Life

On the fourth day, Ungoránë’s fever finally broke, and the persistent cough began to ease. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pausing as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Resting his elbows on his knees, he waited for the sensation to subside. I’ve spent far too long in this bed, he thought, his muscles stiff and weak from days of inactivity. As he rubbed his face, the faint sensation of being watched prickled at the back of his neck. He glanced up and met a pair of tired, wary blue eyes—hers.

They locked eyes in silence, neither moving, its heaviness lingering in the air between them. Finally, the girl spoke, her voice raw and rasping, as though every word scraped against her throat. “Why…” she faltered, her lips trembling slightly, before forcing herself to try again. “Why…did you s-save me?” The words came out in a croak, strained but heavy with emotion, her blue eyes searching his face for answers.

Ungoránë raised an eyebrow at her, “Why’d I save you? You threw yourself into the river after teetering on a bloody stone wall like some kind of reckless fool! You’re fortunate you didn’t crack your skull on the way down.” His words were blunt, the exasperation he felt at her coming through in his words. 

Her cheeks flushed a vivid red, a mix of embarrassment and defiance, as she drew in a few shaky breaths. When she finally spoke, her voice was strained, each word forced through her dry throat. “I w-wish I had died!” The words hung heavy in the air, sharp and brittle.

“Why on earth would you want to do that? Nothing can be that bad,” he blurted, his tone a mixture of disbelief and frustration.

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as she turned her gaze away from him, fixing it on the ceiling as though it might hold some comfort. Her voice, hoarse and trembling, carried a bitterness that struck like a blade, “You… you wouldn’t understand,” she murmured, barely audible, her tone cracking under the weight of her words. “You’re j-just another m-man…” The final word hung in the air, heavy with the pain and distrust that laced her every syllable.

He hesitated, unsure of what to say, watching as her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling as though it might hold some answer to her torment. After a moment, he spoke, his voice measured but firm, “You nearly cost both of us our lives.” The simplicity of his words carried a quiet weight, filling the tense silence between them.

She turned to him sharply, her blue eyes blazing with a mix of anguish and frustration, though her voice trembled with the effort to speak. “Then y-you s-should not have c-come after me!” she snapped, her words jagged with poorly suppressed grief. “You s-should have l-let et me drown. You s-should have kept y-yourself safe and left m-me to die. L-left me to g-get what I d-deserve.” Her voice cracked on the last word, tears slipping down her cheeks as she glared at him, her expression a raw blend of sorrow and defiance.

“‘What you deserve’?” Ungoránë’s tone sharpened, his words cutting through the tension like a blade. “Whatever that might be, I doubt death is a suitable punishment. Believe me, I’ve craved the so-called liberation of death myself, but it wouldn’t erase my regrets. It wouldn’t change anything.” His voice softened slightly, but the edge remained. “Maybe that’s why I dived after you, armor and all!”

He gave her a hard, unflinching look, his gray eyes boring into her, and she broke first, turning her face away, her lips pressed into a trembling line. Her hands twisted the thin blanket covering her, betraying the turmoil she couldn’t speak aloud.

“I d-deserve death,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, each word trembling with the weight of her conviction. She drew a shaky breath, the sound rattling in her chest like an old, broken bell. Without looking at him, she slowly turned over on the bed, her back facing him, curling in on herself like a wounded animal seeking shelter. The tension hung heavy in the air, her quiet words echoing louder than any shout.

Grumbling under his breath, Ungoránë decided it was best to leave her be. He rubbed a hand through his disheveled hair, muttering to himself. He never did understand girls…or women.  The only woman he ever truly cared for—the one who had raised him, loved him, and held his world together—he had buried years ago. Her grave lay beside his father’s, who had fallen defending her. 

Two more days crawled by, each slower and more uneventful than the last. The girl made a clear effort to avoid any interaction with Ungoránë, pointedly ignoring him whenever he was near. If she wasn’t pretending to sleep, she was turning her back to him, her fragile frame curled away from him. Even when awake, she seemed content to stay silent, her hollow eyes staring into some distant point that only she could see. The herbal drinks seemed to do their job, keeping her drifting in and out of consciousness, though the moments she was lucid felt colder than the winter air outside.

