*in spite of feeling utterly exhausted, is still edgy and nervous enough to take quite some time getting to sleep* *at one point, gets up and snags a bottle of water from the mini-bar* *settles back down, gradually becoming sleepier and cannot deny that this is a remarkably comfortable suite (and marvels a little that you are the one who booked such a hotel and not him...)*
*drifts to sleep and certainly is peaceful for a time until the dreams begin again (the usual ones, from which he had a break while he had lost his memories)*
(Up on the cliffs surrounding Gondolin and there is no Balrog, though the Gondolindrim are there, and more. Ecthelion and Erestor and Tuor and Idril and Eärendil and Turgon. There are Elrond and Celebrían and Gil-galad and the children of Rivendell. Everyone is telling him to jump, telling him that they will push him if he does not jump. He backs to the edge (as he does every night) and looks at them all pleadingly. This night, he slips and he falls and he screams because now he is burning up, as though he is wrestling with the Balrog again, all shadow and flame and terror)
*tosses and turns in his sleep, unable to wake up, even as a scream rips out of his mouth*