There and Back Again Ch. 179

Behind them came Larus, and while the healer didn't look any less unkempt, clearly the prospect of seeing Arathea had given him some energy, because he stepped carefully through the door, his entire body stiff as he looked around almost fearfully. I wonder if he thinks it's some sort of prank? He needn't have worried; the door hadn't even swung shut behind him when there was a high-pitched squeal, and a petite elf flung herself at him.

Larus caught her, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other wrapping possessively around her waist, as he pressed their foreheads together. It should have been awkward, with the mage being so much taller than the petite elf, but they fit their bodies together as though made for each other, their eyes locked on each other even through Arathea's tears. He whispered something to her and she nodded, and then he kissed her forehead reverently. It was almost unbearably sweet, and I felt any remaining apprehension ease. An idiot could have seen how much the two cared for each other, and while no one could guarantee how he would react if she tried to leave him, it was clear to me that he would never have forced her to be with him -- nor did he have to.

The healer tucked Arathea up against his side, his arm around her, and she smiled as though she'd never been so happy in her life. He came over to where the rest of us sat -- Aedan and Zevran slumped in their chairs, Alistair and I holding hands, even Fergus not glowering for the first time in forever -- and turned to me.

"Thank you, my Lady." I blinked; I'd never heard him sound anything but pompous, but his tone was obviously sincere. "I owe you everything. I can't imagine what I..." He trailed off, looking like indeed he could imagine all sorts of things -- and all of them were bad.

"No need." I smiled. "We would have helped regardless, but you saved my husband. You owe me nothing." I was feeling all weepy and emotional at the thought of Alistair as sick as he'd been, and there was no way I was doing that in front of Fergus. Time to change the subject. I wrinkled my nose. "So, no offense, but there's a shed out back, and I've got to recommend all three of you go out there and rinse off. There's bathtubs in your rooms, but honestly, rinse first. You stink."

Aedan and Zevran groaned, and Larus looked a bit shocked. I giggled. "I'll even lend you my showerhead..."

The innkeeper had several young helpers already carrying buckets of hot water up the stairs; Aedan and Zevran paused only long enough to grab the little rune-covered stone from my room before rushing out the back door, dragging Larus with them. Arathea looked reluctant to let him go, but I gestured for her to sit down, smiling at her pout.

"No point in you getting all muddy while they're trying to get clean." It had already been awkward finding the elf clothes that would fit -- her possessions had been taken when Larus had been captured by zealous townsfolk, and she had only a few old, threadbare clothes given to her by someone in the Alienage. One of my dresses flowed shapelessly around the elf, and it was clear some shopping would be have to be a priority.

When the men were done, they scampered upstairs, still dripping, and we agreed to meet for supper in a few hours. I dragged Alistair to our room for some more massage -- his scars and muscles benefitted from it, but in all honesty I just wanted my hands on his skin. He raised one eyebrow at me as I giggled the whole way.