A shadow lies on Thranduil and his forest, and only a power stronger than the darkness of old can save them.
Grief and loss have turned him into a king with a heart of ice, and if he is ever to find redemption, the chains of guilt and remorse holdin...
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Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you with every single thing I have (Sleeping At Last: Two)
°°°°°°°°°° To all the hopeless romantics out there, this chapter is for you!
°°°°°°°°°°
Anna opened her eyes. At first she had trouble focussing on her surroundings. Her eyelids were heavy like lead and her body felt like she had been both through a storm and an earthquake. Mercifully the pain was gone and all that remained was a certain numbness in her limbs. She squinted and looked up.
There was a net of entwined branches above her, a golden light seeping through their tangled dome. The forest, was she in the forest? No, it couldn't be, because there was undoubtedly a mattress beneath her and a quilt covering her, except this definitely wasn't her own bed. It felt much too wide and her bed didn't have a canopy like that. Then it hit her. She knew one bed with a canopy like that. More than once she had thrown it covert glances, scolding herself for imagining herself in this very bed, in Thranduil's arms.
"W—why am I here? What happened?" she mumbled, and then she managed to turn her head sideways.
"I'm so glad to see you awake."
Thranduil was lying beside her, propped up on his elbow. His usually perfect hair was mussed, and his beautiful face showed obvious signs of strain. He was wearing a thin linen tunic that was half unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his chest and simple grey leggings. The only jewellery he wore was the small flower ring on his finger.
"You had a sudden attack of fever, and were unconscious when I found you. Aradan was the one who led me to your room."
"He did?" A weak smile dawned on her face.
"Yes, he did. It seems that he is an unusually perceptive animal." Reciprocating her smile he added, "And very fond of you. He refused to leave your side until you started showing definite signs of improvement."
Suddenly everything came back to her, the pain, the fever, the blood and the vomit, which made her sorely conscious of her own dishevelled state. She was still wearing her velvet dress, the one with the ink stains as well as those added in the tunnel, but to her relief her hands and face felt clean, and even her hair seemed to have been brushed and was nearly free of all tangles.
"I took the liberty of cleaning you up and brushing your hair," he said, when he saw her touching her face and hair.
"You did this yourself?"
He nodded. "I needed to do something to distract myself while you slept, and I wanted to stay close to you."
This gesture meant more to her than what he probably thought. He hadn't ordered his servants to do this task, no, he had done it himself, even though the sight and smell must have been less than pleasant.