The doctor came by once a day, his visits brisk and routine. He would check both of them, his skilled hands making quick work of his examinations. Ungoránë got the occasional comment about how he was healing well, but the girl? She rarely spoke, barely acknowledged the doctor except to nod when asked a question. She maintained her silence, offering little more than a slow shake of her head or a faint tilt when pressed for more. Her quiet avoidance left a strange weight hanging in the air.

Within a few days more, the doctor declared Ungoránë healthy enough to leave. “You’re free to go,” he said with a curt nod, closing the medical ledger he carried under one arm. “Don’t worry about the payment; consider it our thanks for what you do for the defenses. Soldiers like you keep this city standing.”

The doctor’s tone softened as his gaze drifted to the other bed. The girl sat there, back to them, her breathing had steadied. “As for her… she still has a long way to go. But I’ll say this—she has quite the will to live, whether she realizes it or not.” He said quietly to Ungoránë, rubbing the back of his neck. “We know nothing about her—not her name, her family, or her past—but we’ve never turned anyone away from our doors. She’ll have a place here for as long as she needs it.”

With that, the doctor gave him a firm pat on the shoulder and moved toward the girl’s bed, checking her pulse with the same practiced care he had shown every day since their arrival.

Ungoránë grunted softly, his thanks to the doctor trailing off as he turned to gather his things. His pack was lighter than when he had arrived. He slung it over his shoulder and hesitated, glancing toward the other bed.

The girl still sat on the edge, her back to him, shoulders drooping as though they bore the weight of something far heavier than her fragile frame. Her stillness caught his attention, and he frowned, pondering why she continued to ignore him. His thoughts drifted to his childhood, recalling the times his mother would sit silently, refusing to speak to his father. He had once asked his brother, Abrazân, why she did that, only to receive a cryptic response.

Shaking the memory loose, he took a cautious step toward her. The nurses had done their best to restore her dignity, but her pale skin still seemed ghostly, a stark reminder of how close to death she had been. Her cheeks held the faintest flush of life, though it seemed more from exertion than health.

She wore a clean white shift, its simplicity highlighting how small she was. Her brown hair, now freed from its tangled state, was pulled into a tidy braid that fell to the middle of her back. The braid, though neat, lacked the luster of vitality, its dull color blending into her pale frame like the last remnants of trees against a winter scene. 

He paused, watching her in silence, unsure whether to speak or turn away. The image of her frail figure sitting there lingered in his mind, stirring something he couldn’t quite name—a faint pull of empathy. 

“Um,” he cleared his throat, “would you like to take a walk outside? I hear there’s a nice garden?”  

She flinched at the sound of his voice, her shoulders tensing before she glanced at him, her tired eyes meeting his briefly before fluttering away from his gaze. For a moment, she looked as though she might ignore him again, but then she looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. Her fingers toyed absently with the fabric, seemingly considering his offer. 

Her voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper, but it carried an edge of disbelief. “Why?”

Ungoránë shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well… fresh air might do you some good,” he said, his tone unsure. “Better than staying cooped up in here all day, don’t you think?” He motioned vaguely to the dimly lit room. 

She hesitated, her fingers gripping the fabric now, instead of fingering the rough linen. Her eyes then met his, and they were filled with distrust, and then her shoulders rose in a slow inhale, and for a moment, he thought she might refuse him. But then she released her breath in a soft sigh and nodded, though the motion was slight and hesitant.

He hesitated, attempting a smile, but felt it came out more as a grimace; still, he offered his arm. She flinched and recoiled, retreating back fully on the bed. Quickly, he lowered his arm as she struggled to sit back upright, her movements jerky and uncoordinated, each one showing her frailty. Despite her obvious weakness, he stepped aside, letting her set the pace once she found her footing. Every step was a struggle, her body trembling with the effort, and she paused every few steps to catch her breath as they moved towards the back of the healing house, where the gardens were located. By the third stop, Ungoránë turned to see her leaning heavily against the smooth stone wall, her hand braced against it for support as her chest heaved with shallow, wheezing gasps. 

“Here, let me help you,” he said softly, bending down to slip one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back. The moment her feet left the ground, her body stiffened, trembling violently in his hold.

