The Prince's Pretend Mother

Fifth Entry - Two Quiet Children

Age saw two quiet children

Go loving by at twilight

*

Some time after my brother had left I realized Thranduil was sitting in an armchair at the foot of the bed, his legs crossed, either doing paperwork or reading. I heard paper rustling. I went between consciousness and sleep for more than a day before resurfacing entirely, and experiencing again the wounds my body had let me forget about while I was asleep. I sucked in my breath, wincing, and heard Thranduil close whatever he had been reading.

"I am pleased you will recover," he said by way of a greeting.

Tightly I replied, "The feeling is mutual. What have the healers said?" Digging my hands into the mattress on either side of me I managed to heave myself against the headboard so I could at least see him.

"How well you heal now is no longer under their control. I had this brought from Dale—" He reached behind himself and hooked his hand around a smooth, ebony cane with a silver handle embedded with blue-violet sapphires and twirled it through his fingers, "—as it appears you will be needing it until you have fully recovered."

I cracked a dry smile. "How many threats did you have to extend to have such a fine tool crafted so quickly?"

Our king carelessly shrugged. "No more than the usual."

I nodded sagely. I had seen some of the letters he sometimes sent to the budding city across the lake from us. While never rude—yet—Thranduil still cut an intimidating figure, even only in writing. "I shall try it then. You have probably ordered the wrong size." I began pushing myself up, glad my midsection at least felt whole, though I sensed a lingering stinging from the shallow cut I'd had there.

"Never." Thranduil smoothly stood, tossing the book onto the end of my bed, and stepped to where he could easily offer assistance if it appeared I was about to plunge back into the ground. I got myself onto my feet easily enough, but I could put less than a goblet's weight of pressure on my right leg. Thranduil had to catch me by the elbow when I tried, and slipped the handle of the cane under my hand. My fingers curled around the cool metal and I took a tentative step, Thranduil's hand resting midway up my back when I rocked.

"Well," I said, breathless since I'd been holding my breath. "I stand corrected."

Thranduil gave a theatrically generous smile. "My dear all we ask is that you stand." He attended me solicitously as I eased around the end of the bed and toward the window, where I dropped heavily into the armchair there. My maid teased me about all the chairs in my house, but I hated to have to drag them around if I wanted to sit somewhere else.

With a sigh I turned to stare out the window as Thranduil opened it and sat in the sill. "I suppose I will have to content myself to my sitting for a while. How is Legolas?"

"Legolas is in a frenzy of his own concern. Now that you are capable of receiving him I will have to send for him to relieve his anxiety."

"Please do, you know how he worries."

Thranduil swept to his feet and opened the door, passing through. He spoke to someone who must have been waiting outside my suite and returned. He settled himself fluidly back onto the windowsill, spreading his robe—lined with a deep russet underneath—gracefully around himself and I chuckled to myself. Thranduil lifted an inquisitive brow down at me.

I propped my temple against my fingers and my elbow against the curled hazelnut arm of the chair. "I do believe you are more concerned with your appearance than I am."

"And I do believe my son stole your ability to hold onto your vanity."

I laughed. "Yes I do believe he did. Having one's hair watered and kneeling in unswept corridors will do that to a woman."