Moonbeam

Chapter Twelve

Three days and three nights passed. Exhaustion eventually drove Thranduil to rest in his own chambers, away from the healing rooms and the woman responsible for his erratic heartbeat. The healers swore an oath to inform him immediately if anything changed, but nothing did. Time passed slowly, and Tara remained unconscious as her body fought the battle between life and death.

"Father, I am worried about you," Legolas commented, watching his parent from the other side of the room.

Thranduil had returned to the healing rooms after a fitful few hours rest. His eyes were burning with tiredness, his head heavy and his thoughts troubled. "I am alright," he answered.

"I do not think so," his son replied. "I have seldom seen you like this. Have faith that Tara will survive."

The King's gaze automatically lifted to the still form on the bed before him, and his heart broke a little more. She hadn't moved, and her skin was still far too pale for his liking.

"She is strong," he continued. "I think she will surprise us all and pull through this."

"I hope that you are right," Thranduil murmered. "We have been blessed to have her back with us, and I cannot bear to think of losing her again."

"The bite was deep, and the poison travelled rapidly. But you acted straight away, and she is alive right now because of your actions," Legolas told him. "Let nature do the rest. She will make it."

"I will personally burn out every spider in Middle Earth if she does not," he vowed. "Those evil, foul beasts have taken enough from these lands; they will not take her and get off lightly."

The Prince nodded. "I can understand your frustration and anger," he said softly. "But focus your thoughts on helping her to heal, that she may live to see another spring." With that, he left the room to carry on with his duties as best he could, given the circumstances.

Thranduil breathed deeply, closing his eyes. His inner being relaxed and he allowed his body to follow suit, his hand cradling one of Tara's. Allowing peace and serenity to flow through and around him, his senses opened up and he became aware of a faint presence. Thinking it was his son, he ignored it.

The presence grew a little stronger, an almost shy, hesitant feeling coming from it.

His eyes flew open.

He knew the presence didn't belong to Legolas.

Tara lay as still as a statue, the only movement being from her chest as it rose and fell with her steady breathing.

"Tara," he whispered softly, leaning closer to her. "Can you hear me, Tara?"

She continued to breathe peacefully.

"Come back, my little moonbeam," he whispered. "You are needed here."

Her eyelids fluttered; a tiny movement that he would have missed had he not been scrutinizing her. His heart surged. He tightened his fingers around hers, and felt a miniscule tightening in response.

He swallowed back a sob that would have otherwise broken free. "Come back, Tara," he whispered again. "Come on, my little moonbeam. Follow my voice."

Minutes passed.

Her eyelids flickered again, a slightly stronger movement.

"I need my fighting partner back," he said, his voice still soft and quiet. "I would have non other to practice with. Wake up, Tara."

She inhaled a deeper breath.

He waited, his heart pounding anxiously, knowing he had to give her time.