[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.

[fallenlomion]

He bites down reflexively, still half trying to pull away, not fully conscious - at that question, rolls his eyes over to look at Caranthir, still terrified, wary, hardly thinking for fear and shock and pain.

Like we said, not used to this, and that hurts.

[elven_irs]

Caranthir sighs and goes to fetch a warm poker from the hearth. "Now, boy. I may have to tie you up if you move. Should I do that?"

[fallenlomion]

Maeglin's eyes follow Caranthir, and then he really panics, fights to shove himself off the bed with a wild kind of strength and hits the floor with a pained noise.

There are vague memories, hovering where he doesn't want to look, of fire and dark things and pain.

[elven_irs]

Caranthir sighs - heavily, and puts the poker away, reaching to gather Maeglin in his arms if he lets him.

[fallenlomion]

He fights, but weakly, with a little panicked noise of not quite coherence, and he can't straighten for the pain that causes. "Helpme-"

[elven_irs]

"Hush -- alright," he just takes him and holds him close. "Lomion, can you hear me?"

[fallenlomion]

He cries a little, leaks some tears, and bites his lip. "--y--yes, I-" But if it isn't you, and it huuuurts why does it hurt and what were you going to do to me augh.

[elven_irs]

"You're wounded. I have to cauterize your wound and stitch you. It will hurt, but it will save your life. Do you understand?"

[fallenlomion]

"I don't want to die," quietly, and breathless, and goes a little limp, accepting it. "--all right. I can't - all right. I don't want to die."

[elven_irs]

His tone is uncharacteristically gentle. "You're not going to die, boy. You're going to suffer, but you'll live. You'll be stronger for it. Look at me. Look at me, Lomion. Show me that you're a proud son of the house of Finwe."

[fallenlomion]

Another tiny shudder, but he looks up, still a little dazed, but a bit more focused. "--all right."

[elven_irs]

"Alright. I'm going to put this between your teeth, so that you don't bite your tongue. If you think you can hold still, I won't bind you. Scream as much as you need."

[fallenlomion]

He nods, still a little shakily, but trying very hard to be braver, because he doesn't want to shame his family, or Caranthir, really. "--I can hold still."

His face is paler than usual, and he wobbles a little.

[elven_irs]

"Good boy." He gives him a smile. "I'll make it quick." Caranthir pats his shoulder, slips the biting piece in Maeglin's mouth, and sighs, before he goes to get the poker.

[fallenlomion]

He sinks down back onto the bed, hand over the wound and still shaking a little. Just looking at the wall and trying to send his mind somewhere else.