#pairing: rumarin x eilonwy

[queenaeducan-writes]

Healing Hands

Fandom: Elder Scrolls, Skyrim, 3DNPCs/Interesting NPCs Pairing: Rumarin x Eilonwy Rating: General Audiences Words: 2k

Repost of a work that’s since been deleted on Tumblr. Rumarin is a character from 3DNPCs and not in any way my OC!

Read it here on AO3.

For weeks they’d been travelling together, now. Sharing food and shelter, stories and songs. It had been an experience, to put it delicately. She’d come to Skyrim seeking knowledge, but had found a friend instead. Eilonwy watched him sit by the newly lit fire, trying his new ward out. As his hand unflexed a frail shield manifested, causing his arm to tremble until the ward broke. “You are improving,” Eilonwy said gently.

The other high elf scoffed. “At least it’s big enough to shield my head, now. I suppose my innards will simply have to fend for themselves.” He was smiling as he nodded his head toward her, looking at her hands. “In the meantime I can cower behind yours. They’re big enough for the two of us.”

She laughed, stifling it with her hand. Whenever he made her laugh she’d always snort something terrible. It was not the sort of noise a woman of her age ought to be making, especially not on account of a man. “You assume I will remember to cast them.”

“That is true. Though I like the strategy we’ve worked out. You go in, hands blazing, towering over your foes, and I swoop in and finish them off!” Rumarin swept his hand over the fire, slashing the air with an imaginary conjured blade. “It works surprisingly well.”

All over Skyrim they had walked, all in the hopes of teaching him a new spell. They’d visited healers, eccentrics, and even the undead. Each time they failed, it had always been her who seemed more upset about it. Rumarin laughed it off with a joke, while she stewed about it for hours. A good teacher did not dismiss a student because they required a different style of teaching. It was difficult to tell how serious Rumarin was about learning new spells, but he had travelled across Skyrim and back to learn one. That required dedication.

Eilonwy traced her fingers over the fabric of her robes, pulling at the frayed ends. “May I ask you a question?” she said, moving around the campfire until she caught his gaze. “We went from border to border trying to find a mage that could teach you, yet in all that time you never thought to ask me. Why?” She’d asked herself that question for a while now, ever since they’d met Valgus at the sign of the Steed. It didn’t make sense to her, but then again many things about Rumarin didn’t make sense to her.

“I did ask for your help, remember? You blasted me with lightning. I still don’t have any feeling in my left foot,” he replied evasively. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Before that, though,” she pressed him.

“When we met you wouldn’t shut up about the College, I didn’t think you would be able to offer me anything.” Eilonwy knew she ought not to be hurt by that, that by now she ought to have thicker skin. Still, it stung a little.

“I came to the College to seek a safe haven, for research. There are a few hundred years of magic-using before them. My first spells I didn’t learn from tomes, I repeated their names and effects. I told myself again and again that I could walk on water, until the spell was the only thing in my mind, and my words became true.” She still remembered what it felt like, to feel her foot touch the water, but not sink. Two steps later and she sank faster than a rock, but for that one moment she thought herself the most powerful mage in the world. “The spell you learned today will save your life one day, especially if you keep following me. If you’re willing, I can help you learn more.”

Rumarin’s attention had returned to his hand, contemplating it with an expression rarely seen on the blade binder’s face. “No tomes?”

“None.”

“Fine, but if it doesn’t work then you pay me 100 septims. No, you treat me to a meal. And the next time you drag my up High Hrothgar you’ll have to give me a piggyback ride.”

“It’s a deal,” she said. “We shall start tomorrow.”

* * *

When Eilonwy had told him they were starting tomorrow, he had imagined that meant they’d be starting bright and early. He was surprised to find that by the time he stirred, she’d packed half the camp away. It wasn’t like her to back out of a promise, which was lucky because half of her life seemed to be made of them. It was always ‘I’ll find your lost amulet’ or 'I’ll kill the bandits’ with her. She’d kept every one so far, as far as he could tell the only two promises left unfulfilled were saving Nirn and, well, teaching him a spell.

“Are we leaving?” he asked. “I always find it easier to learn when there’s a beer at hand, don’t you think-”

“When we stop for the night, then we can begin. In the meantime, it gives you time to practise your ward spell. Master that, and I’ll determine where we can go from there,” she explained, slipping her blue robes on over her clothes. She was always so matter-of-fact with him, as if she were compensating for his… his everything. There were days when Rumarin wanted to get her drunk, just to see what embarrassing thoughts she kept hidden under lock and key.

“Yes, Ms. Eilonwy,” he said with a smirk, shrugging on his knock-off college robes.

They were on the road within the hour, their camp strapped to the back of the sturdy palamino that Eilonwy had steadfastly refused to name. He’d taken to calling it Apple, anyway. When they were walking it was mostly him who did the talking, he liked to think his jokes brought life to the frosty tundras of Skyrim. Of course, here in the Rift there was already plenty of life to be had, but Rumarin didn’t see much harm in adding to it.

Eilonwy had taken a liking to his jokes right away, even the bad ones. It had been ages since someone had laughed at the punchline to 'Have you seen a healer?’. He had been in the midst of forming a comment about the forest when the first arrow whizzed by them. “Would it be too much to ask for one leisurely stroll through the forest that doesn’t end with a bloodbath?” he moaned.

His companion already had a fireball at the ready, throwing it into the face of the first bandit who stepped into her line of sight. “It seems like the perfect time for you to try out that ward spell of yours,” she said, before charging off. He lost sight of her fast. The bandits came out of the trees from both sides, they were on him in seconds. Apple turned tail and fled, the horse had even less appetite for battle than he. A bandit swung at him from his left, and he’d barely enough time to cast a ward spell as the mace connected with his shield. It shattered in an instant, and he remembered what that Tolfdir had told the apprentice mages. Cast the spell before you need it. Right.

