Knight-Errant
A Word: Ibid.
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The knight makes Tim wait to examine his gear once they reach a neat if bare room with two cots in it. There's a table with a basin and pitcher of water between the, and Robin goes straight for it. "Remove your shoes and allow me to tend your feet."
Tim cannot really object. Removing the now ruined shoes is a painful process that he has to grit his teeth through. The state of his feet is horrible. Blisters line the back of each heel, and the underside of each big toe. One on the right has burst and some blood stains the skin. Robin hisses in sympathy when he comes over with the basin filled with water.
"I confess, I was not properly prepared for being kidnapped by a dragon," Tim notes wryly as the knight kneels down on the floor and mixes the contents of a pouch with the water. The smell is strong and medicinal, reminding him of the best apothecary shops. The ones that tend to actually deliver on what they promise.
"Few are," Robin pulls out a roll of soft bandages from a pouch and hands it to him. Tim squeezes the role when he pulls out a flask and small, sharp knife. His green eyes are apologetic when he looks back up. "I am afraid these are too large to wait out. It will be easier to heal if they are cut off, Highness."
"Do it," Tim nods sharply and then lifts his head to fix his gaze on the wall behind Robin. The man takes his right foot first and places it in the basin. The water is cool and feels wonderful for a moment until he feels a tingle spread from the softest part of his foot. It works slowly through and the pain eases enough that it feels better than wonderful.
Tim glances down and realizes that was a mistake as Robin runs a thin stream of liquid from the flask over the knife. The scent of something alcoholic hits his nose as he looks away quickly and refuses to allow his gaze to waver again.
"The skin is already mostly dead," Robin says as he pulls Tim's foot out of the water. His touch barely noticeable. Tim can feel pressure and chooses to believe that it is Robin's fingers. "It feels nothing, but the mixture in the water deadens what little pain there would be it will also clean and prevent an infection."
Tim listens patiently and holds very still as the pressure turns very precise in a way he can't fool himself into thinking is just fingers. Robin's voice is calming and he latches onto it as a distraction.
"The best care for blisters is to bandage them and let them alone, but we have a ways to go yet that will only irritate them further. Also," Robin's voice drones on soothingly, like he's reciting things he's learned from a lesson, "it has become so irritated that blister have formed within the larger ones. I am afraid you will not care for this treatment in the morn, but it is for the best."
"I trust you know best," Tim surrenders the bandages when they are tugged, and he risks a look down as Robin begins to roll them around his foot. The skin is raw and shiny looking in a way that he knows is going to prove Robin's predictions right, but it also looks better already.
"In some minor medical matters I have been well trained," Robin says with a wry smile. He picks up Tim's other foot and Tim takes that as a cue to look away again. "His Majesty, King Wayne, demands that all his knights be able to heal as well as harm."
"Your King's policies are an inspiration among the kingdoms," even if the rumors of his excesses make Tim wonder who truly rules the kingdom of Gotham. That blessed numbness spreads through his other foot and Tim sighs in relief, even as the smell of more alcohol reaches him.
The second foot is the same as the first. Pressure but no true pain at all. Even the soft bandages are barely felt when Robin wraps them. "I will need proper boots now."
"This is a well traveled route," Robin says as he rises, basin in hand as he crosses to the window and throws the water out after looking down. "There are plenty of shops set up to cater to the needs of any traveler. I am confident there is a shoemaker as well as a cobbler here."
Tim nods gratefully and pulls his feet up to rest on the cot. The single blanket is rough under his hand. Enough to keep him warm but not so very pleasant that it would encourage stealing. He has several pouches of coin liberated from the dragon's hoard, more than enough to get the best pair of boots in the store. It's likely the shoemaker will have some ready made for emergencies. At least, Tim hopes he does.
Robin paces the room a bit. Looking it over and observing for things that Tim can only guess at before he turns to the other cot. With a few, well practiced, flicks of his hand about half of his armor slides off and he settles it at the end of the cot in a surprisingly compact bundle. Tim blinks as he sees the inside for the first time, "Is that goblin iron?"
The metal is dark, not something he'd expected at all from the brightly colored outside. Goblin iron is the strongest and most expensive metal known to man. The metal so precious that the goblins hoard the raw material, keeping the secrets of its shaping to themselves, and only part with finished pieces for a hefty sum of money. Few have worked goblin iron pieces, and those that do tend to leave the work alone. Liking to show off the dark metal so that all who see it know how very much money they spent on it.
"It is," Robin is slimmer without the bulk of his armor as he sits across from Tim. He's still armed and the mask is firmly in place, and Tim knows already it will not be coming off. "There is no armor better suited for facing a dragon. But I think I promised you leave to tear apart my gear, not my armor. Though I would not protest should you wish that as well."
The innuendo is blatant but Tim really isn't paying attention to it because Robin is offering the grapple to him. Lord Kord's work so close at hand doing what his own willpower has not been able to do all day and keeping a blush at bay. He cradles the grapple for several minutes. Eyes greedily taking each detail in as he starts to gain an understanding for its operation. Robin's words and rueful laughter are vague things in his mind now.
"I thought this would happen," Robin says, as Tim slowly turns it over. "Please remember that we may yet need its use again before you are home, and do it no irreparable damage."
Tim makes a discontent noise as his fingers find the bolts of metal that slot into place to keep the grapple together. Expertly cut so that it will not shake free, and needs intent to be taken apart. He only wants to see how this fine piece of work is put together. Damaging it is the furthest thing from his mind as he carefully pulls it apart. Lost in his own mind.
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