Hesitantly I tap the doors of the private library, pausing briefly to smile timidly at the two guards that stand either side. Neither of them break their resolute stares when they offer me perfectly timed salutes.

If I felt I could, I would have asked them in what state was my husband, for he left the dungeons so quickly that I didn't even have the chance to follow. Sadly these two don't seem like the informant type so I guess I will have to face this without assistance.

When I get no answer I push on into the room anyway, inhaling deeply as I do. I am not frightened of my own mate, he may be King but he is still my sweet and oddly awkward Thranduil...who used to walk into doors and argue with inanimate objects.

The door bangs closed a little too loudly behind me, making me jump clean out of my skin - well that blew my cover!

Shaking my head at my stupidity I pad on into the room, with it's ceiling high book cases on every wall, its large overstuffed settees and lounge chairs, it's crackling fireplace and cherrywood desks. I meander around a rather ornate and wide bookcase, that quite literally splits the room in two, and predictably find Thranduil hunched over a desk at the far end.

His hands balled into fists pressing down into the wood, his back bowed and his head forward, making his platinum hair fall over his shoulders so it touches the polished surface of the desk.

At my arrival he looks up, his lips a thin hard line and his eyebrows drawn together.

"You requested my presence here?" I remind him quietly as I smooth my hands along the front of my coat skirt. When I get nothing but the silent treatment, I roll my eyes upwards and sigh shakily; "I am sorry Thranduil, I didn't intend for this to be your welcome home."

"I didn't intend on leaving you and the children in the care of wolves," He snipes back, making a disgusted sound at the back of his throat as he straightens up and walks around the front of the desk. I note the anger still evident in his features, and how the tendons in his arms and hands flex and protrude in his temper.

A long silence hangs in the air between us, but eventually he breathes in sharply and in a few resolute strides he closes the distance between us. Taking my hands in his, I am alarmed to find that they tremor slightly - whether by anger, or fatigue I cannot be sure? I peek curiously up into his hardened features, dismayed to find them as unreadable and empty as before.

"Thranduil..." I begin softly, pulling my hand from his to trace his face with my fingertips; "What are you thinking? I can't read your thoughts, I can't understand you if you don't tell me what is going inside that thick skull of yours?"

The sly comment earns me a slight smirk, and I grin triumphantly at the reaction.  It is true, his head must be hard as rock to have survived the numerous beatings he has taken. With a sag of his shoulders, he catches my fingers with his and pauses my exploration of his jaw;

"I was not expecting all of this," Thranduil groans slightly but waves his hand before I can reply; "Do not apologize Clara, none of this was your fault. I only mean that I was not expecting all of this to change so suddenly! I thought...well I thought I would just know what to do or how to act when I returned home, but truthfully I don't know and it feels like I am failing before I even begin."

"Stop it," I scold quietly and wind my hands around his waist, pulling him close; "Thranduil, how else are you to be expected to act? That was a massive blow and you are barely home a day. Other warriors are recovering with their families, and slowly getting used to the idea of being home. I am certain none of them are coming home to rule a Kingdom, and I am also pretty sure no one is expecting you to act like everything is wonderful."

"Still, I do not believe effectively sentencing an elf to death on your first day home is considered a good omen," Thranduil scowls and clamps his hands around mine at his back to gently pull away from me, but I don't allow him. Instead I tug him roughly, ensuring he looks at me.

"You banished him, that is not a death sentence...and for his crimes he deserves no less," I reiterate, because I have no love for Galour and his traitorous house; "No one is in disagreement with you, you did what you had to do. He slandered your parents! I know others who would have disfigured him for speaking such lies."

"But what if they are not lies!" Thranduil snaps, and I frown in shock at the absurdity of his comment; "Adar never spoke of what drove my Naneth into her melancholies, he just said she was broken by the ghosts of Doriath. I assumed it was the death of her kin, but I knew deep down there was something more...but Adar only punished me if I pried too deeply. I let it go, but now it feels others know more of me than I do. How does he expect me to rule with such secrets? Why could he not just..."

In a temper, Thranduil twists away from me and swings his fist at the bookshelf. The resounding crack and thud of the wood breaking and the books falling makes me flinch. He throws his weight against the shelf and leans his forehead against the wood, breathing in deep and angry breaths, in what I assume is his attempt to deflect from his emotions. Calmly I step over the fallen books and place a gentle hand on his quivering shoulder;

"Why could he not just - what? Finish your sentence," I encourage and squeeze his arm, knowing well what he really wants to say, what his heart truly feels. "It is okay to feel it, no matter how petty it seems," I reassure him quietly.

