Sick
Elrond entered the room soundlessly, grey eyes immediately settling on the bed that stood along the far wall. The sunset's gentle glow flooded the chamber, its red-orange hues falling on the patient's fever-flushed face, where he lay beneath the blankets. Nevertheless, the sick Elf's gaze did not immediately shift to Elrond's, remaining instead fixed on the ceiling, a slight crease in his forehead furthering giving away his current state of unaware.
Silently crossing the room, Elrond set the wicker basket containing poultice supplies on the night-stand before sitting down on the edge of the bed and gauging the Elf's temperature by placing a hand to his forehead. Better, but still far too warm. This infection was persistent indeed. "Elladan? How do you feel, my son?"
At last, the glazed eyes met Elrond's. Blinking owlishly, he took a moment to register his father's question.
"I have been thinking," he whispered at last.
Elrond arched an eyebrow. "Indeed? About what have you been thinking, Elladan?"
"Deer..." Elladan whispered, the crease between his eyes returning.
It was Elrond's turn to blink. "Deer?"
Elladan would have nodded if he had had the strength. "Does... does growing antlers hurt a stag like cutting teeth for the first time hurts a babe?"
TBC...
A/N: Well, a little over two years later, I'm back with another drabble! I am still alive; I've just been busy getting my bachelor's degree. Just over one semester left to go! I hope you enjoy this little snippet; I really hope to get back into writing as time allows.