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mellonen - my friend

Adar - Father

ernilen - my prince

pen neth - young one

hannon len - thank you

Meleth Vreg: Wild Love

Beta: Larien

chapter two

The letter asking for Lord Elrond's help had been written in a swift hand; it had been smudged and slightly torn as well. Elrond had immediately feared for his dear friend and informed Erestor he would leave immediately. Erestor convinced Elrond to permit Glorfindel to see to Thranduil first, and then send word to Imladris if Elrond was truly needed. The Elf-lord had reluctantly agreed, and the Seneschal had set out the very next day with a small escort.

Glorfindel was more than willing to make the journey; the King of Mirkwood was a most valuable ally. Now, though, as he motioned for his companions to follow him into the dense woods, he began to regret that decision. They had lost a lot of time crossing the Anduin, for the rains had been plentiful this season, and the river was strong. The troupe was forced to travel far along the riverbank to a more suitable crossing, and was now two days late in meeting the Prince of Mirkwood.

"My Lord? I do not see any welcoming escort; we should wait here. It is not safe to venture through the wood until a guide arrives." His Captain looked about anxiously, and Glorfindel had to stifle a chuckle.

"The escort is already here, Celonoll, we are simply not supposed to see them yet." Glorfindel nudged Asfaloth further into Thranduil's realm, keeping his eyes on the trees. As he expected, he did not see the Wood Elves until they had his entire party surrounded. The archer smiled and approached him; Glorfindel thought the young Prince looked worn and exhausted. "Prince Legolas?"

The Sinda bowed low and then looked up at him. "Lord Glorfindel." Legolas quirked one eyebrow and smirked. "You are late. We have been watching for you the past three days."

"Forgive me, my Lord. We had some difficulty at the Anduin. But, we are here now and are at your disposal. Lord Elrond will join us in two weeks; he has sent me ahead to aid you as I can." Glorfindel swiftly dismounted and kneeled before the Prince.

Legolas reached down and touched Glorfindel's shoulder. "Come, mellonen, it is time for you to see my father." Glorfindel stood and remounted, motioning for his companions to follow the Prince.

Along the short journey to Thranduil's halls, Glorfindel tried to question Legolas further about his father's behavior. "Your letter told us that your father has been troubled for some weeks now."

Legolas did not look at him. "We can discuss my father's behavior after you have seen him, my Lord." Glorfindel could see Legolas was hiding something. Could the situation possibly be worse than was revealed in the hastily scrawled correspondence?

The horses were swiftly handled and Glorfindel turned to look about the clearing before Thranduil's home. His eyes landed on a great shadow moving just inside the protection of the trees. Glorfindel narrowed his eyes, straining to make out what was watching them.

"He watches us. He always comes when someone arrives." Legolas' quiet voice broke Glorfindel's concentration and the Balrog-slayer turned to the Prince.

"Who?" Legolas motioned toward the line of trees again and the shadow came forward, just enough that the late afternoon light illuminated it. A great wolf, larger than any Glorfindel had seen, watched him closely; the yellow-green eyes regarded him with cautious curiosity. "Why do you not dissuade it from coming so close to the compound?"

Glorfindel heard the amusement in Legolas' voice when the Sinda answered him. "We have tried, my Lord." Glorfindel tore his eyes from the wolf's hypnotic gaze, meeting Legolas' with a growing unease unfurling within his breast.

"And?"

The smirk reappeared on the young Prince's lips. "And, though he is a wild beast, he has shown a remarkable ability to express his... distaste at being 'dissuaded' from coming so close to the halls. He has not caused serious injury, but he has made his point clear to us: he will not be moved. Now, please, follow me, my Lord. The King awaits."

Legolas led Glorfindel through the winding, dark halls Thranduil and his people had delved centuries before. The Elda noticed that Legolas fidgeted with something in his pocket and his fair face had become pensive.

"You must understand, Lord Glorfindel," Legolas said softly. "Adar has not been himself for an entire cycle of Ithil. There has been a steady deterioration of what and who he was." More silence followed and Glorfindel wondered if he should not have brought the Lord of Imladris with him after all.

Legolas stopped suddenly before a bolted door and turned bright, imploring eyes to the puzzled Elda. "He is ashamed of what he has become, but he cannot help his new nature. I... I have tried to reach out to him; but he is threatened by me. I am his progeny, and I am well into adulthood. Adar feels he must vie with me for dominance."

