Fic! (Because I don't have enough on my plate already.)
Title: Bend The Arch.
Author:binglejells
Rating: PG
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin (sort of) established relationship.
Length: 1430
Warnings: None.
Spoilers:None.
Disclaimer:Merlin and Co. belong to the BBC and Shine. I own nothing.
Author‘s Note: Many thanks to nahara who very kindly looked this over for me. This was written in a two hour whirlwind after I decided to bring two of my favourite things together. I have been a recurve archer for two years now. I love my sport and I love my fandom. Much to my delight, they go together great :D
Bend The Arch.
“Hook the loop and arch the bend, hook the loop and arch the- OUCH!”
The bow, with all its ornately carved splendour, really was quite beautiful for something designed to kill things. It was nothing like a cross bow, all pointy angles, ugly and sharp. This bow had long, perfect curvature, it was taller than Merlin was and so gloriously smooth under his fingertips. This kind of weapon he didn’t mind holding that much, at least it felt nice and light.
It would have been helpful if he knew how to string it though. Why Arthur couldn’t just leave the string on every time he finished with it was beyond Merlin. It seemed a much easier option than dancing around, standing, pulling, pushing and reaching all over the place to get the string back on.
Merlin had been watching the other knights, they had been standing in their places ready for the tournament to start for quite some time. Their squires seemed to know the drill, it didn’t look too difficult and Arthur’s hook and pull instructions sounded simple enough. Having it explained and doing it right, however, were apparently miles apart.
He’d already snapped himself in the face twice with the string when he’d neglected to make sure it was fitted in to the nooks properly. He’d tangled himself up in knots with the long bow stringer, almost poked Sir Gareth’s squire’s eye out and his back was aching from trying (and failing) to stretch the bow far enough for the string to catch itself into the nook.
“The tournament does start today, Merlin. You’ve been messing about out here for an hour. The other archers are getting ready to line up on the felid.” Arthur sounded none too happy at the current state of his equipment, and Merlin put the bow down with a frustrated sigh, rubbing his palm over the sore spot on his face.
“I’m not messing around, I’m trying to string that thing. You said hook and pull, you didn’t say I’d have to stand on it and break my back,” Merlin grumbled, bending to untangle the string from around his foot.
Arthur let out an annoyed sound and took the bow from him, snatching the string from his hands and the stringer from the equipment table outside their tent.
“Come here and pay attention,” Arthur ground out, and disappeared through the flap of his tent. “Now, watch very carefully.”
Merlin stood in the middle of the tent with arms crossed and brow furrowed as Arthur expertly hooked the string loops over each end of the bow and fitted one end in to the nook. He then placed the stringer over each end of the limbs, leather catches secured safely, stood on the stringer cord and pulled the bow up into a perfect arch, where the second string loop slid in the limb nook perfectly.
Why hadn’t it happened that easily for him? He was a bout to sputter at the unfairness of it all, but Arthur was already bending his knees and unhooking the string loops once more. Merlin watched as the bow straightened out and the string dropped inertly to the floor.
“What are you doing? You had it ready to go, you were complaining a moment ago that you’ll be l-”
“Shut up and come here,” Arthur replied, holding his hands out and beckoning Merlin to stand in front him.
Merlin complied, jumping slightly when Arthur reached both arms around him, holding the bow in front of them.
“Take the bow,” the prince commanded.
Merlin took it, swallowing hard at the feeling of Arthur’s breath ghosting over the back of his neck.
“Now, hold it lightly, don’t grip it too tight,” Arthur said, looking over Merlin’s shoulder, his neck straining to see how his servant was doing. Merlin was taller, but he could just see Merlin’s long, surprisingly elegant fingers sliding smoothly over the wood. “Good, now put the string loops over each end and just lock the bottom one in place. Push the other one further down the other end of the bow.”
Merlin did as he was told, his movements slow, his face pinched in concentration and at the ever increasing awareness of Arthur at his back. He could feel warm, red heat flushing up his neck, the prince’s arms blocking him in and preventing him from squirming away to a safer place. Arthur made no move to let him go though, instead he stepped closer, so close Merlin could feel Arthur’s knee brushing against the back of his own leg and for a moment he thought it might just collapse from under him.
“Take the stringer, put the leather cap over the bottom limb and pull the leather holder over the top of the nook at the other end of the bow.” Arthur’s voice came from just below his ear, and that time he couldn’t suppress a shiver.
Merlin let Arthur guide him, reminding himself to keep on top of what he was doing and not imagine other things. Like Arthur on top if him. Later. In Arthur’s chambers when the tournament was over and Arthur would be on a high from winning. He would strip the leather chest and arm guards, bathe him with scented water and bring Arthur back down to earth with wet kisses and sharp nips, reminding him of other skills he could put to good use besides piercing the centre gold on the archery targets.
