TSitS - Tristan
Title: The Sword in the Stone Series
Pairing: Pretty Gen. Kind of one-sided Merlin/Arthur, Gwen/Arthur, hinted Gwen/Lancelot. It’s about as gay as the series is, which is pretty gay.
Disclaimer: I do not own BBC’s Merlin. If I did, I’d be pretty happy because I’d know Colin and Bradley personally.
Summary: The legend of Excalibur is not as simple as everyone thinks. Arthur pulls a sword from a stone, beginning a chain of events that will lead him to his destiny and the sorcerer prophesied to stand beside him.
Chapter Summary: Someone is burning cities and Arthur wants to know who. Merlin faces his fears and the future opens up to him once more. Arthur and Merlin head out to stop the fire starters, but they're faced with a problem: someone thinks they started the fires themselves! Lancelot makes an appearance. Also, Merlin may have made his last mistake, outing himself as a sorcerer. Is Tristan a new friend, or have Merlin's problems just gotten much worse?
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Part VIII - Tristan
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A/N: Because every Merlin season must have an episode that includes Lancelot.
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"Enough."
Merlin looked up as Arthur shoved the documents from his table onto the floor and frowned, no, pouted. Merlin frowned too. He'd have to pick up those papers later.
"What's the matter?" he asked anyway.
Arthur leaned his chair back on two legs for a moment before setting it back on all fours and setting his hands on the table. "I returned from my encounter with the Fisher King to be immediately sent out to the neighboring kingdom of Mora for a peace-keeping meeting with the king there. Then I went to Tirtnaiur, Cendred's kingdom, to fully clear up any past grievances he had. Then, as soon as I got back, I was set to work learning more about the history of Camelot and Albion than I ever wanted to know," Arthur complained like a child, mildly waving his arms around as well. "I thought I knew a lot about being king, that I'd been trained from birth to do this, but it seems that until my father was certain of it, he'd been keeping a lot from me!"
Done with his rant, Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the fireplace. Merlin finished making the bed ready for Arthur to sleep in and then stood up. He knew what Arthur was thinking. There was a lot of pressure being suddenly thrown at him and he was feeling overwhelmed.
"Just remember what the Fisher King said," Merlin said easily, fluffing Arthur's pillows unnecessarily.
Arthur let out a breath of air, his face still turned away. "It doesn't matter how powerful you are or if you have a grand destiny. If you lack compassion, you will always fall short in the duties that await you," he recited dutifully. "You have much to learn….but you will succeed…," he finished quietly.
Merlin nodded and walked over to stand next to Arthur's table. Even with the papers he'd shoved off, the table was still littered with documents, writing utensils, a magnifying glass, and royal paraphernalia that some royal tutor had given to Arthur to study. He shook his head at it all and looked at Arthur.
"So believe in yourself," he said like it was obvious. "The greatest seer in all the lands told you you would be a great king. The mythical Fisher King told you you would succeed in being that great king. Why are you having so much trouble believing it?"
"I'm not," Arthur protested. "I mean, it's hard to argue when two of the most powerful sources of magic both tell you you're destined for greatness, but all of this-" he motioned to the desk. "There are more important things than this. Take for instance," he lifted a paper off the table, "someone or something is setting fire to the outer villages to the north. I should be taking care of that, not memorizing some stupid rules of courtship that no one's used for a decade."
Merlin laughed, moving to stoke the fire. "Well, you might want to learn those if you're going to impress Gwen."
Arthur frowned at the flames as they sparked and jumped in the hearth. "Gwen and I…" He shook his head. "It's impossible."
"Ah, but when you're king…you make the rules. And every King needs a good Queen."
"Merlin," Arthur stressed. "Shut up."
"Yes, sire," Merlin agreed with a grin.
Arthur scowled and changed the subject, looking back at his paper. "Now then. The fires are a problem. It could be Caerleon attacking us, or the people of the Northern Plains contesting my kingship." He sighed heavily, setting the paper back on his desk. "But I really have no way of knowing and the way they're attacking has no clear pattern or direction." He was just talking aloud, and would probably tell Merlin to shut up if he tried to offer his help, but talking aloud helped him think sometimes. "If I could just know where they would attack next…maybe I could get there first and catch them in the act. That would be perfect…but it's also impossible."
Merlin looked at the back of Arthur's head and frowned. "The future…," he breathed out.
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"How can I help Arthur?"
"That is a foolish question."
Merlin glared at the wall of his room. It was night time and he was asking for help from the most magical source he knew: Kilgarrah. It took a lot more magic and concentration to talk to the dragon this way, but he hadn't had a chance to get out and contact him otherwise.
"Foolish?"
In his head he heard an affirmative noise. "You already know the answer."
Merlin shook his head. "I never want to touch it again. I….it scares me."
"The crystal…or the future?" the dragon asked.
Merlin glared again. "You must know of another way to predict which city will burn next."
"No. Unless you asked a seer you could trust, which you can't, there is no other way available to you. You do want to help Arthur, right?" he probed, and Merlin sighed.
"Right."
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Merlin eyes glowed golden and the metal frame of the door squeaked lightly as it swung open and granted him entrance. He stepped up to where the stone sat, but didn't touch it. He watched it. He could feel its magic calling out to him, like the first time, pulsing through his being.
