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Post by Deleted on Jul 9, 2021 0:21:57 GMT -7
The salty breeze blew roughly along the stony beach that Malcolm stood upon with his entirely-too-large father as the pair watched the boat bob violently along the horizon. How the skipper could handle the rough water they'd sailed on to reach this inhospitable piece of land, Malcolm could never understand. Even now, as he took deep breaths to steady himself, he felt his intestines twirl in on themselves. Hagrid, his father gave him an enthusiastic clap on the back that made Malcolm grimace.
"Ye look a bit grey there lad, are ye ok?" Hagrid enquired with a cheeky smile pushing his hairy cheeks into his eyes.
Malcolm groaned and pushed his fingers through his hair, finding that it too felt as salty as the air around them. "I'll be right Da," Malcolm replied unconvincingly and Hagrid guffawed, picking up the rucksack from the stones and lugging it over his shoulder. Right now, the son was not very keen on his father. He was told to stop his dawdling as they'd miss witnessing the 'Great Event' at this rate. At the tender age of 17, Malcolm would much rather be hiding in his bed this early in the morning than hiking up the unforgiving landscape of the Hebrides Island that was known to be home to a dragon about to hatch her eggs. Still, he pulled his own rucksack onto his back and awkwardly bounded after his father who was already trudging his way further inland.
"Ye 'ave to be careful, lad, they're cranky at the best o' times," his father was reminding Malcolm as parents are want to do on almost all occasions. Malcolm was nodding obediently as he watched the ground below his feet, trying to pick his path as carefully as possible. He didn't feel that it was right to remind Hagrid that he was a top student in the Care of Magical Creatures class and so knew all of this already. Teenagers do know everything, remember. "Quiet now. We're close - look at the bones," Hagrid indicated to where the sun bleached skeletons of deer laid haplessly on a grass outlet.
"Whoa, Da, there she is," Malcolm almost tripped over rock as a pair of bright purple eyes flashed from a dark corner of a rocky outcrop. Hagrid tried to catch his son in time, snatching at the rucksack on Malcolm's back, but instead the teenager tumbled over his own feet from the jerking motion and all too quickly he found himself only metres away from the more aggressive of the British Isles native dragons. The eyes blinked once, almost as if it were slow motion capture and Malcolm's heart began to pound inside his chest. Maybe he hadn't been seen?
"Run, Malcolm," Hagrid called to his son, motioning frantically with his hand to come back to safety. Malcolm gulped, finding that his feet were quite useless right this moment. His eyes rapidly searched for an alternative, because he could hear movement from inside the cave. There was no time. Instead, a hatchling Hibredean Black dragon had emerged from the entrance of the cave and turned its eyes on Malcolm, then Hagrid, who was now sliding halfway down the ridge to get to his son. "Ohhh! It's only a wee bern," his father said in a loud whisper. Malcolm's heart didn't stop pounding though, as the dragon stepped closer - clearly drawn by the smell of deer carcass in Malcolm's rucksack. When the young man realised, he shrugged off the package as if it were a normal thing to have a full grown deer bundled on your back - as a part giant, it really was nothing.
"Nice dragon..." Malcolm spoke in what he hoped was a calming tone, but had a definite shake to it. The hatchling was no small creature, its spiny back was clearly dangerous even this young. Its arrow-tipped tail was moving much like that of an agitated cat and it was slowly stretching out the bat-like wings, a clear show of its caution in the current situation. Malcolm tried to make quick work of the buckles on his rucksack, but ended up ripping it open instead. There were a few choice curses uttered by the son in this time, which made the elder Hagrid raise his hairy eyebrows. "Here - look. Yummm. Eat that, not me," Malcolm stepped away from his destroyed bag which now exposed the large deer carcass for the Hibredean Black. Hagrid nodded his approval as the dragon looked between the two people for a moment longer.
Then all Hell broke loose. Mum came home.