Glorfindel smiled down at Legolas. "You speak of him as if he were an animal."

The Prince turned his gaze to the door. "Aye," he choked out.

The Seneschal's eyes followed Legolas' hand. The Prince unlocked the door and it swung open on well-greased hinges. Legolas motioned for Glorfindel to enter the dark room. "I will follow and bring a candle." He nodded and stepped forward.

His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light of the large room. To his left was a massive stone hearth, cold and unused. The chamber was sparsely furnished, if one could call the room furnished at all. What Glorfindel could assume was the bed, was tipped against the wall in the corner by the hearth. Feathers from the mattress were strewn everywhere. Glorfindel peered closer at the overturned bed and saw the mattress was torn apart where it lay inside the hollow between the bed and the wall.

Glorfindel could smell the stale scent of blood. Light poured from the candle Legolas brought into the room, and Glorfindel looked directly beside him and saw the red stains on the floorboards. "What is this?" he whispered more to himself than to the Prince. He jumped slightly and whirled around to face the Sinda when the sound of the door latching echoed through the silent room. "You lock it when you enter?"

"It is for the best," Legolas said softly.

The Elda continued to sweep the room with his eyes looking for the inhabitant of the chamber. He saw no one. "Legolas, what is all this? And what is that?" Glorfindel pointed to the long, slender pipe Legolas held in his hand, clutched to his chest.

A guttural chuckle rang through the room. "That is for when I have been a naughty Elf."

Glorfindel's gaze quickly darted to the far right corner of the room. Crouching low, his fingers resting gently on the planked floor, was the King of Mirkwood. "Thranduil?" he asked haltingly. The wild mane of golden hair parted as Thranduil raised his head; Glorfindel gasped when the King's eyes reflected the light from the low candle, like the cats and dogs they kept as pets in Imladris. "The wolf," he breathed.

Thranduil stood with a fluid grace no Elf possessed and smiled at him. "The wolf," he said, the timbre of his voice pitched low.

He took a step toward Thranduil, his eyes caught by the dangerous glow of the Sinda's yellow-green eyes. This was still an Elf before him, but not. Thranduil's eyes would reflect the light depending on how he turned his head, and Glorfindel could tell the King had become bulkier than most Elves. He gasped when his eyes trailed down the long, powerful arms. Thranduil's hands were still slender and elegant looking, but the nails had grown and his hands now resembled claws ready to kill more than hands made for scrolls and quills.

Glorfindel continued to approach Thranduil, his eyes never leaving the King's form. "By the Valar, Thranduil," he sighed. "What has happened to you?"

"Happened?" the King asked, raising a perfect golden eyebrow. "I am changing, Lord Glorfindel. Or, actually, changed is more appropriate."

He stood but an arm's length from the feral Sinda and openly gaped at him. Glorfindel watched Thranduil lick his lips suggestively, the sharp, elongated fangs of his upper and lower incisors sending a wave of apprehension washing through him. He felt nailed to the floor, unable to tear his eyes from the King, unable to retreat from the figure standing but a few feet away.

Quicker than his eyes could follow, Thranduil had his clawed fingers wrapped around his throat. The flow of air into his lungs was hindered and he brought both of his hands up to claw at the King's grip. Thranduil leaned in and sniffed him, the untamed, wide eyes watching his frightened face. When Thranduil came closer, his breath caressed the Elda's ear, and Glorfindel felt his heart speed. The Sinda's scent was wild and Glorfindel felt himself, surprisingly, becoming aroused.

The King growled into his ear and Glorfindel shuddered. "If my son were not standing but a few feet away, Elf, I would pin you to the floor beneath me and take you hard." Glorfindel let out a choked groan when Thranduil's warm, wet tongue lapped at his neck.

Just as suddenly as the hand had appeared, it dropped from his neck. Glorfindel gasped and watched Thranduil fall to the floor in a limp heap. He turned wide eyes to Legolas; the Prince was lowering the pipe from his mouth.

"We always carry something to make him sleep if he grows unruly," Legolas sad sadly. "I did not know he would harm you, my Lord. He has never done that before." Legolas brought his gaze back to Glorfindel. "Come, let us leave before he wakes. He usually isn't very pleased when we have done this to him."

"I can imagine," Glorfindel mumbled, rubbing his throat, as they exited the dark, still chamber.