Look. Look. Look into the beyond, it said. It failed to mention the consequences.
Taking a deep breath, Merlin reached out and grabbed it as fast as lightening, immediately looking into its glassy surface; beyond it. He felt power rush through him and suddenly he couldn't release the stone, couldn't look away.
Fire tore across the surface of the glass. A city on fire. He could hear the screaming of the villagers and the laughter of the men who did it. Saw their faces: gruff and unshaven with dark hair. Arthur was fighting a young man, maybe twenty years old, with light brown hair and fair skin: an angry sword fight. The familiar face of Lancelot, smiling through the ash on his face. Arthur was fighting one of the men who had laughed before at the burning of the city: desperate, angry, and quick. His own face with a frightened expression, drenched in some liquid. A hawk flew by and screeched and Merlin dropped the crystal back onto its pedestal.
He felt out of breath, like he'd run several miles without pausing. Without waiting to breathe, Merlin rushed out of the room, barely remembering to lock the door behind him in his haste.
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The trees thinned out and suddenly Arthur could see a town. He took a deep breath and stopped his horse. Merlin stopped his horse at Arthur's side and Arthur turned to look at him.
"Are you sure about this, Merlin?" he asked.
Merlin nodded. "The guy said it would be this town," he repeated.
"And what makes you so sure the guy is a reliable source?" Arthur asked snappishly.
Merlin let out a breath and tossed Arthur an interesting look. "It's a bit late to turn back."
Arthur nodded, agreeing, and kicked his horse lightly so it would continue to walk.
Merlin had told Arthur last night, in a gasping rush, that a man had come to the city and nearly passed out, that Gaius had helped him, and that the man had told them where the fire starters were going to strike next. They'd rushed off in the middle of the night with barely a note or a word to anyone. So now they were just outside of a northern city of Camelot with only that man's word to go on. Arthur was doubtful but determined. Merlin knew he was right because he'd seen it.
As they entered the city, both were surprised by the music. A harp was being played somewhere. They kept their horses walking toward the nearest inn or tavern and, also, moved closer to the music. There was a man sitting in the village square just out front of the inn playing a modest looking harp beautifully. His hat lay on the ground in front of him and Merlin watched as a middle aged man dropped a small silver coin into it. The man playing nodded to him in thanks and Merlin lost his breath.
It was the young man Arthur had been fighting in the crystal! He had light brown, just a shade too dark to be dirty-blonde, hair that curled and went almost to his shoulders. His face was youthful and his eyes radiated contentment, and yet knowledge. His hands were just the kind you would expect from a minstrel or a man of noble birth who played an instrument. And yet he held himself like a warrior and had a sword tied to his belt.
"Arthur," Merlin called softly, nodding to the man and his sword.
Arthur nodded. "I see. We'll keep an eye on him. But first let's get a room and some food. And be quiet about me being the prince. I don't want to alert the culprits to our presence."
Merlin nodded, dismounting his horse at the same time Arthur did. The harper looked over at them and watched them enter the inn before turning his complete attention back to the small crowd gathered around him.
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Merlin was finishing his after supper drink alone in the tavern. Arthur was meandering about town, looking for anyone suspicious…though Merlin had seen a few of the townsgirls follow him out, so he might be fending off his fan club too. Arthur had left Merlin in the tavern because "barmaids seem more your forte," as Arthur had put it. So Merlin's eyes were scanning the room and looking for the men he'd seen in the crystal. He nearly choked on his drink when he saw one of them walk in, but before he could stand up, someone had joined him at the table.
The Harper.
"Hullo," he greeted in a voice that was low and charming, but not because he meant it to be. It was a voice that just seeped into your bones and made you feel safer….From one word, Merlin was already hoping this guy wasn't in league with the fire starters.
"Uh…hello," Merlin greeted, setting his cup down and making a meager wave-like motion at the harper. His hair looked darker in the tavern light than outside in the sun, but that only made sense.
The harper put his hands on the table but kept his back straight, like Arthur during a meeting with his father. "So I saw you and your traveling companion as you came in today," he began conversationally. "This poor little town isn't much to look at….do you mind me asking what brings you out here?"
Merlin frowned, looking at the man who'd come in earlier. He was now sitting with two other men, the others Merlin had seen in his vision at a table several tables away behind the harper. One of them kept glancing over at Merlin and the harper while the other two kept laughing about something Merlin couldn't hear. Well, if this harp guy was with the arsonists, Merlin wouldn't want to give too much away….
"You alright?" the harper asked, lowering his head a bit to look at Merlin from below.
Merlin shook his head and gave a half-incredulous smile. "Wha-yea. Yea. I'm fine."
The harper frowned. "You didn't answer my question."
Merlin let his smile drop into a pensive frown. "We're….," he cleared his throat. "We're sort of….uh…"
A little pouch landed on the table with a light 'cling' noise and Merlin's eyes snapped to what he recognized as Arthur's purse. He and the harper both looked up to see Arthur standing by the table. The prince motioned to the purse of money.
"You're a marvelous harpist," he complimented with a small smile, pulling up a seat at the table, since the harper had taken his previous seat.
The harper frowned, looking between Arthur and his purse. "Thank you, sir, but what does that have to do with your purse?" he asked cautiously.