The pair should have heard the bleating of the cow on the wind, except that they were distracted by the sight of the hatchling destroying the deer before them. They certainly realised their predicament when the cow dropped from the sky to its death only metres from where they stood. The rocks around the Hagrid pair jumped off the ground as if they too were spooked and both father and son turned to see the mother dragon's descent a moment too late.
Ruebus called out, Malcolm knew that much, but the rest happened so fast. The hatchling spooked and its tail whipped violently as it turned to flee to its mother. The sharp, arrow-tip type head of it caught Malcolm's upper thigh and ripped through the pants to the flesh. It took everything within the young man to keep from screaming out in pain, one that he'd yet to experience even as a relatively 'clumsy' young man of giant-descent. That tail sliced through Malcolm's flesh as if it were butter. Ruebus scooped his child under his arm and moved so swiftly one might think he was a Niffler on the trail of some gold over the rocky outcrop. "Get the watch, lad. Left pocket," Malcolm heard his father's words and somehow managed to get the pocketwatch free of the fabric of his father's shirt. Hagrid grasped at the watch, parts of his huge hand covering Malcolm's and the sensation was almost soothing.
The next moment, there was that horrible feeling of being pulled at the navel and the pair fell heavily in the field just outside of the family home. That was when Malcolm finally let out the scream, the landing exacerbating the wound on his leg. Hagrid laid his son out on the grass and ripped at his own coat to produce a makeshift tornique. "Pressure, lad. Quick." His father was cursing now about how stupid it was that wizard-folk could easily use healing spells to sort out his mess. The curses increased in volume when he heard his wife calling out.
"Mamman, I saw one!" Malcolm said painfully through gritted teeth, trying very hard to distract both himself and Olympe from the wound in his leg. It didn't work. She'd been working as a Headmistress for too many years to be so easily fooled, she'd remind him much later. "Da is useless with a needle, you'll have to do it," Malcolm groaned through his pain, still coherent enough to make fun of his mother's insistence that she is 'just big boned'. The look he got from his Mamman could have turned him to stone. "You can't look at me like that, Ma, not when your eldest is turning the grass re...." ok yep, Malcolm promptly passed out then at the realisation of sheer amount of blood he was losing.
"Ye look grey, lad," were the last words Malcolm remembered hearing.
OOC: Thank you for reading my little story. I hoped to show the strength of the part-giant and the fact that the family were unable to use magic to help heal his wound, like typical wizards could.
"Ye look a bit grey there lad, are ye ok?" Hagrid enquired with a cheeky smile pushing his hairy cheeks into his eyes.
Malcolm groaned and pushed his fingers through his hair, finding that it too felt as salty as the air around them. "I'll be right Da," Malcolm replied unconvincingly and Hagrid guffawed, picking up the rucksack from the stones and lugging it over his shoulder. Right now, the son was not very keen on his father. He was told to stop his dawdling as they'd miss witnessing the 'Great Event' at this rate. At the tender age of 17, Malcolm would much rather be hiding in his bed this early in the morning than hiking up the unforgiving landscape of the Hebrides Island that was known to be home to a dragon about to hatch her eggs. Still, he pulled his own rucksack onto his back and awkwardly bounded after his father who was already trudging his way further inland.
"Ye 'ave to be careful, lad, they're cranky at the best o' times," his father was reminding Malcolm as parents are want to do on almost all occasions. Malcolm was nodding obediently as he watched the ground below his feet, trying to pick his path as carefully as possible. He didn't feel that it was right to remind Hagrid that he was a top student in the Care of Magical Creatures class and so knew all of this already. Teenagers do know everything, remember. "Quiet now. We're close - look at the bones," Hagrid indicated to where the sun bleached skeletons of deer laid haplessly on a grass outlet.
"Whoa, Da, there she is," Malcolm almost tripped over rock as a pair of bright purple eyes flashed from a dark corner of a rocky outcrop. Hagrid tried to catch his son in time, snatching at the rucksack on Malcolm's back, but instead the teenager tumbled over his own feet from the jerking motion and all too quickly he found himself only metres away from the more aggressive of the British Isles native dragons. The eyes blinked once, almost as if it were slow motion capture and Malcolm's heart began to pound inside his chest. Maybe he hadn't been seen?