“P-please, p-put me d-down,” her voice cracked, trembling with a hint of panic as her free hand groped blindly against the wall, desperately searching for something solid to hold on to.

“You’re too weak to walk,” Ungoránë said firmly, trying to adjust her in his arms for a more secure and comfortable hold. But even in her frailty, she struggled against him, her resistance instinctive but ineffectual.

“Please,” she rasped again, her voice breaking under the weight of her panic. She pushed against his chest with a trembling hand, the gesture weak and unsteady, her arm faltering before it could even muster any real force.

Alarmed by her reaction and determined not to add to her distress, Ungoránë gently lowered her to her feet, keeping a steadying arm at her back. She immediately recoiled, inching away from him and leaning heavily against the wall for support. Her frail legs trembled beneath her, barely able to hold her weight as her fingers pressed against the smooth stone in a desperate bid for stability.

He watched, confusion flickering across his face, as she shut her eyes tightly, her pale, drawn features contorted with raw, unguarded fear. Whatever fragile strength had carried her this far was now utterly spent, replaced by a trembling vulnerability that seemed to swallow her whole. She stood there, motionless except for the slight quiver of her body, locked in some internal battle that he couldn’t begin to understand.

Unsure of how to help—or if anything he said would make it worse—he stayed silent, his gaze fixed on her, waiting for her to find her footing or her voice.

“I will not hurt you,” he said softly, finally breaking the silence, his voice low and measured, as though trying to calm a frightened animal. Despite his gentle tone, she flinched at his words, her entire body tensing as if bracing for an unseen blow.

Her eyes opened slowly, hesitantly, darting toward him from the corner of her vision. Her gaze, wide and untrusting, assessed him with a quiet intensity, as though trying to determine if he was truly a threat. The fear she radiated was almost palpable, clinging to the air between them like a heavy, invisible fog. Ungoránë remained still, careful not to move closer, allowing her the space she seemed to need as he waited for her to respond.

“I want…I would like to help you,” Ungoránë continued, his voice calm and steady, deliberately quiet as if any louder might shatter the delicate peace between them at the moment. He slowly raised both hands, palms open, in a gesture of peace and sincerity. The open display hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken tension, as though the very act of showing his hands bore the weight of her fragile trust.

He held the position for what felt like an eternity, unmoving, allowing her the time to scrutinize him. Each second seemed to stretch, her mistrust evident in the way her wary eyes flickered between his face and his hands, as though searching for hidden deceit. Ungoránë remained patient, knowing this moment could earn the smallest sliver of her trust.

But then, almost imperceptibly, she shifted. Her trembling hand wavered in the air for a moment, before extending towards him, slow and uncertain. Each movement seemed agonizingly deliberate, as though she were wrestling with an invisible force holding her back. Her fingers hovered just short of his outstretched hand, shaking with hesitation and fragility.

“I…I c-cannot m-make it,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, a fragile whisper that cracked under the weight of her effort. Ungoránë couldn’t tell whether it was her physical weakness or the monumental act of trust that made her voice tremble so much. Either way, her small gesture carried the weight of something far greater—a reluctant willingness to place herself, even just a little, in his care.

Slowly, Ungoránë extended his hand, carefully wrapping his fingers around hers, his touch deliberate and steady. Her hand was cold and trembling, the faintest pressure of her fingers curling hesitantly around his. With his other hand, he placed a firm but gentle hold on her shoulder, guiding her weight away from the support of the wall and into the stability of his grasp.

The moment felt monumental. Her small frame leaned tentatively into his hands, as if testing the strength he offered. For a fleeting instant, her fear seemed to loosen its grip, replaced by a fragile trust that felt as delicate as a single thread. Ungoránë didn’t move, letting her adjust at her own pace.

“I believe the garden is not much further ahead,” he said softly, his voice calm and steady, as though afraid that anything louder might disturb the fragile balance between them. She gave no reply, her focus seemingly fixed on each step, her breaths shallow and uneven.

Yet, she continued to move forward, pausing every few steps to steady herself against his arm, her fragility evident in each hesitant motion. Ungoránë matched her pace without complaint, his grip steady and supportive. Finally, the garden door came into view, the soft golden light of the setting sun filtering through its edges. They stopped before it, her chest rising and falling heavily, and he felt a faint sense of relief that they had made it this far.