Arthur opened the pouch and took out ten gold coins. "I love music, and I believe a man who plays it as well as you do deserves to be paid for it." He grinned at the harper's stunned face. "And I get the feeling you aren't traveling alone, and might need the extra money for your companions." His tone was almost serious, his eyes almost harsh, but the smile stayed on his face.
The harper, if possible, looked more stunned. He inclined his head and shut his eyes. "Th-thank you, sir," he said graciously, pulling the coins closer to himself and turning towards the bar. "Hey! I'd like another dinner, if you please!"
Arthur and Merlin exchanged an interested look. 'If you please'? The harper grinned at them both.
"Much obliged. Thank you," he said. He let his gaze linger on Merlin a moment, as if he were trying to guess his shoe size, and then did the same to Arthur.
Arthur stared for a moment before clearing his throat and patting Merlin on the shoulder. "Well, we have a lot to do tomorrow. We'd best be off to bed." He stood with his words and Merlin quickly drained his cup and stood along with him. Arthur gave a bit of a salute to the harper. "Have a good night."
"Bye," Merlin threw out himself. The harper returned Arthur's gesture, smiling as they walked away. Once they were out of sight, he frowned and fiddled with the money Arthur had left him idly, staring holes in the wood grain of the table until the barmaid appeared with his food, and then he smiled at her.
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"I'm not sure the harper is one of the fire starters," Merlin let out as they readied for bed.
"And what makes you think that?" Arthur asked, flopping unceremoniously onto the bed opposite Merlin.
Merlin shrugged. "He played harp for several hours, then came in and used his earnings to buy a drink and two meals. I think he's just a traveling minstrel."
"With a sword, Merlin?"
"Maybe he's paranoid," Merlin answered swiftly, sitting on his own bed. "Or he's got a child with him, and the sword is to protect the kid."
Before Arthur could comment back about the stupidity of that idea (swords were expensive, after all), someone screamed outside. They looked at each other and then both jumped up and threw on their proper clothes in a flash before running outside.
"There!" Merlin shouted, pointing to a house on the edge of town that was now engulfed in flames. Another one was lighting at that very moment and sparks from the first house hit the straw/grass roof of the house next to it, catching it on fire too. "It's spreading!"
They rushed over to the houses as everyone else ran around like chickens with their heads cut off attempting to find some way of stopping the fire. Merlin looked from fire to fire, thinking. He could stop the fire with magic but….He looked at Arthur as he started lifting dirt and throwing it on the first house. He hurried up as close to the nearest burning building as he dared and knelt down on the ground to gather dirt, like Arthur was.
"Infidel!"
Merlin narrowed his eyes in confusion and then flipped around just in time to see the sword descending on him. He gasped out, falling backwards. The sword landed in the dirt between his feet. "Ah."
Looking up at the face of his attacker, Merlin saw the harper. He looked livid! Merlin scooted backward about as successfully as a turtle on its back, and then flipped over and pushed himself up to run away. "You won't escape," the harper said lowly, picking his sword up from the dirt.
Merlin wasn't moving fast enough! He could practically feel as the harper brought his sword down on Merlin's back, and then suddenly Arthur was there, blocking the attack and throwing him back. "Merlin, where's your sword?"
"Uh..," Merlin finally managed to find his feet and fumbled, pulling the sword from its sheath quickly and standing at the ready. "Got it!"
Arthur rolled his eyes and then had to block another attack from the harper. "Why are you attacking us?" Arthur demanded, pushing the man back and slashing at his right side.
The harper dodged and came up from below. "Because. No one has the right to do what you have done," he said as he stabbed upward at Arthur's gut.
Arthur dashed backward and held his sword at the ready, prepared for the next attack to follow. The harper ran at him, sword high in an attack, and then suddenly he diverted and ran around Arthur instead. Arthur's heart rate sped up when he realized the harper was going for Merlin: the easier target.
"Merlin!"
Merlin gasped. The harper's sword came down hard from above and Merlin distinctly heard Arthur's voice yelling 'head!' in his mind. He lifted his sword, successfully blocking the attack. It was heavy, the harper pressing down on his with everything he had, but Merlin had been training with Arthur and he was much stronger. With a yell, Merlin shoved upwards and the harper took a step back, dropping the attack. Merlin, breathing heavily, smiled to himself. He'd done it!
His victory was short lived because the harper swung sideways at him and he had to quickly parry. "Left," he grunted out as they hit. The harper pulled back and came at Merlin again. "Right." He lifted his sword to block the second attack. The sword came from straight ahead. "Forward." Merlin took a step back, tripped over his own feet, and went down in the dirt again.
He fell so close to a burning house that he could feel the fire practically touch his back. He was so shocked he dropped his sword.
"Idiot!" Arthur grumbled, stepping between the harper and Merlin to knock the attack wide.
"Just die!" the harper shouted in frustration.
"Tristan! Stop!"
All three fighters stopped and turned to see a very familiar face standing just to the left of the fight. "Lancelot?" Arthur asked, stunned.
Tristan looked at Arthur, then back at Lancelot. "You know the culprits?" he spat incredulously.
Lancelot shook his head, running the last few steps to be beside them. "No. Tristan, this is Arthur and that's Merlin," he motioned to Merlin as the least trained of them stood up. "They're good. They're my friends."
