The Fearsome Sir Martin
Title: The Fearsome Sir Martin
Rating: PG
Summary: Written for this kinkme_merlin prompt: Canon-era: Gwaine 'borrows' Merlin to be his sparring partner in preparation of whatever. Arthur laughingly agrees. The easy morning spar doesn't go quite how Gwaine expected.
Gwaine’s head pounded in time with the clash of metal on metal around him. He had known last night that he should have stopped at his third tankard, but Clara had just been such obliging company and before he knew it he had another two pints swilling in his stomach and a pretty barmaid in his lap.
Perhaps he should have just stopped so as to remember the rest of the night.
“Sir Gwaine!”
Arthur’s holler caused Gwaine’s brain to twitch behind his forehead in an alarmingly painful way.
“Get onto the pitch now, get a partner and engage!”
Gwaine looked from Percival’s bulging bicep clenching as he brought his sword down to the test dummy, he watched Elyan’s sure steps as he danced around a young new recruit and Leon’s hawk eye as he paraded up and down the squire’s drills, correcting stances and demanding perfection on every swing.
Gwaine just wanted to close his eyes and go back to bed, maybe drink a lake of water and have a long bath, and he wouldn’t be adverse to a good strong massage-
“Gwaine! If you don’t get a partner right now you will be training with me and running laps till sundown!”
“Drink this.”
Gwaine blinked at the off green vial held out under his nose, and followed the attached limb up a long elegant hand, to a scrawny arm, to the slim shoulders of Merlin. Merlin his savior, his light, the one true thing left in this world…
He might have said some of that out loud because Merlin shook his head and gave his armour cladded shoulder an ineffectual push.
“Just drink the damn potion and get onto the field before Arthur blows a vessel.”
Gwaine accepted the vial smirking. “You think if the princess croaks it I could make a go for crown? I think it would look rather fetching on me.”
“No because Arthur will make killing you the last thing he ever does.” Gwaine followed Merlin’s warning look to see the red faced King marching over to the lance rack where Gwaine was leaning (or clinging to for dear life, one or the other).
“That’s it.” The King seethed, “Enough insubordination, pick a sword. You run a mile for every hit I get in.”
“Arthur, be reasonable, he’s not well-“ Merlin tried to reason.
Arthur turned his boiling gaze to his servant, finger held out pointing. “And you will be joining him if you don’t shut it! It’s self-inflicted, I have no sympathy.”
“Hey I did what you said,” Gwaine groaned, still grimacing after downing his cure, “I’ve got my partner we’re just heading for the field.”
“Oh really?!” Arthur scoffed, “And where is this mysterious Knight?”
“Who said anything about a Knight?”
Arthur took a long look to Merlin and back again. “You can’t be serious?”
“What?” Merlin mumbled distracted by some dirt under his fingernails.
Gwaine grinned at his cunning guile. “Of course. Nowhere in your instructions did you state the manner of partner I had to pick. I could have picked Gwen if I so wished.”
“At least Gwen would give you a harder fight.” The King snorted, eyeing his manservant in a resigned manner. “Fine! I suppose it’s better than you doing nothing all day. And the twig could use a good work out. Grab a sword.”
Merlin looked up, seeming to suddenly realise that he was party to the discussion. “What, what am I doing?”
“Grab a sword Merlin.” Gwaine called out, his spirits lighter and head clearer after that tincture, “You are to be my sparring partner today.”
Gwaine could hear Merlin’s groan from the central field position he had selected but he boy graciously trudged along, a long sword dragging behind him.
“Next time you want to piss Arthur off leave me out of it.” Merlin groused as he took a shaky ready position opposite the Knight. Gwaine mirrored his stance and gave a small smile.
“Basic drills?”
Merlin nodded and rolled his shoulders, staring at Gwaine’s sword with such concentration, as if the thing were a deadly snake about to attack. Gwaine snorted and waved the sword lightly from side to side watching Merlin’s intense stare follow its path.