The sunlight streamed through the open doorway, spilling golden warmth into the dim corridor. Even before they stepped into the light, they could feel its heat brushing against skin, gentle and inviting.

The girl stopped just short of the threshold, her hand, which was not being held by Ungoránë’s, trembled as she reached out towards the light. Her breath hitched as her fingers encountered the sunlight. “I c-can’t remember…the last t-t-time I f-felt the sun,” her voice was barely audible, awe filled. She started to take another hesitant step forward, and then they both stood in the light coming through the doorway. For a moment, she seemed transformed, her pale skin and hollow cheeks softened by the golden glow. Her face turned fully toward the sun, her eyes half-closed, as if trying to absorb every ray. She seemed to soak it in like dry ground soaks up water. Her trembling ebbed but Ungoránë could feel her weakening as she stood in the light of the sun, as if it were a support she dared not let go. He stayed close, ready to catch her should she fail entirely, but for now, he let her stand and soak in the warm and light she had been so clearly starved of.  

The hospital courtyard garden was a serene space, filled with neatly arranged beds of healing herbs. Their scents—sharp and earthy—filled the warm air, mingling with the faint hum of bees drifting lazily from bloom to bloom. The paths between the raised beds were lined with smooth, well-worn stones, and wooden benches were placed thoughtfully at intervals, inviting quiet rest amid the greenery. 

It didn’t take much to quietly convince her to move towards the one of the closest benches. Her steps were slow and faltering but Ungoránë kept a steady hand ready to support her as they reached the seat. He helped her lower herself carefully onto the bench, the weight of her form barely noticeable as it left his hands. 

As soon as she was seated, she withdrew her hand from his with quiet urgency, tucking it protectively into her lap. She looked worn and weary, her skin now even more pale and brittle looking in the sunlight as she wilted with weariness. Her breathing was labored, and her shoulders sagged as she drew in ragged breaths. It was clear her strength was fading rapidly. 

Ungoránë shifted slightly, unsure on how to help her be comfortable, before sitting down next to her. They sat in uneasy silence. Her hands moved up to her braid, which had fallen over her shoulder, and nervously untied the ribbon that held the braid together. Ungoránë could feel her watching him from the corner of her eye again, her wariness clear as she nervously tied and untied the ribbon.  

“I was wondering, if I could…well you see, some of the other boys send letters home. I… Uhm, well… My brother already died defending Gondor and my parents. They… are no more. I was… Wondering… Uhm, could… I send you letters?” Ungoránë shifted his weight forward to better look at her.  

Her eyes shot up to his, the distrust in them melting away and giving way to surprise. The sudden motion caused her braid to loosen, a few strands of hair slipped free to frame her face “…what?” She asked, her voice soft and disbelieving, as if the word got out before she could think to stop it.

He glanced down at the ground and shifted so his elbows now rested on his knees, “Well, letters? I don’t have anyone. I would like to send you letters.” 

She gave him a wary look, the fleeting surprise now gone from her face, replaced by guarded caustin, “You…you don’t even know me.” She responded with a hint of defiance in her words, as if testing his intentions. 

Ungoránë ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed, “And I don’t know anyone else. It’s been a few years since…I had to bury my parents. Our farm was burned while I was away fighting.” He paused, not daring to look at her, “I was hoping, maybe…it’s stupid. You wouldn’t have to read them…” 

She was silent for a time, long enough to make Ungoránë shift uncomfortably. Finally, she broke the stillness between them, her voice quiet and measured, her normal stutter nearly unperceivable, “I’m s-sorry to hear about your parents.” Another pause stretched between them, heavy and uncertain. Just as he began to think that she might not say anymore, she quietly added, “L-letters would be nice.”  

It was his turn to give her the look of surprise, he was caught off guard by her response. Her face was turned away, her cheeks slightly flushed, the red a stark contrast to her pale skin. 

“Oh, well…” he fumbled, searching for words. “Where can I send them? Do you have…well, of course you do.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, as his gaze flickered to her averted face, “Eh, what may I call you?” 

Her look soured, and a hard distant look settling over her face, “I…I don’t know. I have n-nothing…” A bitter undone edged her words. 