Tristan looked between them twice before lowering his sword and sheathing it. "Then who started the fires?"
"Worry about that later. For now we need to put them out before the whole town goes up in flames," Lancelot reminded them all, gesturing to the now five buildings that were lit up.
"We need water," Arthur said.
"There isn't enough, just a small well in the middle of town," Tristan commented, motioning to villagers with small pails of water already dumping the miniscule amounts of liquid onto the raging fires.
"Then dirt!" Arthur said loudly before rushing off to try and help. Merlin looked at Lancelot once before running after Arthur.
There wasn't enough dirt either. The ground was only faintly covered with loose dirt and it was packed too tightly for them to shovel it out quick enough. The village was burning and nothing could stop it.
Merlin looked around himself. No one was near him. It'd be ok. Besides, Arthur now believed every good thing was 'his sorcerer' protecting him and helping him.
"Lafian lígbryne," he said, looking up at the sky.
Clouds formed, covering the sky in a layer of light grey. They grew dark and heavy and then suddenly water poured from the sky onto the village. It wasn't his most inconspicuous magic ever, but it would have to do. In a moment, everyone was thoroughly wet and a bit uncomfortable with it, but the fires were out in a flash so the villagers belayed their comfort for the miracle that had just saved their town.
"Good….áblinnan," Merlin murmured, and the rain drizzled to a stop. The clouds took a bit longer vanishing than they had appearing, but it didn't matter. He took a deep breath, held it for three seconds, and then let it out. "Whew."
"Hey! They started the fire!" someone shouted, and Merlin looked over to see a man pointing at three men rushing out of town like they themselves were aflame. You could barely see them in the dark.
Arthur, Lancelot, and Tristan all rushed passed him so Merlin quickly ran out of town after them. The men didn't even make it to the woods nearby. Arthur, Tristan, and Lancelot caught up to them before they could set a foot within the wooded safety net. Arthur tackled the middle one, the leader it seemed, and then hit the man's head against the hard ground just hard enough to knock him out. Lancelot had a short sword fight with his bandit, but won easily in about two swings of his sword and also incapacitated that man. Tristan was the interesting one.
He ran up and tackled his guy, much like Arthur had, but was quickly shoved off. Tristan rolled back and up to a standing position again and when he did, Merlin saw he had a rope in his hand with a weight on one end. Tristan spun the rope in a circle quickly and Merlin heard a slight noise, barely audible in dead silence let alone a scuffle. The man laughed outright at the weapon and pulled a sword; crude but sharp. He took one step forward. Tristan threw the weight out toward the man and then pulled it back in and suddenly the man yelled in pain and grabbed his head. Merlin saw something fly off and away, but was paying too much attention to Tristan to see what it actually was. Tristan grabbed the rope, ran at the man, and punched him in the gut before head butting him. The guy went down fast, a bit of blood dirtying the ground where he hit.
"What just happened?" Arthur asked curiously, still sitting on his victim. He nodded to Merlin, who pulled his belt off and handed it to Arthur so he could tie the leader up.
Tristan held up his arm and, a few short seconds later, a hawk landed there. Merlin gaped at it. He'd never been this close to a hawk before!
"Tristan is a hawksman," Lancelot explained. "He's very good."
"So you sword fight, play the harp, and work with hawks," Arthur said easily, coming to stand by the new guy now that he'd detained the criminal. "You're pretty good."
Tristan looked down humbly. "I do what I can. In any case, we should get these men back to town."
Arthur and Lancelot nodded in agreement and they carry-dragged the three men back to town. The villagers brought some rope and Lancelot tied the men together and to themselves. Arthur gave Merlin back his belt.
"These are the men who burned your village," Arthur began, and was immediately interrupted.
"They should be punished!" a man shouted.
Another agreed loudly. "Drag them through the streets!"
"No! Toss them in the river and let them drown!"
Merlin grimaced. He'd never heard such angry crowing before! Everyone was shouting, agreeing with someone else on how to best torture, hurt, and punish the criminal who destroyed a part of their village. In the dark of the night, with only torches and such to light the roads, the scene was ominous and foreboding: the dark side of human nature.
"No!"
Everyone stopped at Arthur's shout.
"These are the men who burned your village, and yes, they will be punished. But they will be punished in Camelot. They have burned many villages, hurt many people. They will be judged for all their crimes in Camelot by the King."
"And who are you to say so?" another man asked snidely. "They were caught in our village. We should judge them here!"
"They were caught in your village," Lancelot interceded gently, "by Arthur Pendragon and his men. He came to help you, yes, but allow him to help the others that were grieved in these past days as well."
Tristan gasped along with the rest of the village, staring at Arthur in shock. Arthur let them gawk for a moment and then he took control of the situation again. "I'll take these men to Camelot at first light. For now, does anyone have a place to hold them overnight? I'd also like to get started repairing the burnt houses."
Nobody slept that night but the criminals.
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Merlin was packing the horses the next morning, making sure they had everything they had left with and nothing else: the villagers had tried to give Arthur gifts, but he'd adamantly refused and promised pain to Merlin if any of the gifts made it into his saddlebags.
"Oh no," he let out, looking around. "Where's my sword?" Arthur had given him that sword to borrow, not to lose!
"Looking for this?" a voice asked, and Merlin turned and came face to face with Tristan. "It is a fine sword," he commented as he handed it to Merlin. "You wield it well for a servant."