“Relax Merlin,“ he snorted, “It’s just a friendly spar, nice and gentle for my head this morning.”
“Easy for you to say in you armour.”
“I’ll be gentle with you I promise. Begin?”
Merlin gave a brief nod and Gwaine let his sword fall to connect with Merlin’s. Merlin’s sword held steady and Gwaine nodded in approval as they both moved to position two.
It seemed that Merlin had picked up a few things watching endless Knight’s training and they moved through the drills with little effort or stumbling. But the thing about drills were… they were boring.
After a few minutes of move, meet, parry, move, Gwaine found his mind wandering. He tried to remember the details from last night, planned the rest of his day, rehearsed his pleading speech to Cook for some fresh bread, perhaps see if he could find the delightful Clara for company again tonight.
He was knocked from his reverie by Merlin’s snort. There was a small bead of sweat running down the man’s cheek in the midday sun but his face was pulled into an amused grin.
“I can’t believe you are already planning your next drink.”
“That obvious am I?” Gwaine chuckled.
“Only to people who have eyes. Your head is still pounding from last night, don’t you think you should rest?”
“Ah - rest is for the weak!”
“Or the sane!”
“Or them. But I have never claimed to be either of those things.”
Merlin chuckled and their feet began to move, forcing their drills into a circle, their swords still clashing monotonously between them.
“You have the option for a full night’s sleep and you are throwing it away. You don’t know what I would give for the opportunity to spend time with my bed for more than a few hours.”
“There are much more entertaining things to be done between sheets than snore!” Gwaine leered.
“Ah snoring,” Merlin sighed in mock wistfulness, “And drooling, pillow creases! Oh I miss thee!”
Gwaine laughed out loud taking a step closer, forcing Merlin to fall back a step. But stupidly, he missed the hit, his sword going towards the grass. Suddenly Merlin’s sword dropped, flicking both blades back to the middle and they began their dance again.
Gwaine grinned. “You should ask our great leader for a night off; let me take you into the town. Show you how us men spend our nights.”
“And then have to deal with His Prattsihness the next day with a banging head. No I’ll pass thanks.”
Their swords picked up their pace, the meeting and moving, the metals smooth and solid. Gwaine re-firmed his grip and resettled his stance.
“Well don’t say I never ask you places.”
“To a tavern to watch you charm your way into Clara’s bed?”
Merlin’s little frown of concentration had disappeared now, his face open and relaxed as he battled Gwaine’s wit over the clashing of their swords. Merlin’s sword moved as if an extension of his arm, no thought going into its movements and falls. Gwaine felt a trickle of sweat sweep down his neck and seep into the neck of his chainmail. He watched Merlin move, free and light, and wished he hadn’t bothered putting it on.
Gwaine tried to swish his sweaty locks from his face, he broke concentration for one second and Merlin’s sword trust forward into the opening sending Gwaine stumbling back a few steps.
But Gwaine was a Knight of Camelot, he didn’t have the luxury for shock. He stepped back in, Merlin meeting his counter with ease and they fell back into pattern.
“And I would be stuck in the corner all night,” Merlin was continuing, “nursing the one beer I can afford trying not to fall asleep on the questionably sticky table. No thanks. A good meal and an early night sound like my ideal evening right now. I swear that prat doesn’t understand how long it takes to clean his bloody chainmail. It’s like he rolls about in mud on purpose!”
If Merlin had been paying attention to Gwaine’s face he would have seen the red hue it was turning, maybe noticed the droplets of sweat now falling quickly down the knights face and soaking his hair. If he was watching the surroundings he would have seen the other small spars around them coming to a halt and Arthur and Leon’s incredulous looks, Percival’s amused grin and Elyan’s open mouth of shock.
Gwaine may have a hangover, may be an insubordinate Knight in the mornings, but he had his pride. It was a low blow but he twisted, aiming a light slap of his sword to Merlin’s breech-clad thigh.
