Sir Gawain and the Green Knight - CHALLENGE DRABBLES
So now's the time when all those challenges I decided a few months ago would be a good idea all suddenly come to a head and I've all but forgotten ALL OF THEM.
But all is not lost, because here be my Merlin drabbles.
They is mostly Merlin/Gwaine, (with hints of teh Gwaine/Arthur. And Merlin/Arthur, CAUSE DUH) cause I'm a bit in love with the epic tragic lovestory I've got going on in my head about the three of them. Shush now.
SO YEAH.
The challenge was a 100 word drabble based on the last four lines of each stanza of the epic poem, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, translated by Simon Armitage. I had five rhymes thus.
1.
The knighthood then unites
and each knight says the same:
their king can stand aside
and give Gawain the game.
Merlin may have fought in Arthur’s name, but the indignity in need of rectifying is in Merlin’s and Gwaine is Merlin’s champion.
Arthur may be Merlin’s oldest friend, the pair bound together by destiny and this unfathomable comradery, but the facts are the same. Merlin’s injuries lie at Arthur’s feet, the cause and the consequences and with them, the blame.
But Arthur is the King and while the injustice is written all over Arthur’s face, the line must be drawn in the sand.
The debate ends with Percival and it is Gwaine who steps forward on the battlefield, and wins.
2.
whose country was unclear,
now seemed to them by sight
a prince without a peer
in fields where fierce men fight.
Gwaine has to give it to Arthur; he has a reputation. It’s been one hundred and eleven days since he bade Camelot farewell, since he last set foot in her kingdom (short of a particular tavern along the Northern border he’s rather taken with…)
It’s been months, he’s travelled far and wide and almost everywhere he goes, there are stories of the yet-to-be King and it’s driving him mad.
The Prince without equal.
And had he not met the man himself, he’d have called it posturing.
But now?
Sparingly, Gwaine can’t help but find himself agreeing.
No equal at all.
3.
They leave the levels, loud
with howling hunting horns.
The huntsmen loose the hounds
through thickets and through thorns.
His mother would be turning in her grave if she knew the things he got up to, and a small part of him, long quiet, feels a pang for the life he could have led.
He can’t find much regret in leaving that life behind, regardless of it’s riches. Even as he runs through the undergrowth, breathing sharp and quick, half laughing as he flees for his life.
The other life would have no running, there would be much less ale, and there would definitely be no Merlin. Even if in this life, Merlin is still just out of reach.
4.
By way of reward
the hounds are soothed and stroked.
Then red fur rips - reynard
is cut out of his coat.
He knows Merlin dislikes hunting for the sake of sport. He’s seen the disdain on Merlin’s face when the Princess declares a state of boredom and to ready themselves for a hunting trip.
Over time he’s learnt, however, it’s not so much Arthurs desire to prove himself and kill things he doesn’t necessarily need to kill that bothers Merlin, but rather it has everything to do with the King’s disastrous ability to attract anything with even the slightest propensity to want to kill him.
And after the third time he has to help, Gwaine can’t help but feel somewhat similar.
5.
‘Such terrible mistakes,
and I shall bear the blame.
But tell me what it takes
to clear my clouded name.’
Gwaine can’t stand still. He shifts, restless, from foot to foot, watching it all unfold.
Merlin hasn’t moved. His back is straight, his expression passive, his fingers linked behind his back. He’s waiting.
Arthur is staring, one hand pressed to his lips, the ring of his station glinting in the torchlight of the crowded hall. The King has an audience of dozens to see him deal with the fate of their friend. The Sorcerer.
Gwaine can’t stand still.
“Am I your puppet, Merlin?” Arthur asks and Gwaine can see the insecurity in his eyes.
“You are my King,” Merlin replies.
So thus ends my first foray into Merlin Fandom, I do hope you have enjoyed them. :) I'm so in love with the entire fandom and stories as a whole you have no idea.
If I had time for a 60K epic I'd be all over that in a second.