Merlin looked at the sword bashfully. "Arthur needed someone to let him beat them, but he also wanted a bit of a challenge…so he taught me a bit. It's taken me more than three years just to learn to block," he laughed.
Tristan 'hmm'd deep in his throat. "Yes, well, who needs a sword to shield themselves when they can summon rain with a breath of a word?" he asked offhandedly.
Merlin nodded once before blanching, dropping his sword mid-way through tying it to the horse, and staring at Tristan in shock. "W-what did you just say?"
"I was standing a few feet behind you last night when the rains suddenly came and put out the fires. I don't know much about magic, but I know quite a bit about languages. You spoke in the language of the Old Religion, of the mages, and suddenly it was raining. It didn't take much to realize you had caused it," Tristan explained.
Merlin stared, wide-eyed, at Tristan for several long moments. First Lancelot, now Tristan…He turned and thumped his head against the side of the horse, which shifted slightly at the prodding but didn't move away. "No…" His secret was just about everywhere now, wasn't it?
"Don't worry," Tristan assured him. "I won't reveal your secret. I admire you."
"What?" Merlin asked, standing up and giving Tristan a curious look.
Tristan crossed his arms across his chest. "My native land is Cornwall, to the far southwest. My father is King Mark of Cornwall." Merlin took a half step back. Tristan was a prince like Arthur!
"What are you doing here, then?" he asked quietly.
Tristan looked highly uncomfortable. "I fell in love with a woman from another country, a princess of Ireland to the west," he began. "A great many things happened, but in the end…she was made my father's bride." Merlin grimaced. "I couldn't stay. I felt betrayed by everything I had known and cared about, by kings, queens, and country alike. So I ran to Camelot. I met Lancelot here." He looked behind Merlin and Merlin turned to see Lancelot and Arthur helping a man begin rebuilding his house. "He is a great man."
"He is," Merlin agreed.
"Lancelot and I both know what it is to lose the one we love to royalty," Tristan continued and Merlin turned to face him again. "He taught me that friendship, loyalty, and honor are worth fighting for, even if it all seems hopeless. He said that was something his love taught him before they were separated. And yet Lancelot is always speaking of the greatness of kings and the promise of the future of Albion. I knew he meant Camelot's Prince, the man who pulled the fated sword from the stone in the Canyon of Balin. I thought he was simply being foolish because of a seer's prophesy, but he continued on about the honor and goodness of Prince Arthur Pendragon." Tristan shrugged. "Yesterday, I realized Lancelot was telling the truth. Arthur is both a skilled warrior and a kind ruler. Today he breaks his own back to help rebuild his kingdom."
Merlin laughed. "You'd be amazed how often he's been doing that." Tristan nodded. "But…what does that have to do with you admiring me?" Merlin asked, confused. He picked the sword from the ground and tied it to the horse properly.
"Lancelot spoke of you."
"What?"
Tristan shrugged. "Not by name. But he spoke of a younger man of great character, someone he trusted with his life. He often spoke of a loyalty so deep and so pure, that the young man would give his life willingly, no matter what." Merlin smiled uncertainly and made to shake his head 'no', but Tristan stopped him. "You use magic in a kingdom where even to think of doing so means certain death, and you do so to serve and protect the future king of all Albion. I'd say that sort of loyalty is something quite extraordinary."
Merlin shook his head anyway. "No…it's nothing. I'm just trying to help," he insisted.
Tristan cast a glance over Merlin's shoulder to the others once more before continuing. "You've inspired me, all three of you. I ran away from my own kingdom because I couldn't handle it. I was a coward. I believe that, beyond Mark and Iseult, I felt betrayed by those of noble blood…because I am of noble blood. You and Lancelot, however, despite your adversities, believe in a king so fully that I feel….stupid, selfish, for the way I've behaved." He nodded to himself. "I think I can trust Arthur to be a good and just king, a truly great king."
Merlin smiled. "Yea. He's going to be great." A laugh escaped him. "Even if he is a prat sometimes."
"Merlin!" Arthur's voice traveled over and Merlin winced, even though he knew Arthur hadn't heard him. "Are you done yet?" he whined.
"Nearly! Sire!" Merlin responded, then shrugged at Tristan and went back to packing the horses. Tristan laughed lowly at Merlin's sheepish face and moved to tend to his own horse.
"Really. It's two horses," Arthur muttered, rolling a rope into a hoop shape. Lancelot let out a laugh. "What?"
Lancelot shook his head and shrugged at the same time. "You know….I knew you would be king….but I never knew you would be king of Albion." He paused and then nodded his head, setting the shovel in his hands point down in the dirt and resting his hands on it. "It's an honor….to know you."
Arthur shifted. "So you heard about that."
Lancelot smiled, more at ease now. "Everyone knows about that. The most powerful seer in the world foretold it. Every noble on the continent was there."
Arthur shrugged but said nothing. Lancelot shifted and turned his gaze on the villagers. Arthur would be a great king. He had a kind and noble heart, and the best manservant anyone could ask for. He deserved Gwen.
"Ahem," Lancelot cleared his throat and looked back at Arthur. He glanced at the sky a moment before saying anything. "You know….that rain," he started. "How lucky, right?" he laughed nervously.