"Run, Malcolm," Hagrid called to his son, motioning frantically with his hand to come back to safety. Malcolm gulped, finding that his feet were quite useless right this moment. His eyes rapidly searched for an alternative, because he could hear movement from inside the cave. There was no time. Instead, a hatchling Hibredean Black dragon had emerged from the entrance of the cave and turned its eyes on Malcolm, then Hagrid, who was now sliding halfway down the ridge to get to his son. "Ohhh! It's only a wee bern," his father said in a loud whisper. Malcolm's heart didn't stop pounding though, as the dragon stepped closer - clearly drawn by the smell of deer carcass in Malcolm's rucksack. When the young man realised, he shrugged off the package as if it were a normal thing to have a full grown deer bundled on your back - as a part giant, it really was nothing.
"Nice dragon..." Malcolm spoke in what he hoped was a calming tone, but had a definite shake to it. The hatchling was no small creature, its spiny back was clearly dangerous even this young. Its arrow-tipped tail was moving much like that of an agitated cat and it was slowly stretching out the bat-like wings, a clear show of its caution in the current situation. Malcolm tried to make quick work of the buckles on his rucksack, but ended up ripping it open instead. There were a few choice curses uttered by the son in this time, which made the elder Hagrid raise his hairy eyebrows. "Here - look. Yummm. Eat that, not me," Malcolm stepped away from his destroyed bag which now exposed the large deer carcass for the Hibredean Black. Hagrid nodded his approval as the dragon looked between the two people for a moment longer.
Then all Hell broke loose. Mum came home.
The pair should have heard the bleating of the cow on the wind, except that they were distracted by the sight of the hatchling destroying the deer before them. They certainly realised their predicament when the cow dropped from the sky to its death only metres from where they stood. The rocks around the Hagrid pair jumped off the ground as if they too were spooked and both father and son turned to see the mother dragon's descent a moment too late.
Ruebus called out, Malcolm knew that much, but the rest happened so fast. The hatchling spooked and its tail whipped violently as it turned to flee to its mother. The sharp, arrow-tip type head of it caught Malcolm's upper thigh and ripped through the pants to the flesh. It took everything within the young man to keep from screaming out in pain, one that he'd yet to experience even as a relatively 'clumsy' young man of giant-descent. That tail sliced through Malcolm's flesh as if it were butter. Ruebus scooped his child under his arm and moved so swiftly one might think he was a Niffler on the trail of some gold over the rocky outcrop. "Get the watch, lad. Left pocket," Malcolm heard his father's words and somehow managed to get the pocketwatch free of the fabric of his father's shirt. Hagrid grasped at the watch, parts of his huge hand covering Malcolm's and the sensation was almost soothing.
The next moment, there was that horrible feeling of being pulled at the navel and the pair fell heavily in the field just outside of the family home. That was when Malcolm finally let out the scream, the landing exacerbating the wound on his leg. Hagrid laid his son out on the grass and ripped at his own coat to produce a makeshift tornique. "Pressure, lad. Quick." His father was cursing now about how stupid it was that wizard-folk could easily use healing spells to sort out his mess. The curses increased in volume when he heard his wife calling out.
"Mamman, I saw one!" Malcolm said painfully through gritted teeth, trying very hard to distract both himself and Olympe from the wound in his leg. It didn't work. She'd been working as a Headmistress for too many years to be so easily fooled, she'd remind him much later. "Da is useless with a needle, you'll have to do it," Malcolm groaned through his pain, still coherent enough to make fun of his mother's insistence that she is 'just big boned'. The look he got from his Mamman could have turned him to stone. "You can't look at me like that, Ma, not when your eldest is turning the grass re...." ok yep, Malcolm promptly passed out then at the realisation of sheer amount of blood he was losing.
"Ye look grey, lad," were the last words Malcolm remembered hearing.
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OOC: Thank you for reading my little story. I hoped to show the strength of the part-giant and the fact that the family were unable to use magic to help heal his wound, like typical wizards could.
