It's a fresh autumn afternoon and Merlin is taking a break from his winter preparations. He's found a hollow piece of wood, and he's played with it, crafted it into a rudimentary flute. He's sitting on a tree stub out in a clearing and playing it slowly, experimenting. It's sometimes good, sometimes terrible, sometimes soulful, sometimes playful.
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The sunlight is fading as the afternoon draws to a close but he isn't in a hurry to get inside because of any approaching darkness.
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Through the foliage, there is a merlin - a bird, not a man, peering at the wandering youth with curiosity.
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"Hello there." He likes birds - they don't growl at him like many animals do. He holds out a crooked arm as if inviting the bird to land on it.
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"Gellleeeeeert," the Merlin!bird crows. "Gelleeeeeeert."
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