“Are you paying attention, Merlin?” Arthur’s voice was sultry, the tiniest, teasing brush of lips against Merlin’s earlobe, which had him swallowing a whimper, and he nodded enthusiastically, his voice failing him.
“I hope you are,” came the slow, deep reply.“Because I won’t be demonstrating this again. Next time you’re on your own.”
Merlin let out a shaky breath and cleared his throat, standing straighter and even daring to press back just a little bit to feel the warm leather chest guard strapped over Arthur’s left breast pressing against his shoulder blade.
“Stand on the loose cord from the bow stringer, that’s it, all the way on.” Arthur guided Merlin forward, nudging first one knee, then the other with his own legs and remained pressing snug against his back, until he could see the string under Merlin’s boots.
“Hold the bow underneath and lift up slowly until it arches in your hands.”
Merlin’s hands were shaking. Merlin’s hands were sweating. Merlin’s hands were longing to have a strong, golden prince arching under them but for now it was just this long, ash wood bow and while it was beautiful, it paled in comparison to the man at his back.
“Slide the string up the arch, just let it come, smooth and easy.” Arthur was almost whispering now, the hustle and bustle of what was going on outside long forgotten.
Merlin lost his grip on the leather holder twice while pushing the string into the nook, getting ready to desperately fumble with it and lose the progress they had made, but Arthur’s calloused hands slowly guided him back to where they needed to be.
When the loop slid into the nook with the perfect arch holding it in place and the stringer coming away untangled, Merlin was about ready to flip a cartwheel and kiss the lips off of his prat of a prince. But Arthur was already stepping away from his back, tugging the bow out of his hands and turning towards the flap of the tent to re-enter the outside world.
“Arthur,” he called, his mouth feeling dry, his tongue thick in his mouth.
Arthur turned back to him, jaw lifted with his warrior stance already re-establishing itself. The bow looked faultless in his hands, the man and the weapon flawless in physique, made for each other.
“Err…Good luck. You probably won’t need it, but…Yeah.” Merlin smiled, his tongue loosening a bit in his mouth.
“You’re right, I won’t. Make sure the fletcher is nearby in case I am in need of his services.” The confident tone was louder, nothing like the tone he saved just for Merlin.
Prat. Merlin nodded and looked down at his hands, rubbing his palms against his shirt to dry the sweat and preparing himself to head back outside.
“And Merlin?”
He looked up to see a small smirk on Arthur’s face as he nodded towards the evidence that his servant was significantly more excited about the tournament now than he had been earlier.
“I’ll be needing your services in my chambers tonight. Don’t be late.”
Merlin loved his job.
Author:binglejells
Rating: PG
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin (sort of) established relationship.
Length: 1430
Warnings: None.
Spoilers:None.
Disclaimer:Merlin and Co. belong to the BBC and Shine. I own nothing.
Author‘s Note: Many thanks to nahara who very kindly looked this over for me. This was written in a two hour whirlwind after I decided to bring two of my favourite things together. I have been a recurve archer for two years now. I love my sport and I love my fandom. Much to my delight, they go together great :D
Bend The Arch.
“Hook the loop and arch the bend, hook the loop and arch the- OUCH!”
The bow, with all its ornately carved splendour, really was quite beautiful for something designed to kill things. It was nothing like a cross bow, all pointy angles, ugly and sharp. This bow had long, perfect curvature, it was taller than Merlin was and so gloriously smooth under his fingertips. This kind of weapon he didn’t mind holding that much, at least it felt nice and light.
It would have been helpful if he knew how to string it though. Why Arthur couldn’t just leave the string on every time he finished with it was beyond Merlin. It seemed a much easier option than dancing around, standing, pulling, pushing and reaching all over the place to get the string back on.
Merlin had been watching the other knights, they had been standing in their places ready for the tournament to start for quite some time. Their squires seemed to know the drill, it didn’t look too difficult and Arthur’s hook and pull instructions sounded simple enough. Having it explained and doing it right, however, were apparently miles apart.
He’d already snapped himself in the face twice with the string when he’d neglected to make sure it was fitted in to the nooks properly. He’d tangled himself up in knots with the long bow stringer, almost poked Sir Gareth’s squire’s eye out and his back was aching from trying (and failing) to stretch the bow far enough for the string to catch itself into the nook.
“The tournament does start today, Merlin. You’ve been messing about out here for an hour. The other archers are getting ready to line up on the felid.” Arthur sounded none too happy at the current state of his equipment, and Merlin put the bow down with a frustrated sigh, rubbing his palm over the sore spot on his face.
“I’m not messing around, I’m trying to string that thing. You said hook and pull, you didn’t say I’d have to stand on it and break my back,” Merlin grumbled, bending to untangle the string from around his foot.
Arthur let out an annoyed sound and took the bow from him, snatching the string from his hands and the stringer from the equipment table outside their tent.
“Come here and pay attention,” Arthur ground out, and disappeared through the flap of his tent. “Now, watch very carefully.”