“What do you mean, nothing?” Ungoránë asked, curious. 

She hesitated before giving a listless shrug. The moment of her shoulder caused the braid to come undone even more, freeing her hair to fall over her shoulder in dull waves. “I am…no one. No family. No h-home. No name…anyone cares to r-remember,” 

He leaned forward a bit again, attempting to see her face as she turned away, “You have no home? You do not have anywhere that you belong?”  

She scoffed, a cold look passing over her eyes, a darkness clouding them. “M-my life is n-not my own.” her voice was low and sharp, carrying a bitter edge. “My fath…the man who sired me s-sent me away, after my m…” a slight hiccup worked its way out of her before she continued, “my m-mother died…I was then s-sold to some man for h-his pleasure, by the w-woman who bought me to work as her s-slave.” It was the most she had spoken, and it seemed to drain the energy out of her even more. 

“I…I am n-no one.” She continued, her hands wrung together, “I c-certainly do not belong t-to m-m-myself.” 

Ungoránë shifted uncomfortably, his embarrassment evident. “I am sorry. I ran away when I was fifteen. Thinking only selfish thoughts of how I wanted to defend our land. They wouldn’t have let me enlist, had they known my true age…I…” 

Quickly, without thinking, Ungoránë wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave them a firm, yet gentle, squeeze. The gesture was brief but steady, offering a silent comfort. Just as quickly, he pulled away, sitting back and leaving her space. 

She stiffened immediately, her entire body going rigid under his arm. A faint sound of alarm escaped her lips as she recoiled slightly, her eyes wide with confusion. “W-what…why… did you do t-that?”

“Uhm, well. I dunno… I guess I thought… that… maybe you’d like it? I… I’m sorry.” Ungoránë grinned sheepishly, “I really never talked much to girls growing up. Running here with you unconscious, I was afraid I’d hurt you even more….” His voice trailed off, the awkwardness in his tone underscoring his sincerity.

As he spoke, her rigid posture began to soften, though her body still trembled faintly. Her breathing steadied, and then tension in her shoulders eased. 

They sat in silence for a moment, the stillness broken only by the distant hum of the garden. Finally, she turned her face slightly towards him, her voice quiet and hesitant, “I…” she swallowed, “I never t-thanked you…” Her words hung in the air, fragile but sincere, as if the effort of saying them had cost her more than she cared to admit. 

“For what?” He asked, his brow furrowing as he turned toward her. He watched her stare up at the sky, her expression distant and thoughtful. 

“…for—” her voice faltered, breaking slightly, as she forced the words out. “F-for s-saving me.” The weight of her words lingered in the air. She didn’t look at him, her eyes were fixed on the open sky, as though searching for something she couldn’t quite name. 

Ungoránë smiled and followed her gaze. A soft breeze rustled through the trees, their branches swaying gently, the motion hypnotic in the stillness of the garden. Somewhere in the deeper shadows, a bird trilled a light, lilting tune, and another answered in a playful duet. From the far corner of the garden, a steady drip, drip, drip of water echoed faintly from the well, a rhythmic backdrop to the quiet sanctuary. 

Here, the noise of the bustling city was muffled, as if this small haven existed far from its chaos. The world outside felt distant, almost unreal, beyond the protective barrier of the garden’s green walls. 

A few nurses entered the space, their presence barely disturbing the calm. With shears in hand, they moved briskly through the beds, snipping sprigs of herbs before retreating back inside. The birds ended their cajoling, leaving only the soft murmur of the breeze, moving through the leaves. 

“Where can I send a letter to you?” He asked, breaking the silence. He turned and gave her a smile, the warmth in his expression inviting. 

Again, she shrugged, her moments slow and weary. Her hair had slipped completely loose from the braid, and cascaded in soft waves down her back, looking less dull when it caught the light of the sun. “I h-have n-nothing…I cannot s-stay here…” Her voice trailed off, unfinished, as if the weight of it were too much to bear. Her gaze drifted downward, her fingers idly twisting a loose strand of her hair as she seemed to retreat into her thoughts. The vulnerability in her tone struck him like a quiet plea, though she didn’t seem to realize it herself.

