The silence was deafening, and it gave me an uncomfortable feeling, a kind of prescience of something bad. Climbing the stairs, I came to my own door, put my bag and my coat where they were supposed to be, then ran down the stairs again to Paul's door. I didn't even have to knock before he opened it, and he did not look happy.
'What happened?' I gasped, now stressed to my limits with anxiety,
'something bad has happened, hasn't it? You look fine, so it's Lukas. Where is he?' Paul, looking grey and very tired, didn't try to calm me down but rather went in, expecting me to follow him. We took the stairs down to the living area, and I followed Paul to the sofa with a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Lukas was hanging on the couch, conscious but moaning in pain. His face was grey. I ran towards him and kneeled before him, taking his hands. When he looked up to see me, I nearly fainted. I saw his head with his now plentiful tight brown curls, but one of his proud horns was missing, and in the place of the other there was a bloody cloth. His hair was matted with blood, and he looked more dead than alive.
I heard myself crying out: 'What have you done?' It was Lukas himself who answered me in a near-whisper: 'I wanted to go outside, so I had Paul trim my horns as he trimmed my feet. It didn't work out as I planned.'
He held his arms out to me feebly, so I sat next to him and took him in my
arms. Then I looked at Paul and asked him: 'How bad is it? Will he..'
Paul, looking nearly as bad as Lukas in stress and guilt, shook his head. 'I don't think it's that bad, but he has lost a lot of blood and he is in terrible pain.
He needs a doctor, but how could we? It's just too dangerous.
The pain medication I have doesn't seem to work, and I'm afraid of infection.
I'm so sorry Melissa, you trusted me to take care of him, and I failed miserably.'
I just couldn't understand why Lukas hadn't asked me to examine his horns first, I had a solid reputation now for seeing through all kinds of materials. Of course I didn't know if I could see through horn as well as metals and stone, but I could have tried, and I said so.
Lukas seemed to shrink into himself even more as he answered weakly: 'I didn't want you to know, I thought you'd try to stop me, you never wanted to even discuss it.' It pained me to see him cowed as well as terribly hurt, and my fear and shock took over and I started to cry quietly.
He was right, I had never wanted to discuss it, even when I could see how unhappy he was. In a small voice he asked: 'Will you stroke me a little?' I caressed his curls, his stubbled cheeks, his dear face. I needed the comfort myself. What if we lost him, what would I do?
Paul had sat down next to me, and comforted me as I held Lukas. My stroking seemed to help Lukas' pain, or maybe Paul's medicine had finally started to work, for Lukas slowly relaxed and dozed off. His breathing was regular, his pulse was strong, and his temperature was normal, so I willed myself to calm down and weigh the options.
I said: 'Will you tell me what happened Paul, and do you think I should 'feel'
the stumps to see if I can learn something more, of what to do now?' He nodded, replied: 'I'll tell you first, then you decide.
We had breakfast in my kitchen as usual, then worked on that big boiler together. Suddenly he told me he saw no possible way to ever find his home again, time, place or reality, and that he was desperately unhappy despite having you to love and nice work to do. So he had decided he would adapt to our society even further, having already gotten used to wearing clothes, having learned English and a craft to make a living at.
He now wanted me to remove his horns so he could exercise outside and be among people. I didn't want to do it at first, not without you present and approving. But he told me he was his own person, and I couldn't deny that.
He told me it would be easy, he drew a mark on each horn to where it would be safe to cut it. Any shorter, he said, and it would bleed and there would be a hole in his skull as result. That didn't do much to give me faith, but he was so sure it would be fine, I did it.
I'm starting to think he 'nudged' me into it, gave me a little mental push. If so, he's very subtle, for I never noticed. Also, it's not very ethical, we don't allow it in our community.
Anyway, I marked the horn clearly where he had indicated, and he braced himself against the anvil. I used the fine toothed saw. The first one went reasonably well, except that he hadn't told me it would hurt like hell.
