In Time

Chapter Nine

Thorin glared at Amara. "You must be joking."

She, however, remained every bit her serene self as she shook her head. "I assure you, Thorin, I am not joking."

"You wish me to lift that? I can barely bend as it is."

"I know. But, part of the healing process is to improve your flexibility as well. You can do this. I wouldn't ask it if I didn't think so. Now, " she set the large ball on the floor between them, "bend slowly and carefully, breathe through the pain as normally as you can manage."

"I cannot—"

"You can."

He continued glaring. Since he opened his eyes that morning, Amara was every bit the taskmaster Valindra promised she'd be. Instead of helping him from his bed, Amara stood there, insisting he do it on his own. He managed to, but the moment he straightened, the fireball exploded in his gut and he swayed toward her as the lightheadedness nearly took his from his feet. For a horrifying moment, he thought he was going to hit the floor again and set himself back once more. Thankfully, it never came to pass. Oh, that now-familiar prickling sweat broke out over his entire body like a damp rash and the same black dots bobbed before his eyes. But, he breathed through each pain as she instructed and stayed upright the entire time.

But now she wanted him to bend over and lift a fool ball? She was mad. Sweat bathed him already, matted his hair, left a large dark patch in the middle of his once-light gray tunic. He'd managed to take a whole four steps under his own power. Four steps. And following those four slow, shuffling steps, he'd needed to sit and rest for what seemed like forever.

"Yesterday, I was scolded for attempting to stand on my own," he countered, trying like mad to ignore the burn in his belly even as it grew and spread throughout his body, "and now, you want me to pick this up."

"I'm glad you understand." She gestured to the ball. "Now, if you would hand that to me."

He stared down at the innocent-looking green ball on the floor. How hard could it be to bend and pick it up?

Of course, he knew the answer. Still, he gingerly bent and couldn't hold back his groan at the burn radiating through him. He grabbed the ball, wincing as the fire burned even brighter and fresh sweat prickled across his back and chest.

"Easy," Amara cautioned as he gritted his teeth and slowly straightened up.

"Ahhh!" He couldn't hold back the oath bubbling to his lips, not that he tried all that hard. He let fly an string of epithets in Khuzdal, his gut churning and bile rising in his throat. He tossed his stringy hair out of his face as he shoved the ball at her. "There. Now might I rest?"

The ball hit her with enough force to knock her back a step, but she remained as serene as always. "You wished to walk out of here of your own accord as soon as possible," she reminded him calmly. "This is how you make that happen."

"This is how—" He slowly limped to the closest chair, air hissing through his teeth, his muscles shrieking in protest when he lowered himself into it. "I can barely take two steps of my own power and you think picking up a aklâf ball will suddenly make all of the difference."

She placed the ball on a rack and turned back to him. "I thought we'd agreed that I know what I am doing?"

"Yes, but—"

"No, no yes, but. If you wish my help, you will have it gladly. But if you are going to continue to fight me as you've been doing since you arrived, no good will come of it."

The fire in his belly died to smoking embers, which made his mood somewhat less foul. "I am trying, but this makes no sense to me."

"You were run through. Muscles were damaged. Some shredded. And as you are learning, those muscles are used for the smallest of movements. We need rebuild them and that will not only take time, but it will hurt, and the best way to rebuild with minimal pain is to do things such as lifting the aklâf ball."