Alas alack, I cannot for now - so it's back to testing the water back in drabble territory for now.
Once again, thanks for reading.
xxx
But all is not lost, because here be my Merlin drabbles.
They is mostly Merlin/Gwaine, (with hints of teh Gwaine/Arthur. And Merlin/Arthur, CAUSE DUH) cause I'm a bit in love with the epic tragic lovestory I've got going on in my head about the three of them. Shush now.
SO YEAH.
The challenge was a 100 word drabble based on the last four lines of each stanza of the epic poem, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, translated by Simon Armitage. I had five rhymes thus.
1.
The knighthood then unites
and each knight says the same:
their king can stand aside
and give Gawain the game.
Merlin may have fought in Arthur’s name, but the indignity in need of rectifying is in Merlin’s and Gwaine is Merlin’s champion.
Arthur may be Merlin’s oldest friend, the pair bound together by destiny and this unfathomable comradery, but the facts are the same. Merlin’s injuries lie at Arthur’s feet, the cause and the consequences and with them, the blame.
But Arthur is the King and while the injustice is written all over Arthur’s face, the line must be drawn in the sand.
The debate ends with Percival and it is Gwaine who steps forward on the battlefield, and wins.
2.
whose country was unclear,
now seemed to them by sight
a prince without a peer
in fields where fierce men fight.
Gwaine has to give it to Arthur; he has a reputation. It’s been one hundred and eleven days since he bade Camelot farewell, since he last set foot in her kingdom (short of a particular tavern along the Northern border he’s rather taken with…)
It’s been months, he’s travelled far and wide and almost everywhere he goes, there are stories of the yet-to-be King and it’s driving him mad.
The Prince without equal.
And had he not met the man himself, he’d have called it posturing.
But now?
Sparingly, Gwaine can’t help but find himself agreeing.
No equal at all.
3.
They leave the levels, loud
with howling hunting horns.
The huntsmen loose the hounds
through thickets and through thorns.
His mother would be turning in her grave if she knew the things he got up to, and a small part of him, long quiet, feels a pang for the life he could have led.
He can’t find much regret in leaving that life behind, regardless of it’s riches. Even as he runs through the undergrowth, breathing sharp and quick, half laughing as he flees for his life.
The other life would have no running, there would be much less ale, and there would definitely be no Merlin. Even if in this life, Merlin is still just out of reach.
4.
By way of reward
the hounds are soothed and stroked.
Then red fur rips - reynard
is cut out of his coat.
He knows Merlin dislikes hunting for the sake of sport. He’s seen the disdain on Merlin’s face when the Princess declares a state of boredom and to ready themselves for a hunting trip.
Over time he’s learnt, however, it’s not so much Arthurs desire to prove himself and kill things he doesn’t necessarily need to kill that bothers Merlin, but rather it has everything to do with the King’s disastrous ability to attract anything with even the slightest propensity to want to kill him.
And after the third time he has to help, Gwaine can’t help but feel somewhat similar.
5.
‘Such terrible mistakes,
and I shall bear the blame.
But tell me what it takes
to clear my clouded name.’
Gwaine can’t stand still. He shifts, restless, from foot to foot, watching it all unfold.
Merlin hasn’t moved. His back is straight, his expression passive, his fingers linked behind his back. He’s waiting.
Arthur is staring, one hand pressed to his lips, the ring of his station glinting in the torchlight of the crowded hall. The King has an audience of dozens to see him deal with the fate of their friend. The Sorcerer.
Gwaine can’t stand still.
“Am I your puppet, Merlin?” Arthur asks and Gwaine can see the insecurity in his eyes.
“You are my King,” Merlin replies.
So thus ends my first foray into Merlin Fandom, I do hope you have enjoyed them. :) I'm so in love with the entire fandom and stories as a whole you have no idea.
If I had time for a 60K epic I'd be all over that in a second.
Alas alack, I cannot for now - so it's back to testing the water back in drabble territory for now.
Once again, thanks for reading.
xxx