He let's out a shuddering breath, and I watch his jaw unclench and his hands loosen on the wood as he succumbs to the inevitable grief. After a moment he straightens up and slowly turns again to face me, his eyes so haunted and lost that my heart lurches in my chest.

"Live...why could he not just live?" Thranduil answers me in a soft and broken whisper, the unshed tears gather in his eyes, and in a moment their grief is replaced with seething resentment, then utter devastation. Steadily he seems to make his way through his emotions, until at last he settles with the ever present sadness that surrounds his whole being like a thick smoke.

I have no words, I just simply nod and wrap my arms around him again. There is nothing to say really, because it is a very simple question - why? A simple question that seems to cause so much havoc. Silently I consider all of my husband's revelations, and come to the conclusion that Galour intended to put those doubts in his head.

I seethe quietly over that consideration, because that is so very Galour - sowing seeds of doubt in already troubled hearts. I cannot believe there is any real truth to his remarks, for Lassiel seemed to be so loved here, but if there is then there is little that can be done about it. The past is the past, and the mistakes or ghosts of his parents have passed away with them. Their life and history was another time, another world, they are not his and he doesn't have to be ruled by them.

"Do you love your parents? Did you trust their judgements?" I ask quietly after some time has passed. Thranduil nods almost immediately and glares angrily at the mere suggestion that he wouldn't. I smile and place a finger to his lips before he attempts to argue; "Then what does it matter about what they may or may not have been. While they ruled here they were loved deeply, and they returned that love...did you not once tell me that if you had the chance to runaway and start afresh you would have done so? Well, this was your parents fresh start, and this is yours. Don't let the jealousy of one who does not know the significance of such things taint your memories...sometimes we don't need our past to define us, trust me I know."

It takes a minute, but slowly a timid smile begins to form across Thranduil's lips. The light in his eyes begins to glimmer softly, it is still dull but it is there.

Gently he lifts his hand and with a featherlight touch, pushes the messy waves of my blonde hair from my eyes. I blush a little at the seemingly intimate gesture, and return the same shy smile. Carefully he weaves his other arm around my back, pulling me against him, and softly caressing the curve of my hip with his hand. Leaning into me, so our foreheads touch, he kisses me. Just a soft hopeful kiss, that holds a little promise.

"Valar knows I do not deserve you," Thranduil breathes out as he pulls away from the lingering kiss to cup my cheek and stare into my eyes, so unnervingly deep that I am certain he is seeing my soul; "I feel calm just being with you...I love you...all of you...and I am so sorry for the scars I caused." When he tells me this I feel his hand at my hip slide to rest just under my breast, my heart begins to pump more furiously and the threads of my mangled spirit begin to weave and stretch longingly for their counterpart.

"I love you, there is no need for apologies," I soothe and nuzzle into his neck, pressing my lips to his jaw. I let out a soft and breathy sigh as his spirit quietly calls and coaxes mine...it has been so long since I heard and felt it so clearly.

Throwing my arms around his shoulders, I cautiously lift my gaze to his and attempt to articulate a warning or reason to pause this.

"Sshh," Thranduil warns, his brows rising up when I attempt to argue, his lips finding mine again only a little more aggressively than before. When he pauses, slightly breathless and disorientated, he murmurs painfully; "I just want to forget, let us enjoy this peace for a little while.

I gasp softly as his lips eagerly begin to kiss up my neck and across my jaw. His hands slide down my curves again and tighten on my hips, pulling me closer, and then I feel his lips form over mine in another breathless and uncoordinated kiss that makes me stagger back at the shock.

My back collides with the bookshelf, and I give a sort of an excited yelp when Thranduil seizes my arm and pins it away from my body, his fingers entwining with mine as he stretches out his lean torso against my soft curves. He continues his desperately deep kisses, and I barely remember that I should kiss back...I am just so stunned. This doesn't feel right, he doesn't feel like himself, there is pain in his passion and it is like he is trying to escape it through me.

I wrestle with my resolve for a moment, because part of me is all to happy to give in to the physical need driving us both, but it feels wrong.  It feels like I would be taking advantage, even though he is the one domineering the moment - but is he? His spirit calls to me like he is pleading for more than just a comforting solace, and his hands do not stray, nor does his body give away his excitement...no, something is not right.

"Thranduil...easy," I calmly twist my hand to press his abdomen, in my attempt to remind him of his injuries. This works, he winces and pulls away from the kiss to glance downward; "You have to take this gently, there is no rush."

"I-I'm fine," He stutters and shakes his head, as if dislodging something. Again he attempts to kiss me, but I don't even form my lips to meet his, I even twist my face away; "Clara...I promise I am well."