He didn't scream but I could tell he was in agony,. I couldn't stop with his horn half through though, that would be asking for infections.
The first one done, the pain seemed to go away quickly, and the stump did indeed disappear under his hair. He wanted me to start on the other one straight away, I protested, but I agreed anyway.
I think we'll have to have a talk about ethics as soon as he's a bit better. I didn't even notice, I realize only now. The other one hurt even worse, and when it came off, blood spurted out and he fainted. I managed to stop the flow, but he had lost a lot of blood and when he came to he was in agony and very weak.
I couldn't see a hole through his skull, but it can still get infected, threatening his life.' At this point I decided it was time to touch the stumps, trying to 'feel'
their structure. I started with the one that had been a success, if one could call this mutilation a success
I could feel Paul steadying me, and searched through the curls to find the stump and touched it. I did feel something, there was no grid or tone, but a structure like roof tiles, layer over layer of flattened shapes. This was the outside layer, the dead horn so to speak.
The inside was clearly living tissue, a flow of small bits of several different shapes and sizes beneath the 'roof' of roof tiles The flow went round, coming up and going down. I got a colour impression of clear red. I felt no wrongness or weak points, though the top layer of roof tiles was damaged.
This stump seemed relatively unscathed, despite the pain Lukas suffered. I decided to use the feel of this stump to compare the damaged one to.
Chapter 12
When I came back to myself, Paul was holding me tenderly, his worries and weariness finally getting the better of his self-control. I realized he had been through a lot, too, having done this to his friend, seeing him terribly hurt and having to deal with the consequences, and only now realising that he had been manipulated into doing it.
I decided to take a few minutes to comfort him first, Lukas was fast asleep and he didn't bleed through the cloth. It was Paul's turn now. I turned towards him as well as I could, and returned his embrace, guiding his head to my shoulder and stroking his curls, kissing his face and finally, his lips.
He answered my kiss eagerly, though not exactly passionately, the situation was too serious for passion. When we both had received some comfort from our intimacy, we broke off the kiss and turned our attention back to our dear friend.
I carefully removed the cloth and braced myself for what I would get to see.
The wound started to bleed again sluggishly, and I put the cloth back, keeping pressure on it until the bleeding stopped again. I said: 'This won't work, I'll have to work around the cloth,' and I did.
Touching the stump, I started to look for the similarities with the healthy one, and soon found the same roof tile structure around a flowing centre. But of course, the roof was missing here, and the flow was directed upward mainly instead of going back down again. Without the cloth, my dear lover would bleed out, that much was clear.
One of the components of the flow, biggish squares, were stuck together in several places, apparently trying to repair the damage, but not succeeding because the power of the upward flow was too strong. There was no sign of infection yet, bleeding was the main problem, and I thought the square parts would be able to stop the gap with a bit of help.
I knew what to do, and Paul would have to deliver it.
Back with Paul, I told him: 'I've seen what the problem is, and without your help he will bleed out. His body is trying to st
op the blood flow, but the gap
is too large and the flow too strong. We will need to help it.
You will have to make a cap for the stump, directing the flow in the horn down again. The square bits in his blood will then close the leaks and hopefully keep infection out. I don't think Paul understood what I said, but he was eager to do something to help.
He asked: 'Do you have silver or gold? Copper and even bronze are poisonous when in direct contact to blood.' I didn't hesitate for a second and told him: 'I have a jewellery-case in my cupboard in the bedroom. Take what looks the purest to you and use it to save Lukas.
The cap needs to close the hole, you're the artist, you can make it work.' Paul replied: 'I will bring it here and we'll select the best parts together. You know metals as well as I do by now.
I want to take some extra time to make the cap beautiful, Lukas wouldn't like to wear something that is just functional, can we spare the time?' I checked his vitals, deciding the bleeding had stopped and finding his pulse still strong and said: ' Yes please, Paul. He would appreciate that. Would you mind carrying him upstairs to our bed first?
