Red Stones - Merthur fic - Chapter 2
Finally back for chapter 2! This story is being posted simultaneously with two other fics so sorry for the delay. Enjoy!
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Chapter 2 - The Past
Merlin frowned as he stepped into the city. Some peasants were setting up their shops for the day ahead, and a few of them regarded him as he passed by. They all wore looks of pity on their faces, and if it was for the poor soul who’d been burned at the castle or for Merlin’s head wound, he wasn’t sure. In part, they may be thinking his wound was caused by a crazed witch, but he hoped not. It was the fault of some stupid leaves and a badly fallen log. Merlin wished they’d stop staring as he walked. It made him feel uncomfortable, too noticed. He’d always done his best to blend in, not stand out. It was awkward.
But then, they had a reason to watch him if they knew what he was planning. He was going to sneak into the castle. After all, no matter what was happening here, there was one person guaranteed to be in there that would know exactly what was going on. The Great Kilgharrah himself. The telepathic call was still sounding in his head, and now Merlin could feel it pulling straight from the old cave itself as though there was no other place it could have been all along.
And this time Merlin wouldn’t be tricked or dissuaded by the dragon’s normal riddle speech. He would get a direct answer this time. If he didn’t feel like talking, Merlin could always force him… although that would only further the dragon’s distaste for him. He did seem to think Merlin used his dragonlord abilities for personal gain. Merlin would have to be careful of what he revealed during this conversation. If the dragon knew how out of the loop Merlin was, he would no doubt tease him until Merlin became too aggravated to care anymore.
And there was someone else, someone he would run to as soon as the dragon explained what the hell was going on. That was Arthur. No matter what kind of strangeness was plaguing the city, Merlin had to find Arthur and protect him - or save him, whichever the case may be.
“Oh!” Merlin gasped as a door opened in his face and pushed him back onto his butt.
“I’m sorry!” A young girl exclaimed, hurriedly setting down the basket of clothing she was holding and closing the door. She looked like she wanted to kneel down by Merlin, but something kept her from it. “Oh,” she said and an ashamed smile crossed her face. “I’m so sorry.”
“What?” Merlin asked. He pushed himself up onto his feet and grimaced. He recognized that sticky feeling. He’d fallen in soft pile of horse manure. “Oh that’s just perfect,” Merlin moaned. There was no way he’d be able to sneak into the castle now.
“I can help,” the young girl said, slipping her hand into Merlin’s. She quickly pulled back again and blushed, a light pink dusting her dark cheeks. “S-Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to be so forward.”
“Hm?” Merlin looked over her. Dark brown curls to her shoulders, brown skin the color of chocolate, shy eyes and a sweet heart. He’d never seen this girl before, but something told him… “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Guinevere,” she replied without much thought and then blushed further. “Follow me and I’ll help you with your trousers. Okay?”
“Okay. How old are you?” Merlin asked. Guinevere. This couldn’t be his Guinevere. She was too young.
“I’m twelve years old as of last harvest,” Guinevere informed him. “But don’t worry, sir. I can help you. Yes.”
“No doubt about that.” Merlin pressed his lips together as he followed the small girl back to a very familiar house. “Your father is Tom, the blacksmith?”
“Yes! Poor sir knows father?” Guinevere asked, then slapped a hand over her mouth. “I mean, not to say you’re poor, sir. I just meant you weren’t a real ‘Sir.’ Not that you couldn’t be one. I know I-I didn’t ask you if you were. You just don’t look like one.”
“It’s alright, Gwen,” Merlin assured with a smile before she could continue and confuse herself. But at his words, she looked even more confused. Merlin’s smile grew nervous and he fumbled. “Is… it alright if I call you Gwen?”
“My friends call me Gwen.” And she moved over to a small dresser. “I like new friends. You can call me Gwen too.” From the dresser she pulled a pair of pants that looked similar to Merlin’s. “Would you mind putting these on? Then I can wash the ones you are wearing.”
