Thranduil felt sick. When he spoke, his voice was very quiet. "A day may seem longer than a year, if the day is one of hardship and the year is spent merry in the company of friends and kinsmen.

"Take comfort in that you are no longer there."

He could not, would not, berate him for admitting to fear - was he not the same? It was still all too easy to conjure up the black fields of Mordor.