He cannot stay on a couch, he will have to rest for some time I'm afraid.'
Paul looked at me apologetically, and replied: 'I know I promised you not to show you my bedroom until I was ready to become physically intimate with you. Will you mind my breaking that promise under the circumstances, and take Lukas to my own bed instead? It is large enough for all of us, and he will need a lot of care that will be easier to share.'
Touched, I told him: 'I will not mind at all, I didn't want to impose upon you but it will be much easier to share.' I didn't think Lukas would be up to much lovemaking in the state he was in. 'Could you move him first, and then hunt out the jewellery and make the cap?'
In answer, he carefully lifted Lukas off my lap, giving me time to get up and keep the pressure on the cloth covering the wound. Lukas mumbled a little when he was lifted, but he did not wake up. He was not very heavy, being so skinny, but I didn't feel comfortable lifting him up a stairs, and Paul was very strong from his work at the forge, so he carried Lukas upstairs easily, opening the door of his bedroom with an elbow.
The bedroom was not what I had imagined from the rest of his Gothic palace.
It was rather stark and bare in comparison, with whitewashed walls and a plain wood floor. The bed was huge but not a four-poster with beautiful
metalwork as I expected, rather a really thick mattress with no visible frame.
I didn't look around more, for by now Paul had carefully laid Lukas on the lush bed, covering him with a pristine white duvet. I sat on the bed beside him, stroking his curls. Paul brought some towels, saying: 'If he starts bleeding again, here are some clean towels. Don't worry about the duvet, Lukas is worth a lot more to me.' I handed him the keys, and kissed him once more, a bit sad that circumstances were keeping us apart once more.
After the kiss, Paul left. I looked around me, and saw that the starkness of the room was not that. The room was decorated, only very subtly, with structures and textures instead of colours and with beautiful woods and textiles instead of precious metals and intense labour.
There were three landscape paintings in water colours on the walls, very minimalistic, of steep hills clad with thick forest, dotted with wooden houses built in an almost alien style. I was really curious about their origins, but at that moment Lukas woke up a bit, watching me silently from under his blood-soaked curls. He felt for my hand with one of his, and I took it in both mine.
He spoke softly: 'That was a foolish thing to do, I'm sorry Melissa, I should have asked you. Why do I feel so weak?' I barely kept myself from crying, and answered: 'You've lost a lot of blood dearest. I think we've found a solution, Paul's working on it. Are you in pain?'
Lukas blinked, and said in surprise: 'Actually, I'm not, must be that painkiller finally working. What is this place?' I replied: 'It's Paul's bedroom, it was closer than ours.'
That didn't go well with Lukas: 'Now I feel even more guilty. You weren't supposed to see that yet. Melissa, I nudged him to do it, he didn't want to without you present. He was right, and now I've taken his moment with you as well. I can't ever face him again.'
Though I felt for him, I was glad of his guilt, for it meant he was thinking clearly and not near death, and also, he apparently did have some morals to work with. I wrapped my arms around him carefully, kissed him wherever I dared, and said: 'Paul knows you nudged him, and you'll get a lecture for that once you're a bit better.
And as for seeing the bedroom, we'll find another way to make our first time special. Don't worry, just try to get better. You scared us.' Lukas now said:
'I'll be fine, you'll see.'
And with that, he fell asleep again, still breathing regularly, with a normal temperature and his heart beating strongly. But I still worried.
Then Paul came in with my jewellery box, and looked at me with longing before he sat down next to me. Together we checked the contents, and we decided to sacrifice a thick silver bracelet that was very pure in its silver-content.
'Gold would be slightly better, but I'd need to use every bit you have and purify it first. That would take too much time, and I find silver a better match for our friend,' he said, and I agreed totally. 'I'll melt it down, then beat it into shape. I can make two caps out of the bracelet, but I'll do the second one later. It will take me at least an hour, for I need to boil it clean as well. I thought of using glue to fasten it?'
