The scantily clad elf girl looked rather disappointed that he hadn't accepted the healing. He hadn't meant to be rude or anything, he was just genuinely concerned about the safety of the others. And now he felt bad for upsetting her. If only he was the type of person who cared a little more about his own safety. But he wasn't, so he'd just have to deal with upsetting the scantily clad elf girl. She was about to leave when he introduced himself. After she said her own name, Lucio stared blankly for a moment as his brain tried to register the long, very Elvish, name just said. "Melerindalowen?" He said slowly and carefully, making sure he pronounced it correctly, though probably still butchered it horribly.
"I think I'll stick with Mel, by the time I called your full name in the heat of battle, one or both of us would be dead." Though the topic serious, he said it with a grin and in a light, joking tone. It was then that she yelled out something he assumed was a name and took off. He looked outside the hole in the tavern and watched her for a moment. After that he shrugged, accepting the new inn keeper's offer of letting them stay the night, though in honor of the fallen bartender, he would probably be paying her in the morning.
Though he didn't go to bed as soon as he got into the room, he spent a good while repairing his harp since it would more difficult to do it on the road. Only after he was satisfied did he finally turn in for the night.
The next morning when Lucio got up, he suddenly regretted not taking Mel's offer to heal him. His chest, ribs, and pretty every other part of his torso ached. Even something as simple as breathing hurt. And moving, well that was even worse. But he'd endure it, he had been through far worse and wasn't going to ask Mel about it after not accepting it the night before. After examining his torso he found that it was covered in blue and purple bruises. He laughed when he realized it matched his boots and his cloak.
He went downstairs and waited for everyone to gather. The girl from yesterday who had been grieving the death of the bartender introduced herself as Emilia and then handed them all some sort of potion. He eyed it warily, not liking the idea of anything that messed with his blood. Though dealing with the cold of a mountain when his thin body had a hard time dealing with normal cold, that didn't sound pleasant either. Most of the others were drinking it, so it didn't seem bad. So in the end he decided to deal with the potion and downed it. Making an unhappy expression at the taste.
When they left the town, Lucio found himself in the rear of the group. He hummed to himself to pass the time, humming some of his favorite tunes and making things up as he went. Everything was relatively peaceful, until the arrows started falling. The bard suddenly wished that he didn't have such a colorful cloak. Right now it was basically a giant target. He danced out of the way of an arrow and slipped behind a rock, a little confused by Aldred's command. How could they stay in cover and keep moving toward the entrance when they didn't even know where the arrows were coming from? He took one his daggers out, from the sheath against his lower back. The blade on the dagger was thicker than the blade on his sword, so it would easier to block arrows with it if needed. It wouldn't do him any good to throw it though, he was a terrible shot.