[ ooc; ok. I actually spent too much time trying to pinpoint his injuries in the movie. LIKE YOU SAID, right temple area, mid-torso (but that's already been “healed”), his dumb right foot. I think there's his right bicep, but it's hard to tell if that's an injury or just blood splatter... in a line that looks very much like a tear. I'd imagine it couldn't be anything too bad, otherwise, hurr, swinging a sword would be difficult even with adrenaline. NONETHELESS, this is what we're going with, okok. ]
[ Flesh wound? Ha. Small price? Ha. He presses his lips tight, preventing the scoff from escaping, and instead, he scoots, dallying between the wounds of the arm and head, weighing, deciding... before settling on the easier first.
He thinks he can understand Thorin's ridiculousness single-mindedness, if he really tries and squints for the reasons, but justified as Thorin may be to avenge his grandfather and all else who fell at Moria, Bilbo can't support the execution.
How can he? He loves his stories and his books and admittedly, there is an almost novelesque poetry to Thorin's revenge. The once exiled prince, now king, standing against the bane of his line, fighting such cruelty and villainy so that his kin can finally rest in peace. Sounds fine on its own... but story books aren't meant to end with the hero ridden with scars and bleeding out. ]
Perhaps next time, you can avoid being run through yourself. [ It's clipped more than he intends, really. Even if he thinks Thorin needs a stern talking to every so often to balance out his surprising recklessness. Just not by him that is, erm. ] There are those of us who would rather see you… [ Alive. And he rips the cloth free with more force than necessary, startled and dismayed with even the idea of Thorin dea—enough of that. ] … whole and hale. [ He offers instead, gaze not meeting. And with that, he slips the cloth in-between and around his bicep, wrapping, wrapping, his frown growing steadily with the motion. ]
it didn't work. you still edited LOL
even with adrenaline. NONETHELESS, this is what we're going with, okok. ][ Flesh wound? Ha. Small price? Ha. He presses his lips tight, preventing the scoff from escaping, and instead, he scoots, dallying between the wounds of the arm and head, weighing, deciding... before settling on the easier first.
He thinks he can understand Thorin's
ridiculousnesssingle-mindedness, if he really tries and squints for the reasons, but justified as Thorin may be to avenge his grandfather and all else who fell at Moria, Bilbo can't support the execution.How can he? He loves his stories and his books and admittedly, there is an almost novelesque poetry to Thorin's revenge. The once exiled prince, now king, standing against the bane of his line, fighting such cruelty and villainy so that his kin can finally rest in peace. Sounds fine on its own... but story books aren't meant to end with the hero ridden with scars and bleeding out. ]
Perhaps next time, you can avoid being run through yourself. [ It's clipped more than he intends, really. Even if he thinks Thorin needs a stern talking to every so often to balance out his surprising recklessness. Just not by him that is, erm. ] There are those of us who would rather see you… [ Alive. And he rips the cloth free with more force than necessary, startled and dismayed with even the idea of Thorin dea—enough of that. ] … whole and hale. [ He offers instead, gaze not meeting. And with that, he slips the cloth in-between and around his bicep, wrapping, wrapping, his frown growing steadily with the motion. ]