"Are you hurt? I know some healing magic if you want me to try and mend your wounds. I am in your debt, after all." 

Of course he'd forgotten something something crucial like, oh, [i]sealing the elf's magic[/i]. Little details like that tended to get lost between the [i]being woken up by the summoning of a demonic horde[/i] and [i]the fucking No-God's own spawn appearing in the form of possessed elf[/i]. Artur scowled, furious at himself and completely done with the situation. He should just give up on the Guardians. He felt like just getting up and leaving or falling over on the ground and crying, or taking up life as a hermit. Instead, he continued to glower at the elf in the best approximation of an intimidating way as he could muster, with was difficult with his baby face and huge, teal eyes that anybody would sacrifice a child to have. He resented his looks almost as much as he resented his own utter inability to just do things right for once. 

"Thank you," the elf said, breaking into Artur's angry inner monologue, "Thank you for sparing me. If you want, I will tell you more about me. It's the least I can do. There's a lot to explain, so it'll be a while, if you are even interested that is." Artur met his eyes and was surprised to see honesty there, if not a full helping of sanity. He looked away. His ribs did pain him, but he wasn't the one in dire need.

"Do you need your hands to do magic?" he asked, "My horse broke a leg chasing your through this damn forest." He ignored the elf's offer of a heart-to-heart. Of all the Holy Arts Artur had proven himself utterly incompetent in, Counseling was his greatest failure. He hated listening to people, especially when he himself was in an impossible mood.