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Tim slowly extended his hand and accepted the flask of Miruvor from Tindomion's hand. His eyes still fastened on the elf's face, he carefully lifted it to his lips, touching it as little as possible as he placed his mouth to edge, and allowed only a little bit of the liquid to trickle into his mouth and over his tongue. It had little taste, but it seemed to cool his burning tongue and calm the fierce pain that had begun to come back again after drinking the water. He lowered it and began to hand it back, but Tindomion wouldn't take it.
"Nay, lad, you'll need more than the tiny bit you took. Drink some more." Tim was hesitant, but he obeyed, and after taking another small sip, he handed it back, and this time the elf didn't refuse his own flask. He put it back at his belt and Tim thanked him slowly and carefully, the task being made difficult with his tongue.
Wren stood leaning with her back to the ladder watching the entire thing. She thought Tim lucky to get so much attention, and especially from the elf, but she didn't exactly envy his position. Hearing him talk convinced her that he must be very uncomfortable. There seemed to be a pause on the doctoring as Tim stood in involuntary silence and Cook put away her nursing kit, and Wren took advantage of it.
"Can we go to bed now?" she asked, impatient and tired now that the excitement appeared to be over.
Tim turned and looked at her. The idea was a good one, but there might be a problem. There was a girl still up there and he couldn't sleep in the loft so long as she was there. In a moment, he decided that he would sleep in one of the empty stalls, and that was a good solution to the problem.
"Yeh, you go up an' go to sleep. I'll sleep down here." She turned large eyes towards him.
"Why? Whatever for? There's still plenty of room up there." Tim just shook his head. It hurt to talk much. Wren didn't move an inch.
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