Merlin nodded and took the new pants from her. He stood in the bedroom, a slight curtain blocking him from view, and quickly changed his clothes. This may be his Gwen, it certainly seemed to be her, and he didn’t feel comfortable being partially naked in front of her. When he had changed, he noticed the pants fit rather well and were almost a match for his own.
“Whose clothes am I wearing?” he asked, walking out to the main area where he found Gwen and a wash pot.
“Big brother Elyan’s,” Gwen said. That settled it. This was Gwen, the same one who helped him oust the witchfinder and save Camelot. But she was so young! There was no time to waste. Merlin had to see the dragon now.
“How long do you think it will be before my pants are clean?” Merlin set the dirty article near her and she quickly snatched it up to begin working.
“Maybe… three hours?” Gwen guessed. “It’s a warm and sunny day.”
Merlin bit his lip. Three hours? And that was if the sun dried them fast enough. Well, Merlin could quicken the process of drying with magic… but he was in the waning of the hunts. People had just witnessed a burning this morning. He would need to be very careful or very patient.
“Do you need any help around the house?”
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Five hours passed before Merlin took real notice. He’d been obnoxiously aware of the hour of day for the first ten minutes but had lost himself in helping Gwen. So far he had helped tidy up the house, since he knew the layout already and had a pretty good idea where her few possessions went, he’d helped her hang the laundry, which she had been taking out when she’d knocked him over, and he’d fixed the front door, which had been about to fall off. His most recent task was sweeping out the entryway to clear it of straw and hay from the nearby stables and goat herder.
He didn’t notice the time until Gwen was walking up to him, her head reading his stomach, and presented him with a plate of lunch - a meager but generous portion of ham and cheese.
“Oh, thank you, Gwen, but I can’t eat all of that,” Merlin said. He could have eaten twice the amount, but times were hard and he wasn’t going to take their food.
“We can eat it together?” Gwen asked, her adorable blush returning to grace her cheeks. Merlin smiled at that and couldn’t say no to her.
“So what do you do here in Camelot besides being the sweetest lady in town?” Merlin asked as they ate at the table inside.
Gwen giggled. “I’m not a lady!” she cried. “And most days see me at work in the castle!”
“Oh?” Merlin thought back to the boy in the woods. The children were so excitable here, or… he supposed here was still Camelot, and this was still Gwen, but she got excited so easily. “Are you a chef?”
“No no no,” Gwen answered, shaking her head. “I follow Brenda, the chambermaid for Lady Morgana. Brenda says I’ll take over when she thinks I’m ready. It’s a very important position.”
“That it is. And you will be a splendid helper and friend,” Merlin said. “One day, the two of you will risk your lives for each other.”
“Oh my,” Gwen gasped and blushed for a whole new reason. “Oh no. You really… You really think she’ll like me that much?”
“I’m positive. And you will meet a handsome man and fall in love, and if he ever gets over his fears, you may be his queen.”
Perhaps he’d revealed too much, for Gwen covered her ears and began to shake her head wildly, her face a dark red. For a minute, Merlin thought he’d angered her, but when she focused her gaze back on him, she looked more frightened.
“Oh no no,” she said again. “I-I don’t want to be queen. That’s so much work! And to be queen, I’d have to marry the prince!”
“You don’t want to marry the prince?” Merlin asked.
“He’s… scary,” Gwen admitted, looking away in shame.
Merlin couldn’t help but laugh. Gwen didn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seemed to give her courage. Merlin pat her on the shoulder and continued to snicker. Arthur’s future love was scared of him. If that wasn’t ironic, he didn’t know what was. And so he spent another half an hour talking and eating with his would-be best friend before they headed outside to retrieve the laundry.
The sun had been kind, and everything was clean and dry, including Merlin’s pants. When he had changed back into his own clothes, he thanked Gwen, but she thanked him several more times. Then, before Tom could return home and demand to know what he was doing in his house, Merlin said goodbye to the young Guinevere and continued on his trek to the castle.