He stepped out of the way of the bandit’s next strike. Conjuring a blade, Rumarin couldn’t help but smile as he swung at his foe’s chest. The bandits had probably been expecting another spell weaver, not another sword to cross blades with. He was ready for the next strike, his ward up well before the mace clashed against it. It was nerve-wracking to see a spiked ball of death mere inches from his arm. As he took the opportunity to stab, he found himself wondering if there was a way to make wards more solid looking.

His blade found the weak point in the bandit’s armor. He didn’t have to guess if that was it for the bandit or not, the look in his eyes said it all. Rumarin pulled out his sword, and slashed it across the bandit’s throat. He never knew if he did it out of pity, or habit. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, as there were others that had to be dealt with. Some fled, he liked to think it was he that frightened them, and not the fireballs that exploded in their faces. The ones that remained soon met the end of his sword.

As the bandits dispersed, he began to think about finding their horse. Hopefully it hadn’t stampeded into a den of frostbite spiders in its haste. Or worse, a dragon. It had happened before, it was a miracle poor Apple still lived to tell the tale.

A cry grabbed his attention, however, and in seconds he forgot about the horse. “Eilonwy?” he called, seeing nothing but trees on either side. A bolt of lightning caught his eye, and he ran towards it. Another bandit lay against the ground, the smell of burnt hair overpowered the smell of blood. Not a few yards away Eilonwy lay, propped up by a tree. She clutched her side, blood seeping between golden fingers. “What happened?”

“She snuck up on me,” Eilonwy muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Rumarin managed a smile, though it felt more forced than his usual grin. “Well, not everyone can be as skilled with wards as I am. Luckily, you’re better at about everything else. Heal up, I think Apple’s half-way to Whiterun by now.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“Ran out of magicka.”

“Er, here, maybe we have a potion.”

Eilonwy attempted what he thought was supposed to be a smile. It looked more like a grimace. She looked at him, eyes squinting from the midday sun. “When I told you I felt like we’d forgotten to pick something up in Riften…”

Rumarin felt the blood drain from his face. He’d had the rug pulled out from under him before, but never like this. “Shor’s Stone isn’t too far down the road. I could-”

“You need to do it.”

“The horse could probably heal you better than I can.” The joke fell a little flat, but it was hard to think of anything when all he could see was blood on her robes.

“Rumarin.”

“I’ll try. If it doesn’t work, I’ll give you a week to recover before I expect that piggyback ride.” He saw the crows feet in the corner of her eyes crease, and he knew she was smiling.

It had been so much easier when she was the one using a spell on him. There wasn’t any time to tell her jokes about the long-term effects of this one paltry restoration spell. No time to tease her and tell her that she’d probably fall in love with him after this, and if she did he wouldn’t blame her. Women liked the sensitive types, and healers went hand-in-hand with sensitivity.

He held his hand over the wound, trying to remember what it felt like when she felt him. It always felt… warm. It felt stupid to compare it to a hug when their bodies never met, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Rumarin traced his teeth with his tongue, concentrating on that feeling, no matter how stupid it was. After a moment he felt a tingling in his fingers. He heard a tiny jingling sound, like there were small bells ringing in the palms of his hands. The wound on Eilonwy’s side began to close, growing together like it had never been split in the first place. Surprise lit up the bladebinder’s face, and before he could even finish he looked at her, beaming. “You should get injured like this more often! That way I’ll have it mastered in no–” As quickly as the magic had come, it was gone. No sooner than that, he saw her her skin start to bruise a brownish-pink, like the wound had opened up again inside.

Eilonwy didn’t seem put off, however. From her pack she pulled out a tiny blue bottle, and chugged it down. In a flash the bruise was gone, leaving nothing but smooth golden skin behind. “But you- I, did you do this on purpose?”

“No,” she replied, sitting up a little straighter. “Er, yes and no. The bandit did get me, but before I lost my strength I managed to find this on her person.” Eilonwy waved the empty bottle in her hand. “I thought I’d use it as a learning opportunity. It saved me the trouble of staging something else later." Rumarin let out something that was somewhere between a scoff and a sigh, sinking onto his knees. "I was afraid you would catch on. After observing how quickly you learned to use a ward in a controlled, but dangerous environment, I thought it only natural to apply the same to healing spells.”

“You’re…” Words failed him. He had known the mage had a reckless side, every adventure did, but this?

“You’re a healer,” she said. Eilonwy stood carefully, using the tree to balance. A second later her hand reached out to him, waiting for him to take it.

“I am, aren’t I?” he said. Grasping her hand, she pulled him up. Rumarin barely had a moment to steady himself when she pulled again, this time into a hug. After the nonstop action of the past five minutes or so, it was a refreshing change of pace.

“I’m proud of you. Sorry if I, er, if I scared you.”

The nice thing about Eilonwy was that he knew she was being genuine, whether he deserved the comments or not. “I wasn’t scared,” he said, already feeling his predisposition for jokes returning. “Maybe I was a bit… concerned.” She giggled, pulling back to smile at him.

“Does this mean that you’ll buy me dinner at the next town we pass?” she asked, her hands slowly letting go of him.

“I think that part of the deal only extended to me.”

“In that case maybe I’ll have to teach you another spell. While I was lying there I thought about riding through the entrance to the Greybeard’s temple on your shoulders.”

His ears had to be deceiving him, was that a joke? “I’ll consider it.”

Eilonwy laughed again, beginning to walk back towards the path. “I can even incorporate it into your training. I happen to know a few feather spells…”

“Ask me again later,” Rumarin said as he placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her towards where Apple had run. “I need to recover from the trauma of this last lesson first.”