rowancrowned | fade rift ✧ inbox

[ he settles against the headboard, and exhales slowly, relaxing. ]

Once, when a little elfing was supposed to be slipping off to reverie, she reached up to her mother who was tucking her in, sleepy in the way little elfings are when they do not wish to go to bed.

"Guess how much I love you," she said to her mother.

Her mother replied that she could not possibly guess. The elfling laughed, and spread her arms wide. "This much," she said.

"That is a very great amount," her mother agreed. "But I love you this much," her mother said, and she spread her arms, which were much longer than her daughters'.

The elfling thought and realized this was quite a lot. So she thought. "I love you as high as I can reach."

And her mother said, "I love you as high as I can reach."

The elfling said, "I love you to my toes." And her mother touched her toes, and agreed. "I love you to your toes."

And the elfling stopped and thought very hard. After a moment, she said, "I love you from our house to the gates of Thingol's palace." And she looked out the window, to the palace, where the lights had dimmed to allow for reverie.

"And I love you from our house to the stars." And the little elfling looked from the palace to the stars, and realized it was very far indeed.

And the little elfling was very tired, and blinked sleepily, and let her mother settle her down into bed.

Her mother continued. "And I loved you from the moment your father and I begat you, and I will love you until the end of the world."

"Oh," said the little elfling softly. "That is very far."

And her mother leaned down and kissed her. "Yes," her mother agreed. "And I will always love you just that much."

( careful what you ask for, she thinks. gwenaëlle is quiet a terribly long time. )

Thank you.

[ he yawns. ]

You are welcome, Gwenaëlle.

( in a tone of belated realisation - )

Did I wake you?

No. [ a gently amused tone at the thought that it matters—! ] I, like you, cannot seem to embrace the Fade quite yet.

Is Guenievre with you?

Yes. Sleeping. We've been at the healing tents, it's - busy.

( guenievre keeps busier than gwenaëlle does, but she's not completely useless. )

There is no good 'busy' in a house of healers.

( there's a hitch in her breath that she doesn't acknowledge; )

It won't be much longer.

Who? Why?

[ she's so young, as are all her friends. ]

His friends aren't good at this. At - warriors aren't supposed to die lying down. But I've - I know about that. I am.

( good at that. )

Comfortable with death?

[ it is a mortal fact of life. yet they fight against it so violently. he is not sure what to do. ]

I know it. I've done this before.

( her exhale is steady by sheer bloody-minded determination. )

It's Asher. I don't know if you ever met him. The Avvar with the Boneflayers.

I did not.

[ between being wrapped up in his studies in the library and meeting with all the elves he can, he's been-- busy. ]

Have you eaten?

[ he's definitely wide awake now. ]

I think so. I don't remember anyone scolding me about it.

( not that guenievre would, but she looks. )

Pass the crystal to Guenievre, if you please.

She's sl--

( there's a - not silence. a pause. muffled orlesian muttering, and then guenievre's voice; )

Yes, ser?

What will she eat? What will you eat?

[ general shuffling noises as he pulls himself out of bed, finds boots, slips them on. ]

I've eaten, ( she says, almost conciliatory. ) She picked at her meal. Fish would suit her palate better. A lighter meal.

( gwenaëlle can be heard complaining I didn't pick at it. )

[ he's got his boots on and is halfway to the door before he realizes-

he's not in skyhold. she's not in orlais.

the footsteps are slower, this time, going back to his bed, toeing off his boots. ]

I... am afraid I cannot help, Guenievre. I am in Halamshiral.

( a small breath of laughter, rueful; an exchange in orlesian; gwenaëlle, again, very reasonably; ) I did eat. Everything is -

fine.

( well, it isn't, but not in any way thranduil could solve even if he were here, she thinks. )

Your friend is dying.

[ rude, but to the point. ]

And you are too- [ he cuts himself off here. the wood of the bed creaks as he shifts. his tone, now, is softer. ]

Gwenaëlle, may I beg a favor from you?

( there's a long, stung silence. finally; )

What sort of favour.

That you will eat at twice a day, and bathe once every two days, and lay in bed, if not sleep, for at least six hours a night until I come back to Skyhold.

Tell me what I need do in return.

( you're not her real dad, thranduil. )

I've been eating. And bathing.

( probably less than twice a day.

probably not irrelevant she doesn't immediately dispute that she's been sleeping, either. probably he can envision the mutinous expression she's wearing without any help. )

Bring me back something from Halamshiral. I'll lie down.

Thank you, my lady. Your heart is full of endless compassion for an old elf who wishes only for a kind ear to hear his stories.

[ that's true he's much hotter than papa gwen. ]

I will bring back two for you.

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