A/N: This is a follow-up to my drabble "Fascinate".
Practice Makes Perfect
The travelling players had departed Ealdor, but not before teaching young Merlin a new skill: juggling.
Merlin was so excited at having learned how to juggle that he spent every spare moment tossing three stones up in the air, passing them hand-to-hand and seeing how long he could go without dropping any.
He was quite proud of his skill, which is why when Hunith asked him to bring her some eggs, he decided to show off his hard-won talent.
"Look Mama," he crowed as he tossed the eggs high in the air, one after the other, quickly moving them from hand to hand in a figure eight.
"Merlin!" said Hunith looking up from her work. "Stop playing and please bring me the eggs."
Merlin grinned at his mother and began walking across the room, still juggling the eggs. Previously, he had always stood rooted in place while tossing the stones and the young lad was quickly discovering that walking while juggling required a great deal more concentration than expected.
Watching her son, Hunith smiled slightly and gave an exasperated sigh. He'd been at this for almost a week now. In fact, the previous evening Merlin had announced that when he was grown up he was going to join a troupe of players and become the greatest juggler in the land. While she couldn't fault her son's imagination, Hunith was getting a little tired of the constant "slap, slap, slap" sound that the stones made as Merlin caught and then tossed them up again.
Merlin was about four paces from the table when he looked up to gauge his mother's reaction to his display. The tip of his tongue was caught between his teeth and his eyes were bright with joy. He was almost there! He'd done it!
And that's when the inevitable occurred. When he looked up, Merlin's eyes left the eggs for a split second, but that was all it took. Suddenly, he could no longer pick out the individual items and his brain seemed to stutter. His hands lost their rhythm and were suddenly grabbing at empty air.
He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but the next thing he knew, Merlin was standing still with an eggshell sitting atop his head and the slimly feeling of the yolk sliding through his hair and down his forehead. The second egg had hit his shoulder, resulting in a dripping tunic and shell on the floor at his feet.
Wiping egg out of his eyes, young Merlin looked up at his mother who was gripping the sides of the bowl in front of her and trying desperately not to laugh out loud at her son.
Smiling sheepishly, Merlin raised his right hand and opened his palm. Laying there was the last egg, miraculously undamaged.
"Here, Mama," said Merlin earnestly. "The egg, just like you asked."