Disclaimer: All Tolkien's, as ever.
Author's Note: For the 'touch' challenge. Partly inspired by a Bradbury short story I read a couple of years ago which has really stayed with me.
Edit: Ok, clearly your friendly neighbourhood mod is losing her mind. This week's challenge is 'hearing', but this fits that challenge too. Idiot child.
Her touch was at once gossamer soft and iron strong upon his skin. Inquisitive fingers lingered over puckered flesh where cruel arrows had pierced his chest: scars, like so many others, which would never fully heal. Her hands moved toward the plane of his stomach and, in sudden goose-fleshed panic, he tried to stop her, to grasp her wrists, but his slumber-heavy limbs would not obey. She laughed, a sound like rain upon armour, and he was soothed as he once had been by summer storms upon the white stones of home. Still and cold, he rested in Uinen's embrace.