Arthur stopped spinning rope and just stared at the ground a few feet in front of him. "Magic," he breathed out.
Lancelot stopped breathing momentarily. Oops. "What?"
"It was magic." Arthur tossed the completely coiled rope down to the side and faced Lancelot. "A lot of things can happen by accident, but not that. I'm no simpleton and I know magic when I see it," he said quietly, taking a step closer to Lancelot still poised by the shovel.
"And it if was magic?" Lancelot asked uncertainly.
Arthur shrugged, but held Lancelot's gaze. "I'm beginning to see a different side to magic these days. So much has happened and magic….well, it's a part of my destiny, it seems." He offered the ex-knight a little smile and Lancelot returned it.
"A great destiny indeed, sire."
A horse came up next to them then, led by Tristan. "Sire," he said with a nod of his head.
"Tristan?" Lancelot wondered aloud. "What are you…?"
Tristan pat the horse's neck. "I am inspired," he began. "I will return to Cornwall and accept my place at Mark's right hand." Arthur's eyes widened almost comically but he got his expression under control by the time Tristan turned to look at them. He stared right at Arthur. "My Lord Pendragon." He dropped the reins of his horse and knelt down in front of Arthur on one knee, propping himself up on the other. Bowing he head he said, "From this day forth, I swear my allegiance to you, Arthur Pendragon. My sword is at your command." He looked up at Arthur, who looked shocked. "Should you ever have need of me, simply send word and I will ride on bolts of lightning to be at your side, no matter when that is."
Arthur mentally shook himself and calmed his expression. He placed his hand on Tristan's left shoulder. "You would be most welcome, Prince Tristan," he said easily, like that wasn't a huge shock for him. "I look forward to the day we meet again, though hopefully it will not be for battle." He took his hand back and motioned for Tristan to stand, which he did. "When next you are in Camelot, you shall be called Sir Tristan, a strong knight of Camelot."
Merlin came over with his and Arthur's horses, looking curious but staying silent. Tristan nodded and mounted his horse. "I will come at your call, or upon your coronation," he said once he was in the saddle. "For now, I must return home. Until then," he said in farewell, nodding to all three of them in turn, eyes staying on Merlin a moment before he turned his horse around and rode away.
"He's impressive," Merlin said at length, sounding awed.
Arthur and Lancelot turned to look at him. Arthur frowned. "Impressive? He's impressive?" he asked incredulously, then scoffed and got on his horse. "Let's get back to Camelot. We've got criminals to punish."
He spurred the horse on and it walked over to where the three bandits were tied, grumbling about hunger pains and being hit with rotten vegetables first thing in the morning. Merlin blinked a few times, unable to understand what just happened, and then Lancelot laughed. "What?" he asked.
"Nothing," Lancelot assured him with a shake of his head. "I heard a wizard is supposed to stand at Arthur's side. I've no doubt about which it will be." He shrugged. "Though it is causing quite a scandal," he added almost teasingly.
Merlin tugged on the stirrup on his saddle absently. "Well, Camelot is known for its hatred of magic. Now a magic user will help rule the country," he said with a shrug. "I'm not surprised that Uther isn't the only skeptic."
Lancelot nodded. "Keep an eye out. You've got Cornwall on your side now, but other countries might not be so happy about Arthur being king."
Merlin hopped into the saddle. "I'll keep both eyes out," he promised with a smile like it was a joke. He frowned and shifted nervously in the saddle. "Lancelot….About my mag-"
"Merlin! I said now!" Arthur practically whined from down the street.
"I'll say hello to Gwen for you," Merlin told him in a rush, and Lancelot frowned so Merlin frowned too. "It's alright." He gave Lancelot a reassuring smile. "Bye." Merlin lightly kicked his horse into a walk and left Lancelot standing in the road with a shovel. He turned and moved to continue building a house once Merlin and Arthur were gone.
…
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Next Time: Merlin
Merlin finds an injured bird in the forest one day and brings it home to heal. Meanwhile, the castle is plagued by a series of maladies and strange occurrences that no one can explain. The only clue is a hint of silver in the sunlight. Could Merlin's new pet have anything to do with the events in the castle? But really, how much harm could a little Merlin do?
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Translations:
Lafian lígbryne = pour water on flames
Áblinnan = cease, desist.
Pairing: Pretty Gen. Kind of one-sided Merlin/Arthur, Gwen/Arthur, hinted Gwen/Lancelot. It’s about as gay as the series is, which is pretty gay.
Disclaimer: I do not own BBC’s Merlin. If I did, I’d be pretty happy because I’d know Colin and Bradley personally.
Summary: The legend of Excalibur is not as simple as everyone thinks. Arthur pulls a sword from a stone, beginning a chain of events that will lead him to his destiny and the sorcerer prophesied to stand beside him.
Chapter Summary: Someone is burning cities and Arthur wants to know who. Merlin faces his fears and the future opens up to him once more. Arthur and Merlin head out to stop the fire starters, but they're faced with a problem: someone thinks they started the fires themselves! Lancelot makes an appearance. Also, Merlin may have made his last mistake, outing himself as a sorcerer. Is Tristan a new friend, or have Merlin's problems just gotten much worse?
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Part VIII - Tristan
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A/N: Because every Merlin season must have an episode that includes Lancelot.
