WITHIN HIS REACH | garroth ro'meave *REWRITING*

CHAPTER FOUR

CLAIRE COULDN'T tell the days apart from one another anymore. She assumed it had been a week or so, but she wasn't entirely sure. One second she'd be awake, staring out the window or watching as the sunlight dance on the wooden floor. She'd blink and suddenly her room would be dark, only a singular candle illuminating it. Tonight, just like every other night, Garroth sat close to the candle as he read silently, assuming Claire was asleep. She watched him quietly, the way his face shifted with every word he read and the small smile that would appear on his lips as he turned the page.

She felt her eyes grow heavy, hating the way the covers clung to her sweaty skin. Sleep wasn't coming as easy tonight, the mild throb from a few days ago had blossomed into a full blown migraine, making it difficult for her to even think coherently. Claire shifted in bed, using her uninjured arm to shove the blankets off of her. She hadn't even heard Garroth stand up, barely even registered him saying her name. She groaned softly when he placed his hand on her forehead. "You're burning up," He hissed, gently slapping her cheek. "Hey, keep those eyes open. "

Claire didn't listen this time, keeping her eyes shut in hopes of being granted a mercy. The room was silent for a couple minutes before Claire was flinching at a wet rag being set on her forehead. She couldn't help but sigh, relishing in the relief it brought her. Garroth jogged across the room to open the window before working on pulling the rest of the blankets off of her and ripping open her shirt. In any other instance, Claire would've panicked at the vulnerability. However, Claire's body was rendered useless as she lied there, letting Garroth do as he pleased and hoping he wouldn't take advantage of her state. Claire felt as he gently lifted her head, gathering all her hair and tying it up. He removed the drenched pillow and tucked a fresh, cold one in its place, slowly lowering Claire's head. Lastly, he placed placed two more wet rags on her chest and stomach.

Claire finally opened her eyes to watch as he unraveled the bandage from her thigh. It looked...disgusting. She involuntarily whimpered as Garroth cleaned up the wound and began wrapping it up again. "There's not much I can do right now." Garroth shook his head, "I'll get you ointment in the morning, alright?"

Claire merely nodded, choosing to stare up at the ceiling rather than into his big, blue eyes. Claire heard as he walked around the room, keeping her eyes trained above her until she felt his presence at her bedside. She sighed and looked between him and the cup in his hand.

"Open your mouth," Garroth ordered, and Claire wordlessly obeyed, feeling mildly grateful when she felt the water ease itself down her parched throat. She pulled back once her thirst was quenched, letting her head fall back on the cold pillow. It didn't take much longer for Claire to finally drift off, and when she opened her eyes again, she found that it was still night time.

Garroth was sat directly beside her now, already watching her. Before she could even open her mouth, he was already bringing a cup of water to her lips again, which she drank desperately.

Claire moved her head away when she was done drinking, panting lightly. She groaned and braced her hands on the bed to try and sit up.

"Easy, you've been in and out for almost three days now." He revealed as he set the water back down and gently pushed her to lay back down. Removing the dry rags from her forehead and chest, Claire listened as he dunked them in a bucket beside her bed, wrung out the excess water and placed them on her once more. "I was starting to think you wouldn't wake up at all this time."

When Claire said nothing, he pursed his lips and said, "I'll be back. Please don't try to get up again."

Claire would roll her eyes if she could muster up the strength. She didn't know if he was gone for minutes or hours but when he returned, he was holding a bowl. She narrowed her eyes at him as he brought a spoonful of something to her lips. Garroth only sighed, "You'll get out of here faster if you eat."

At that, she reluctantly opened her mouth and allowed herself to be fed by him. She'd be lying if she said the warm stew didn't make her feel better. The simplicity of a warm meal was easing the tension in her muscles more than her seemingly endless sleep ever did. When there was no more left, Claire felt the disappointment simmer in her gut.

"More," She uttered simply. For the first time in what felt like forever, her voice didn't crack.

Ro'meave looked at her with the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Alright," He hummed before standing up and leaving the room.

When he returned, Claire slowly sat up in anticipation, choosing to ignore his light chuckle. She held out her arms, feeling capable of feeding herself. Ro'meave pulled the bowl just out of her reach and said, "I've got it."

Claire frowned at him but before she could attempt to argue, he handed her a piece of bread. "You can rip off pieces and dunk it in the soup, I'll feed you the rest."

She wasn't in the mood to talk, so she simply nodded and went to rip off a chunk of her bread. It was then that she realized Garroth was feeding her for a reason, the mere act of ripping bread sending a shock if pain through her left arm. She set aside the pain and dunked the bread in the stew and practically shoved it in her mouth.

If she was eating like a pig—and she was—Garroth didn't say anything of it. He wordlessly fed her the stew when she requested it and otherwise kept her silent company. When she was done with her second bowl, Claire laid back against the headboard, knowing better than to lay down completely after such a large meal. She felt the slightest bit stronger, the slightest bit more alive, rather than a lifeless shell doomed to spend all its life fading in and out of consciousness.

As Garroth stood up to take empty dish away, Claire spoke up, "Ro'meave?"

"Yeah?" He instantly stopped, turning around and looking at her with a concerned expression that made Claire's stomach churn.

"Thank you," Claire said softly, and she assumed it was the deep-rooted exhaustion in her bones that made her thank him so easily.

After a second of silence, he said, "Garroth."

"Hm?" Claire hummed, losing the battle to stay awake.

"My name is Garroth."

"Thank you, Garroth."

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