The Prince's Pretend Mother

Twenty-First Entry - Rather Wilt than Fade

The bud must bloom till blowsy blown

Its petals loosen and are strown;

And that's a fate it can't evade

Unless 'twould rather wilt than fade.

We need you still.

I was drowning but I felt no need to breathe, nor was I necessarily sinking. I was a pale wisp in an even paler sea, the hands of those I had lost guiding me to a place where I could rest among my family again, to watch those I left behind from afar and never to be touched by them again.

I saw another hand though, with lines where silver rings usually sat, stretching dimly through the wan drifts of unfelt water that surrounded me.

We need you still.

"Thranduil!"

My heart tightened as I reached to grasp his hand, knowing what I would leave behind no matter who I chose. But the hands at my shoulders had only been my guides-they did not force me. They dissolved, and I stretched across an indeterminate distance in an effort to touch the hand that might bring me back. Tears formed in my eyes as I struggled to make passage forward, but surrounded by nothing, trapped in the passage between two worlds, even my movements were slow and labored. "Please," I begged, of the waters, the gods, any being or any essence which might assist or permit me. "Please, I'm not finished yet."

But then I did feel the tug of directions again, and I began to sink. I grit my teeth, reached for my last salvation and screamed.

I felt as though I had been blindfolded, or were being held underwater. It took more effort to open my eyes than it had taken not to weep in front of Legolas after my son died. I couldn't see clearly; I still felt as though I were floating, swaying. Something shifted before me and my hearing returned. I felt pressure on the back of my hand, and blinked trying to focus on the face that had dropped to wait before me. It slipped, darkness spreading cracks through the corners of my vision and the hand tightened, bringing me back.

"Inladris." The voice still sounded terribly far. I lay on my stomach, unable to turn, my entire head and spine weighed with pain. "Inladris." A thumb stroked across the backs of my fingers. "How do you feel?" His hand settled against my cheek, trying to keep my attention long enough to ascertain that I had not lost my mind as my blood drained into the ashy soil.

My vision began to clear, though still I was unable to properly focus my eyes on his. "Thranduil," I whispered, and as soon as I spoke the last barrier protecting me from the rest of my senses dissolved, and my voice split. "I am in so much pain," I whimpered, closing my eyes as tears welled and slid over my nose, down into my hairline.

"Soon you may rest," he promised, speaking quickly, quietly, as though any loud sounds would hurt me too. "Legolas lives. The Ring is destroyed, and Sauron with it."

The tears dripped faster as I wept now in relief. "Tauriel?"

"She is well."

If I were not already down I would have collapsed, so great was my joy. "And will we survive?"

He nodded. "I will tell you more when you are better." He reached across to a table and dipped the corner of a cloth in a dish of something Nesetha had mixed, folded the cloth and pressed it gently against the open wound in the back of my head. Since it had stopped bleeding they had stopped bandaging it while I was yet immobile.

Thranduil held the numbing solution against my wound until my tears dried, then remained at my side, one hand lying over mine, until I slipped this time into rest instead of unconsciousness.