“Well, the night you…fell into the river,” he paused here, then continued, “I had some luck with the dice. Well, and some skill.” Ungoránë gave her a playful grin, which earned him an inquisitive glance in return, yet her expression remained guarded. 

“I earned about two months’ wages from the other soldiers.” He leaned forward slightly, towards her, “I still have my things over at the Poor Struggler’s Inn. If you’d like, I can pay in advance for you—a place to sleep. Maybe then you can find work with a decent place to sleep as well?” His tone was light, but there was no mistaking his sincerity as he waited, watching for her response. 

The girl stared at him, her expression shifting from guarded curiosity to shock. Tears pooled in her eyes, and her voice trembled again,  “W-Why would y-you do that? W-Why are you being s-so kind to me?” Desperation clouded her voice now, “You d-don’t k-know who I am… Y-you don’t know what I’ve d-done…I haven’t e-even told y-you my n-name.”  Her voice was heavy with disbelief, and shame, as though she couldn’t understand why anyone would extend her any kindness. Tears clung to her lashes, threatening to fall, but she wiped at her face quickly with the palm of her hand, attempting to mask the emotion nearly spilling over. 

Ungoránë’s grin softened and then faded, “Whatever you’ve done, I don’t mind. I won’t ask, obviously, it troubles you.” He paused to study her carefully before adding, “You don’t strike me as a cruel person…now that you’re talking to me.” 

He flashed her a quick quick grin, the teasing note in his voice causing her cheeks to flush. She mumbled something he barely caught—a quiet apology, perhaps—and then he let out a sigh. 

“Whatever troubles you, I can only imagine.” He placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, the gesture careful and deliberate, but she still flinched at the contact. Her body trembling again, a reaction that made him pull back, his expression tightening.

“I’ve seen plenty of cruelty on the battlefields and yet, for whatever reason, the gods want me alive.” He turned his hand upward in a half-shrug, his tone plaintive yet resigned. “If you decide to take the free bed and then leave without a note, well…that’s meant to be then. Another lesson for me.” 

The girl blinked teary blue eyes at him, her lips pressed together tightly as if weighing her next words. She didn’t speak at first, just stared at him, her gaze direct and unyielding. He shifted slightly, uncomfortable under the sudden silence and her direct stare, his fingers twitching as if searching for something to say.

“Azra.” She spoke, her voice soft and finally steady, no hint of her normal stutter. It held no underlying tremor.

He glanced up at her, confused, “what?” 

“My n-name…” She mumbled, her voice trailing off as her gaze dropped back to her hands, as if the sudden realization that she was staring at him openly embarrassed her. Her fingers twisted nervously in her lap. 

Ungoránë smiled at her, “I see. My name is Ungoránë.” 

She lifted her head towards him again, brow furrowing. “That is a s-strange name,” she blurted out before snapping her mouth shut, and her eyes widening in embarrassment. She looked away quickly again, her cheeks turning crimson, “I—I d-didn’t mean—“ she stammered, clearly flustered. 

Smirking, he responded, “I don’t use my given name anymore. One of the officers at Osgilitath speaks the language of the Elves. He said I should have died in battle ten times already, calling me reckless.” He gave her another grin and continued when she tilted her head, “well, he started calling me Ungoránë, and the other officers started copying it. He said it means straying in a dark cloud, that I’ve lost my path.”  

Azra seemed thoughtful, her gaze drifting upwards towards the sun. Her lips moved softly as she repeated his name, “Ungoránë.” 

He gave her a wide smile, his voice warm as he echoed back, “Azra.”  

Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly dropped her gaze to her hands, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. The silence between them felt less heavy now, lighter somehow. After a moment, she glanced up at him, her blue eyes meeting his and gave him a small hesitant smile. The smile lingered for a heartbeat longer before she looked back towards the garden, there was no embarrassment there. The sunlight danced on her face, softening the shadows beneath her eyes. 

Ungoránë stood, brushing his hands against his tunic. “Shall we head back inside? You look like you could use some rest.” 

She hesitated, her shyness returning, her cheeks flushing. She gave a slow nod and tried to push herself, with effort, to her feet. Ungoránë offered his arm again, and this time, after a moment’s pause, she took it. Together, they walked back towards the healing house, their steps slow but steady, the garden’s peace trailing behind them. 

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