We continue staring at the sky. I feel you shiver, and wonder if you are cold. I do not ask you, for I know that I will not get a reply. I gently rub your arms, and you lean more heavily on me.
'It's late, we should go inside,' I say more to myself than to you.
I wrap my arms around you, and carry you back into your room. The room is a bit chilly, so I start a fire. Of course, I have already placed you on your bed.
Once the fire gets going, I walk back to the bed. You lay there on lavender sheets. Your blonde hair is spilling out over the pillow, like honey.
I pull the comforter over you, and turn to leave. You grab my hand when I try to do so. I look down at you, and cannot refuse such an act of dependency while you are in such a state.
I sigh, and lay down next to you. You still seem to be cold, so I wrap my arms around your waist, and hold you close to me. You lean your head against my chest, and hold my hand.
I whisper some soothing words to you, hoping to help you drift into the land of dreams. I turn to face you, and I see you smile. You are still staring into space, but I think that you know that I'm here, and holding you.
You snuggle closer, but don't hold me. I understand, you are not completely with me.
I kiss your forehead, and watch as your eyes close. You are safely in the land of happy dreams. I feel my eyelids grow heavy, and succumb to a wave of sleep.
I hear a bird chirp, and I open my eyes. You are already awake, and are heading towards the bathing room. Your gait is slow, and I realize that you are still trapped in your own world.
I jump up, and grab your arm. You moan softly. I guide you towards the tub. I pull of your nightgown, and must contain myself.
I gasp when I see your naked body. I can see each of your ribs, and your skin is dangerously pale.
I don't say anything, though. I help you ease into the warm water, and cleanse your skin. You are suffering physically and emotionally. This is the first time that I realize that it has been about a week since you have eaten. You have refused to eat since your father left, and it has gotten worse since your father is injured.
Once you are clean, I help you dress, then seat you in an armchair in front of the fire place. I tell you to stay put until I get back.
I run to my room to quickly bathe, and dress. I can't get the image of your weak body out of my mind. I decide that you must eat, even if I have to force feed you.
I go down to the kitchen, and get some soup. It's your favorite, or at least it was your favorite before you escaped from reality.
When I return to your room, I find you in the same position that I left you in. I pull a chair up, and sit next to you.
'Good morning, how are you feeling? You need to eat,' I say, as cheerfully as I can.
You turn to me, and reach for my hand. I let you hold my left hand, for I need the right to feed you. I press a spoonful of soup to your lips.
At first you don't seem to know what to do. I press it a bit harder, and you open your mouth, and eat. I fill the spoon again, and again, you eat. You finish the soup, and seem to be complacent.
Your expression is still vacant, but you seem to be slightly content. You are still holding my hand, not letting go. If it makes you feel better, then I will allow you to hold onto me.
'Billie, we have to go see my father. He wants to talk to you,' I say, slowly and gently.
You grip my hand tighter, but allow me to help you up. We stroll down the hallway until we reach my father's study. We enter the room, and my father looks up.
'How is she,' he asks, the anxiety shows in his voice.
'She won't speak, but I did get her to eat this morning,' I reply, I'm slightly defensive.
'Wilwarin, your father is still alive. It is uncertain if he will continue to live, and he is still unconscious. I know that he would not want you to live like this,' he says this flippantly. How can he change from being so anxious to being so nonchalant?
You continue to stare, but do wince. You squeeze my hand, and lean your head on my shoulder.
'Billie, he'll be alright,' I say, trying to convince myself as well as you.
My father sighs. 'I doubt that she'll stay like this for all eternity, but it may take her a while to come back to reality.'
'Can we leave now?' I say impatiently.
'Elrohir, you must have patience if you want to help her get better,' he says.
'Then may I have permission to move in with her.' I'm oblivious to what I just said.
'Elrohir! I'm surprised at you! I...'
I cut him off, 'Ada, she hasn't let go of my hand since yesterday. What am I supposed to do, tear her away from her last shred of reality?!'
You jump, and hold my other hand as well.
'So, you have been helping her? If you so much as....'
'I promise that I'll take good care of her,' I say, and I mean it with all my heart.
'Alright, but if you don't, I know that Glorfindel will kill you. Since he is in no condition to do so, I will,' he says, but there is some laughter in his voice.
I smile, and turn to leave, taking you with me. I love you, and I always will.