They finished their meal and Glorfindel sipped his wine thoughtfully. "So, he used the wolf, and from what you can understand, when they separated, he took some of the wolf with him?"

"Aye. And some of him remains with the wolf." Legolas wiped delicately at his mouth. "We have been unable to stop the changes, so we have tried our best to make him comfortable."

Glorfindel regarded him coolly. "You use a poisoned dart and call that making him comfortable?"

"My Lord," Legolas said, a spark of anger lighting his eyes. "He is dangerous. I could not risk him..." The Prince stopped himself suddenly and looked away from the Elf-lord.

"Risk him doing what, ernilen?" Glorfindel leaned forward, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Legolas stood up from the table and quickly unlaced his loose shirt, exposing his chest and neck. Glorfindel gasped. Bruises marred the porcelain flesh, obviously inflicted by hands wrapped tightly around the Prince's throat, shallow gouges, several days old, marked his sides and chest. "He pinned me to the door so that no one could enter the room to help me. I still do not know why he did not kill me." Tortured azure eyes, sparkling with unshed tears, met his. "I want my Ada back, Glorfindel," he said in an unsteady voice. "That is all I want. I had hoped Lord Elrond could find him for me. Now, that hope lies with you."

Glorfindel averted his eyes as Legolas refastened his shirt. "I will do all I can, pen neth. And I will start by asking you for the key to his room. I wish to sit with him for a bit."

The Prince gasped. "He would have killed you if I had not been there, my Lord! I cannot allow you into the room without someone to come to your aid."

"Legolas," Glorfindel said gently, returning his gaze to the concerned Sinda. "Your father would not have harmed me, of that I am certain. Trust me, ernilen. Give me the key."

Legolas chewed his lip for a moment, looking for all the world to Glorfindel as a lost child, before reaching in his pocket and handing him the key. "Let us go to the kitchen, my Lord," the Prince said. "It is time for him for to eat. You can take him his meal."

"You're feeding him that?!" Glorfindel stared blankly at the metal platter piled high with half a stone's worth of strips of raw venison, bone, and other parts that the Elda tried hard *not* to identify.

Legolas nodded solemnly, pointedly looking away from the platter. "Aye, twice a day. He will eat nothing else."

"Nothing?"

"For a time, he could stomach the roots and vegetables that grow in the forest. He ate his meat cooked, and drank wines and juices. It did not last long, though. The wolf... kept changing him. Now, he eats what the wolf eats, and we have found half-eaten potatoes dug up with the marks of wolf teeth."

"Wolves do not eat potatoes," Glorfindel said slowly, as if in a daze.

"This one does," Legolas replied, with the first trace of real smile curling his lips since Glorfindel arrived. "Go now. Ada will be waking soon."

Glorfindel nodded and took the platter from the uncertain chefs, winding his way through the corridors to Thranduil's chambers. He held the tray easily in his left hand as he unlocked the door and slipped inside, lifting the sconce from the holder beside the entrance. Remembering Legolas' words earlier, he reluctantly locked the door behind him before casting his eyes around the room for the troubled King.

The prone form still lay crumpled on the floor where he'd fallen earlier. Glorfindel took a long moment to examine Thranduil and his surroundings. Though the room had been transformed into little more than an animal's den, it was remarkably tidy, and so was Thranduil. The Sinda's clothes were clean and pristine. His hair, though wild and unruly, was clearly washed. It was also obvious that Thranduil was disposing of his waste in the normal fashion among Elves, for there was no stench in the air.

Glorfindel sighed and turned to his left, setting the tray down on the floor in the middle of the large rust-colored stain. The smell of the raw flesh and organs was beginning to nauseate him, and the indignity of it all disgusted him. He turned back toward the sleeping Thranduil once more before leaving.

Thranduil wasn't there, though. He'd moved while Glorfindel's back was turned, and again, Glorfindel's senses hadn't detected it. There was something unnerving about that, the Elda thought. He was edgy, paranoid. It was an unfamiliar feeling for the warrior -- the feeling of being the hunted.

"You take a great risk coming here alone, Glorfindel of Gondolin."

The voice sounded from behind him. Glorfindel spun on his heel and found Thranduil's piercing gaze mere inches from his own. The Elf could have killed him, and Glorfindel would have had no chance. He took a careful step back.

Thranduil nodded, as if reading the thought. "You do well to be wary of me."