But then the thigh moved, Merlin twisted his sword dipping low then raising high, forcing Gwaine’s sword away. He span gracefully on his toes meeting Gwaine’s sword on its downward parry on his return twirl. All the while his mouth never stopped.
“’Clean the stables merlin, clean my socks Merlin’ and then ‘you’re so lazy Merlin, how dare you attempt to sleep or eat or breathe!’ If I fall down one day from exhaustion it’s going to be on his head. And Gaius isn’t much better! If I ever have to clean a leech tank again I think I might just retire to the mountains, live as wild man. The children will tell tales about me: ‘don’t go into the woods, Crazy Old Man Merlin lives there’. Maybe I’ll get some rest then.”
Merlin performed an impressive backward skip to avoid Gwaine’s downward swing. Gwaine used the small reprieve to push his hair from his face. He barely had taken a breath before Merlin’s sword was coming for him again.
Merlin didn’t seem to realise that he was now in a one way conversation, Gwaine too busy pulling in wheezing breaths to counter.
“And then my one morning off, I decide to do a nice deed, bring my friend a tonic and I get pulled into being bashed about the training field by a bully wrapped in metal.”
Every step Gwaine took now was backwards, the training squires moved swiftly out of the pair’s way.
“You Knights all think it’s fun to pick on Merlin.”
Gwaine next step backwards was a stumble, he only just lifted his sword up in time to counter Merlin’s swing.
“Like I am your little brother that you get to wheedle and torment like a pass time. And that’s fine. I can take it; it’s how you show you all care.”
Gwaine stumbled again under a particular heavy blow, one leg buckling to land on his knee.
“But for once I would just like…” Merlin heaved a great huff, and brought his sword down. It met Gwaine’s with a clang, reverberating up Gwaine’s arm and into his still delicate head. Next thing Gwaine knew there was grass beneath his back and blue sky above his face. The sunlight pierced his eyes and it was a blessing when a thin face hovered above his own, blocking him in shadow.
“Now you’ve had your fun Sir Gwaine.” Merlin scowled, his thin hands resting on slim hips. “Stop messing about and take your training seriously. Good training and practice is the difference between a live Knight and a dead Knight.” Gwaine could only nod mutely.
“Great now I have to go draw His Highness a bath. How fulfilling my life is.”
The shade was gone and Gwaine was left blinking in the sunlight for a few moments before he drew enough breath to push up on his elbows.
He watched Merlin trudge through the gathered crowd, passing his weapon to a squire who quickly took the sword before cowering away. Gwaine swallowed and watched Arthur’s open mouth and astonished face following his manservant as he disappeared back into the castle.
Gwaine may have found it amusing if he had felt like he could move.
He flopped back to the ground, making a silent pact to the heavens that he would not drink again before training as long as the Gods would erase the last few minutes from his Knights minds.
“Never anger Sir Merlin.” Gwaine heard Percival chuckle and then the entire ground erupted in laughter. Gwaine groaned and covered his face with his arm.
He was never going to live this down.
His fears rang true when a traveling minstrel came to court a few moons later, his opening ballad the daring tale of Sir Gwaine and Sir Martin. The Knights and the King sang heartily along. And Merlin watched the whole scene stood behind the Knights table, jug of wine in hand, and a confused scowl on his face.
When the song came to an end and the singing and hearty chuckles calmed down Merlin leant down and refilled Gwaine’s goblet whispering in his ear “Who is Sir Martin?”
Percival, seated next to Gwaine, couldn’t hold in his amusement. Gwaine sunk his head down to the table as the laughter drifted up the table. Merlin just looked even more confused and left the hysterical knights to themselves.
*
It became one of the Knights favorite songs to sing on patrol and in camp. Gwaine seemed to find it endlessly annoying and even the new recruits learnt the words early on and joined in, usually sending Merlin odd looks whilst he set up camp to their tunes.
Merlin never learnt who the fearsome Sir Martin was, which was a shame, he sounded like a good guy to have around.
