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I have prepared for that. {He reassures, rolling up his sleeves and taking off the lid of the jar. He allows Mingjue some privacy while he undresses, but he looks at him directly when he is sitting, nude, on the bed. He carries the jar to the bedside table and kneels before the Man, expression calm and serene. Mingjue will see no disgust, though Thranduil's heart aches for him. What has he endured? The sword? Such an object is surely as volatile and cruel as the Silmarils!}

Relax if you can and tell me if you are in pain.

{Since the opposite of pain is the goal today. Scooping up some of the salve on his fingers, he tips Mingjue's head back with gentle hands. His hands have held just-hatched baby birds and other infants that need interference in order to survive. He rubs the salve into that awful neck scar, following the lines of it and murmuring ancient words in Sindarin under his breath.}

Boe de nestad...

[The calm expression when he finally sees his face eases him. Relaxing, he closes his eyes and lets those hands move him as needed. Drawing in deep breaths, he lets himself accept the healing, letting the soothing scent keep him calm and tranquil. It's not a state he's particularly used to but he's aware that it helps with matters like this.

For now there is no pain aside from any typical discomfort that he's already used to. Nothing he can't handle.

The scar on his neck ends up circling all the way back behind his neck too. A clear circle. Almost as if it's a collar he can never remove. He can't truly remember how he obtained it but he can venture a guess. And he isn't fond of what it means. Just another thing on the list of things he sometimes wishes he could forget for a time but knows it's best to remember instead.]

{His spirit shines like a star, calling on the herbs to sink deep into Mingjue's skin and ease the scarring. Thranduil knows this will be a daunting task, but for the sake of a good Man, he is willing to undertake it. In addition to calling on his spirit and the herbs, he massages the scar tissue, using gentle pressure to help break it down.

Reaching the back of Mingjue's neck requires him to lift the Man's hair and he secures it with a clasp so that it won't be coated in the salve.}

Show me this sword and I will find a way to destroy it. {He is angry for the Man's sake. Wicked energy should be nipped in the bud.}

[Mingjue thinks he must mean the slashes and stab wounds. He opens his eyes to look straight ahead of him. For a moment he's only silent, lost in his own thoughts.]

The sword that stabbed me and slashed me was carried by a creature of nightmare last month. I do not know what created the scar around my neck. So there is no way to destroy that weapon. The rest...

[He lifts an arm and glances at it.]

This was created by what we know as qi deviation. It lacked balance and destroyed my body. This happened due to my inability to keep control of my dao. It was my own weakness that destroyed me.

{Thranduil listens, taking note of what caused each wound. Then he takes hold of Mingjue's arm, warmly running his hands over the scars, learning how they, in truth, stitch the poor Man together. Qi Deviation...}

Some outside force must have led to the deviation. I cannot believe you lost control all on your own.

{Or because of some idiotic tampering of what made Mingjue Mingjue. No, some other person or being must have tipped the scales. But why?}

There was aid. However, I know that I should have been stronger to be able to overcome it. That was my undoing.

[He is still angry with Meng Yao at times over what he did though. To betray him like that. However, he is trying to forgive him. To release the weight of the resentful energy within him over the matter. Holding onto things like that would destroy them and right now they are all trying to heal.

He knows now why Meng Yao did what he did. It doesn't make it excusable but at least he understands. Mingjue draws in a deep breath then looks at Thranduil.]

The poison only sped up what was happening already.

Hush. {Thranduil places a finger against Mingjue's lips. True or not, the words only bring his friend down.} You lost your way and you have returned. That needs to be celebrated.

{What a hard lesson to learn. He gathers more salve and rubs it down Mingjue's arm, humming as he taps into his fëa once more. The glow around him intensifies again and the scent of lavender and mint is stronger.}

I know many who never returned.

[He looks surprised by the gesture, blinking as he looks at his Elven friend. But he doesn't feel as if he's being demeaned or looked down on. It's a soothing gesture instead so he lets himself quiet to listen to the words.

They are wise. He can acknowledge that as he watches the glow around Thranduil.]

I might not have returned were it not for this place.

[As unjust as many aspects of this place are, he can acknowledge now that it has gifted him a second chance.]

Then I am grateful to it. {His smile is sincere - one rarely given - and he moves his attentions to Mingjue's chest.} What pain you have, I would gladly take. It is unfair that you should have to bear these marks now.

{After being given a second chance. Yet...}

I feel your strength underneath them. Your heart beats regularly and I know they won't conquer you.

{The salve is sinking in, offering moisture and healing where it is needed most. Thranduil is determined to continue and he gently motions for the Man to lay back.}

My head is clearer now than it is has been in a long time.

[Moving back onto the bed, he stretches out so he can give the other room to work. He knows eventually he'll have to roll over too but he doesn't mind. This treatment has been proving to ease some of the tension in his skin. Which is more than he's had in months now. It's been so much a part of him he's simply forgotten what's like to not feel that way.

It's...nice.]