If Guinevere was as young as she said she was and was also who she said she was, then Merlin would have had to have fallen back in time by about eight years. If this really was the past, Merlin was out there somewhere as an awkward adolescent thirteen year old. If he really was eight years in the past, Arthur would be fourteen.
Merlin flashed back on the rambunctious boy in the woods. He’d been dressed like a farmer, but he’d called himself Arthur Pendragon and certainly had the attitude for it. Could the honestly have been Arthur? How had he been out in the woods alone? Were the knights eight years ago completely daft? Arthur was only fourteen! Merlin didn’t care how much Arthur had been ‘trained to kill since birth.’ He was still the future king, and the knights should have noticed he was missing.
Or that kid really could have been some big dreaming farm boy. But that was probably unlikely. The only way to find out would be to see the dragon. So Merlin walked into the castle as though he were headed to see the court physician and then diverted his path and headed for the cells. No one glanced twice at him. He was no one important, save for the bandages on his head. Some guards were still in the courtyard, clearing up the burn pile and disposing of the ashes. Merlin did his best not to even look in that direction. There hadn’t been a burning since his arrival in Camelot, although it had been tried a few times, and he didn’t want to look at what could possibly be his future fate. Except that the dragon had said prophesy claimed he would live to see Arthur become king and unite the lands of Albion, but it was always a possibility if he screwed up.
It seemed the guards who usually watched the cells were among those out in the courtyard, and Merlin slipped past their post without a hassle. It was only when he’d grabbed a torch and stood above the opening to the dragon’s lair that he stopped. The guards wouldn’t be distracted forever, but a strange sense stopped him. He could smell the damp and cold, the years of containment. He could smell the scent of the reptilian hide. It was an unpleasant scent, and he covered his nose in spite of himself.
It had been a long year since his last descent into the caves. Tentatively, he took the first step down, then another and another, and then he was half sprinting down the steps and through the passage that would lead him to the great cavern of the dragon.
“I perceive I am treated to a surprising guest,” Kilgharrah spoke as soon as Merlin rounded the corner.
“I have to admit, that’s not what I was expecting to hear,” Merlin admitted. He bent down and set his torch on the rocks by his feet.
“Oh? And what would you have preferred, young warlock?” Kilgharrah folded his great front legs before him, like a patient lion.
“I don’t know, but the first time I came to visit you, it was a lot of shadowy words and a grand, flying entrance.” Merlin waved his hands around in the mock motions of a magician.
The dragon’s deep voice laughed and echoed from the walls. “Oh yes, but that is yet to come,” he said.
Merlin frowned. “So it’s true then,” he said. “I am in the past.”
“Quite so,” the dragon affirmed, nodding his great head. “Precisely on schedule. The prophecies never lie.”
“So you knew, or you will know, when I first met you. You knew this had already happened?” Merlin asked, feeling the betrayal bubble up in his chest.
“I will,” Kilgharrah replied. “But what importance does such information hold? Whatever secrets I have kept from you until this point about this meeting are meaningless. There is nothing that can be done to change that. You linger on unimportant details.”
Merlin pressed his lips together and felt the anger subsiding. He nodded. Kilgharrah was right. He didn’t really have time or energy to waste on getting upset over the dragon’s many secrets. There was something much more important taking place.
“Why have I been pulled into the past?” he asked.
“For what other purpose does anything happen than so that you can fulfill your destiny?” the dragon replied.
“But my destiny is to protect Arthur,” Merlin said.
“I fail to see your point.” How was it possible that the dragon always looked so smug as he sat there, chained to a rock?
“Well how am I supposed to protect his future if I’m stuck in the past?” Merlin asked. He threw his arms out and spoke as if this was an obvious blunder on destiny’s part.
“Does it not stand to reason that you have been brought back to help the young prince here, at this moment?” Kilgharrah mused. He seemed to have read Merlin’s thoughts and had not been pleased with his findings.