Glorfindel hardened his resolve and stared back into the glowing eyes. "Your dinner, my Lord," he offered.

Thranduil's nostrils flared, and he snorted derisively. "It seems strange to call a steaming pile of entrails 'dinner', does it not?" Before Glorfindel could form a response, Thranduil turned and walked to the far side of the tray, dropping down into a crouch and looking up at the Balrog-slayer. "It's almost too much to bear, isn't it?" he continued as he carefully picked up a strip of flesh and tore at it with his sharpened incisors. "Standing there, seeing me like this. The Great King of Mirkwood reduced to eating raw meat off the floor."

Glorfindel watched with grotesque fascination as Thranduil ripped the meat apart with claw-like hands and razor-sharp teeth. "I can understand having to eat... what you eat," he began, trying to maintain some semblance of aplomb, "but why...?"

"Why like this? Why on the floor with my hands when I sound so lucid?" Thranduil held his hands up, and Glorfindel could see the fingers remained slightly curled due to the weight of the thickened nails. "I can no longer hold fork or knife, and my body can no longer find comfort in chairs. What you see is my last defense against slow starvation." He lifted a large glistening piece of dark red flesh with both hands and brought it to his lips. Glorfindel's eyes widened as he realized it was the buck's liver. Thranduil growled slightly in the back of his throat as he bit down into the swollen organ. Blood streamed down the Sinda's chin and forearms, staining the once-clean tunic and adding to the stain on the floor.

Thranduil looked up suddenly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The blood smeared across his face, a dark contrast against his pale skin. His eyes narrowed and his stare bored into Glorfindel. "Just go. I know you want to. No one wants to stay and see this. You have already stayed longer than anyone else."

The loneliness in Thranduil's voice made Glorfindel's heart ache for him. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. "I'm not going anywhere," he said finally, pushing down his rising gorge.

Thranduil's eyes reflected silent gratitude for an instant before he returned to his meal. Neither said another word until the King ate the last of what had been prepared for him. When he slid the empty tray toward Glorfindel and began licking the remaining fluids from his fingers and hands, he looked again at the Elda. "I must rest. Go now," he said quietly.

Glorfindel nodded and picked up the platter. He unlocked the door and stepped through in silence. Just before the door closed again, though, he heard Thranduil's husky voice say, "Hannon len."


