A/N: I fell in love with Kingkiller Chronicle over the past few weeks. I know, I know, I'm late to the party, but better late than never. Anyone else still keeping up with this series? Hellooooooo? Guess I'll find out soon enough.

Right, so there is entirely not enough Tempi hurt/comfort fics in this burning world, and I grew desperate for it while reading The Wise Man's Fear. I had to see how Kvothe might take care of the quiet, young Adem warrior. So, here you go. I hope you enjoy, and I'd appreciate any kind of feedback-really just to know that there are other fans out there as excited as I am to be reading such a fantastic series.


Our mission complete and Hespe's leg healed enough for light travel, we made our leisurely way west, hoping that the map we had found in the leader's tent was trustworthy enough to land us somewhere in the vicinity of Crosson within a couple of days. Our moods were light, owing in no small part to the weight of the new coins we held in each of our pockets. Dedan had diminished his complaining to perhaps two times an hour, and even Hespe with the pain of her injury was up for laughing and joking with the rest of us.

It felt good to be able to simply walk and enjoy the company of my newfound friends without feeling the need to constantly observe the terrain for broken twigs, dead leaves, and other infuriatingly subtle signs of mankind.

I have no doubt that this respite we had all eagerly and wordlessly agreed to allow ourselves was at least partly responsible for what happened that afternoon. Marten told me later that he found himself entirely to blame, that any tracker worth his salt would have at least seen something, anything to warn of another sinister presence. I discouraged his line of thinking, but his was the kind of stubbornness that made argument a fruitless pursuit.

The event seems ridiculous when I think back on it. It had taken us many days of careful tracking to discover a rather large encampment of bandits, but took us less than one day to discover a much smaller one entirely by accident. Marten was the first to see the lookout archer, but the enemy's arrow was loosed long before Marten had a chance to cry a warning, let alone nock an arrow of his own.

From my perspective, Tempi simply disappeared. He had been in my peripheral sight, and then he wasn't. I turned to look for him and found him on the ground behind us. There was confusion in his eyes, and he was already trying and failing to stand back up. The arrow had pierced him a couple inches below where his collarbone met his left shoulder, and he was attempting to use his left hand to raise himself. Not surprisingly, his arm gave out and he toppled back down. I had registered by that moment that our Adem companion was arrow-shot, though I don't think he realized it until he fell a second time and had to force himself to search his body for the source of the issue. This sort of shock is not uncommon when a man is struck with a longbow arrow, especially in an unexpected attack. Before Tempi could do more damage to himself, I knelt beside him and pressed my hand on his uninjured shoulder to keep him from standing again.

"Hurt. Stay down," I spoke to him in Ademic. Serious. I knew I was butchering the pronunciation, and the gesture had to have been vague at best. Thankfully, Tempi nodded his understanding.

I heard a shout and looked up to see the sentry fall, one of Marten's arrows in his belly. The shout had been some kind of warning from the sentry, and I heard responding shouts from beyond the small hill the sentry had been standing on. Dedan and Hespe had drawn their swords and Marten already had another arrow ready. I felt the weight of the knife under my clothes and contemplated whether I should join the fight as well. I gave a worried glance back down at Tempi. His vulnerable body lay trembling beneath my hands. He would be in danger if I left him.

His eyes briefly met mine for the first time that day. All confusion was gone from his face, replaced by his usual neutral expression. He spoke to me in Aturan.

"Go. Fight now with them."

"You're injured," I protested. "I can't leave you defenseless like this."

"Kvothe. Fight now. It is of the Lethani." He made some kind of attempt at a sharp gesture with his left hand, but either it was one I didn't recognize or he could not do it properly with his arm so weakened.

I stood up to rush after the others.


It was a short battle.

The lookout had been wise to use his only shot on the mercenary wearing red, but it was not enough to save them. Only three men had remained. Dedan ran to one, and Hespe to another. The third one seemed ready to get the jump on Hespe, no doubt noticing her pronounced limp. So I charged in, no plan other than to disrupt his. It worked. He turned on me and threw a kick I was entirely unprepared for. It hit me in my stomach and I struck the ground with no breath in my lungs and agony in my belly. He raised his short sword to end me and I was saved by Marten's second arrow, which found the bandit's throat. Dedan and Hespe had already finished their enemies by then, and Dedan rushed over to offer me a hand getting up. I accepted it gratefully.

"You saved her life," he said, gesturing to Hespe as she and Marten clapped each other's backs.

I blushed in embarrassment. "All I did was get kicked," I admitted. I rubbed my sore stomach, absently diagnosing the hurt and deciding that nothing had been ruptured within.

Dedan grinned, wrapping me in an unexpected hug. "Far better for you to be kicked in the stomach than for Hespe to be kicked in the leg and brought to her knees before two enemies."

Hespe and Marten were listening by then. "What happened?" Hespe asked, curiously.

Dedan explained how he had seen the third bandit approaching her blind side with intent to take advantage of her injury while she was distracted in her own fight. Then he recounted what I had done in embarrassing detail. Which was, if you'll remember, getting immediately kicked to the ground. Still, Hespe seemed genuinely grateful and clapped my shoulder roughly in friendship. Marten, the real savior, gave me a friendly nod, then said, "Quickly now. We need to take care of Tempi."

