Rastellion kneels down beside her chair. "Let me see?" he asks.
Nodding, she sits up so he can take a look at the bite. The kit, not being particularly tall, had grabbed her just above the ankle, but had managed to clamp down pretty well for a moment, leaving two small blood spot on her trousers.
Rastellion pushes her trouser leg up enough to expose the wound. "Only two broke th' skin," he says after a moment, "not too deep, though deep enough. An' I 'spect you'll have some fine bruises!" Ceolfred, who's rejoined them, nudges Rastellion's shoulder and hands down one of the linen strips, which he's dipped in the kettle of hot water that sits on the hearth. Rastellion makes a grunt of thanks then sets too cleaning off the wound and the surrounding skin.
Watching Rastellion tend her leg, she winces at the pain left behind by the small kit's teeth. Her hair brushed the ground, and she pushed it back behind her ear with a careless movement, so she could see what he was doing. "Guessin' as she won't try that again?"
Chuckling, still a bit unnerved by the series of emotional jolts the evening has provided, he quips, "depends on how good you taste," as he sets aside the blood-tinged cloth and reaches for the jar of salve Ceolfred is handing down to him. His uncle stifles a chuckle, and Rastellion blinks, then reddens slightly. "Your ankle, I mean," he mumbles, as he dips his cleaned index finger into the small pot and applies the ointment to the punctures and abrasions on Immalaine's ankle. A scent of nettle and pine rises in the air.
Immalaine jerks a little as she feels the ointment go on."Hey! That stings!" she exclaimed, squirming a bit in her seat.
"Aye," he agrees. "I've had it smeared on me more than once, when visitin' uncle Ceolfred," He looks up at the older man, who hands down a longer strip of linen. Gently, Rastellion starts to wind it around her wound.
Sitting quietly, she half watches as Rastellion tending her ankle, her eyes a mix of emotions. Feeling his fingers brushed against her skin had sent tingles up her leg, more so than the ointment, but she bit her lip, trying to hide the shaky feeling. Instead she turned to focus on the fire for a moment, as she pondered all she had heard that night.
Quickly he finishes wrapping the strip, tucking the end in under itself to hold the bandaging in place. "Should be just fine now ... but, no more adventures tonight?" he asks, looking up at her with a slight grin.
She looks back over at the bandage, seeing how he'd done a good job with it, before looking up at him. Giving him a half grin, she chuckled. "I reckon not," she said. "Though I 'magine it were more 'venturous fer th' kit than it were for me."
He looks down, as he considers her ankle. "Aye, bit at a bit more than she could chew, right enough!" Ceolfred leans over as well, one hand on Rastellion's shoulder, and nods. "That'll hold," he observes. He straightens. "I'll jus' put th' rest of these strips back," he says and heads toward the back again.
As Ceolfred leaves the room, Immalaine straightens up in the chair. Looking down at Rastellion, she smiles at him. "Thank ye fer helpin' me wit' that. Sure made it easier than doin' it meself." She pauses, feeling suddenly shy around him after her outburst, and unsure what to say, lapses into silence a moment.
Rastellion nods, then pushes himself to his feet. "Not the safest place," he says, "Even without th'addition of orcs and other foul creatures from up north."
Ceolfred strides back into the front room, carrying a bundle of furs. "Well, that's sorted." He looks around the cabin, dim now, save for the flickering firelight and traces of moonlight that slip through the shutters. "An as there's no light now, I'll be headin' t' bed." He gives Immalaine an apologetic glance. "Afraid there's just the one room in back, an' the two pallets. Cuthberd's already down on his." He stoops and lays the furs out beside the hearth. "But I've made up a spot for Rastellion in th' back, an' you should be warm enough her, b'tween the furs an' fire."
Taking the furs from him, she looks for a spot to set them up to sleep. "T'is alright," she says, looking back at Ceolfred with a smile. "I've slept in worse places than this afore, so I dun mind a bit." She sets to work laying one of the larger furs down on the ground for a bed as she comments to Rastellion. "I 'magine yer a mite tired after ridin' out here."