"Thranduil," I soothe gently and clasp his face in my hands, meeting his gaze, only to find his eyes swimming with unshed tears; "You are not fine-"

"I promise I am well enough for this," He smiles breezily, but none of it reaches his devastated eyes.

In an urgent, almost pleading manner, he runs his hands up and down my shoulders a little to fast to be soothing. "Please Clara, I just want to be near to you," He mutters and kisses me again, but still I do not cooperate as he would like me too; "I just want to forget," he tells me again as he glances accusingly at me; "A few moments of your peace, that is all I need to forget...please?"

I firmly keep a sober and sympathetic expression in place as my poor, battle worn, and utterly exhausted husband begs me to allow him to take solace in me. In any other occasion I would not think twice, but this is not what he is yearning for, and I know even if he wanted to he wouldn't get very far. He is, after all, elf-kind and the act of love is never just a physical thing for them. It is so much part of the spirit as it is the body, and right now his spirit is in utter chaos. He would find no solace in the act, even if I gave all I had to comfort him. This is grief, and it has hit him just a little to fast and a little to hard - I knew this would happen if he didn't get the rest he needed.

"I just want to forget," Thranduil begs off me again, but this time it comes with the beginnings of a choked sob. "Please...I want to forget."

"Ssshhh," I quietly wrap my arms around his shoulders and draw him into me, feeling his heart hammer and his anxiety peak; "It's going to be okay, this is going to pass."

"Please take it away," He cries brokenly into my shoulder and suddenly his weight crashes into mine; "Clara...please...I don't know how?"

I gently slide us to the floor, because I cannot hold him upright any longer, and I let him curl into my side to grieve.

He continues to babble out nonsensical pleas for a little while, in his vain attempt to not cry, but eventually the tears come. Slow and angry at first, but soon they are free flowing down his cheeks, and with them I sense his spirit finally lightening. He grips the material of my sleeves and tries to articulate what pains him the most, but all I can do is hold him and let him be.

He bitterly laments his father's name, and in his sorrow I learn that he watched Oropher be brutally hacked up in front of him. I begin to cry fiercely too at the revelation, for the sorrow is so bitterly close it is inescapable.

He speaks of fire, and death, and eventually he just begins to list off names. Names of soldiers who he lost. He begins to tell me of the promises he made to dying warriors, of all the families he must go to and offer them some kind of acknowledgment or comfort for their loved ones sacrifice. At the very last he brokenly chokes out a name I never expected...Bregeth.

He informs me she was slaughtered in defence of him. The guilt in his voice over her is almost unbearable for me to hear, but I cannot allow petty emotions to rule here. At the very mention of her death he begins to fret over Legolas, and I quickly ascertain this is why he hoards such guilt. He keeps insisting he failed, and I keep incessantly telling him he hasn't.

He speaks of the endurance of the ring, he berates himself until he has no energy left, and then eventually he falls asleep in my embrace, with my lips pressed to his temple as he rests turned into my chest

This is how we stay, and I don't move for fear of rousing him from the only peace he has had in so long. I feel his feä at rest as he breathes in long and steady breaths, his heart slowing to a soft and lulling beat. I gently run my fingers through the lengths of his gleaming hair, enjoying the soft sleekness of the platinum strands.

I cry quietly for him, because I felt his spirit in his grief and the sorrow was almost unbearable. I cannot begin to imagine the horror he witnessed nor do I want to. There is still some terrible memory that clutches his heart, and I don't know if I can ever fix it. This is truly the most devastating realisation for me. This is, to me, the senselessness of war. When it takes something beautiful and breaks it! I can only have faith in the hope that time may help put him together again, and I'll never give up on that hope...I'll never give up on him.

In the loneliness of the hours that tick by, I find my mind wandering over the necessary things. I conclude that I should move soon, and find someone to care for my husband so he can rest. I have to check on the children, but I also have to go to the Healing Halls and discover the extent of the damage for myself.

I know for a fact Aradan is missing a limb, and this is such a stomach churning thought that I immediately panic over Ollie. She'll be devastated, not because her mate is so horrifically mutilated but because she'll want to help and not know how? And I know Aradan, he'll be so stubborn about this that it will upset Ollie. Oh I need to do something!

Regrettably I have to semi awaken Thranduil, but only to manoeuvre him to one of the large settees by the fire. He is so utterly exhausted that he doesn't argue or fully regain consciousness, as I plonk him down on the overstuffed fabric and ensure he is draped in his robes. I kneel by his head and carefully kiss his brow, taking a moment to truly appreciate the softness of his liquid silvery blue eyes as he dreams peacefully. I silently pray that his thoughts are somewhere pleasant, and that they remain there until I return.