Rating: PG
Summary: Written for this kinkme_merlin prompt: Canon-era: Gwaine 'borrows' Merlin to be his sparring partner in preparation of whatever. Arthur laughingly agrees. The easy morning spar doesn't go quite how Gwaine expected.
Gwaine’s head pounded in time with the clash of metal on metal around him. He had known last night that he should have stopped at his third tankard, but Clara had just been such obliging company and before he knew it he had another two pints swilling in his stomach and a pretty barmaid in his lap.
Perhaps he should have just stopped so as to remember the rest of the night.
“Sir Gwaine!”
Arthur’s holler caused Gwaine’s brain to twitch behind his forehead in an alarmingly painful way.
“Get onto the pitch now, get a partner and engage!”
Gwaine looked from Percival’s bulging bicep clenching as he brought his sword down to the test dummy, he watched Elyan’s sure steps as he danced around a young new recruit and Leon’s hawk eye as he paraded up and down the squire’s drills, correcting stances and demanding perfection on every swing.
Gwaine just wanted to close his eyes and go back to bed, maybe drink a lake of water and have a long bath, and he wouldn’t be adverse to a good strong massage-
“Gwaine! If you don’t get a partner right now you will be training with me and running laps till sundown!”
“Drink this.”
Gwaine blinked at the off green vial held out under his nose, and followed the attached limb up a long elegant hand, to a scrawny arm, to the slim shoulders of Merlin. Merlin his savior, his light, the one true thing left in this world…
He might have said some of that out loud because Merlin shook his head and gave his armour cladded shoulder an ineffectual push.
“Just drink the damn potion and get onto the field before Arthur blows a vessel.”
Gwaine accepted the vial smirking. “You think if the princess croaks it I could make a go for crown? I think it would look rather fetching on me.”
“No because Arthur will make killing you the last thing he ever does.” Gwaine followed Merlin’s warning look to see the red faced King marching over to the lance rack where Gwaine was leaning (or clinging to for dear life, one or the other).
“That’s it.” The King seethed, “Enough insubordination, pick a sword. You run a mile for every hit I get in.”
“Arthur, be reasonable, he’s not well-“ Merlin tried to reason.
Arthur turned his boiling gaze to his servant, finger held out pointing. “And you will be joining him if you don’t shut it! It’s self-inflicted, I have no sympathy.”
“Hey I did what you said,” Gwaine groaned, still grimacing after downing his cure, “I’ve got my partner we’re just heading for the field.”
“Oh really?!” Arthur scoffed, “And where is this mysterious Knight?”
“Who said anything about a Knight?”
Arthur took a long look to Merlin and back again. “You can’t be serious?”
“What?” Merlin mumbled distracted by some dirt under his fingernails.
Gwaine grinned at his cunning guile. “Of course. Nowhere in your instructions did you state the manner of partner I had to pick. I could have picked Gwen if I so wished.”
“At least Gwen would give you a harder fight.” The King snorted, eyeing his manservant in a resigned manner. “Fine! I suppose it’s better than you doing nothing all day. And the twig could use a good work out. Grab a sword.”
Merlin looked up, seeming to suddenly realise that he was party to the discussion. “What, what am I doing?”
“Grab a sword Merlin.” Gwaine called out, his spirits lighter and head clearer after that tincture, “You are to be my sparring partner today.”
Gwaine could hear Merlin’s groan from the central field position he had selected but he boy graciously trudged along, a long sword dragging behind him.
“Next time you want to piss Arthur off leave me out of it.” Merlin groused as he took a shaky ready position opposite the Knight. Gwaine mirrored his stance and gave a small smile.
“Basic drills?”
Merlin nodded and rolled his shoulders, staring at Gwaine’s sword with such concentration, as if the thing were a deadly snake about to attack. Gwaine snorted and waved the sword lightly from side to side watching Merlin’s intense stare follow its path.
