Vencian lay on his side with one knee bent, the sheet gathered under his fingers where he had pulled it close. His breathing stayed even after a short hitch, the ache along his ribs easing once he shifted his shoulder a fraction.
The table stood beside the bed, close enough that his hand could reach it without stretching. The book rested there exactly as it had been left, its cover turned slightly toward him.
He rolled his head a few degrees and let it rest back against the pillow. The movement sent a brief pull through his side, sharp enough to register, then it passed. His eyes tracked the ceiling beam until it stopped moving.
The pause felt chosen rather than forced. He waited without naming what needed to settle, holding the moment as it was.
A faint blue glow hovered near the far wall. Quenya shifted position once, slow and soundless, then went still again. He did not look directly at her for long.
