NOTE: Well I'm not sure how many more chapters there are to go but there definitely aren't many to go. I'm finishing this fic very very soon! =0)

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Chapter 9 : Worry and Denial

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The winter passed slowly, each day as cold (or colder) than the day before. It snowed rather often, so that the paths were slippery, or blanketed with snow. People were often seen scraping ice off steps, or shoveling snow. Eldarion stood in the balcony of his room, leaning against the railing. He liked the winter, for some reason. Even though it was cold, he liked the fresh crispness of the air. No matter how tired you were, the cold breeze was sure to wake you up instantly. And winter brought quiet. He liked to be quiet occasionally, and think about the past, and the future.

Today he looked down at the frozen paths, thinking about his childhood days. He remembered his eighth winter, where he had raced Gwynna down the paths, and had broken his arm when he slipped on the ice. His nanny had given him such a scolding! He never did it again. Gwynna never did it again, either, having sprained her ankle and getting a lecture from her father. But that didn't mean that they had not gotten into other forms of trouble. Eldarion chuckled to himself as he remembered all the scrapes they got into, although it had not been very funny when they had been in trouble.

And then he sighed, thinking about Gwynna. She was so beautiful, even though she didn't seem to know it. When they were together, she would often express her wish to have beautiful golden hair and bright blue eyes, like the heroines in children's stories. She wanted to be graceful, she wanted to be perfect. It never occurred to her that she was already perfect, in her own way. He loved her dark hair and eyes. Especially her eyes that glinted when she came up with a plan for adventure (usually getting them into an awful lot of trouble), eyes that sparkled when she had something clever to say. He loved her wandering around in her own world, daydreaming all the time, almost never realising that someone was speaking to her. He loved her clumsiness, the way she was unable to keep herself from being banged up. He simply loved her. There had been a time when he had hoped that maybe when he was King she would be Queen. He had been fifteen then. That wish had faded over the five years that had passed, when he knew that they would never be more than best friends, but he still loved her, like he loved his sisters. But he wondered if things were going to change drastically anytime soon.

He had seen Gwynna many times recently, and had noticed her coughing fits were getting worse, and sometimes she gasped as if she was short of breath. She seemed to be getting sick very easily, something that had never been the case before; Gwynna was strong. She still acted as if everything was all right, but Leorian went around with a frown on his face more often than not. It was perfectly obvious that her father was worried about something. He had asked the healing women at the Houses of Healing if they had attended to Gwynna, intending to ask them to do all they could for her if they had not seen her. But he had been told that they were unsure of what was wrong with her. "Perhaps it's the winter," one of them told him hopefully. "We'll see if she gets better come spring." He nodded, but just before he left, he heard her mutter to another woman. "We didn't know what was wrong with her poor mother, either. Let's just hope for the best."

Eldarion sat down on the cold balcony floor, leaning against a pillar. Let's just hope for the best. Yes, they would have to do that. He didn't know exactly what had killed Gwynna's mother, but whatever it was, he hoped that Gwynna was spared from it. After all, her mother had been older than her when she had passed away. And what were the chances that Gwynna would catch the same thing? She was going to be fine. Just fine.

He hoped.

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Fenwë frowned at the book in front of him. The medicine he had passed to Legolas the last time should have worked, but Legolas said that it did not. That was strange… it had worked for all the others that he had cured before. What was it that Gwynna was suffering from, exactly? Part of him really wanted to know, so that he could find something that could heal her, but another part of him did not want to find out, in case he could not find a way to heal her.

"No, she's going to be just fine," he muttered to himself. "I'll go to Minas Tirith tomorrow and check on her myself. She's going to be just fine."

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Leorian sat in the King's hall, barely listening to what was being said. I wonder how Gwynna is right now, he thought to himself. She still seemed to be in good spirits, but he had noticed her getting paler. Perhaps she was pretending to be happy and fine just to keep him from worrying, but still he worried. The coughing did not go away no matter what medicine she was given. Now everyone was just waiting for the spring thaw, waiting to see if her coughing would melt away with the frost of winter.

Now he was haunted by the same fear, every day and night. What if Gwynna has the same illness Morwenna had? He refused to let himself believe it, but the thought would not go away. He shook his head slightly. We could not heal Morwenna, but if Gwynna has the same illness, we will heal her, he told himself firmly. Yes, they would heal her. Even if it cost him his life, Gwynna would be all right.

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Legolas sat on his bed with his head in his hands. He was getting really worried about Gwynna. No one, absolutely no one, knew what was wrong with her, and so there was no cure for her. Not yet, anyway. Not that they hadn't tried. Oh Valar, did they try. But nothing seemed to worked.

He thought about his beautiful Gwynna, how cheerful she had seemed to be when she saw him, despite not feeling very well. How she had smiled and laughed, how she had joked around with him like nothing was wrong. How she still could not avoid banging her elbow against the door. How she threatened playfully to dye her hair blonde with cloth dye. His lovely Gwynna, nothing seemed to be able to get her down. She had no idea how much like her mother she was.

How much like her mother she is, Legolas thought. He knew what haunted Leorian. No one had voiced it out loud, of course, but it was on everyone's minds, except for Gwynna's, perhaps. Everyone saw in Gwynna the same monster that had gnawed away at Morwenna. Everyone feared the same fate for Gwynna. Legolas looked up, trying to clear that horrible thought from his mind. He looked around his room, and decided to go out and let the cold air clear his mind.

Once outside, he looked around at the bare trees, stared at the white snow underfoot. And could not help thinking about Gwynna again. How she would have definitely tried to pelt him with snowballs, and how she would somehow find a way to hurt herself, even with the snow to cushion her. "Gwynna will be all right," he said aloud, to no one in particular. "She will be all right, and I'll bring her to Ithilien to live with me."

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NOTE: Well I hope that this chapter wasn't too cheesy and draggy. I was just looking at things through the perspectives of the people who cared for Gwynna.