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"Enough."
Merlin looked up as Arthur shoved the documents from his table onto the floor and frowned, no, pouted. Merlin frowned too. He'd have to pick up those papers later.
"What's the matter?" he asked anyway.
Arthur leaned his chair back on two legs for a moment before setting it back on all fours and setting his hands on the table. "I returned from my encounter with the Fisher King to be immediately sent out to the neighboring kingdom of Mora for a peace-keeping meeting with the king there. Then I went to Tirtnaiur, Cendred's kingdom, to fully clear up any past grievances he had. Then, as soon as I got back, I was set to work learning more about the history of Camelot and Albion than I ever wanted to know," Arthur complained like a child, mildly waving his arms around as well. "I thought I knew a lot about being king, that I'd been trained from birth to do this, but it seems that until my father was certain of it, he'd been keeping a lot from me!"
Done with his rant, Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the fireplace. Merlin finished making the bed ready for Arthur to sleep in and then stood up. He knew what Arthur was thinking. There was a lot of pressure being suddenly thrown at him and he was feeling overwhelmed.
"Just remember what the Fisher King said," Merlin said easily, fluffing Arthur's pillows unnecessarily.
Arthur let out a breath of air, his face still turned away. "It doesn't matter how powerful you are or if you have a grand destiny. If you lack compassion, you will always fall short in the duties that await you," he recited dutifully. "You have much to learn….but you will succeed…," he finished quietly.
Merlin nodded and walked over to stand next to Arthur's table. Even with the papers he'd shoved off, the table was still littered with documents, writing utensils, a magnifying glass, and royal paraphernalia that some royal tutor had given to Arthur to study. He shook his head at it all and looked at Arthur.
"So believe in yourself," he said like it was obvious. "The greatest seer in all the lands told you you would be a great king. The mythical Fisher King told you you would succeed in being that great king. Why are you having so much trouble believing it?"
"I'm not," Arthur protested. "I mean, it's hard to argue when two of the most powerful sources of magic both tell you you're destined for greatness, but all of this-" he motioned to the desk. "There are more important things than this. Take for instance," he lifted a paper off the table, "someone or something is setting fire to the outer villages to the north. I should be taking care of that, not memorizing some stupid rules of courtship that no one's used for a decade."
Merlin laughed, moving to stoke the fire. "Well, you might want to learn those if you're going to impress Gwen."
Arthur frowned at the flames as they sparked and jumped in the hearth. "Gwen and I…" He shook his head. "It's impossible."
"Ah, but when you're king…you make the rules. And every King needs a good Queen."
"Merlin," Arthur stressed. "Shut up."
"Yes, sire," Merlin agreed with a grin.
Arthur scowled and changed the subject, looking back at his paper. "Now then. The fires are a problem. It could be Caerleon attacking us, or the people of the Northern Plains contesting my kingship." He sighed heavily, setting the paper back on his desk. "But I really have no way of knowing and the way they're attacking has no clear pattern or direction." He was just talking aloud, and would probably tell Merlin to shut up if he tried to offer his help, but talking aloud helped him think sometimes. "If I could just know where they would attack next…maybe I could get there first and catch them in the act. That would be perfect…but it's also impossible."
Merlin looked at the back of Arthur's head and frowned. "The future…," he breathed out.
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…
"How can I help Arthur?"
"That is a foolish question."
Merlin glared at the wall of his room. It was night time and he was asking for help from the most magical source he knew: Kilgarrah. It took a lot more magic and concentration to talk to the dragon this way, but he hadn't had a chance to get out and contact him otherwise.
"Foolish?"
In his head he heard an affirmative noise. "You already know the answer."
Merlin shook his head. "I never want to touch it again. I….it scares me."
"The crystal…or the future?" the dragon asked.
Merlin glared again. "You must know of another way to predict which city will burn next."
"No. Unless you asked a seer you could trust, which you can't, there is no other way available to you. You do want to help Arthur, right?" he probed, and Merlin sighed.
"Right."
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…
Merlin eyes glowed golden and the metal frame of the door squeaked lightly as it swung open and granted him entrance. He stepped up to where the stone sat, but didn't touch it. He watched it. He could feel its magic calling out to him, like the first time, pulsing through his being.
Look. Look. Look into the beyond, it said. It failed to mention the consequences.
Taking a deep breath, Merlin reached out and grabbed it as fast as lightening, immediately looking into its glassy surface; beyond it. He felt power rush through him and suddenly he couldn't release the stone, couldn't look away.
Fire tore across the surface of the glass. A city on fire. He could hear the screaming of the villagers and the laughter of the men who did it. Saw their faces: gruff and unshaven with dark hair. Arthur was fighting a young man, maybe twenty years old, with light brown hair and fair skin: an angry sword fight. The familiar face of Lancelot, smiling through the ash on his face. Arthur was fighting one of the men who had laughed before at the burning of the city: desperate, angry, and quick. His own face with a frightened expression, drenched in some liquid. A hawk flew by and screeched and Merlin dropped the crystal back onto its pedestal.
He felt out of breath, like he'd run several miles without pausing. Without waiting to breathe, Merlin rushed out of the room, barely remembering to lock the door behind him in his haste.
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The trees thinned out and suddenly Arthur could see a town. He took a deep breath and stopped his horse. Merlin stopped his horse at Arthur's side and Arthur turned to look at him.
