This one's short, just to warn you. I have my Leaving Certificate in June – for those of you lucky enough not to know, the Leaving is the equivalent of SATs, A Levels, all that jazz. I'm also struggling a lot with depression and this is one of the only things that makes me feel better. It's like a life raft in ways. So here you go…a piece of my life raft. Enjoy.

"She's not coming back. The city's full of bodies – toss her out with the others."

"I dunno. It feels…wrong. Don't you think?"

"She's almost dead. Won't last much longer, and there's no point in wasting medicine when the healers are running out of it as it is. We've got a job to do, right? So dump her with the others."

"Well…Lorcan…isn't it a bit…I mean..."

A long sigh. "For the love of…yes, she's a very pretty corpse. Elves die too."

"That's not what I meant. Do you not think someone might be looking for her? Dying Elves don't just appear, now do she? She's in armour, she must have fought at the Gate."

"Brilliant observation, Kirwan. Well done."

"Look, I want to take her to the Halls, all right? Maybe they can help her there."

"What's the use? She's got hours at the most. Let's get the job done. I want to go home to my wife, a living, breathing woman, not stand here over an almost dead Elf. Just let her go." Silence. Movement. Hands, warmth, under someone's knees, her back. Unsteady steps. "Bloody hell, Kirwan! Jus-fine. All right. Go then. But if you get chucked back out, on your head be it. I had nothing to do with it."

Pressure. Tighter than before around the girl's knees, her bloodless, limp knees. "Take no notice. He's had it tough. Both his sons died in Pelennor…you think he'd want to save everyone he can, but I suppose not. You, though, you have a story. I don't think it's over just yet. I think you belong to someone. That's a nasty wound, no doubt, but I've been told the healers can make anything right again. Should be no trouble for you." Jostling. Grunts. The girl was heavy. Dead weight.

Suddenly, cold stone. "I'm sorry. I need my hands for a moment." Hollow sounds. Creaking noises.

"May I help you?"

"I found this woman amongst the dead. Listen, she's badly wounded. She needs help. Please."

Hesitation. "All right, well, I suppose there must always be room for more. Help me bring her inside." Lurching, tipping, almost nausea shook the girl until she were put down. "D'you know her name at all? Are there any markings, jewellery, anything?"

"I know she is an Elf…but that is all. The mail she wears looks well crafted. I think someone is looking for her, I just couldn't say who."

"Let me fetch blankets and cushions. You did an honourable thing, bringing her here. If…if she wakes, I'll tell her of your kindness. What is your name?"

"Kirwan, milady. I'm a tanner. My shop was destroyed in the attack on the city, but if you know Lorcan – the blacksmith – he knows me. At any rate…I should go back to work."

"Stay a while – there's hot food here. Not much, but enough to refresh you maybe. Ask the guards – tell them Rhea sent you."

"T-thank you, milady." A note of something in Kirwan's voice, something light, unheard of to the girl in the new nest of softness, before the soft, insistent tap of steps, fainter and fainter, made free by the new lack of weight. The other voice murmured, rolling up the coppery wet fabric on the girl's stomach, jerking up the chainmail.

"Oh heavens…you poor thing. No wonder they took you for dead. This is one of the nastiest wounds I've seen today – never did I expect to see it on such a pretty girl. Why did you not stay at home, mm? War is no place for someone like you. If you were my daughter, I'd clip you round the ear for running off with the boys to fight…I wonder what your own mother would say? Nevertheless, we'll help you. You've lost so much blood and yet you're still here – I think you might just be all right. Hard to say." Cold, even colder, freezing was the liquid that was poured onto the girl's ragged, open belly. "This should clean it. Boiled water, some comfrey, yarrow. We don't have much, but we've ransacked all the gardens and weeds that were left. I'll have to sew and bandage you up, too. Ioreth will gripe at me for the amount of cloth and silk I'll have to use, but she usually finds something to gripe about regardless, so no harm done."

A pause as hands rubbed at the untorn skin on the right side of the girl, washing. "I've heard tell of another Elf somewhere in the citadel – a man. Most of the girls have been unable to talk about anything else! He's meant to be beautiful, but really, all Elves are. Perhaps you know each other?" A tugging at the edges of the guts in the hollow belly. "I suppose the slight distraction is good. There's been so much death and unhappiness for a long while. Especially now…"

"Rhea, focus on your work, please. You are not here to talk the ears off of your charge. Where did she come from, anyway?"

"A tanner left her here for aid. She can be helped, Amina, I'm sure of it. It's a miracle that she still draws breath."

A snort. "Hmph. Get on with it then. If she dies, Ioreth will know who to blame the waste of bandages on." A rude noise as soon as the footsteps were gone.

"Never mind her." Sharp, tugging pain again. A moan leaked from the girl's mouth, the first noise she'd made for a long time. "You're going to live. I'm going to make sure of it. All right?" Soft, hummed melodies danced around the walls. "I'd say your family is missing you. D'you have parents? A husband, children? Beautiful lady like yourself I'd say you've got someone somewhere." Tentative pressure on the girl's scalp, her hair. "Red hair's meant to be very unusual, you know. A lot of girls would give their eye teeth to have this hair, to look like you – though you poor love, you aren't in the best of nick. What in the name of everything good are you doing here?"