The four of us rushed back to where I had left Tempi, and I was relieved to see him breathing steadily as we approached. He was lying on his right side, his right hand cradling his left elbow. My eyes moved to the arrow stuck in his left shoulder and I winced without meaning to. It was thick and long, and it had pierced all the way through, the arrowhead and several inches of shaft sticking visibly out of Tempi's back. Marten gave a soft, sympathetic whistle. I was the first to kneel by Tempi's side.

"The danger is gone?" Tempi asked in Aturan. His eyes were open and clear, his face studiously blank. I nodded. The fingers in his left hand splayed slightly, his thumb tucked between his first two fingers. A small smile. I returned the gesture, then began to examine the entry wound. The red clothing made it difficult to tell, but he didn't seem to be bleeding much-yet. Tempi's face remained blank, though his skin was even paler than normal and there was a sheen of sweat on his brow. He was also trembling slightly.

"No cries or groans, hardly any blood," Marten spoke mostly to himself, quiet admiration in his voice. "It seems the stories have some truth to them."

Dedan sniffed, as close to an agreement as I think he was capable where Tempi was concerned.

"I need the sharpest sword or knife we have," I said.

"Probably Tempi's sword, the way he keeps up with it," Hespe offered.

I looked back down at Tempi. "May I use your sword?" I watched his hand for a gesture, but none came. "Yes," he spoke instead, quietly. I reached for the blade at his side. The short sword came free with a satisfying sound. I braced the base of the arrow at the front of Tempi's shoulder and quickly cut off the excess shaft above my fist. Tempi's whole body briefly tensed and relaxed, his face remaining impassive. Dedan sniffed again, obviously impressed.

I tossed the length of arrow aside and replaced the sword in its sheath. "We'll need shelter," I said.

"Easy," Hespe said with a smile. "The bandits had a tent."


Tempi wanted to walk, but I was not convinced he wouldn't faint and injure himself further. Though he wasn't heavy, it was still difficult work to lift him into an easy carrying position without jostling the arrow. Dedan and Marten did it while I instructed them. Dedan showed no small amount of irritation at my constant corrections ("Watch the shoulder. Hold his arm steady. Mind his head."), but to his credit he was surprisingly gentle.

The small campsite had nothing that we hadn't already found in great quantities at the previous encampment. But it had a tent, something we had neglected to take with us from the previous site and now desperately needed. Hespe and I checked to make sure it was set up sturdily, then arranged the blankets we found inside to create as soft a space as possible.

Marten and Dedan lowered Tempi carefully onto the blankets and Hespe pushed her pack slightly under the left side of his lower back so he wouldn't have to worry about rolling onto his wound. She also folded her cloak into a pillow and placed it under his head. Tempi started to gesture what I thought was the beginning of immense gratitude, but he dropped his arm halfway through and simply spoke in Hespe's direction.

"Thank you."

She seemed surprised. "You're welcome."

It was clear from the amount of blankets that at least three men had been sharing the tent, which would have been comfortable enough in sleep, but was too cramped for anything other than that. As it was, there were now five of us squeezed into a tent built for two. It was going to be impossible to work with Marten's breath on my shoulder and Dedan's elbow practically jabbing my ribs.

"You three go on back outside. Get the fire lit and prepare a meal. Marten, keep watch for any others who may return." I doubted anyone would, but it never hurts to be prepared. The three accepted my orders with no complaint, stepping outside one after the other. The tent flap fell closed and I secured the cloth ties to keep the wind out. A fair amount of light managed to beam in from the edges of the tent floor, but it was getting close to sundown. I went ahead and lit one of my beeswax candles with a bit of sympathy and set it up nearby.

When I turned back to Tempi, his face had completely transformed. Pain and terror filled his features, and he had even begun to softly whimper. The change shocked me, and I spent a short moment grasping around my brain for what to do before I unconsciously grabbed his right hand.

"It's all right. You're all right," I said, squeezing his hand and trying to make sense of this sudden change. The obvious answer, which you have no doubt already discovered, came to me moments later, once my panic had begun to let up. The face he had put on outside had been for the other mercenaries' benefit. I went ahead and asked him to be sure.

"Tempi, is it of the Lethani to hide pain from barbarians?"

His hand movement was stiff and small, but I could have sworn I read approval. Then he began to cry.


I came to a few more conclusions while Tempi was busy chewing some willow bark I had given him. He was very young, twenty or so, and his only scars were clear, but light, as if several small shards of glass had grazed the skin of his arms, chest, and back, perhaps in some kind of Adem training exercise. It was likely that this was his first real battle wound, and it was a serious one at that. I discovered an odd feeling of pride swelling in my chest at the accomplishment this implied. He was scared and in pain, but had still managed to do right by his people. It also spoke volumes of our friendship that he felt intimate enough with me to allow his facial expressions to be freely seen.

"How do you feel now?" I asked in Adem.

Tempi began to lift his left hand, but I caught it and carefully lowered it back down, shaking my head in gentle reproach. "Don't move this arm again until you have healed."

He needed his left arm to speak properly, and with a wound like that, permanent impairment is always a strong possibility. The fear and devastation in Tempi's face showed that he knew this only too well.

"...The bark helps," Tempi said, averting his eyes out of habit.

"May I take care of your wound now?"

I saw the fingers of his left hand twitch and relax. He closed his eyes and gave a long exhale.

"Yes. Please."