Merlin stood in the middle of the tent with arms crossed and brow furrowed as Arthur expertly hooked the string loops over each end of the bow and fitted one end in to the nook. He then placed the stringer over each end of the limbs, leather catches secured safely, stood on the stringer cord and pulled the bow up into a perfect arch, where the second string loop slid in the limb nook perfectly.
Why hadn’t it happened that easily for him? He was a bout to sputter at the unfairness of it all, but Arthur was already bending his knees and unhooking the string loops once more. Merlin watched as the bow straightened out and the string dropped inertly to the floor.
“What are you doing? You had it ready to go, you were complaining a moment ago that you’ll be l-”
“Shut up and come here,” Arthur replied, holding his hands out and beckoning Merlin to stand in front him.
Merlin complied, jumping slightly when Arthur reached both arms around him, holding the bow in front of them.
“Take the bow,” the prince commanded.
Merlin took it, swallowing hard at the feeling of Arthur’s breath ghosting over the back of his neck.
“Now, hold it lightly, don’t grip it too tight,” Arthur said, looking over Merlin’s shoulder, his neck straining to see how his servant was doing. Merlin was taller, but he could just see Merlin’s long, surprisingly elegant fingers sliding smoothly over the wood. “Good, now put the string loops over each end and just lock the bottom one in place. Push the other one further down the other end of the bow.”
Merlin did as he was told, his movements slow, his face pinched in concentration and at the ever increasing awareness of Arthur at his back. He could feel warm, red heat flushing up his neck, the prince’s arms blocking him in and preventing him from squirming away to a safer place. Arthur made no move to let him go though, instead he stepped closer, so close Merlin could feel Arthur’s knee brushing against the back of his own leg and for a moment he thought it might just collapse from under him.
“Take the stringer, put the leather cap over the bottom limb and pull the leather holder over the top of the nook at the other end of the bow.” Arthur’s voice came from just below his ear, and that time he couldn’t suppress a shiver.
Merlin let Arthur guide him, reminding himself to keep on top of what he was doing and not imagine other things. Like Arthur on top if him. Later. In Arthur’s chambers when the tournament was over and Arthur would be on a high from winning. He would strip the leather chest and arm guards, bathe him with scented water and bring Arthur back down to earth with wet kisses and sharp nips, reminding him of other skills he could put to good use besides piercing the centre gold on the archery targets.
“Are you paying attention, Merlin?” Arthur’s voice was sultry, the tiniest, teasing brush of lips against Merlin’s earlobe, which had him swallowing a whimper, and he nodded enthusiastically, his voice failing him.
“I hope you are,” came the slow, deep reply.“Because I won’t be demonstrating this again. Next time you’re on your own.”
Merlin let out a shaky breath and cleared his throat, standing straighter and even daring to press back just a little bit to feel the warm leather chest guard strapped over Arthur’s left breast pressing against his shoulder blade.
“Stand on the loose cord from the bow stringer, that’s it, all the way on.” Arthur guided Merlin forward, nudging first one knee, then the other with his own legs and remained pressing snug against his back, until he could see the string under Merlin’s boots.
“Hold the bow underneath and lift up slowly until it arches in your hands.”
Merlin’s hands were shaking. Merlin’s hands were sweating. Merlin’s hands were longing to have a strong, golden prince arching under them but for now it was just this long, ash wood bow and while it was beautiful, it paled in comparison to the man at his back.
“Slide the string up the arch, just let it come, smooth and easy.” Arthur was almost whispering now, the hustle and bustle of what was going on outside long forgotten.
Merlin lost his grip on the leather holder twice while pushing the string into the nook, getting ready to desperately fumble with it and lose the progress they had made, but Arthur’s calloused hands slowly guided him back to where they needed to be.
When the loop slid into the nook with the perfect arch holding it in place and the stringer coming away untangled, Merlin was about ready to flip a cartwheel and kiss the lips off of his prat of a prince. But Arthur was already stepping away from his back, tugging the bow out of his hands and turning towards the flap of the tent to re-enter the outside world.
“Arthur,” he called, his mouth feeling dry, his tongue thick in his mouth.
Arthur turned back to him, jaw lifted with his warrior stance already re-establishing itself. The bow looked faultless in his hands, the man and the weapon flawless in physique, made for each other.
“Err…Good luck. You probably won’t need it, but…Yeah.” Merlin smiled, his tongue loosening a bit in his mouth.
“You’re right, I won’t. Make sure the fletcher is nearby in case I am in need of his services.” The confident tone was louder, nothing like the tone he saved just for Merlin.
Prat. Merlin nodded and looked down at his hands, rubbing his palms against his shirt to dry the sweat and preparing himself to head back outside.
“And Merlin?”
He looked up to see a small smirk on Arthur’s face as he nodded towards the evidence that his servant was significantly more excited about the tournament now than he had been earlier.
“I’ll be needing your services in my chambers tonight. Don’t be late.”
Merlin loved his job.