[Crackplot] Boom tomorrow. Always a boom tomorrow.

[big_bad_melkor]

Morgoth has been observing. More to the point, he's been paying shrewd attention. The witches - by which he means the Edain and the Elda who have fought him before - are distracted. He has noticed the Merlin's increased reluctance to use magic. All this became very convenient... when he saw that suddenly there was a breach in the fabric of this

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[fallenlomion]

Maeglin wanders in from outside, a sense of uneasiness crawling down his spine, but not intense enough to get him really on his toes. There's always something to be uneasy about, after all - he doesn't want to overreact to everything. Even if he is not pleased with the past few days and all over fuming, again, about his treatment (as he thinks of it) in Gondolin.

However, something, or nothing, catches his eye, and he wheels around, nervously tense, and grabs a small table reflexively.

Maeglin has good reflexes, but not quite good enough from that distance. And there is nothing he hates more than pain. Screaming, therefore, curled into himself amid the wreckage from the table and, well, bleeding. Though it seems to be mostly superficial.

[elven_irs]

Caranthir was wandering back inside, his hand somewhat wounded from having had his hunting knife's handle explode on contact - this makes him in a worse mood than usual.

When he hears Maeglin's cries, he comes over, kneels.

"Hey, hey, boy." Just trying to get him to notice that his not!uncle is here.

[fallenlomion]

Screams do fade to whimpers, eyes rolling over to look at Caranthir a little wildly - "It hurts," he says, "It hurts," And from where Caranthir is now, it might be more visible that while it's small as of yet, there's a small puddle of blood from where a sharp lance of wood has impaled him.

[elven_irs]

... "Eru, boy, don't move," he says, calmly and competently. "I need to get this out of you. Look at me," he orders. "Look into my eyes. Now. Alright?"

[fallenlomion]

Still terrified, and he shakes a little, curling up more in panic. "No," he says, "No, don't," But is looking at him, at least, helplessly, doesn't really want to look anywhere else. And, well, it's the most comforting face he's seen in a while. All the same, though - it hurts, and he's afraid he's going to die even if he's not close at this point, and he wasn't expecting it at all.

We don't like surprises.

[elven_irs]

"Keep looking," he orders him, eyes delving into his. "And count with me. I'll remove it on ten. Alright?"

Caranthir's hand settles around the piece.

[fallenlomion]

Another faint whimper and his hands slip, scrabble a little, trying to stop Caranthir. "Don't, stop, you're moving it-" There's a slight glaze of shock in his eyes, though he's still staring at Caranthir like he's the only solid thing in the whole world.

[elven_irs]

"I'm removing it, boy. Look at me." And he'll count to ten as promised, but will remove the spike on 5, unexpectedly.

[fallenlomion]

"No," he whimpers again, but that's mostly because he doesn't know anything about this, not really, and anything hurts, and it might hurt more than it being there, and and and. It's not precisely logical. At any rate, he takes a shaky breath to try to count with him, can't quite, definitely anxious, though.

When Cara pulls it out, even cleanly, he screams once, sharply, and faints.

Sorry, Caranthir. He's not used to this, not really. And he does not do well with physical pain, at all.

[elven_irs]

Caranthir sighs, but simply throws the spike away, picking up Maeglin in his arms carefully.

[fallenlomion]

Of course, now that it's out, the bleeding is a bit more copious, but at least a limp, dead so to speak weight is probably easier than thrashing panicky not!nephew, so you know, could be worse. On the other hand, this probably just means he's falling again. Life sucks, today.

[elven_irs]

Caranthir will lay him on his own bed - he doesn't even reflect on what to do. He'll just find something to clean the wound with and examine the wound.

[fallenlomion]

He starts to wake up a few moments later, though slowly, like swimming out of murky water - and with plenty of warning, not initially aware of everything that's going on. For Caranthir - it's not all the way through him, but it was a long piece of wood, punched through his stomach muscles and from there most of the way through. It's a bit of a messy wound, but it's not fatal, or even mortal - painful as hell and there's always a higher risk of infection, but nothing seems to be punctured.

[elven_irs]

After a moment's hesitation, Caranthir determines that Maeglin's wound can be cauterized and stitched. He sighs, to himself. Noticing that the boy is waking, he says, "Hey there."

[fallenlomion]

And will need to be, and probably watched, but that's for others to deal with, we imagine. Another small twitch and he makes a small, pained sound, half opens his eyes, already reflexively trying to tug away from any examining hands.

[elven_irs]

"Don't move, boy," Caranthir says, calmly. He grabs a biting stick and shoves it between his teeth. "It's going to hurt. It's necessary. Do you trust me?"