A broad, tanned palm wiped across sleepy blue eyes as the husky man slowly woke in the bed belonging to the foreign woman who’d taken a baffling interest in him recently. He groaned aloud and the pain from his backside shot up his spine; somehow he’d flipped over in his sleep and the pressure from his bulk made his blood pool there, where he had injured himself twice in as many days.
Thankfully the woman was a healer and though it was never in his nature to admit such things, she did make his sores, well, less sore. By a fair degree. When he let her.
Not seeing her in bed next to him and realising the house was silent, he understood that she had probably gone to her shoppe for a while. He respected that about her; that she was, like him, hardworking plainsfolk with some degree of autonomy as reward. But his backside hurt and she was nowhere around to help ease that now.
Groaning, stumbling, he made his way across her home and, remembering where the woman had shown him her cache of mixed herbs, pulled the box out. It had no lock. Shrugging, he lifted the lid and stuffed a wide hand into its depths, retrieving a mess of various weeds.
A memory came to him as he peered, dubiously, at the arbitrary jumble of herbs held before him. The silvery looking elfin lady, many months ago, after he’d been bitten in the bog by some varmint or another, her face showing just a trace of concern as she chewed a bit of herbs that she carried, ones much like these, right before she spit them out and applied them to his wound. It felt better when she did that - but of course, he could never tell her so - and she seemed to genuinely care that he not be eaten alive by bog-larvae.
She was so pretty. And more elegant than any fancy noble he’d ever seen. Even in all that shiny peculiar armour she insisted on wearing constantly. Like a slice of walking moonlight across an unworthy plot of fallow dirt.
He could still close his eyes and remember just the way the light of the stars glistened off her silken hair.
“And I done gone and mussed that all up real good,” he sighed wistfully, to himself and the semi-dried leaves in front of his face. Though he had tried to extend a sincere apology with a letter to her, once, he knew that she had good reason to never think kindly on him again.
“Damn it all, what an arse you were,” and with an annoyed grunt, he shoved the whole wad of mysterious greens in his mouth, suffering their bitter taste concurrently with his sour thoughts.
OOC:
[To Fellowship] Did you write any more? [Fellowship] Ekoko: a bit [Fellowship] Ekoko: i started at the end hehe [To Fellowship] 'And NEVER contact me again!' [Fellowship] Ekoko: 'and then she ate the letter' [To Fellowship] 'And became the first elf ever to contract an allergic reaction. What the hell was that Man growing in his garden?' [To Fellowship] 'Black Morgul Weeds, that's what.' [To Fellowship] 'Turns out, Bernie was an agent of Sauron all along.' [Fellowship] Ekoko: i mean, that's not how i was going to end it, but if you want... :P⊂(◉‿◉)つ