Ceolfred nods, satisfied that she'd be alright with the arrangements. "I'll see ya in th' mornin'," he tells her. "We rise early 'round here." He gives Rastellion a meaningful look, but doesn't wait for his nephew, instead heading to the back room and closing the door behind him.
Rastellion leans against the central table, watching Immalaine. "A bit," he admits. "I'm jus' glad you're alright. Had bad images of you in an orc's stewpot!" He hesitates, then steps forward and grabs both her hands in his. "Immalaine," he says, voice low and serious. "Just tell me straight - why'd'ya come out here? An' what can I do, t' make it right?" He shakes his head, obviously at a loss, whether from all the evening's words or just from the handicap of being male. "I don't know what t'think!"
Looking down at her hands, Imma slumps her shoulders. "T'aint that easy Rastellion. I can't help how I feel 'bout ye, any more n' I can help bein' alive while me pa ain't. An' bein' 'round ye, it makes me 'appy. But it also makes me want ye ..." she looks into his eyes to see if he understands her, before taking a breath and continuing. "All I wan' is fer ye t' be 'appy, an' if that means comin' out here an' chancin' orcs, or farmin' 'til I can't move, or e'en dealin' wit' yer pa, I will. I reckon there will be a farm, if there ain't one now. I've faith in yer 'bility to get things done. An' I know yer smart 'nough to do it too." Sighing, she squeezes his hands.
He shakes his head, in confusion. "But.. Immalaine... How could I be happy, even if I could stay in Bree, knowin' that you were out here, because o' me. That'd be no happiness." He takes a breath, and his eyes stray to the fire. "'Specially as I want you, too."
Her eyes widen slightly at his words, but sighing, she replies. "Wantin' ain't 'nough though, an' I won't settle fer jus' wantin' Rastellion. I can't settle fer less, I'd be no better than I were ... were ..." she broke off, her voice cracking. "I dun know what t' do t' make ye 'appy."
"Settle for less than what?" He gazes at her, genuine incomprehension on his face, and spreads his hands. "What else've I got right now to offer you - t' offer anyone - 'cept affection?"
Looking away, she closes her eyes briefly. "It ain't 'nough. I dun care 'bout land, or coin, but I can't settle fer anything less than love. It's all I got t' give, an' it's all I need. An' if makin' ye happy makes me 'appy or un'appy, well that's my choice t' make."
A frown crosses his face. "An' if runnin' up here makes me unhappy? Is that a choice you want t' make?" He drops her hands and steps to the hearth, staring into the fire. "As for love? ... How can I speak 'bout that when I don't have anyting t' offer - no farm, no job." He swallows. "I talked about love with that lass I was t' marry. And she to me. And yet, without th' farm to my name, all that 'love' amounted to was a window slammed in my face!" His shoulders slump and he leans his forehead against the rough stone of the chimney, and sighs. "So mebbe I don't even know what ya' mean by 'love'"
"T' only thing I need ye t' offer me is yerself. I ain't that girl who didna care 'bout ye. An' I ain't got anything meself." Pausing, she watches the shadows from the fire dance, "I'll come back t' Bree wit' ye, if that'll make ye 'appy."
Turning to look at her, his face sliding into shadow as he swings away from the hearth. "An' what about you?" he demands, his voice almost angry. "All this talk about what you imagine'll make me happy ... What would make you happy?"
Continuing to stare into the flames, she's shaken by his anger. "There's lots o' things what would make me 'appy, most o' then little things that I can find most anywhere. But bein' near you, that would make me happiest." she whispers.
Rastellion stares at her, his brain still trying to catch up with everything said that night. "An' when you told me, a few weeks back, that you just' wanted t' e friends?..." his voice trails off now as he studies her, intently.
Bowing her head, in shame, she replies. "I were too scared t' tell ye how I really felt. 'Specially after we 'ad fought an' all."
"An' how you really feel?..." he prompts, still sounding uncertain.
Turning her head, she looks over at him, her face half hidden by the shadows of the fire and her hair. "I'm in love with ye Rastellion."
(Credits and love go to Rastellion, who provided the voice of the male characters in this story. *Blows kisses to Rastellion and grins widely*)