Carefully I pick my way across the room and peek out the door to speak to the guards. However on exiting, I suddenly find that I am nose to nose with a familiar face, and I frown slightly in agitation.

"Galion?" I squeak and fold my arms about my chest, as I observe the young elf before me, who clutches a ceramic jug and bowls in his hands.

"Oh...uh...my lady Queen," He yelps back and falls into a deep bow. "I, em, well I gave the guards a small reprieve. I hope you don't mind. You see I brought the King some food...from the kitchens...I used to be employed in service there before the war...I didn't steal! They know me, and well...I still have contacts."

"And did his majesty ask for ill gained food?" I ask and raise an eyebrow, enjoying myself way too much at the expense of the ellon.

"N-n-no, I just was worried that he hadn't eaten," Galion mews softly and begins to look a little forlorn; "I did not mean to disturb you both...oh...oh my...oh I am so sorry if I intruded on...on ah...well personal matters."

Galion blushes an incredible letterbox red and I practically splutter in his face. Oh he is so amusing, I can see why Thranduil kept him around, he reminds me of me when I first started - thoughtful, but entirely green, and definitely entertaining. My teasing grin alerts him that I am just playing with him, and a not so impressed frown faintly appears on his features, though he tries hard to hide it.

"I'm sorry Galion," I say with a tired smile; "It has been an awfully long night and day, and I tend to get less reasonable and more sarcastic when I'm tired. Truth be told you interrupted nothing personal, Thranduil is sleeping...at last...and I'd be so very grateful if you would keep an eye on him whilst I attend to some urgent necessities. I don't want him disturbed, if it is so urgent then send it to me...I'll be in the Healing Halls."

"Oh, yes of course ma'am," Galion proudly puffs up his chest at being selected to tend his King, and I give a fond smile. He bows again, turns on his heel to enter the library, but then stops and considers something;

"My lady, some supper to take with you? I am certain you must be famished."

"Thank you," I reply as I take the wrapped bundle from him, noting that it feels like cured meats or salted fish, so I take a tentative sniff...oh yea, that's fish.

I remember my manners and turn my attention back to Galion; "You know my husband was very fortunate to have you by his side. I know he suffered Galion, but it makes the pain of such a truth easier to bear knowing he was surrounded by such friendship and love. I just want you to know that I appreciate it."

"It was nothing," Galion blushes deeply again and ducks his head bashfully; "Truly I should be the one thanking you. I don't know what you did my lady, but you reached him out there in that wasteland. He didn't come back from the brink just for us, just to do his duty, he had something to come home to...and I think that maybe gave us all a little hope."

It is my turn to fluster, as I push my hair behind my ears and drop my gaze. When I meet his eyes again he gives me an encouraging smile, which for some reason brings tears to my eyes, and this makes him nervous. Quickly I rearrange my features and wave off his concern;

"I'm sorry, it's just, well I hear your praise and it touches me but I don't think my husband is quite free of his trauma yet," I sigh and press my arm to my forehead; "I wish I could do more Galion, I wish I knew how to help him, to empathise or understand his pain?"

"I do not think you can," Galion murmurs sadly, but sympathetically reaches out to take my hand to give it a squeeze; "I believe he knows you are trying, and I am certain he is most appreciative of it. But, my lady, it was a war that will haunt even me forever and your husband shielded me from most of it. If I cannot forget the horror, then I am afraid this may be something that you cannot fix. But, you can learn to live and grow from change...yes? Your world can change but you can overcome it? Isn't that true...isn't that what you did? Maybe you can show our King...maybe that is why the Valar sent you to us."

I only manage a smile and nod, because I wrestle too much with the tears that threaten to escape. His words are so touching, so potent, so humbling, that I have to restrain myself from hugging him. I am a Queen now, and I don't think that is acceptable.

Galion bows once more for me before confidently striding into the library, leaving me to my thoughts, and my plans, and my musings. Maybe he is right? Maybe, in some twisted way I can help Thranduil. I am never going to understand the horrors of what he has witnessed and struggled through, but I can understand change.

With a resolute bob of my head, I tie my hair back from my face and turn in the direction of the Healing Halls. Gallon is right, I can figure this out, and if I can't figure it out I can creatively string something together. It is to the future we have to look, and though it must be frightening and uncertain for Thranduil, I know it is bright and full of promise. Not just for him, but for all of us...I hope?

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A/N: Now that Galour is dealt with...it's time for more pressing concerns. Mission One make Thranduil smile and Mission Two reunite with best friends! Hmm more drama to come.

Media: Quote from Tristan & Isolde movie. One of my favourites actually.
And Song - Superstition by Natalie Walker .

Again thank you all so much for the votes, comments, positivity. Please do keep it coming it's really helpful.