And so weeks had passed many in the same fashion. Waking up at seven, dressing the prince for breakfast at eight, explore the kingdom and read in the library. The king had formed a face, with which he faced all his subjects, the coldness from his wife's passing creating an armour which only broke when faced with his son or Arnarra's disapproving glare. All days were to pass like this until the fateful day Arnarra woke to find the castle in silence. The halls were quiet and barely anyone moved. Feeling suspicious Arnarra pulled her dressing gown over her nightgown and stepped out of her room, walking towards the kings rooms. Upon entry she heard the complete hush that furthered her suspicions. The walked towards the princes room and came upon the king standing with a feverish prince in his arms. She gasped and headed towards them, feeling guilty for not seeing any symptoms.
Seeing her face the king quickly shook his head, handing the toddler over. She held him as if he was the most precious thing in the world and went over to the bathroom with a towel to dampen his temperature with cool water. Her movements were slow and unsure, having never dealt with a sick child before. She came out and without glancing to the king sat in the rocking chair, pressing the damp towel to the prince's forehead. His restless movements calmed as his temperature was brought down and she gave a sigh of relief.
The king watched her with mild interest. It was obvious she had never dealt with this kind of situation, yet she seemed to almost follow a practice set into her from her youth, her movements unsure as if she were being judged. She was sat in the rocking chair, slowly rocking back and forth with his son, when he noticed Legolas' face relax and his agitated squirming ceased. He gave a sigh of relief echoing hers before he left the room, leaving adopted mother and child to recuperate.
She rocked in the chair and sang lullabies until halfway through the afternoon when the young prince began to cry, his temperature rising, the damp towel doing nothing. She reached out and braided his hair into one braid, allowing air to reach his neck and got up to wet the towel once again. She stood in the middle of the room swaying back and forth, dampening his forehead, neck and cheeks as his fever raged on and on. This continued well into the night until his fever broke in the early morning hours, leaving an exhausted Arnarra swaying in the rocking chair, the now peaceful prince, sleeping in her arms, his hands gripping her hair and dressing gown. She did not sleep for fear the temperature would return and breathed a sigh of relief when the boy ate food for the first time again. She sat helping him when his father entered.
"He is eating once again, my king." Thranduil smiled and kneeled by his son.
"He is a strong boy, hopefully this won't occur again." Arnarra felt guilt override her sense of relief and looked down.
"I'm sorry, my liege, I never saw any symptoms, if I had, I-" Arnarra was cut off by a wave of the kings hand.
"You could not have known. None of us could. You did well for being in a new situation you obviously weren't comfortable with." He smiled warmly at his son not looking up at Arnarra's face which was fixed in an expression of surprise. When she didn't answer or move for a long time Legolas looked up in concern.
"Nana?" She broke out of her shock and smiled down at the child in her arms.
"I'm ok, my mushroom."
Soon a year had passed since Arnarra had started and Legolas had begun to speak more and more, his little legs now being able to walk two steps before falling down. She rose on the anniversary of the queens death and looked down at the black dress lain out for her by a maid.
The dress was gorgeous no matter what it was for. Arnarra slipped out of her nightdress and stepped through to the bathroom and settled in the tub which had been prepared by the maid without her waking. She sat and felt calm, it was half past six and she had time before needing to go prepare Legolas for eight. She washed herself before stepping out of the tub, drying herself off before leaving her bathroom. Entering her room, she pulled on her underclothes and her dress. The dress was a soft material, the top loose before it tightened at the waist, falling straight to the floor. The sleeves were caped from the front falling back, the back of the dress dropping down to the middle of her back leaving it bare. The belt in the middle was made from black ribbons tied together and the ends fell down to her ankles.
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The Replacement
ФанфикThranduil Fanfiction, The hobbit and LOTR I OWN NOTHING BUT THE IDEA. Thranduil's queen has just died and his son is a motherless infant, he needs someone who will protect him and raise him as a mother. Therefore he finds a replacement. Follow Arnar...