~Author's Note~ Thanks to all those that have reviewed!
'It's late, we should go inside,' I say more to myself than to you.
I wrap my arms around you, and carry you back into your room. The room is a bit chilly, so I start a fire. Of course, I have already placed you on your bed.
Once the fire gets going, I walk back to the bed. You lay there on lavender sheets. Your blonde hair is spilling out over the pillow, like honey.
I pull the comforter over you, and turn to leave. You grab my hand when I try to do so. I look down at you, and cannot refuse such an act of dependency while you are in such a state.
I sigh, and lay down next to you. You still seem to be cold, so I wrap my arms around your waist, and hold you close to me. You lean your head against my chest, and hold my hand.
I whisper some soothing words to you, hoping to help you drift into the land of dreams. I turn to face you, and I see you smile. You are still staring into space, but I think that you know that I'm here, and holding you.
You snuggle closer, but don't hold me. I understand, you are not completely with me.
I kiss your forehead, and watch as your eyes close. You are safely in the land of happy dreams. I feel my eyelids grow heavy, and succumb to a wave of sleep.
I hear a bird chirp, and I open my eyes. You are already awake, and are heading towards the bathing room. Your gait is slow, and I realize that you are still trapped in your own world.
I jump up, and grab your arm. You moan softly. I guide you towards the tub. I pull of your nightgown, and must contain myself.
I gasp when I see your naked body. I can see each of your ribs, and your skin is dangerously pale.
I don't say anything, though. I help you ease into the warm water, and cleanse your skin. You are suffering physically and emotionally. This is the first time that I realize that it has been about a week since you have eaten. You have refused to eat since your father left, and it has gotten worse since your father is injured.
Once you are clean, I help you dress, then seat you in an armchair in front of the fire place. I tell you to stay put until I get back.
I run to my room to quickly bathe, and dress. I can't get the image of your weak body out of my mind. I decide that you must eat, even if I have to force feed you.
I go down to the kitchen, and get some soup. It's your favorite, or at least it was your favorite before you escaped from reality.
When I return to your room, I find you in the same position that I left you in. I pull a chair up, and sit next to you.
'Good morning, how are you feeling? You need to eat,' I say, as cheerfully as I can.
You turn to me, and reach for my hand. I let you hold my left hand, for I need the right to feed you. I press a spoonful of soup to your lips.
At first you don't seem to know what to do. I press it a bit harder, and you open your mouth, and eat. I fill the spoon again, and again, you eat. You finish the soup, and seem to be complacent.
Your expression is still vacant, but you seem to be slightly content. You are still holding my hand, not letting go. If it makes you feel better, then I will allow you to hold onto me.
'Billie, we have to go see my father. He wants to talk to you,' I say, slowly and gently.
You grip my hand tighter, but allow me to help you up. We stroll down the hallway until we reach my father's study. We enter the room, and my father looks up.
'How is she,' he asks, the anxiety shows in his voice.
'She won't speak, but I did get her to eat this morning,' I reply, I'm slightly defensive.
'Wilwarin, your father is still alive. It is uncertain if he will continue to live, and he is still unconscious. I know that he would not want you to live like this,' he says this flippantly. How can he change from being so anxious to being so nonchalant?
You continue to stare, but do wince. You squeeze my hand, and lean your head on my shoulder.
'Billie, he'll be alright,' I say, trying to convince myself as well as you.
My father sighs. 'I doubt that she'll stay like this for all eternity, but it may take her a while to come back to reality.'
'Can we leave now?' I say impatiently.
'Elrohir, you must have patience if you want to help her get better,' he says.
'Then may I have permission to move in with her.' I'm oblivious to what I just said.
'Elrohir! I'm surprised at you! I...'
I cut him off, 'Ada, she hasn't let go of my hand since yesterday. What am I supposed to do, tear her away from her last shred of reality?!'
You jump, and hold my other hand as well.
'So, you have been helping her? If you so much as....'
'I promise that I'll take good care of her,' I say, and I mean it with all my heart.
'Alright, but if you don't, I know that Glorfindel will kill you. Since he is in no condition to do so, I will,' he says, but there is some laughter in his voice.
I smile, and turn to leave, taking you with me. I love you, and I always will.
~Author's Note~ Thanks to all those that have reviewed!