That seemed wisest to me also, and I told him so. He put the box to the side and left with the bracelet. The challenge had clearly made him forget some of his worries, and I pictured him at his forge, whistling and making ornamentation. But how would he make it to fit without taking measurements?
Then I thought of the horn ends, he probably still had them in his workshop. I decided to snuggle close to Lukas, give him as much love and warmth as I could, and even dozed a bit, tired of the shock.
I woke up from my doze with a well-known hot feeling between my legs.
That couldn't be? But it was. My badly hurt goat-like lover was still motionless on the top side, he even seemed asleep, innocent face, now even more innocent from the lack of horns sticking out of his mop of curls, still a bit slack, the bloody cloth still in place, fortunately.
But the lower side had manoeuvred itself between my legs, my underwear had been moved aside, I guess by a nimble hand, and I was totally filled up with his penis in the way I knew and liked so well. This must truly be a survival instinct, I thought, if he does it without being conscious.
It still felt really good, and not just to me, for Lukas' face was no longer sleepy now but positively lustful and he groaned a bit. I decided not to give myself up to passion this time, but to keep an eye on his vitals and especially his open stump. There was no use to him making love to gain strength, if it caused his wound to start bleeding again.
So I spread my legs a bit more to give him easy access in a way that would allow his upper body to remain still, and kept a close eye on the cloth that
kept his horn from bleeding him out. He took it a lot easier than usual, but even so I felt my passion rising fast. The weirdness of it all was almost too much to take in, but my body couldn't care less.
It started to move in time with his thrusting, and now I got a reaction from the face. Lukas smiled at me broadly, apparently not feeling his state when he was making love. 'I'm sorry love, that was my body surviving again,' he said, not apologetically at all.
'Mind your head,' I said, 'I don't want to lose you.' He only said: 'I will, don't worry. I want to make love to you in the forest, and whilst swimming.' And then he speeded up, and I had a hard time not losing myself in bliss, but I managed.
When he came, he was dead tired, but he looked less bad than I expected, and at least he didn't bleed. He stayed awake long enough to kiss me and thank me, then he was asleep in a second. I smoothed my underwear and skirt, and snuggled up beside him
again, ready for action when Paul came back with the cap.
Which didn't take long, apparently I had slept for some time. I carefully crept out of the bed, and joined him to admire his handiwork in the hall, where it was light. It was beautifully made, the silver shone on a relief of people making love in the most intriguing positions.
Around this scene was an ornamentation of geometrical shapes. The edges were slightly lowered, designed to fit over the stump and keep out infections.
He also carried a pot of strong glue and a feather to apply it with. A large pair of tweezers completed the outfit.
He carefully put down the stuff, feather and cap protected by a meticulously clean cloth. Then he asked me if I was hungry. I told him: 'No, but I need to use the privy before doing anything that takes time and requires precision.' So I did, and he opened the curtains to let in as much light as possible and put his stuff within reach.
I woke up Lukas, and told him we were going to close off his wound with a silver cap, and to let us know if we hurt him too much. Then I sat on his other side with a cloth to keep the bleeding down whilst Paul was working, ready to 'feel' if the cap was set right.
Lukas was sleepy but aware. Paul gave him another pillow behind his head, to keep it in the right position. 'Keep nice and still now, Lukas, I'm going to glue something on your stump,' he said quietly, and dipped the feather in the
glue.
Lukas sounded really small as he told Paul: 'I'm sorry I nudged you Paul, made you do this to me. And you're nice even now, saving my sorry life.'
Paul retorted: 'Oh, I'll get my value out of you yet, mate, and to do that you need to be strong and healthy.'
But he relented and told Lukas: 'I love you too, Lukas, and I'd do a lot more to save you.' And then he nodded to me to remove the bloody cloth, which I did, wiping the wound clean and keeping the blood welling up from obscuring Paul's view. He spread the glue on the sides and on the bone part of the top with the feather, then without the slightest hesitation pressed the silver cap on top of the glue and clamped it shut with the tweezers.
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