FOLK

Folk Part 3

honestly i am sorry for all the mistakes that are scattered through out as i am not reading this through as i write it.  xo

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chapter 3 

As I grasp the situation at hand, I can feel his stare piercing right through me. I don't want to make eye contact with him because although I agreed to help him, I still don't have his trust. Remembering those hungry eyes staring me down only moment before. This is starting to feel like a trap. Crouching further down whilst leaning farther away from his teeth that glisten with reflecting moonlight.

Looking at the wound I can see the arrowhead is deep inside, the pink tissue of this muscles is showing at the edge and I cringe at the feeling. I pause, "what do I do?" scared of hurting him further or recreating the horrible mess of the frog.

He winces as he sits up straighter, placing to strong hands either side of the wound, blood swells, "you need to pull it out, its coated in a poison that I cannot touch."

Okay, okay I can do this. I think. I crouch closer and try not to look too closely as the acidic taste of vomit is creeping its way up my throat. I grip my hand around the length of the arrow, making my hands look even smaller in comparison. Taking a deep breath, I pull ever so slightly just to realise how much resistance I am going to face.

He flinches and lets out a slight grimace, gripping his thigh so tight his tan knuckles have gone as pale as his hair, which now has been pulled back, revealing his ears.

Sharper than his jawline, the curves for points that are covered in a slight layer of peach fuzz. I have seen many representations of ears like his before, all in story books. I know that I can't focus on this right now but its hard to ignore the fact that he may not be human.

"keep going?" I ask.

He nods his head probably not able to force out any words.

I get a strong grip around the stem or the arrow and sit up on the balls of my feet knowing that I will need some force behind the pull. I tighten my grip so firmly; my nails leave half moon indents on my palms. I close my ears and give a long pull, almost standing by the time the arrow sees the light of the moon. Throwing the arrow to the ground in triumph.

The man before man lets out a sigh of relief and leans his head back against the tree in euphoria. Before he can stop me, I rip a strip of cotton off my pyjama top and slip it under his leg. He winces away from me as if I have shoved the arrow right back in.

"what are yo..." he stops, as he sees I am tying the fabric around his leg to cover the wound. His dark blood swells around the material but doesn't spill over. The wind picks up and I am suddenly glad the intensity of that moment is over, "there are still dangerous people out here" he states bringing my attention to the fact he stated earlier.

Shit that was stressful. I pull out another cigarette, celebrating the task I have just accomplished.

He backs away at the cloud of smoke I blow out. Scrunching his nose and waving his hand in front of his face, wafting away the smoke that has already dispersed into the air. the most human he has looked since we've met. Although would you really call it meeting.

I tap my cigarette, flicking off the ash, "so you mentioned some favours as I recall." I state humour filling my voice.

I suddenly notice the detain of the pants he is wearing. Before he hand almost the entirety of the wounded leg removed. The pants of a deep emerald green matching his leather top, both look more like armour than fashionable attire. His delicately strong hands made fast work as he laced and buckles the small belts that held his pants together.

Letting out a small sigh he tilts his pointed chin towards me, "you are correct, I made a promise that I intend to keep, what is it you desire?" he whispers the last word, caressing my ear with the softness of his one gruff voice, sending tingles up my arms. The hairs on my arms still standing stiff as he looks me over once again waiting for my answer.

I'm not sure, no ones ever offered me more than a puff of a smoke or a drink of alcohol, the last of which was always cheap and tasted like it. I don't really 'desire' anything, apart from maybe a better mum and a nicer house.

"well if I am going to get three favours out of you, I should at least know your name?" I prompt hoping this weird situation is over soon, and yet...

He inhales a sharp breath and looks up at me once again, no kindness is left in his eyes, "Thorin, Thorin Affey" he pauses, his eyes once a green meadow now burn gold like the sun, "I hope you are satisfied with yourself mortal, you have but two requests left." He spits

Ummmm okay grumpy, I knew faeires in books hate to give out their names but no need to be a sour puss. A take a step back as if slapped with his harsh words and reassess myself. If I go home now mum and grandma might be asleep and I can forget this day ever happened. Before I can open my mouth and probably piss him off more than I already have, he stands up avoiding putting pressure on his sore leg, "you need to leave now, the people who did this to me are coming to see if I have yet died and if they find you here with me, you will wish they were kind enough to use arrows."