“But Arthur’s life wasn’t in danger when he was fourteen. I know. He definitely would have bragged about it before now.” Merlin dropped his hands to his sides in exasperation.
“Perhaps you are not meant to defend him this time. Perhaps the danger is from somewhere else. Consider you moves carefully, Merlin, for you have seen many years more than the prince you will encounter. For once, it will be you who knows the secrets of the future. Do not abuse that power.” Kilgharrah took a deep breath that sounded a lot like the end of a conversation.
“What does that mean?” Merlin asked, knowing his time was short. The dragon blinked its huge eyes at him and slowly let out its breath.
“I suggest you spend the afternoon down here, Merlin. You need to think of the future to come, and the guards have returned from the burning and will catch you if you leave before they change shifts again.”
Then, without answering Merlin or waiting for Merlin to answer, the great beast stretched out its huge wings, tightened its strong legs, and took off into the great expanse of the cave. Merlin pressed his lips together in annoyance.
“You know,” he called loudly into the cave, “Uther could have been a true tyrant and made your chain too short to do that!”
He heard a distant echoing snort, but he received no other response. Knowing Kilgharrah was right and the guards would be back by now, Merlin grunted and found a place to sit at the top of the stairs that led down and over to the place where the dragon was chained. It was time to hunker down for the longest afternoon of his life.
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Chapter 3 Preview:
“I’m not letting you go off by yourself, Arthur,” Merlin scolded. “It’s the middle of the night, in the middle of the woods, going to the middle of nowhere.”
“I am not going to the middle of nowhere. What do you think I am, an idiot?”
It was a two day ride to Ealdor. Three or four days walk. It wasn’t much time, but nature and destiny were on his side. This would work.
“Yeah. That’s right. I need a new name,” Arthur said, nodding his head and letting a smile tug at the corner of his lips. “Something clever and witty and befitting someone of my grandeur and ability."
Merlin could think of a few, but anyone who heard Merlin calling a child one of his many ‘nicknames’ for Arthur would probably find him to be socially unacceptable.
Click HERE for Chapter 3!
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Chapter 2 - The Past
Merlin frowned as he stepped into the city. Some peasants were setting up their shops for the day ahead, and a few of them regarded him as he passed by. They all wore looks of pity on their faces, and if it was for the poor soul who’d been burned at the castle or for Merlin’s head wound, he wasn’t sure. In part, they may be thinking his wound was caused by a crazed witch, but he hoped not. It was the fault of some stupid leaves and a badly fallen log. Merlin wished they’d stop staring as he walked. It made him feel uncomfortable, too noticed. He’d always done his best to blend in, not stand out. It was awkward.
But then, they had a reason to watch him if they knew what he was planning. He was going to sneak into the castle. After all, no matter what was happening here, there was one person guaranteed to be in there that would know exactly what was going on. The Great Kilgharrah himself. The telepathic call was still sounding in his head, and now Merlin could feel it pulling straight from the old cave itself as though there was no other place it could have been all along.
And this time Merlin wouldn’t be tricked or dissuaded by the dragon’s normal riddle speech. He would get a direct answer this time. If he didn’t feel like talking, Merlin could always force him… although that would only further the dragon’s distaste for him. He did seem to think Merlin used his dragonlord abilities for personal gain. Merlin would have to be careful of what he revealed during this conversation. If the dragon knew how out of the loop Merlin was, he would no doubt tease him until Merlin became too aggravated to care anymore.
And there was someone else, someone he would run to as soon as the dragon explained what the hell was going on. That was Arthur. No matter what kind of strangeness was plaguing the city, Merlin had to find Arthur and protect him - or save him, whichever the case may be.
“Oh!” Merlin gasped as a door opened in his face and pushed him back onto his butt.
“I’m sorry!” A young girl exclaimed, hurriedly setting down the basket of clothing she was holding and closing the door. She looked like she wanted to kneel down by Merlin, but something kept her from it. “Oh,” she said and an ashamed smile crossed her face. “I’m so sorry.”
