Word Count ::
He flinched away at the lady, at her words, despite him knowing her to be right. He didn’t want any more help, but in truth, in the pit of his stomach he knew he needed it. It was essential. Perhaps he wasn’t a man after all, like he’d thought he was. Not yet, anyway. For now he was just a boy. He made a mental note to try and act more mature, try and act his age. He would learn to defend himself. Nothing like this would ever happen again, he swore it in his heart. I know. he said coldly, looking to the wall and refusing to meet her eye. He faced silence for what seemed like hours but was actually a couple of seconds, before finding the strength to speak again. I know. I d-don’t care. he scowled as he stumbled through his words and closed his numb lips together, a growl forming in his throat. But he soon pulled himself together. What was he doing? Being rude to X’yrin… she didn’t deserve it. She hadn’t done anything to allow Frodo to get angry around her. He was just taking out his anger on the closest thing to him.
She instructed him to rest with a prodding paw, stern words, even throwing a little joke in the midst of her demands. At this one corner of his lip curled up just ever so slightly, and slowly he turned towards her, scuttling down against the wall, sliding so he was on his back, lying down in total submission. He was hers to clean and heal. Woah, like, déjà vu, skipper. he croakily exclaimed, startled. Frodo instantly remembered the time he’d been laying down and both X’yrin and Jace helping him out. It had been somewhere quite different to where he was now, though. And his physical condition at the time had been very different to how it was now. Then he had been almost mentaly disturbed, unaware of everything around him, shivers racking his body to the core and hunger gnawing at his stomach. Wheras now everything was so startlingly true and real, and vivid, fierce, painful. Frodo’s eyes flickered upwards where he focused on the roots of the upturned tree, crawling with insects and scattered with mud. His eyes found a particular centipede he thought was rather pretty (Frodo’s just weird like that), and he tried to think only of that single creature. X’yrin swore it would not hurt but he knew otherwise. Tending to wounds always stung his frail and petite form. In thanks he reached out to lay a single paw on her arm. Gee, I'm sorry you have to see me like this, my old china. But...thanks. Really.
Image courtesy of Scott Hudson **; Table by the Mentors!
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