26th of Rethe, Year 3019 of the Third Age

Screams tore through the night, a wail of anguish that pierced the silence like a dagger. Yet, this time, the cry did not come from my lips. Landros, poor soul, cried out in his torment, his voice a haunting echo in the stillness. I could not remain still, helpless as I was. The pain in my leg be damned—I had to reach him. Almariel’s warnings rang in my ears, but I cared not for my wounds. I limped to his side, driven by a force I scarcely understood.

Reaching his bed, I grasped his thrashing form, seeking to offer some comfort in his agony, but his cries only grew louder, more desperate. Then, the door burst open, and Almariel stood framed in the threshold, a guard beside her, both eyes wide with alarm. “Almariel, help him!” I called out, my voice raw with urgency. The guard’s hand flew to his sword, suspicion blazing in his gaze, but when he saw my intent, he paused, lowering his blade and stepping aside to let Almariel work her magic.

From her belt, she drew forth a vial—poppy milk, the gift of sleep. She poured it gently between Landros’s lips, her touch as soft as a whisper. I held him steady as the potion took hold, his screams ebbing away like a receding tide. “He’s calming,” I breathed, hope stirring within my chest. “That’s a good sign, Almariel. He’s recuperating.”

She wiped the sweat from her brow, her shoulders sagging with relief, but her gaze soon fell upon my leg, where blood seeped through the bandages, staining the white linen with scarlet. “Your wounds have opened again, Tarandil… please, lie down and let me tend to them.”

I glanced down at the blood, now trickling from the reopened gash. “Ah, it’s nothing, Almariel. I’ll cleanse it myself.”

But before I could protest further, she pressed a finger to my lips, her touch silencing me with a power no sword could wield. “Sush, you silly. That was not a request.”

A chuckle escaped me, a sound foreign in this weary chest. The Admiral of the Red Sea, subdued by the command of a healer—who could have foreseen such a turn? I reclined upon the bed, an amused smile tugging at my lips as she gathered her tools. Her hands moved with grace, a precision that left me utterly captivated. As she stitched my wound, the sharp sting of the needle cut through the fog of my thoughts, but I scarcely felt it. All I could see was her—the tender care in her eyes, the way she seemed to draw light into the shadows of my soul.

Finally, the pain forced a wince from me. “Ouch,” I muttered, though more from the realization of my own vulnerability than the wound itself.

Her eyes met mine, an apology dancing in the depths of her gaze, followed by a soft giggle that melted the last remnants of my resolve. The Valar are indeed cruel, for how could any man withstand such sweetness?

Feigning offense, I said, “I’m certain you did that on purpose. I demand another healer.”

She raised an eyebrow, her voice teasing. “Oh? And which healer would you prefer, sir?”

“The brunette with the green eyes,” I replied, my grin mischievous.

Her smile faltered, a flicker of something deeper in her voice as she asked, “Do you favor her?”

I shook my head, leaning closer. “No. I favor the blonde with the wild spirit.”

“Then why seek her replacement?” she inquired, her tone light, but her gaze searching.

I reached out, gently tilting her chin so our eyes met, the world falling away around us. “Because she is the cause of my turmoil. When she enters the room, my heart races like a stallion loosed from its reins, and when she leaves, it feels as though she carries my heart with her. She may be a touch mad, but her energy is like the dawn, banishing the shadows of my soul. Her beauty… it compels me to see where I once dared not look.”

A blush spread across her cheeks, her hands stilling for a moment. Then, with a playful glint in her eye, she pricked me once more with the needle. “Ouch!” I yelped, though not without a smile.

“Next time, be careful what you wish for,” she teased, her voice soft as a breeze.

When the stitching was done, she washed my leg with cool water, her touch gentle as a feather’s caress. She dried it with a soft cloth, her movements deliberate, almost reverent. “There, you’re all set,” she announced, rising to adjust my pillow.

As she leaned over me, our eyes locked, and for that fleeting moment, the world ceased to exist. She was so close, I could feel the warmth of her breath, the scent of her hair filling my senses. “Wounds? What wounds? I’m fit as a stallion,” I murmured, a smile curling my lips.

She laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with mirth as she reached out to caress my cheek. Words hung in the air between us, unspoken yet powerful, and before I could think, I pulled her close, our lips meeting in a kiss that silenced the storm within me.

“Your lips are soft… and warm,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of the moment.

I kissed her again, and for a heartbeat, I was lost in another world, a place where nothing mattered but her touch, her breath, her presence. But just as the moment deepened, the door creaked open, and the guard returned, his gaze dark with suspicion. “Almariel, is everything well?”

She pulled back quickly, her cheeks flushed with the color of dawn. “Drink your poppy milk, sir, and give me no trouble,” she stammered, trying to regain her composure.

The guard’s eyes flicked between us, lingering a moment too long, but he simply nodded and turned to leave. “I’ll wait outside,” he muttered, closing the door behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Almariel turned back to me, a mix of exasperation and affection in her gaze. “You’re a troublesome patient…”

I reached out, pulling her gently into my arms, pressing a soft kiss to her brow. “I wish I could escort you to your chambers. It pains me to see you leave with another man.”

Her smile was soft, teasing. “Are you jealous, my gallant knight?”

“That smile will be the end of me,” I whispered, feeling my heart swell with emotion.

She kissed me once more, her lips lingering on mine, before rising to leave. “I’ll see you on the morrow,” she said, her voice a soft promise.

“Tomorrow is far too many hours from now… I’ll wait with bated breath,” I replied, watching her as she walked to the door.

She giggled, a sound like bells in the distance, and disappeared into the hall. As her footsteps faded, a sharp pang of longing struck me deep within. In that moment, I knew—truly knew—that I would never return to Umbar. The path I had once walked was gone, replaced by a new journey—one that led not to the sea, but to her.