24th of Rethe, Year 3019 of the Third Age
There is something about her… something that I cannot shake from my thoughts. Almariel, with her laughter that echoes like the purest melody through these cold, stone halls. I find myself clinging to the hope that she feels something for me, that the way she smiles and laughs in my presence is more than mere kindness. She is tender with all those she tends, her heart seemingly open to every suffering soul in this place. Yet, around me, there is a lightness in her laugh that pierces through the armor I have built around my heart a sound that makes it ache in ways I had long forgotten.
Today, when she came to my bedside, I could not help myself. I asked her, in jest, if she had come to end my misery. Her laughter in response was as light as air, and she called me silly, her eyes shining with amusement. How easily she brightens this dark place, how effortlessly she draws me out of the shadows I have lived in for so long.
She is devoted to every soldier under her care, but there is one who seems to command much of her attention a Gondorian officer named Landros, who lies in a coma in the bed next to mine. His injuries are grave, and he teeters on the edge of death, yet Almariel’s touch seems to hold the power to bring him back. She tends to him with the same diligence she shows to all, but I cannot help the bitterness that gnaws at me when I see her so devoted to another. Still, I know it is foolish. She is a healer, and her heart belongs to all who suffer.
When she came to me today, she applied a salve to my wounds an herbal concoction that burned like fire against my skin. The pain was so intense that I could not help but moan, the sound escaping me before I could stifle it. She laughed softly, her voice a soothing balm against the agony, and whispered, “Shush, silly, you’ll wake the dead.” Her words brought a smile to my lips, even through the haze of pain.
And then, as the pain began to overwhelm me, she leaned in to steady me, her hands firm yet gentle as they supported my weight. She was so close that I could smell the sweet scent of her breath, the fragrance of her hair filling my senses. I dared to look at her, and for a fleeting moment, our eyes met, and I saw her gaze drift to my lips. In that instant, I could swear that the Valar themselves were cruel, for the yearning that surged within me was almost unbearable.
But then the world began to spin, the pain and the closeness of her presence too much for my battered body to withstand. I felt consciousness slipping away, the edges of my vision darkening, and then… nothing. I fainted, as though I were some green boy unused to hardship. When I awoke again, she was gone, and I was left to grapple with the thoughts that torment me still.
There is a part of me that curses this weakness, that longs to be free of these emotions that cloud my judgment. And yet, another part a part I thought long buried clings to the hope that this could be something more than just a passing fancy. But such thoughts are dangerous, and I know it. I must remember who I am, and what I must do. Yet the memory of her laugh, her touch, haunts me even now, and I fear that the battle I fight within myself may be the hardest of all.
