deep breath, deep breath

Have some weird drabble things~!

Suggestions are welcome, whoever reads these! I even turned on the anon reviews.

Also, constructive criticism is good. I'm not a fantastic writer, and I won't shout down anybody who mentions a flaw.

Because I don't think I've done this yet: I do not own The Secret of Kells. Cartoon Saloon does.

untouchable

Brendan liked heights.

It scared his uncle half to death, true, but he simply couldn't keep his feet on the ground.

The first full night back in Kells, he found himself and Pangur scaling the broken wall to see if Aisling was around. He stayed up to watch the leaves, then the stars, and then he fell asleep and awoke to watch the sun rise. And that was how it would be every night that wasn't too cold.

"Why?" Cellach had asked.

"Because, uncle…I can watch everything. I can see all the people in Kells. I can see the trees and sky." But it was more than that.

He climbed to be left alone.

Brendan loved his uncle, and he loved the people of Kells. But he had a lot on his shoulders. As the Abbot grew more haggard, he had to prepare for taking his place. He had to worry about helping the few monks that remained and to find more to restore the abbey. He had to think about if the Northmen returned. He had to keep his Uncle's health up, he had to keep their new band of hunters from killing the wolves, he had to make ink with limited supplies, he had to make more manuscripts—

So when he was frustrated, or tired, when he had a spare moment, he went up.

To where he was untouchable.

guessing

"Brendan, how old is Brother Aidan?"

"Huh?" The boy glanced at Brother Square, handing Brother Sergei some tools. "I don't know. Why do you ask?"

"See? I told you!" Brother Leonardo burst out from the scaffolding below. "Why would he tell Brendan?"

"What's this about?" Brendan asked. Everyone ignored him.

"Only because he hasn't had reason to ask!"

"It's suspicious!" Leonardo insisted.

"This is ridiculous," Sergei muttered.

Brendan tried again. "What-?"

"Vell, you know how Saint Columb-Cille began the Book of Iona two hundred years ago?" Brother Frederick called from the wall above. "How and vhen did Brother Aidan come to work vith him, I vundered. I even asked the others. But zhey don't know!"

"And we didn't want to come right out and ask him," Square mentioned, embarrassed.

Sergei turned from his stone-laying. "So they've been arguing about it day and night."

Leonardo shot his fellow Brother a glare, which morphed back into an eager expression as he glanced at the boy. "Could you do it, Brendan?"

"Um…" It felt rude, but now he was rather curious as well. "But what if it annoys him?" It probably wouldn't… but it felt odd, prying into the Master Illuminator's life like that. He'd only been around for a few weeks, after all. "And I barely know him!"

Leonardo looked downtrodden. "Well…"

"Brendan!" They all jumped at the Abbot's sudden call. "Come here! I need you to deliver these plans!"

Brendan felt a surge of relief as he left the brothers to their guessing.

puncture

Brother Tang knew that God's intervention was the only reason the Abbot wasn't dead.

Presently, he was unconscious on the floor of his room. There were no blankets to spare; his robe was removed and placed under him. Blood still soaked through, distorting the chalk designs on the floor.

Tang ordered some of the strongest men to gather herbs from the forest. The amount they managed to get was meager, though they were lucky; fresh wolf prints were found surrounding them.

All he could do to tear up some old robes to use as bandages for the stab wound. It seemed to be working alright. But the arrow…the arrow was a different matter entirely.

The arrowhead had to be physically cut out, or the wound would become infected. If left alone, death would be a certainty.

Tang held a knife in his tiny hands. It was chipped on one side, but it was better than nothing.

The men who helped with the herbs gathered around the prone Abbot's form and pinned each limb down. His teeth bared, but he did not awaken.

Tang took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry."

Cellach was drifting through mist.

Nothing in this life but mist, he thought dryly.

"Uncle?"

Cellach jerked to his left. He couldn't see who it was, but the voice was unmistakable.

"Brendan?" His voice was hoarse.

"Uncle…"

The voice was closer now, right behind him.

"Why did you fail, Uncle?"

He flinched, his face haggard. "Brendan, I—I am-"

Brendan stepped in front of him. Cellach gaped in horror at the burns—

And wordless, white-hot agony overwhelmed everything. Something was trying to tear his heart from his chest-

His eyes flew open, and all he saw was tall, dark figures pinning him down. He struggled madly, but his diminished strength did nothing more than cause more pain and blood. "St-stop!" please—

"Cellach, you mustn't-"

"Abbot! I am trying to-!"

"Uncle, why-?"

STOP

STOP IT

Everything was rushing around him and oh god it was insane—

Everything, all the pain and terror hit him at once like a fraction of his beloved Wall.

He passed out completely.

Tang breathed out a sigh of relief as the arrowhead came out.

At least it won't hurt him anymore, he thought sympathetically, reaching for a needle and thread to sew up the puncture.