Like a frightened lamb he caught sight of something truly terrifying to him, one that held no formal rank but was equally as devastating. Ruinil walked angrily through the throng Ina direct line to Bartuc who could only stand tall and defiant. His injuries hadn't fully healed and still he had thrown himself into carnage recklessly. Why is it that staring at this beautiful woman reminded him of not doing something stupid..

Despite how heavy he felt as the adrenaline died dow the proud man chose not to accept Ruinils help. It would make him look weak in the eyes if others and they needed to know he felt no pain, no more how badly they beat him. The numbing root he had chewed earlier was slipping off too. He chose the best option and was escorted out by the dangerous elf lass. 

The walk back to his room was almost heaven sent. When was the last time someone had ever done this, let alone a woman? His mind was a jumble as more and more confusing events took place. Years of carnage, weeks on end of fighting, the edge of destruction had never been far. 
He laid down in his bed as was told and couldn't help but grimace. His ribs hurt like hell and he could only see out of his right eye but even that was blurry. 
She spoke softly and it finally cracked in his skull. 

You big idiot.. She likes you. Thoughts of their time on the road, her laying in the muck as the fight waged, the unbridled rage he felt at that imagine made his whole body tense and muscles bulge but another hiss of pain forced him to relax.  
Ruinil hissed her displeasure and it was all coming together. He stood up and gently made his way to the elf lass only to realize she was.. Crying. "You are crying..." He stated more than asked, reconfirming his earlier guesses. "It should be me who sheds a tear, to have someone like you, so young and full of life, even considering me as a person.." He took another step and kept speaking to her back. "every day of my childhood was filled with the thought of a day when... When I would..." Struggling for the right word was difficult for a man more suited for war. His shyness made him stumble on the word. "find.. Love." Bartuc was balling his fist at his own weakness but could not stop. The words had come and they would not stop. "You are graceful in battle, yet your touch upon my skin was gentler than anything I have ever known. Your tears cut me deeper than any blade, and when I look upon your smiling face I see peace for the future. For my own tired soul.." She turned around and he sprung. "forgive me." He whispered as he kissed her softly, his hands wrapping her firmly in his embrace. If he died now, he would die as he has always tried to be. Free.