“Relax Merlin,“ he snorted, “It’s just a friendly spar, nice and gentle for my head this morning.”
“Easy for you to say in you armour.”
“I’ll be gentle with you I promise. Begin?”
Merlin gave a brief nod and Gwaine let his sword fall to connect with Merlin’s. Merlin’s sword held steady and Gwaine nodded in approval as they both moved to position two.
It seemed that Merlin had picked up a few things watching endless Knight’s training and they moved through the drills with little effort or stumbling. But the thing about drills were… they were boring.
After a few minutes of move, meet, parry, move, Gwaine found his mind wandering. He tried to remember the details from last night, planned the rest of his day, rehearsed his pleading speech to Cook for some fresh bread, perhaps see if he could find the delightful Clara for company again tonight.
He was knocked from his reverie by Merlin’s snort. There was a small bead of sweat running down the man’s cheek in the midday sun but his face was pulled into an amused grin.
“I can’t believe you are already planning your next drink.”
“That obvious am I?” Gwaine chuckled.
“Only to people who have eyes. Your head is still pounding from last night, don’t you think you should rest?”
“Ah - rest is for the weak!”
“Or the sane!”
“Or them. But I have never claimed to be either of those things.”
Merlin chuckled and their feet began to move, forcing their drills into a circle, their swords still clashing monotonously between them.
“You have the option for a full night’s sleep and you are throwing it away. You don’t know what I would give for the opportunity to spend time with my bed for more than a few hours.”
“There are much more entertaining things to be done between sheets than snore!” Gwaine leered.
“Ah snoring,” Merlin sighed in mock wistfulness, “And drooling, pillow creases! Oh I miss thee!”
Gwaine laughed out loud taking a step closer, forcing Merlin to fall back a step. But stupidly, he missed the hit, his sword going towards the grass. Suddenly Merlin’s sword dropped, flicking both blades back to the middle and they began their dance again.
Gwaine grinned. “You should ask our great leader for a night off; let me take you into the town. Show you how us men spend our nights.”
“And then have to deal with His Prattsihness the next day with a banging head. No I’ll pass thanks.”
Their swords picked up their pace, the meeting and moving, the metals smooth and solid. Gwaine re-firmed his grip and resettled his stance.
“Well don’t say I never ask you places.”
“To a tavern to watch you charm your way into Clara’s bed?”
Merlin’s little frown of concentration had disappeared now, his face open and relaxed as he battled Gwaine’s wit over the clashing of their swords. Merlin’s sword moved as if an extension of his arm, no thought going into its movements and falls. Gwaine felt a trickle of sweat sweep down his neck and seep into the neck of his chainmail. He watched Merlin move, free and light, and wished he hadn’t bothered putting it on.
Gwaine tried to swish his sweaty locks from his face, he broke concentration for one second and Merlin’s sword trust forward into the opening sending Gwaine stumbling back a few steps.
But Gwaine was a Knight of Camelot, he didn’t have the luxury for shock. He stepped back in, Merlin meeting his counter with ease and they fell back into pattern.
“And I would be stuck in the corner all night,” Merlin was continuing, “nursing the one beer I can afford trying not to fall asleep on the questionably sticky table. No thanks. A good meal and an early night sound like my ideal evening right now. I swear that prat doesn’t understand how long it takes to clean his bloody chainmail. It’s like he rolls about in mud on purpose!”
If Merlin had been paying attention to Gwaine’s face he would have seen the red hue it was turning, maybe noticed the droplets of sweat now falling quickly down the knights face and soaking his hair. If he was watching the surroundings he would have seen the other small spars around them coming to a halt and Arthur and Leon’s incredulous looks, Percival’s amused grin and Elyan’s open mouth of shock.
Gwaine may have a hangover, may be an insubordinate Knight in the mornings, but he had his pride. It was a low blow but he twisted, aiming a light slap of his sword to Merlin’s breech-clad thigh.
