To Live Again: Waiting Between Worlds {Lord of the Rings Fanfiction}

4. Innocent Eyes

The Woodland Realm: The Healing Gardens.
SA 3441

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'Love is not a feeling, it is an act of will!'
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{Clara POV}

I breathe in...

...and I breathe out.

It is about all I can do to remind myself to stay fixed in the present. I focus on the dull throbbing in my palms, as Oliel silently cleans and redresses the deep cuts there. She will tend to the soles of my feet next, that is her routine. Gilron has brought me outside today...to my healing gardens. She has sat me down on a flower covered bench, so I can overlook our flowering lullaby tree. She hopes it will do me some good, and in a way it does, as the warmth of the sun casts its rays along the great rocky arches, bathing my cold skin in light and warmth. The heat makes me feel alive...makes me feel close to him. His skin was warm, the heat of his embrace was sometimes intoxicating, yet it all feels like a faraway memory now.

A soft palm pets my cheek, and the flutter against my skin draws my mind away from the turmoil of my fractured fea. I gaze morosely at my son, and I try to hide my pain from him but I cannot. Legolas gives me a timid smile, and continues to brush my cheek. His brows have pulled together in deep concern, and his eyes hold too much hurt and confusion than they should for his young age.

"Nana?" He queries carefully, and drops his hand to encircle it with mine; "Nana, will you talk to me? Nana I am frightened."

"Legolas, child, your Naneth is poorly," Oliel answers him in a weary voice and ceases her work; "When she is feeling better she will speak with you. There is no need to be frightened...all this will pass."

"Do not be frightened ion nin," I whisper hoarsely to him, and weakly squeeze his hand with mine. Although it is all I can say, because when I remember I feel great tears well in my eyes, so I twist my head away from him and gaze out into the vast gardens. I feel him grip my hand more tightly, and my dying heart breaks a little more.

The tears begin to flow freely down my cheeks, and I surprise myself at how my body has any water left to expel. I'm not sure how long it has been since the night I felt Thranduil's passing; I assume it has maybe been a week, maybe more? All the days have blurred together in one endless moment of torment. Every moment that passes I sense Thranduil's weak fea as it clings to this world, but it feels as light and as easily snatched as a feather. But I hold onto it with all my might, I refuse to relinquish our bond to death. But the struggle consumes me; I have not eaten or slept in long days. My children are well aware now of the situation we face. They know their father is injured, and like me they stake all their hope into the belief that with their prayers and love he will overcome his wounds, and come home. But as the days linger on, my hope and my strength to endure slowly dwindles.

News of the events has not left the royal home, for there is no need for widespread hysteria just yet. Plus I will not have Legolas frightened by talks of the crown and ruling, he is too young to worry over such things. It is enough that his father is perilously ill and that his Grandfather's fate is unknown! The fear of them harming my little rescuer is the only thing that ensures I do not completely retreat into myself. I know the elite members of the council have discovered the rumours. I know I am being watched, any detrition in my condition will be the evidence they need to conclude their prince is dead.

"Come Legolas," A familiar masculine voice instructs my son, and I feel his indecision at leaving me as he clutches my hand. My watery eyes slide slowly over Tinuben, who stands with Olben, both of them wearing troubled expressions. "Come child, it will do you some good to focus on other things. Your Nana needs to rest."