"It is good to see you." Not like this, but she could be dead. Thranduil reaches out; tucks two fingers under her chin and lifts her head ever so slightly, looking into her eyes for a moment, two-- and then releases her with no explanation or comment.

Instead, he turns to the food beside the bed and pulls the tray onto his lap, brushing his fingers against the bowl. "Ah," he murmurs. "Still warm from the kitchens. When did they deliver this?"