Then your qi is realigning. {He sounds pleased, moving to kneel on the bed to continue his work. Needless to say, he isn't shy. He follows the lines of the scars, rubbing in the salve until the skin is merely soft to the touch. Mingjue's abdomen and stomach are massaged and then he moves lower, massaging a hip and a thigh.}

I stand by what I said: you are a handsome Man.

[Without Baxia and with the inclusion of daily dual cultivation, he supposes that's true. His qi is realigning. It feels good too. Much like when he was younger and able to think clearly. To see the world and judge it that way rather than purely in anger.

Even if he can still be quick to rush to anger at times.

But Mingjue is pulled from those thoughts as he glances at the other.]

I do not take much note in appearance but I am aware that most would not look upon such scarring and still find someone handsome.

{Anger is a problem with this Elf too. He has a lot in his life that has caused him bitterness and that bitterness comes out as hateful anger. At times. He is attempting to rectify that and use his words instead of immediately snapping.

Of course, at the moment, he feels very little besides awe and admiration for the man laid out before him.}

Scars are a story written on skin, that is all. They help paint a picture of your strength and your endurance. Those are admirable, beautiful qualities.

[His gaze focuses up on the ceiling. Thranduil speaks of scars being of strength and endurance. He knows that the deadly looking stab to his gut could be considered that. The one across his back one as well. But the rest of these? The one around his neck and the ones that look like his body simply exploded from the inside out?]

These paint the tail of a man who was not strong enough and could not endure. A man who lost himself and his life because of it.

[His eyes close then and he settles to let his friend continue, trying not to dwell on all his faults. All his failures.]

Lost? That is a funny word for it since you are whole before me.

{Thranduil knows that is the doing of the city - of the strange magic that brought them here. Yet Mingjue has continued to thrive - the magic only gave him an opportunity to do so. Yes, in his eyes, the Man is strong.

He knows pressure points and he utilizes them as he rubs the salve in, coaxing the muscles beneath the skin to relax.}

If you were truly lost, you would not be as you are; you would be deranged.

At the end of my life, I was. Driven to madness where I was slashing at images only I could see.

[It's not easy to confess to that and yet it also feels...oddly good to. To tell someone else of what he went through. To admit it to someone outside his world. He's been so sure he'd never find someone to trust on such a level yet here he is.

Here they are.]

{He lays a hand on Mingjue's cheek, his palm warm and still.}

The spell has been broken. Furthermore, even if you found yourself in that state again, you would not be abandoned.

{After all he has seen of this Man, no. Thranduil would not abandon him. He would find him underneath the madness and dispel those foul images.}

I have never known an Elf to be controlled by a sword or some ill spell.

{Fëanor and his kin are being ignored for the sake of Mingjue's comfort.}

I would fight it.

[The comfort and the promises surprise him enough to open his eyes, looking over at his Elven friend. The action causes him to lean into the contact a bit but he finds that the doesn't mind that so much.]

You would fight my demons to save me.

[It's not a question. It's amazement.]

Yes. {There is no hesitation, no doubt. His thumb sweeps over Mingjue's cheek and he nods to reinforce his point.} There is good in the world of Men; I wish to preserve it. I have not always done so and I can see that was a mistake.

Your demons will not conquer you.

[There's a part of him that wants to chase him off. To tell him to run should that happen. It will be safer if he does. But there's another part of him that finds himself...grateful. That someone would reach out to him to fight to save him in that state.

He's only known one to want to and that matter is complicated.

It takes effort to keep the tears from forming with how moved he is.]

I will do what I can to not put you in that position. I will fight to protect you from that.

{He bends down and rests their foreheads together, sealing the promise with tenderness. Thranduil considers Mingjue as one of his own. He will fight to keep him whole no matter what foe he faces.}

Then we cannot fail.

[He has no idea what he has done to deserve this sort of devotion, care, and protection. These two men are essentially powerful spirits in their own way. Yet they have chosen him for reasons he can hardly fathom. Mingjue has no idea how he will repay them for what they do for him.

For now, he can only say this as he closes his eyes, even finding himself lifting his head to meet the contact.]

Thank you.

{The gratitude isn't necessary, yet Thranduil cherishes it. Long, long ago, his people were created to be guides to Mankind and the other Arda races. Somewhere along the way, that duty was ignored. How many good Men perished because he refused to leave the boundaries of the Greenwood?

Mingjue will not number among them.}

Will you turn over? I do not want to miss a single scar.

[The man nods and shifts so that way he can roll over onto his stomach. In a way he's grateful because he can hide the swell of emotion a bit. The only thing he does to help besides relax is to reach back to pull his hair out of the way.

Better near his shoulder than draped all over his ruined back.]

{That beautiful Nie hair will have a new braid when Thranduil is done. One symbolizing friendship - a bond forged between allies. There is a deeper meaning to it, of course. To other Elves, the braid means that Mingjue can call on one of their own for aid.

Which includes seeing to that poor back. He gathers more salve and rubs it into the battered skin, humming as power flows through his fingertips and palms.}

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