She didn't bring gifts, of course not. She moves so quietly, with the same slow, careful grace she had in the old days.
She sits easily in the chair, leans closer to him, though she doesn't touch him. When she speaks, her voice is quiet, low -- with a bit of a spell woven through it, because she doesn't trust these men who call themselves doctors to keep him quiet.
"Gaheris, my son," oh, it sounds like love, near enough that anyone else would mistake it for such, "Gaheris, I've another gift for you."