“What?” Merlin asked. He pushed himself up onto his feet and grimaced. He recognized that sticky feeling. He’d fallen in soft pile of horse manure. “Oh that’s just perfect,” Merlin moaned. There was no way he’d be able to sneak into the castle now.
“I can help,” the young girl said, slipping her hand into Merlin’s. She quickly pulled back again and blushed, a light pink dusting her dark cheeks. “S-Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to be so forward.”
“Hm?” Merlin looked over her. Dark brown curls to her shoulders, brown skin the color of chocolate, shy eyes and a sweet heart. He’d never seen this girl before, but something told him… “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Guinevere,” she replied without much thought and then blushed further. “Follow me and I’ll help you with your trousers. Okay?”
“Okay. How old are you?” Merlin asked. Guinevere. This couldn’t be his Guinevere. She was too young.
“I’m twelve years old as of last harvest,” Guinevere informed him. “But don’t worry, sir. I can help you. Yes.”
“No doubt about that.” Merlin pressed his lips together as he followed the small girl back to a very familiar house. “Your father is Tom, the blacksmith?”
“Yes! Poor sir knows father?” Guinevere asked, then slapped a hand over her mouth. “I mean, not to say you’re poor, sir. I just meant you weren’t a real ‘Sir.’ Not that you couldn’t be one. I know I-I didn’t ask you if you were. You just don’t look like one.”
“It’s alright, Gwen,” Merlin assured with a smile before she could continue and confuse herself. But at his words, she looked even more confused. Merlin’s smile grew nervous and he fumbled. “Is… it alright if I call you Gwen?”
“My friends call me Gwen.” And she moved over to a small dresser. “I like new friends. You can call me Gwen too.” From the dresser she pulled a pair of pants that looked similar to Merlin’s. “Would you mind putting these on? Then I can wash the ones you are wearing.”
Merlin nodded and took the new pants from her. He stood in the bedroom, a slight curtain blocking him from view, and quickly changed his clothes. This may be his Gwen, it certainly seemed to be her, and he didn’t feel comfortable being partially naked in front of her. When he had changed, he noticed the pants fit rather well and were almost a match for his own.
“Whose clothes am I wearing?” he asked, walking out to the main area where he found Gwen and a wash pot.
“Big brother Elyan’s,” Gwen said. That settled it. This was Gwen, the same one who helped him oust the witchfinder and save Camelot. But she was so young! There was no time to waste. Merlin had to see the dragon now.
“How long do you think it will be before my pants are clean?” Merlin set the dirty article near her and she quickly snatched it up to begin working.
“Maybe… three hours?” Gwen guessed. “It’s a warm and sunny day.”
Merlin bit his lip. Three hours? And that was if the sun dried them fast enough. Well, Merlin could quicken the process of drying with magic… but he was in the waning of the hunts. People had just witnessed a burning this morning. He would need to be very careful or very patient.
“Do you need any help around the house?”
-- -- -- -- --
Five hours passed before Merlin took real notice. He’d been obnoxiously aware of the hour of day for the first ten minutes but had lost himself in helping Gwen. So far he had helped tidy up the house, since he knew the layout already and had a pretty good idea where her few possessions went, he’d helped her hang the laundry, which she had been taking out when she’d knocked him over, and he’d fixed the front door, which had been about to fall off. His most recent task was sweeping out the entryway to clear it of straw and hay from the nearby stables and goat herder.
He didn’t notice the time until Gwen was walking up to him, her head reading his stomach, and presented him with a plate of lunch - a meager but generous portion of ham and cheese.
“Oh, thank you, Gwen, but I can’t eat all of that,” Merlin said. He could have eaten twice the amount, but times were hard and he wasn’t going to take their food.
“We can eat it together?” Gwen asked, her adorable blush returning to grace her cheeks. Merlin smiled at that and couldn’t say no to her.
“So what do you do here in Camelot besides being the sweetest lady in town?” Merlin asked as they ate at the table inside.