	Navigation multi-part stories previous next Translations mellonen - my friend Adar - Father ernilen - my prince pen neth - young one hannon len - thank you		Meleth Vreg: Wild Love Beta: Larien chapter two The letter asking for Lord Elrond's help had been written in a swift hand; it had been smudged and slightly torn as well. Elrond had immediately feared for his dear friend and informed Erestor he would leave immediately. Erestor convinced Elrond to permit Glorfindel to see to Thranduil first, and then send word to Imladris if Elrond was truly needed. The Elf-lord had reluctantly agreed, and the Seneschal had set out the very next day with a small escort. Glorfindel was more than willing to make the journey; the King of Mirkwood was a most valuable ally. Now, though, as he motioned for his companions to follow him into the dense woods, he began to regret that decision. They had lost a lot of time crossing the Anduin, for the rains had been plentiful this season, and the river was strong. The troupe was forced to travel far along the riverbank to a more suitable crossing, and was now two days late in meeting the Prince of Mirkwood. "My Lord? I do not see any welcoming escort; we should wait here. It is not safe to venture through the wood until a guide arrives." His Captain looked about anxiously, and Glorfindel had to stifle a chuckle. "The escort is already here, Celonoll, we are simply not supposed to see them yet." Glorfindel nudged Asfaloth further into Thranduil's realm, keeping his eyes on the trees. As he expected, he did not see the Wood Elves until they had his entire party surrounded. The archer smiled and approached him; Glorfindel thought the young Prince looked worn and exhausted. "Prince Legolas?" The Sinda bowed low and then looked up at him. "Lord Glorfindel." Legolas quirked one eyebrow and smirked. "You are late. We have been watching for you the past three days." "Forgive me, my Lord. We had some difficulty at the Anduin. But, we are here now and are at your disposal. Lord Elrond will join us in two weeks; he has sent me ahead to aid you as I can." Glorfindel swiftly dismounted and kneeled before the Prince. Legolas reached down and touched Glorfindel's shoulder. "Come, mellonen, it is time for you to see my father." Glorfindel stood and remounted, motioning for his companions to follow the Prince. Along the short journey to Thranduil's halls, Glorfindel tried to question Legolas further about his father's behavior. "Your letter told us that your father has been troubled for some weeks now." Legolas did not look at him. "We can discuss my father's behavior after you have seen him, my Lord." Glorfindel could see Legolas was hiding something. Could the situation possibly be worse than was revealed in the hastily scrawled correspondence? The horses were swiftly handled and Glorfindel turned to look about the clearing before Thranduil's home. His eyes landed on a great shadow moving just inside the protection of the trees. Glorfindel narrowed his eyes, straining to make out what was watching them. "He watches us. He always comes when someone arrives." Legolas' quiet voice broke Glorfindel's concentration and the Balrog-slayer turned to the Prince. "Who?" Legolas motioned toward the line of trees again and the shadow came forward, just enough that the late afternoon light illuminated it. A great wolf, larger than any Glorfindel had seen, watched him closely; the yellow-green eyes regarded him with cautious curiosity. "Why do you not dissuade it from coming so close to the compound?" Glorfindel heard the amusement in Legolas' voice when the Sinda answered him. "We have tried, my Lord." Glorfindel tore his eyes from the wolf's hypnotic gaze, meeting Legolas' with a growing unease unfurling within his breast. "And?" The smirk reappeared on the young Prince's lips. "And, though he is a wild beast, he has shown a remarkable ability to express his... distaste at being 'dissuaded' from coming so close to the halls. He has not caused serious injury, but he has made his point clear to us: he will not be moved. Now, please, follow me, my Lord. The King awaits." Legolas led Glorfindel through the winding, dark halls Thranduil and his people had delved centuries before. The Elda noticed that Legolas fidgeted with something in his pocket and his fair face had become pensive. "You must understand, Lord Glorfindel," Legolas said softly. "Adar has not been himself for an entire cycle of Ithil. There has been a steady deterioration of what and who he was." More silence followed and Glorfindel wondered if he should not have brought the Lord of Imladris with him after all. Legolas stopped suddenly before a bolted door and turned bright, imploring eyes to the puzzled Elda. "He is ashamed of what he has become, but he cannot help his new nature. I... I have tried to reach out to him; but he is threatened by me. I am his progeny, and I am well into adulthood. Adar feels he must vie with me for dominance." Glorfindel smiled down at Legolas. "You speak of him as if he were an animal." The Prince turned his gaze to the door. "Aye," he choked out. The Seneschal's eyes followed Legolas' hand. The Prince unlocked the door and it swung open on well-greased hinges. Legolas motioned for Glorfindel to enter the dark room. "I will follow and bring a candle." He nodded and stepped forward. