The Sky that Nobody Sees

What Follows

Inladris eventually disappeared under more blankets and pillows on the couch than the couch had originally housed, and when Thranduil tried to wake her to send her to her own bed she flipped him off, so he threw up his hand and left her there. By the time they found her in the morning she was on the floor, still wound in the blankets, apparently content.

She groaned as she woke to the sound of cupboards closing, and rolled onto her stomach. "When's Arwen coming over?" Her waist throbbed, and her back as well, as she tried getting her elbows underneath her.

Legolas replied, "I'm not sure. Was she supposed to?"

Inladris released the lips she'd pinched between her teeth in exertion. "I thought I asked her to come over this morning to help me with something."

"Is it something I can help with?"

"Probably, I just thought I'd ask Arwen first. I need...." She panted onto her hands and knees, the blankets and pillows dripping away. "Plastic taped over the bandages, to take a shower—don't need help with that part—then the areas cleaned and bandages changed." She nearly plunged into the couch as she stood. "But don't you have class?" Her head spun.

He chuckled as he spooned honey into a mug of hot water, then briskly added a thumbprint of jam and a spattering of spices. "Inladris, it's Sunday."

Inladris lifted her head at the scent of cardamom. "Is that sbiten? Oh darling, please tell me that's for me."

He grinned. "It's for you." He lifted the steaming mug to show it to her. "Your favorite mug, see?"

Inladris half-raised both hands as though appealing to the gods. "Bless you, child. Bless you." She eased onto a tall chair and drew the mug toward her with both hands.

"I can help you with your bandages whenever you'd like."

Inladris tucked her face into the mouth of the mug and inhaled. "Excellent. Where's your father?"

"He left early. He said he didn't plan to be gone long."

"So he'll turn up by supper."

"Most likely."

Once she'd finished her drink Inladris sat on the dentist's chair they used to patch each other up when they came home battered from work, her sweater hoisted up against her spine so Legolas could tape plastic over the bandage to keep the soap, sweat and shampoo out of it—she'd found she couldn't reach behind herself without straining the stitches. She then held it up in the front for him to do the same with the entrance wound and the incision from the chest tube.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, smoothing down the tape. He did it as gently as possible, but still, even the light pressure of his fingers made her insides feel like parts of them were splitting. As she understood it, the impact of Thranduil's bullet at such close range had caused such strong vibrations through her liver that the tissues had more or less fractured on impact. Some fractures they'd had to stitch back together. Others they'd said would heal on their own if she didn't overexert herself.

"Strangely like I've been impaled." She wiped underneath her eyes.

"I suppose you have, in a manner of speaking." He tugged her sweater down. "Give a call when you need them cleaned and changed."

Inladris still got tired standing for too long so she sat through her shower.

Afterward she sat on a high stool back in their repairing-each-other room, bending over the wound beneath her last rib while Legolas worked on the one over her hip, which was lower than the entrance because of Thranduil's height. She sniffed, not for the first time.