water."

Thranduil flung off the blankets and stumbled out of bed. He collapsed in a chair shakily and gulped down the icy water. He felt terrible. He was so tired and his head felt like a block. But he was not going to sleep. Not with the threat of nightmares.

Harune changed the sheets and left the room. Thranduil lay down with a tired sigh. A moment later he fell asleep. "That dirty Harune!" Thranduil thought sleepily. "He slipped a sleeping draught in my water!"