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light of the large room. To his left was a massive stone hearth, cold and unused. The chamber was sparsely furnished, if one could call the room furnished at all. What Glorfindel could assume was the bed, was tipped against the wall in the corner by the hearth. Feathers from the mattress were strewn everywhere. Glorfindel peered closer at the overturned bed and saw the mattress was torn apart where it lay inside the hollow between the bed and the wall. Glorfindel could smell the stale scent of blood. Light poured from the candle Legolas brought into the room, and Glorfindel looked directly beside him and saw the red stains on the floorboards. "What is this?" he whispered more to himself than to the Prince. He jumped slightly and whirled around to face the Sinda when the sound of the door latching echoed through the silent room. "You lock it when you enter?" "It is for the best," Legolas said softly. The Elda continued to sweep the room with his eyes looking for the inhabitant of the chamber. He saw no one. "Legolas, what is all this? And what is that?" Glorfindel pointed to the long, slender pipe Legolas held in his hand, clutched to his chest. A guttural chuckle rang through the room. "That is for when I have been a naughty Elf." Glorfindel's gaze quickly darted to the far right corner of the room. Crouching low, his fingers resting gently on the planked floor, was the King of Mirkwood. "Thranduil?" he asked haltingly. The wild mane of golden hair parted as Thranduil raised his head; Glorfindel gasped when the King's eyes reflected the light from the low candle, like the cats and dogs they kept as pets in Imladris. "The wolf," he breathed. Thranduil stood with a fluid grace no Elf possessed and smiled at him. "The wolf," he said, the timbre of his voice pitched low. He took a step toward Thranduil, his eyes caught by the dangerous glow of the Sinda's yellow-green eyes. This was still an Elf before him, but not. Thranduil's eyes would reflect the light depending on how he turned his head, and Glorfindel could tell the King had become bulkier than most Elves. He gasped when his eyes trailed down the long, powerful arms. Thranduil's hands were still slender and elegant looking, but the nails had grown and his hands now resembled claws ready to kill more than hands made for scrolls and quills. Glorfindel continued to approach Thranduil, his eyes never leaving the King's form. "By the Valar, Thranduil," he sighed. "What has happened to you?" "Happened?" the King asked, raising a perfect golden eyebrow. "I am changing, Lord Glorfindel. Or, actually, changed is more appropriate." He stood but an arm's length from the feral Sinda and openly gaped at him. Glorfindel watched Thranduil lick his lips suggestively, the sharp, elongated fangs of his upper and lower incisors sending a wave of apprehension washing through him. He felt nailed to the floor, unable to tear his eyes from the King, unable to retreat from the figure standing but a few feet away. Quicker than his eyes could follow, Thranduil had his clawed fingers wrapped around his throat. The flow of air into his lungs was hindered and he brought both of his hands up to claw at the King's grip. Thranduil leaned in and sniffed him, the untamed, wide eyes watching his frightened face. When Thranduil came closer, his breath caressed the Elda's ear, and Glorfindel felt his heart speed. The Sinda's scent was wild and Glorfindel felt himself, surprisingly, becoming aroused. The King growled into his ear and Glorfindel shuddered. "If my son were not standing but a few feet away, Elf, I would pin you to the floor beneath me and take you hard." Glorfindel let out a choked groan when Thranduil's warm, wet tongue lapped at his neck. Just as suddenly as the hand had appeared, it dropped from his neck. Glorfindel gasped and watched Thranduil fall to the floor in a limp heap. He turned wide eyes to Legolas; the Prince was lowering the pipe from his mouth. "We always carry something to make him sleep if he grows unruly," Legolas sad sadly. "I did not know he would harm you, my Lord. He has never done that before." Legolas brought his gaze back to Glorfindel. "Come, let us leave before he wakes. He usually isn't very pleased when we have done this to him." "I can imagine," Glorfindel mumbled, rubbing his throat, as they exited the dark, still chamber. They finished their meal and Glorfindel sipped his wine thoughtfully. "So, he used the wolf, and from what you can understand, when they separated, he took some of the wolf with him?" "Aye. And some of him remains with the wolf." Legolas wiped delicately at his mouth. "We have been unable to stop the changes, so we have tried our best to make him comfortable." Glorfindel regarded him coolly. "You use a poisoned dart and call that making him comfortable?" "My Lord," Legolas said, a spark of anger lighting his eyes. "He is dangerous. I could not risk him..." The Prince stopped himself suddenly and looked away from the Elf-lord. "Risk him doing what, ernilen?" Glorfindel leaned forward, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Legolas stood up from the table and quickly unlaced his loose shirt, exposing his chest and neck. Glorfindel gasped. Bruises marred the porcelain flesh, obviously inflicted by hands wrapped tightly around the Prince's throat, shallow gouges, several days old, marked his sides and chest. "He pinned me to the door so that no one could enter the room to help me. I still do not know why he did not kill me." Tortured azure eyes, sparkling with unshed tears, met his. "I want my Ada back, Glorfindel," he said in an unsteady voice. "That is all I want. I had hoped Lord Elrond could find him for me. Now, that hope lies with you." Glorfindel averted his eyes as Legolas refastened his shirt. "I will do all I can, pen neth. And I will start by asking you for the key to his room. I wish to sit with him for a bit." The Prince gasped. "He would have killed you if I had not been there, my Lord! I cannot allow you into the room without someone to come to your aid." "Legolas," Glorfindel said gently, returning his gaze to the concerned Sinda. "Your