A complication: chapter 5
Five feeble and almost silent hours had past and three times had the same tree stood in front of the boys on their horses. Merlin, who had remained silent until the third sighting, out of awareness of the prince’s temper, could not hold back his comment now.
“We’re lost, aren’t we?”
The prince answered with a scowl, jerking his horse to a stop, and landing himself onto ground with a heavy thump and harsh footprints in the forest floor. The darkness had settled in far more quickly than either of the boys expected, and what began as a twilight journey familiar to Arthur’s memory was now a battle in his mind between pride and duty... would the crown prince of Camelot ever admit to being lost? Of course not.
“My horse needs a rest,” said Arthur with a tone which almost dared Merlin to raise an eyebrow and retort, but no such action came; Merlin simply sighed... quietly.
He might have answered back, in fact, he would have enjoyed the opportunity but his mind was, and for the entire journey had been, otherwise occupied; the night was enclosing them and Merlin still hadn’t any idea how he was going to escape sleeping next to the prince.
It would be far easier if their plans included staying in the village - Arthur would certainly be given a large, comfortable bed and Merlin... well, one night on a hard floor wouldn’t make any difference, it wasn’t like he hadn’t started off that way. Forget the floor - he would even consent to sleeping with the livestock if it meant that his dreams would not be heard. Crazy, stupid, meaningless dreams...
“Merlin, come here,” the voice broke the memory, and the darkness hiding his burning cheeks allowed his body to work.
Arthur had seated himself on the bank of a stream which tree branches had hidden from Merlin until now. The wizard dropped from his horse, rubbing her flanks gently before walking through the moonlit leaves on the floor to stand in front of the prince. He stood apart, a comfortable distance.
“What?” he asked, and it seemed like the word was multisyllabic; his tongue tripped over every letter.
“Here,” the prince removed something from the satchel around his shoulders, and threw it to Merlin. The wizard watched the light hit the sphere before reaching forth a hand and catching the smooth red apple. He cleared his throat,
“Thanks.”
But his voice cracked anyway.
Arthur nodded and sighed, leaning back onto a rock and closing his eyes. Merlin remained standing, and many minutes passed with a slight breeze dancing between the boys.
Then the prince flicked open his eyes, and snapped up his head, with a flush on his features. Merlin knew that gesture... he had done that gesture. It was as if the prince had stumbled on an inappropriate thought. He registered the boy standing above him, and immediately looked away, rubbing his forehead harshly.
“What is it?” Merlin asked, knitting his eyebrows.
“Nothing,” but the prince continued to rub his head, “go and fetch me some water from the stream.”
“But...”
“Just do it, Merlin!”
Merlin bit away the questions, and stepped past him to the water’s edge. He looked back at Arthur, who was wiping his brow now with his sleeve, then lifting the bottom of his shirt to wipe his cheeks and jaw. Could he have been sweating? The night wasn’t typical for winter but it wasn’t warm... it certainly wasn’t hot. Merlin was sweating, of course, but with problems still unsolved, he had every reason to be.
He took a flask from around his waist and dipped it low beneath the cold, wet, ripples. The liquid was merciful to his hot flesh, and he submerged both his hands up to his elbows, then removed one to flick drops on his face.
He took a deep breath of the night and he exhaled just as thoroughly, shaking the stress from his body and flexing his neck. He smacked his lips together; they had been pursed in thought for so long they were beginning to feel numb. The flask was filled, so he stood, slowly, and he turned to find Arthur standing directly behind him.
“Eroooah,” he croaked. And in his head it really had sounded like a word.
The prince took the flask, and looked away before downing the content. But his body was still too close so the wizard stepped past him to sit on the rock.
“Stop smacking your lips, you know it annoys me,” Arthur said after wiping his mouth. Merlin obeyed.
“And stop...” the prince gestured with his hands in small circles, features screwed together until he found his word, “...flexing.” Merlin raised his eyebrows. Arthur continued,
“I know your muscles hurt, so do mine, did you think it would be easy to ride for hours in the night?!”
“No... I knew it wouldn’t be... which is why I’m flexing.”
Merlin could only connect the temper to the fact that they were lost. He made up his mind, and stalked to his horse, reaching it in four large strides. He removed from a sack a folded map. He turned to face the prince and waved the paper in the air. Four angry strides followed.
“You. Brought. A. Map??” He spat, snatching it from Merlin, and taking it back to the stream where the moonlight was brightest.
“For God’s sake Merlin, we’ve been travelling for five hours when we could have reached this point in one!”
“Well you were leading the way!”
“Well you had a map!”
“Well you wouldn’t say we were lost!” Merlin almost shouted, but all the while the smirk on his lips grew.
“On your horse,” Arthur’s demand was diluted with relief, “now!”
Merlin obeyed. The prince followed suit, and the horses’ hooves hit the ground hard, a fast paced gallop with the bark from the trees and flying leaves in their wake.
Arthur’s lips still mumbled in anger about the map, but his fingers clutched the paper and reigns in a renewed vigour, and Merlin knew the temper was dissolving.
It took five further hours to reach Asidore, but the sight from the highest hill to the dip and the village below was worth the journey to be seen. Merlin, who had never visited the place before, was second to reach the hilltop, but Arthur waited until he was joined by his friend, to witness the reaction. And it was spectacular. All previous irritation forgotten, by both parties.
The firelight from the roads and the windows of the houses was reflected back in gold by Merlin’s eyes. His pupils danced with the flames and his stare followed the curve of the village’s main road until... the coast.
“The... the sea!” Merlin gasped, smiling so genuinely that Arthur couldn’t help but mirror the action, “I’ve never seen the sea before!”
“Mmm,” Arthur mused, “Asidore is one of the most luckily situated villages in the kingdom; I’ve spent many summers here.”
The crescent of coast on which the village was built was ragged, pointed where the river split the land in half to open to the sea. Surrounded by the raised earth, the plateau of sand and soil sat without a castle, but the wooden houses seemed to belong to the ground like the trees of the forests the boys had crossed.
“It’s amazing! It’s like the mountains have been tamed by the ocean.”
“Well,” Arthur matched the stare, “in a way they have.”
Merlin beamed. For once since the start of the journey he didn’t have to force his mind to ignore the sleeping problem. He didn’t have to force his eyes to look away from Arthur’s stares, and he certainly wasn’t noticing the stare now. Though it was more intense than usual.
“The Earth,” the prince continued, “is very powerful. Strong, set, stubborn. It can’t be moved by man, but the sea... the sea has its own powers.”
The great ocean swells, visible in even the moonlight, rolled to crash on the sandy coast beneath the boys.
“When the sea speaks, the Earth listens,” Merlin grinned.
“Mmm,” Arthur nodded, “...as if by magic.”