No. 10: Oops, I did it again / hospital / flare-up / ice chips

Whumpee: Elyan

Elyan had always loved to create things, and from an early age, his father taught him how to create things on their family forge. He never once regretted becoming a knight, though he did miss the opportunity to create little things from iron and steel… a fact that he told Gwen on one of their sibling walks around the castle one day.

"I still have Dad's forge," she said. "After he died, another blacksmith took over his spot, but I couldn't get myself to get rid of his beautiful forge."

Elyan had smiled. She had always been the sweet, sentimental one. "Do you think I could use it to tinker on one of my days off?"

And so they had fallen into a rhythm. Elyan had spent one whole morning off setting up the forge to the side of the small house they had all grown up in, and started to create again. Small fish for little boys to play with, a hook or handle for the couple down the street, a post to tie up a horse for the tavernkeeper… Everyone knew that Elyan was a knight first, but he soon became a popular spot on his few days off for those small toys or things that the other farrier was too busy for.

All those hours with Tom on his forge were made worth it, as Elyan learnt again how to twist certain things, when the metal was just hot enough, and when it was ready for moulding into one form or another.

The first time it happened was simply an accident: two boys were playing with makeshift kites and one ran into Elyan right when he was transferring a long metal rod from the forge and into the pan of cold water. "Ow!" he couldn't help saying as the metal rod dug into his arm. Gwen had been a right mother hen that night, giving him plenty of water and a cold compress of ice from the castle kitchens.

The second time, it was a runaway horse that spooked him as he was turning a horse shoe on the anvil. "Ack!" His skin had just started to peel and blister from the first time, and now there was a fresh new burn to add to his arm. Though his apron was helpful for his body and legs, it didn't cover anything on his arms.

Elyan knew that Gwen would go into full mother hen mode at the news of a second burn, but luckily, she wasn't at home that day. He wrapped his arm in a clean, wet bandage, finished his shoe, and started for the citadel. Perhaps Gaius would have a remedy for the burns.

By the time Elyan had reached the castle, his arm was smarting. It seemed to have a heartbeat all on its own, thumping along at his side. He hurried off to Gaius's chambers, turning the door and running smack into… his sister. "Hey, sis," he tried playing it casually.

"What are you doing here?" She was automatically defensive, eyes prying around his every joint. Finally, she noticed the sopping wet bandage on his left forearm, right in the place where he had gotten his burn a few days ago. "Do you need Gaius to look at your arm? When I saw it the other day, it seemed to be healing OK."

Elyan shuffled his feet. "Ah, well… it happened again. There was a horse, and I was just turning the shoe for old man Whitaker's horse."

Gwen's eyebrows rose – not unsimilar to Gaius's eyebrow of doom, Elyan noted. "Well. If there's a place where you need to be, this is it. Gaius is out, though – I've been waiting for some medicine for Geoffrey," she explained. "I told him I'd bring it to him, since it's hard for him to trek up all those stairs."

They spent a few awkward moments where Gwen still acted mad at Elyan for getting hurt – even if it wasn't his fault, he kept reminding himself.

When Gaius came in from his visit to the lower town, he tut-tutted at Elyan for his multiple burns. "Keep cold compresses on it for the remainder of the week – and don't use that arm for much." Gwen was going to tell Arthur to keep Elyan off of official knight duty for the week, which left him to do nothing other than to sketch out his latest toys for the lower townspeople while also rotating between cold compresses and ice for his skin.

Two days later, Gwen stopped by Elyan's rooms to see how he was doing, and she had a long, rectangular package in her arms. She had spent her days sewing him his own arm sleeves using the same protective leather from Tom's old apron.

Perhaps there was something to be said about being the sentimental one.

-Fin-