Gwen giggled. “I’m not a lady!” she cried. “And most days see me at work in the castle!”
“Oh?” Merlin thought back to the boy in the woods. The children were so excitable here, or… he supposed here was still Camelot, and this was still Gwen, but she got excited so easily. “Are you a chef?”
“No no no,” Gwen answered, shaking her head. “I follow Brenda, the chambermaid for Lady Morgana. Brenda says I’ll take over when she thinks I’m ready. It’s a very important position.”
“That it is. And you will be a splendid helper and friend,” Merlin said. “One day, the two of you will risk your lives for each other.”
“Oh my,” Gwen gasped and blushed for a whole new reason. “Oh no. You really… You really think she’ll like me that much?”
“I’m positive. And you will meet a handsome man and fall in love, and if he ever gets over his fears, you may be his queen.”
Perhaps he’d revealed too much, for Gwen covered her ears and began to shake her head wildly, her face a dark red. For a minute, Merlin thought he’d angered her, but when she focused her gaze back on him, she looked more frightened.
“Oh no no,” she said again. “I-I don’t want to be queen. That’s so much work! And to be queen, I’d have to marry the prince!”
“You don’t want to marry the prince?” Merlin asked.
“He’s… scary,” Gwen admitted, looking away in shame.
Merlin couldn’t help but laugh. Gwen didn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seemed to give her courage. Merlin pat her on the shoulder and continued to snicker. Arthur’s future love was scared of him. If that wasn’t ironic, he didn’t know what was. And so he spent another half an hour talking and eating with his would-be best friend before they headed outside to retrieve the laundry.
The sun had been kind, and everything was clean and dry, including Merlin’s pants. When he had changed back into his own clothes, he thanked Gwen, but she thanked him several more times. Then, before Tom could return home and demand to know what he was doing in his house, Merlin said goodbye to the young Guinevere and continued on his trek to the castle.
If Guinevere was as young as she said she was and was also who she said she was, then Merlin would have had to have fallen back in time by about eight years. If this really was the past, Merlin was out there somewhere as an awkward adolescent thirteen year old. If he really was eight years in the past, Arthur would be fourteen.
Merlin flashed back on the rambunctious boy in the woods. He’d been dressed like a farmer, but he’d called himself Arthur Pendragon and certainly had the attitude for it. Could the honestly have been Arthur? How had he been out in the woods alone? Were the knights eight years ago completely daft? Arthur was only fourteen! Merlin didn’t care how much Arthur had been ‘trained to kill since birth.’ He was still the future king, and the knights should have noticed he was missing.
Or that kid really could have been some big dreaming farm boy. But that was probably unlikely. The only way to find out would be to see the dragon. So Merlin walked into the castle as though he were headed to see the court physician and then diverted his path and headed for the cells. No one glanced twice at him. He was no one important, save for the bandages on his head. Some guards were still in the courtyard, clearing up the burn pile and disposing of the ashes. Merlin did his best not to even look in that direction. There hadn’t been a burning since his arrival in Camelot, although it had been tried a few times, and he didn’t want to look at what could possibly be his future fate. Except that the dragon had said prophesy claimed he would live to see Arthur become king and unite the lands of Albion, but it was always a possibility if he screwed up.
It seemed the guards who usually watched the cells were among those out in the courtyard, and Merlin slipped past their post without a hassle. It was only when he’d grabbed a torch and stood above the opening to the dragon’s lair that he stopped. The guards wouldn’t be distracted forever, but a strange sense stopped him. He could smell the damp and cold, the years of containment. He could smell the scent of the reptilian hide. It was an unpleasant scent, and he covered his nose in spite of himself.
It had been a long year since his last descent into the caves. Tentatively, he took the first step down, then another and another, and then he was half sprinting down the steps and through the passage that would lead him to the great cavern of the dragon.
“I perceive I am treated to a surprising guest,” Kilgharrah spoke as soon as Merlin rounded the corner.
