send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse --- ▤ = falling asleep on them + Thranduil.
Being King is an occupational hazard, she thinks, as suture & needle closes skin tightly together...
He has always been a good patient, for he remains still as marble for her hands at work, & currently, his head rests on her lap. A clean, but harsh laceration made its ugly mark upon her friend's brow, and she was more than happy to deal with it. How it got there is none of her business, but she guesses Thranduil took to the woods again, to unleash steam & rage against Orcs & spiders.
She is a good doctor for him, too—she keeps her silence, for it is also a conversation. The only words to have left her lips are the mumblings of an old Iathrim hymn, & she would have it thus, rather than to attempt a lecture or small talk. And anyway, if her assumption about the circumstances that led to this visit is correct, then it is wise not to test the King’s patience.
Though by the look of it, she had taken far too long in her duty, for she had not realized her patient resting peacefully upon her knee.
She bid herself to lie still as marble, as he had done, and made no movement besides her careful recline against the back wall. Elliel stared at her friend a long while, content in his peace and satisfied with the stitching. Peace and sleep are rare commodities for one so old, and yet he has found it here in her office! That was relieving.
Elliel risked waking him again, though only to move the hair away from her friend's face while he slept.