It was already late in the evening when exhausted, Trandil reached his quarters. He sent his servants away without letting them help him and only asked them to bring more wine, more strength, and more. When the king got a bulky jug, he locked all the doors tightly and settled by the fireplace, grimly looking into the fire.
"I don't want to celebrate. Songs, music - I don't want anything! Why can't you just leave me alone?! So you don't have to pretend, do something, decide, think..." Thranduil filled the cup with wine and swallowed it in a salvo, without feeling any taste or action. Almost immediately poured the second, then the third. The desired oblivion did not come, only in front of his eyes began to swim, and in the fireplace, right on the coals, danced some creature, like a little dragon. The king grinned mockingly and took another glass to clarify his vision. Suddenly there was a crazy idea to treat the fiery guest with wine. Not thinking for long, Tranduel threw the rest of the cup into the fireplace. The flame broke out and the heat died in the face. The woe-experimenter was frightened, and the tormented memory of the battle with the dragons broke out with a vision of a battle with the dragons, a fiery stream in the face, Ellie reaching out to the burning hands... "Damn it all! - Thranduil groaned and grabbed the jug and started to swallow the drink from his neck. Coughing up, couldn't breathe for a long time. The wine ran out, the king threw away an empty jug and stood up. Suddenly his legs buckled and Thranduil stretched out right under the chair. "Well, let everything go north! - The king thought indifferently, falling into some black oblivion, or a dream, or fainting.
He woke up far away in the afternoon, barely moved back to the chair. His legs were completely cotton-legged and refused to serve, his head split, his eyes were spinning so that Trandil couldn't find his way around for a long time. The king could hardly find the bell and rang the bell. Only then, after a long, persistent knocking at the door, did he realize that he himself had locked himself firmly in place yesterday. I had to get up, almost crawling to the door, and even manage to fold back the bolt ... All these complicated actions took the last strength. The servants picked up their poor king, battled by a heavy hangover, helped to get to the chair. Thranduil demanded to fill a jug of wine, the same as yesterday. The drink was brought and a light nutritious breakfast was left on the table. But he hadn't touched the food all day long, but he repeated his request twice about the jug. As evening came, Tranduel did not remember, woke up closer to the morning with the only thought - to drink something and forget about everything again. But after the call, instead of the desired drink, Lorinor suddenly broke in, shaking the king's shoulders violently, shouted fiercely in the face:
- What are you doing?!
- Why? What are you doing? - Thranduil mumbled, barely focusing his eyesight on the face of his father. - I want and drink!
Lorinor shook him harder and screamed again:
- No, explain to me what are you doing?!
Trandyl was a little scared, not realizing that the parent was so angry, and slowly soberly asked him again:
- What's the big deal? What are you yelling at all? I have the right to drink if I want! Don't you shake it, and it makes you dizzy. Where is my wine?
- Do you have the right?! And the fact that the whole nation is watching you get drunk to a crazy state, you don't care anymore? The people who have chosen you as King have trusted you and now hope that you will justify this trust? The people who expect protection and wise decisions from you? Don't you realize that you are betraying the forest elves by your behavior?
Thranduil was very embarrassed, but, seized by stubbornness and a painful desire to get rid of all the problems, scrambled:
- So what? They will choose another king! - And immediately weakened, clenching his hands splitting his head, whispered - maybe I sailed to the West in general ... As a mother...
Lorinor leaned over his poor sister's husband, raised his head with his hands, making him look into his eyes, and spoke heartfeltly, putting all his strength and soul into his words:
- Trandil! You're an idiot, aren't you? Will they choose another king, you say? And Legolas? He will not choose another father! Never! Think about the boy! He was already in terrible trouble - at this age, the baby lost his mother! Do you want him to lose his father too? Can you do this to your own son? And who will you be after that? Ellerian won't forgive you for this.