“I have to admit, that’s not what I was expecting to hear,” Merlin admitted. He bent down and set his torch on the rocks by his feet.
“Oh? And what would you have preferred, young warlock?” Kilgharrah folded his great front legs before him, like a patient lion.
“I don’t know, but the first time I came to visit you, it was a lot of shadowy words and a grand, flying entrance.” Merlin waved his hands around in the mock motions of a magician.
The dragon’s deep voice laughed and echoed from the walls. “Oh yes, but that is yet to come,” he said.
Merlin frowned. “So it’s true then,” he said. “I am in the past.”
“Quite so,” the dragon affirmed, nodding his great head. “Precisely on schedule. The prophecies never lie.”
“So you knew, or you will know, when I first met you. You knew this had already happened?” Merlin asked, feeling the betrayal bubble up in his chest.
“I will,” Kilgharrah replied. “But what importance does such information hold? Whatever secrets I have kept from you until this point about this meeting are meaningless. There is nothing that can be done to change that. You linger on unimportant details.”
Merlin pressed his lips together and felt the anger subsiding. He nodded. Kilgharrah was right. He didn’t really have time or energy to waste on getting upset over the dragon’s many secrets. There was something much more important taking place.
“Why have I been pulled into the past?” he asked.
“For what other purpose does anything happen than so that you can fulfill your destiny?” the dragon replied.
“But my destiny is to protect Arthur,” Merlin said.
“I fail to see your point.” How was it possible that the dragon always looked so smug as he sat there, chained to a rock?
“Well how am I supposed to protect his future if I’m stuck in the past?” Merlin asked. He threw his arms out and spoke as if this was an obvious blunder on destiny’s part.
“Does it not stand to reason that you have been brought back to help the young prince here, at this moment?” Kilgharrah mused. He seemed to have read Merlin’s thoughts and had not been pleased with his findings.
“But Arthur’s life wasn’t in danger when he was fourteen. I know. He definitely would have bragged about it before now.” Merlin dropped his hands to his sides in exasperation.
“Perhaps you are not meant to defend him this time. Perhaps the danger is from somewhere else. Consider you moves carefully, Merlin, for you have seen many years more than the prince you will encounter. For once, it will be you who knows the secrets of the future. Do not abuse that power.” Kilgharrah took a deep breath that sounded a lot like the end of a conversation.
“What does that mean?” Merlin asked, knowing his time was short. The dragon blinked its huge eyes at him and slowly let out its breath.
“I suggest you spend the afternoon down here, Merlin. You need to think of the future to come, and the guards have returned from the burning and will catch you if you leave before they change shifts again.”
Then, without answering Merlin or waiting for Merlin to answer, the great beast stretched out its huge wings, tightened its strong legs, and took off into the great expanse of the cave. Merlin pressed his lips together in annoyance.
“You know,” he called loudly into the cave, “Uther could have been a true tyrant and made your chain too short to do that!”
He heard a distant echoing snort, but he received no other response. Knowing Kilgharrah was right and the guards would be back by now, Merlin grunted and found a place to sit at the top of the stairs that led down and over to the place where the dragon was chained. It was time to hunker down for the longest afternoon of his life.
-- -- -- --
Chapter 3 Preview:
“I’m not letting you go off by yourself, Arthur,” Merlin scolded. “It’s the middle of the night, in the middle of the woods, going to the middle of nowhere.”
“I am not going to the middle of nowhere. What do you think I am, an idiot?”
It was a two day ride to Ealdor. Three or four days walk. It wasn’t much time, but nature and destiny were on his side. This would work.
“Yeah. That’s right. I need a new name,” Arthur said, nodding his head and letting a smile tug at the corner of his lips. “Something clever and witty and befitting someone of my grandeur and ability."
Merlin could think of a few, but anyone who heard Merlin calling a child one of his many ‘nicknames’ for Arthur would probably find him to be socially unacceptable.
Click HERE for Chapter 3!