Wrath and ruin

"How are you feeling this morning?" Lord Elrond asked, still as bright and cheerful as he had been ever since the arrival of Arwen. Thranduil rolled over in bed so as to get a better look at the healer. Lord Elrond has brought a plate of breakfast with him for the King.

"Fine," the King replied, propping himself up with his right arm. The daylight streaming into his room told him it was already some hours past sunrise. "You have already breakfasted?"

"Yes."

"With Arwen?"

"And Legolas. And Arwen's companions, a couple of members of the council and a few others. I must say, Legolas can throw a small breakfast banquet almost as well as you. He's a quick learner when he believes he can do it."

"Hmm," said the King and sat up properly. He felt somewhat jealous of Lord Elrond attending breakfasts hosted by his son, whilst he, the King, hid away in his rooms. "That plate of food wouldn't happen to be leftovers from the spread which Legolas provided, would it?"

"Not leftovers, no. I made this plate up for you myself before the rest of us started. Cold-cuts, cheeses, fruit, bread. I made sure I took a little of each of the best before the others began."

"Hmm," Thranduil said again.

Lord Elrond walked over to the bed and sat down beside the King. Thranduil knew the routine, and let Lord Elrond do as he must. The healer lifted up the wide sleeve of Thranduil's dressing gown and folded it over the King's left shoulder before beginning to unwind the bandages on his arm. Thranduil winced as Lord Elrond touched a particularly tender stop on his arm.

"It is sore?"

"Only a little," Thranduil said. His eye caught those of Lord Elrond for a moment, and without saying, both men knew the pain was lessened greatly due to the healer's magic. With the bandages removed, both the King and the healer looked at healing wound. Most of the King's forearm was still red and raw, but the edges were beginning to turn purple and bruise.

"It is improving," Lord Elrond said. Ever so gently, he ran his fingertips along the wound. Thranduil gave an involuntary shiver, and felt his arm tingle. Looking again at the wound, the King saw that the redness had vanished ever so slightly, and the purple bruising had increased. Lord Elrond gave a satisfied nod, then pulled a clean bandage out of his robes and wrapped up the King's arm once more.

Thranduil adjusted his dressing gown sleeve with his right arm, and then swung his legs out of the bed and slowly stood up. As he shuffled across to the table, Thranduil noticed that he was indeed stronger on his feet today than he had been the day prior. After sitting down he flexed his left hand and found it more responsive. Lord Elrond watched him and smiled. "Do not think I'm going to give you the pleasure of watching me fumble with cutlery," Thranduil said.

"Tomorrow you will," Lord Elrond replied. "I shall bring food that you cannot eat without it, and it will feel awkward, and you may fumble a little, but you will most certainly manage."

Thranduil wanted to dispute this, but knew that, as always, Lord Elrond was correct. "You said something last night," the King said in-between mouthfuls of food. "You were going to show me something?"

"I did not think you wanted to know."

"Last night, I did not. A new dawn oft brings new horizons."

"Finish eating, then I shall discuss it with you."

Thranduil finished the plate of food, and noted how Lord Elrond always judged the portions perfectly. "Well then?" he said after Elrond had cleared the table, placing the dishes in the hallway to be collected.

"It shall most likely be hard to start with."

"I do not yet know what 'it' is."

"There is a chance it may not work, but you have much of the Eldar in you, and with that, a certain degree of… magic."

"Go on," Thranduil said.

"Every physical task is hard to begin with. New born babes find it hard to breath, toddlers find it hard to walk, young children find it hard to hold a pen or bow or knife. But we very soon forget it was hard, and then we forget that we ever did not know how to do it."

"I am not sure I follow."

"I do not believe the wounds to your face will ever truly heal," Lord Elrond said, his tone serious.

Thranduil felt as though he had been kicked in the stomach. "But, surely…"

"Your face was the only part of you that did not have some sort of covering, be it cloth or leather or armour. I believe that there is a way, an old magic, that will – mask the scarring. To trick your brain into thinking it is not there, that it is skin and muscle, the way it should be."

"But…"

"No one will know. No one will be able to tell. The look and feel will be just as it was before."

Thranduil was unsure of what to say. The scars would never truly heal, yet none would be the wiser as to what was underneath the mask? "The look and feel?"

"Yes. Should any touch your face, it would feel as it did. Only at your will should the mask be able to be removed."

"And my eye?"

"That will be harder, but again, there is no reason that you should be unable to trick your brain into believing that you possess full sight in your left eye. You remember what having full sight looked like, how it felt?"

"Of course," the King answered. A fortnight with partial vision did not eliminate from his mind the three millennia prior with full vision.

"Then it should work."

"Should?" the King asked, raising his eyebrows.

"A more definite answer I am afraid I cannot give," Lord Elrond said, "But you have no doubt noticed in these past couple of weeks alone that there is more than one way to see."

The King considered this for a moment. "Can we start now?" he asked tentatively.

"No time like the present," Lord Elrond, his eyes full of encouragement.