Author´s Note: This is a partner-piece to my old story "Thoughts of a father". It is not necessary to read it, but it will be more complete for you if you do.
Beta-Reader: Hornet
"Thoughts of a son"
The soft touch of your hand holding mine, the slow movement of your thumb gently caressing my fingers, gives me something else to focus on besides the all-consuming pain and threatening blackness around me.
Oh, how glad I am that you are here with me, Ada!
I would never admit to any living soul that I am frightened by being here in the healing rooms again. It makes me feel so fragile, helpless and weak.
The healers once told me how they admire the fact that I never give up, I always pull through - no matter how badly injured I am. But in truth it is not my spirit that gives me the strength to fight, to survive. The darkness of the evil creeping into our home and my own helplessness are suffocating me, seducing me into giving up. If not for your constant precious, comforting presence at my bedside I might succumb.
The light of your love guides me the way through blackness and pain.
Oh, how much I hate to have failed you again!
We went out to fight back the vicious creatures taking away the joy and peace from our realm. Once again I have lost brave, dedicated warriors under my command.
The leadership weights hard on my shoulders and sometimes I think I can no longer bear all these responsibilities, all the guilt of knowing to have failed to save my people.
Never have you blamed me for not being able to push back the darkness, creeping over us from Dol Guldur, but I have seen the hopelessness - reflecting my own - in your eyes, when I returned after another lost attempt.
Oh, how much I wished I could bring back the light to greenwood the great!
The faces of the warriors who have died because of my weak leadership haunt me every night. The despair and the knowledge of not having finished my mission is so much harder to bear than the agony radiating now through my whole body.
A helpless moan betrays me, leaving my lips. Feeling your hand, Ada, stroking my hair, stills my inner turmoil. The sound of your gentle voice, singing a sweet lullaby, wipes away the spikes of despair that is piercing my heart.
Oh, how much I wish to make you proud of me!
My heart longs for the carelessness of my childhood. How much harder it must be for you Ada, having to bear the weight of kingship on your shoulders.
Oh, how much I wished I could ease this burden for you!
I have failed you and our people countless times. And now I am here again, in the healing rooms, adding the worry about me to your entire burden.
You never leave my bedside, consuming yourself with sorrow about my pain. Once you told me you feel so useless, being not able to help me when I am injured. That is not true, you are giving me so much: the strength to survive, to pull through the darkness.
The blackness of unconsciousness is creeping over me again. I am not frightened, the light of your love will shine over me.
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