Frerin's thumb brushes lightly over Dis' cheek before she pulls away. He gives her a tiny smile, the corners of his lips just barely twitching in an attempt to be reassuring. He's sure it doesn't work well.

He tries to breath shallowly as she treats and bandages his wounds, blue eyes fluttering closed. It hurts, but he'll try to focus on other things.

Instead his mind brings him back to the battle, watching dwarves fall left and right, friends and strangers alike, and oh Mahal when Grandfather was--

He opens his eyes with a soft gasp, trembling worse than ever now. He can't stop thinking about it, can't stop seeing all the dead. He can hardly imagine how terrifying it must have been for Thorin when Frerin had fainted on him, covered in blood as he'd been.

He looks up at Dis just as she starts to feel at his arm, not even hearing what she'd said in regards to setting the bone. Frerin's good hand curls into a fist and he bites back a curse when she nudges the bone into place, pain throbbing through his arm. He's strangely out of breath.

"Aye," he grunts, still catching his breath.