But then the thigh moved, Merlin twisted his sword dipping low then raising high, forcing Gwaine’s sword away. He span gracefully on his toes meeting Gwaine’s sword on its downward parry on his return twirl. All the while his mouth never stopped.
“’Clean the stables merlin, clean my socks Merlin’ and then ‘you’re so lazy Merlin, how dare you attempt to sleep or eat or breathe!’ If I fall down one day from exhaustion it’s going to be on his head. And Gaius isn’t much better! If I ever have to clean a leech tank again I think I might just retire to the mountains, live as wild man. The children will tell tales about me: ‘don’t go into the woods, Crazy Old Man Merlin lives there’. Maybe I’ll get some rest then.”
Merlin performed an impressive backward skip to avoid Gwaine’s downward swing. Gwaine used the small reprieve to push his hair from his face. He barely had taken a breath before Merlin’s sword was coming for him again.
Merlin didn’t seem to realise that he was now in a one way conversation, Gwaine too busy pulling in wheezing breaths to counter.
“And then my one morning off, I decide to do a nice deed, bring my friend a tonic and I get pulled into being bashed about the training field by a bully wrapped in metal.”
Every step Gwaine took now was backwards, the training squires moved swiftly out of the pair’s way.
“You Knights all think it’s fun to pick on Merlin.”
Gwaine next step backwards was a stumble, he only just lifted his sword up in time to counter Merlin’s swing.
“Like I am your little brother that you get to wheedle and torment like a pass time. And that’s fine. I can take it; it’s how you show you all care.”
Gwaine stumbled again under a particular heavy blow, one leg buckling to land on his knee.
“But for once I would just like…” Merlin heaved a great huff, and brought his sword down. It met Gwaine’s with a clang, reverberating up Gwaine’s arm and into his still delicate head. Next thing Gwaine knew there was grass beneath his back and blue sky above his face. The sunlight pierced his eyes and it was a blessing when a thin face hovered above his own, blocking him in shadow.
“Now you’ve had your fun Sir Gwaine.” Merlin scowled, his thin hands resting on slim hips. “Stop messing about and take your training seriously. Good training and practice is the difference between a live Knight and a dead Knight.” Gwaine could only nod mutely.
“Great now I have to go draw His Highness a bath. How fulfilling my life is.”
The shade was gone and Gwaine was left blinking in the sunlight for a few moments before he drew enough breath to push up on his elbows.
He watched Merlin trudge through the gathered crowd, passing his weapon to a squire who quickly took the sword before cowering away. Gwaine swallowed and watched Arthur’s open mouth and astonished face following his manservant as he disappeared back into the castle.
Gwaine may have found it amusing if he had felt like he could move.
He flopped back to the ground, making a silent pact to the heavens that he would not drink again before training as long as the Gods would erase the last few minutes from his Knights minds.
“Never anger Sir Merlin.” Gwaine heard Percival chuckle and then the entire ground erupted in laughter. Gwaine groaned and covered his face with his arm.
He was never going to live this down.
His fears rang true when a traveling minstrel came to court a few moons later, his opening ballad the daring tale of Sir Gwaine and Sir Martin. The Knights and the King sang heartily along. And Merlin watched the whole scene stood behind the Knights table, jug of wine in hand, and a confused scowl on his face.
When the song came to an end and the singing and hearty chuckles calmed down Merlin leant down and refilled Gwaine’s goblet whispering in his ear “Who is Sir Martin?”
Percival, seated next to Gwaine, couldn’t hold in his amusement. Gwaine sunk his head down to the table as the laughter drifted up the table. Merlin just looked even more confused and left the hysterical knights to themselves.
*
It became one of the Knights favorite songs to sing on patrol and in camp. Gwaine seemed to find it endlessly annoying and even the new recruits learnt the words early on and joined in, usually sending Merlin odd looks whilst he set up camp to their tunes.
Merlin never learnt who the fearsome Sir Martin was, which was a shame, he sounded like a good guy to have around.