Words Like Wind ᚠ Thorin Oakenshield

nínє: wíldєrlαnd αnd wíldєrhєαrt

And when he looks at me, I fall in love again, and again. Because his gaze is all I ever wanted.

"STOP fidgeting, Thorin! It only stings because it is working." Arethusa had ground the leaves and yellow flowers of witch hazel with kingsfoil, the combination would not only cleanse the wounds but also reduce the inflammation and soothe the ache. The dwarf sat on the stump of a fallen tree trying to stop the urge to cross his arms over his chest and shrug away from the fairy.

He huffed, "And I had the nerve to think that you were trying to finish me off." The fairy looked down at him, ridicule in her eyes, but she resumed her task. The paste was fragrant and surely the smell made up for the hideous brown color it had turned. Arethusa pressed the mixture lightly onto one of the punctures near his ribs but she did not miss the near silent hiss of pain.

She turned and dug around in her sash, pulling out a small bundle of purple flowers, taking a few out she handed them to Thorin and quickly went back to tending his wounds. "Oh hush, chew on those if you are to keep complaining about my ways." Thorin Oakenshield did not take orders from anyone, except Arethusa, it appeared he took orders from her quite well and without question. He groaned and stuck the violets she had handed to him in his mouth.

The fairy had to conceal her urge to laugh when he near gagged and quickly spat out the flowers. "Now you must be poisoning me." Thorin looked over his shoulder as she rubbed more of the paste onto his back. Her hair concealed part of her face but he could make out her amused expression.

"It's a sweet violet, it helps ease the pain." She came back to stand in front of him and with a wet piece of cloth she wiped away the dried blood that was still on his nose and cheek.

"Then the person who named them has never tried one before." She smiled and went to retrieve her cloak from where it had been hung to dry, taking out her knife she cut the fabric into long strips and used them as bandages. It had been a gift from Lady Galadriel but now served her purposes better as bandages, it pained her to see such a beautifully crafted piece of clothing be rendered to scraps but for Thorin, she did not hesitate. Arethusa wrapped the fabric around his torso and over his shoulder, tying a small knot below his arm to keep it from slipping.

Thorin stood, but not without a grunt of pain that twisted his face into a grimace. Arethusa had laid her hand upon his chest, for the moment, his hand curled around hers. Her fingers were slim and delicate in comparison to his own. Yet he found a paradox, the same hands that could kill goblins, notch arrows, and cut down wild things could also heal. Her gaze moved from his face to where their hands touched. "Arethusa, ghivashel, I-," She was going to ask what the word meant, it was the second time he had called her that but when Thorin tipped her chin back up she was lost when her eyes met his.

"Thorin, it's time we move on." Dwalin's voice was gruff and as soon as Arethusa realized they were not alone she stepped back, putting several feet between herself and Thorin. She followed behind Dwalin but glanced over her shoulder for only a second to see Thorin pulling his tunic back overhead. The remainder of the company was gathered around, it sounded as if they were planning something and when Dwalin cleared his throat the dwarves stood at attention and turned. Ori stood with his hands behind his back, a faint shade a pink had risen to his cheeks.