Warrior's Heart

Chapter Sixteen

Tiriana climbed up into Arielle's lap. "Mama, what is Papa doing?"

"He's trying to get better, sweet. Amara needs him to build up his strength again."

Thorin let out a low groan and Tiriana sat forward. "Is she hurting him?"

"Not intentionally, no." Arielle smoothed her daughter's tangle of thick black curls away from her forehead. "But, you need understand, love, Papa was hurt very badly and it isn't easy to recuperate from such injuries. He is one of the lucky ones."

Thorin swore loudly as he lost his balance and toppled over, a crash shaking the Healing Room when he hit a low shelf and cleared it. Amara crouched to take his arm. "Perhaps we've done enough today."

"I am not finished today," he growled in return, jerking his arm free. "And I need no help."'

"Mama?"

"It's all right, love," Arielle assured her, giving her a gentle squeeze. "But, why don't we go for a walk?"

"Wanna stay."

Arielle sighed softly, looking over at Thorin as he slowly got to his feet with a grimace. He moved easier after a week in the Healing Room, but only just so, and even now, sweat damped his hair, beaded along his forehead, trickled down along his temples. His dark gray tunic bore large sweat patches both across the chest and back, and yet, he didn't cry quarter and did not give up. 

Amara stepped away from him. "As you wish."

Arielle held her breath as Thorin's jaw tightened, and his hand went white at the knuckles when he gripped the edge of the nearest chair and hauled himself to his feet once more. A second wet patch showed lower on the front of his tunic. Arielle swallowed hard, but managed to hold back her suggestion that he take a break. Instead, he shook his hair out of his eyes, very quickly pressed a hand against the bloodstain now spreading slowly across his lower tunic, and said, "Again."

"Thorin, you need rest," Amara told him gently. "Let me look at your wounds."

"The blood will stop in but a moment. I want to try again."

Tiriana wriggled free and bolted toward him. "Papa, you're bleeding!"

"Tiri, wait—" Arielle lunged for her, but missed and she winced as the toddler ran smack into Thorin.

He caught her with only the slightest of grimaces, and groaned as he lifted her. He staggered back, but held onto her, managing to grit, "Take care, little bit."

Tiriana leaned away from him to glare at the Healer. "Fix him."

"I am trying, my child," Amara replied calmly even as she shot Thorin a look, "but your papa is stubborn and doesn't know when to rest."

"I do know when to rest and I also know when I might keep going," he growled in response, carefully shifting Tiriana to his left arm. "But, you need to stay with Mama if you're going to stay here."

"But, Papa..." She tightened her arms about his neck, "I don't want you to bleed."

"Well, I don't want me to bleed, either," he glanced over at Arielle, who mouthed, I can take her, and slowly shook his head at her, "but I'm all right, honest."

Arielle got to her feet and crossed over to Amara. "Is it normal that his wounds still bleed? It's been a week since—"

"It isn't exactly normal, but I'm not overly concerned," she replied as Thorin slowly made his way to the terrace with his daughter. "His wounds were caused by an Orc-blade, so I am concerned that it might have been tipped with something that could continue to cause him problems, so I'd like him to remain here at least another week."