father would not have harmed me, of that I am certain. Trust me, ernilen. Give me the key." Legolas chewed his lip for a moment, looking for all the world to Glorfindel as a lost child, before reaching in his pocket and handing him the key. "Let us go to the kitchen, my Lord," the Prince said. "It is time for him for to eat. You can take him his meal." "You're feeding him that?!" Glorfindel stared blankly at the metal platter piled high with half a stone's worth of strips of raw venison, bone, and other parts that the Elda tried hard not to identify. Legolas nodded solemnly, pointedly looking away from the platter. "Aye, twice a day. He will eat nothing else." "Nothing?" "For a time, he could stomach the roots and vegetables that grow in the forest. He ate his meat cooked, and drank wines and juices. It did not last long, though. The wolf... kept changing him. Now, he eats what the wolf eats, and we have found half-eaten potatoes dug up with the marks of wolf teeth." "Wolves do not eat potatoes," Glorfindel said slowly, as if in a daze. "This one does," Legolas replied, with the first trace of real smile curling his lips since Glorfindel arrived. "Go now. Ada will be waking soon." Glorfindel nodded and took the platter from the uncertain chefs, winding his way through the corridors to Thranduil's chambers. He held the tray easily in his left hand as he unlocked the door and slipped inside, lifting the sconce from the holder beside the entrance. Remembering Legolas' words earlier, he reluctantly locked the door behind him before casting his eyes around the room for the troubled King. The prone form still lay crumpled on the floor where he'd fallen earlier. Glorfindel took a long moment to examine Thranduil and his surroundings. Though the room had been transformed into little more than an animal's den, it was remarkably tidy, and so was Thranduil. The Sinda's clothes were clean and pristine. His hair, though wild and unruly, was clearly washed. It was also obvious that Thranduil was disposing of his waste in the normal fashion among Elves, for there was no stench in the air. Glorfindel sighed and turned to his left, setting the tray down on the floor in the middle of the large rust-colored stain. The smell of the raw flesh and organs was beginning to nauseate him, and the indignity of it all disgusted him. He turned back toward the sleeping Thranduil once more before leaving. Thranduil wasn't there, though. He'd moved while Glorfindel's back was turned, and again, Glorfindel's senses hadn't detected it. There was something unnerving about that, the Elda thought. He was edgy, paranoid. It was an unfamiliar feeling for the warrior -- the feeling of being the hunted. "You take a great risk coming here alone, Glorfindel of Gondolin." The voice sounded from behind him. Glorfindel spun on his heel and found Thranduil's piercing gaze mere inches from his own. The Elf could have killed him, and Glorfindel would have had no chance. He took a careful step back. Thranduil nodded, as if reading the thought. "You do well to be wary of me." Glorfindel hardened his resolve and stared back into the glowing eyes. "Your dinner, my Lord," he offered. Thranduil's nostrils flared, and he snorted derisively. "It seems strange to call a steaming pile of entrails 'dinner', does it not?" Before Glorfindel could form a response, Thranduil turned and walked to the far side of the tray, dropping down into a crouch and looking up at the Balrog-slayer. "It's almost too much to bear, isn't it?" he continued as he carefully picked up a strip of flesh and tore at it with his sharpened incisors. "Standing there, seeing me like this. The Great King of Mirkwood reduced to eating raw meat off the floor." Glorfindel watched with grotesque fascination as Thranduil ripped the meat apart with claw-like hands and razor-sharp teeth. "I can understand having to eat... what you eat," he began, trying to maintain some semblance of aplomb, "but why...?" "Why like this? Why on the floor with my hands when I sound so lucid?" Thranduil held his hands up, and Glorfindel could see the fingers remained slightly curled due to the weight of the thickened nails. "I can no longer hold fork or knife, and my body can no longer find comfort in chairs. What you see is my last defense against slow starvation." He lifted a large glistening piece of dark red flesh with both hands and brought it to his lips. Glorfindel's eyes widened as he realized it was the buck's liver. Thranduil growled slightly in the back of his throat as he bit down into the swollen organ. Blood streamed down the Sinda's chin and forearms, staining the once-clean tunic and adding to the stain on the floor. Thranduil looked up suddenly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The blood smeared across his face, a dark contrast against his pale skin. His eyes narrowed and his stare bored into Glorfindel. "Just go. I know you want to. No one wants to stay and see this. You have already stayed longer than anyone else." The loneliness in Thranduil's voice made Glorfindel's heart ache for him. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. "I'm not going anywhere," he said finally, pushing down his rising gorge. Thranduil's eyes reflected silent gratitude for an instant before he returned to his meal. Neither said another word until the King ate the last of what had been prepared for him. When he slid the empty tray toward Glorfindel and began licking the remaining fluids from his fingers and hands, he looked again at the Elda. "I must rest. Go now," he said quietly. Glorfindel nodded and picked up the platter. He unlocked the door and stepped through in silence. Just before the door closed again, though, he heard Thranduil's husky voice say, "Hannon len."