"Are you sure about this, Merlin?" he asked.
Merlin nodded. "The guy said it would be this town," he repeated.
"And what makes you so sure the guy is a reliable source?" Arthur asked snappishly.
Merlin let out a breath and tossed Arthur an interesting look. "It's a bit late to turn back."
Arthur nodded, agreeing, and kicked his horse lightly so it would continue to walk.
Merlin had told Arthur last night, in a gasping rush, that a man had come to the city and nearly passed out, that Gaius had helped him, and that the man had told them where the fire starters were going to strike next. They'd rushed off in the middle of the night with barely a note or a word to anyone. So now they were just outside of a northern city of Camelot with only that man's word to go on. Arthur was doubtful but determined. Merlin knew he was right because he'd seen it.
As they entered the city, both were surprised by the music. A harp was being played somewhere. They kept their horses walking toward the nearest inn or tavern and, also, moved closer to the music. There was a man sitting in the village square just out front of the inn playing a modest looking harp beautifully. His hat lay on the ground in front of him and Merlin watched as a middle aged man dropped a small silver coin into it. The man playing nodded to him in thanks and Merlin lost his breath.
It was the young man Arthur had been fighting in the crystal! He had light brown, just a shade too dark to be dirty-blonde, hair that curled and went almost to his shoulders. His face was youthful and his eyes radiated contentment, and yet knowledge. His hands were just the kind you would expect from a minstrel or a man of noble birth who played an instrument. And yet he held himself like a warrior and had a sword tied to his belt.
"Arthur," Merlin called softly, nodding to the man and his sword.
Arthur nodded. "I see. We'll keep an eye on him. But first let's get a room and some food. And be quiet about me being the prince. I don't want to alert the culprits to our presence."
Merlin nodded, dismounting his horse at the same time Arthur did. The harper looked over at them and watched them enter the inn before turning his complete attention back to the small crowd gathered around him.
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Merlin was finishing his after supper drink alone in the tavern. Arthur was meandering about town, looking for anyone suspicious…though Merlin had seen a few of the townsgirls follow him out, so he might be fending off his fan club too. Arthur had left Merlin in the tavern because "barmaids seem more your forte," as Arthur had put it. So Merlin's eyes were scanning the room and looking for the men he'd seen in the crystal. He nearly choked on his drink when he saw one of them walk in, but before he could stand up, someone had joined him at the table.
The Harper.
"Hullo," he greeted in a voice that was low and charming, but not because he meant it to be. It was a voice that just seeped into your bones and made you feel safer….From one word, Merlin was already hoping this guy wasn't in league with the fire starters.
"Uh…hello," Merlin greeted, setting his cup down and making a meager wave-like motion at the harper. His hair looked darker in the tavern light than outside in the sun, but that only made sense.
The harper put his hands on the table but kept his back straight, like Arthur during a meeting with his father. "So I saw you and your traveling companion as you came in today," he began conversationally. "This poor little town isn't much to look at….do you mind me asking what brings you out here?"
Merlin frowned, looking at the man who'd come in earlier. He was now sitting with two other men, the others Merlin had seen in his vision at a table several tables away behind the harper. One of them kept glancing over at Merlin and the harper while the other two kept laughing about something Merlin couldn't hear. Well, if this harp guy was with the arsonists, Merlin wouldn't want to give too much away….
"You alright?" the harper asked, lowering his head a bit to look at Merlin from below.
Merlin shook his head and gave a half-incredulous smile. "Wha-yea. Yea. I'm fine."
The harper frowned. "You didn't answer my question."
Merlin let his smile drop into a pensive frown. "We're….," he cleared his throat. "We're sort of….uh…"
A little pouch landed on the table with a light 'cling' noise and Merlin's eyes snapped to what he recognized as Arthur's purse. He and the harper both looked up to see Arthur standing by the table. The prince motioned to the purse of money.
"You're a marvelous harpist," he complimented with a small smile, pulling up a seat at the table, since the harper had taken his previous seat.
The harper frowned, looking between Arthur and his purse. "Thank you, sir, but what does that have to do with your purse?" he asked cautiously.
Arthur opened the pouch and took out ten gold coins. "I love music, and I believe a man who plays it as well as you do deserves to be paid for it." He grinned at the harper's stunned face. "And I get the feeling you aren't traveling alone, and might need the extra money for your companions." His tone was almost serious, his eyes almost harsh, but the smile stayed on his face.
The harper, if possible, looked more stunned. He inclined his head and shut his eyes. "Th-thank you, sir," he said graciously, pulling the coins closer to himself and turning towards the bar. "Hey! I'd like another dinner, if you please!"
Arthur and Merlin exchanged an interested look. 'If you please'? The harper grinned at them both.
"Much obliged. Thank you," he said. He let his gaze linger on Merlin a moment, as if he were trying to guess his shoe size, and then did the same to Arthur.
Arthur stared for a moment before clearing his throat and patting Merlin on the shoulder. "Well, we have a lot to do tomorrow. We'd best be off to bed." He stood with his words and Merlin quickly drained his cup and stood along with him. Arthur gave a bit of a salute to the harper. "Have a good night."
"Bye," Merlin threw out himself. The harper returned Arthur's gesture, smiling as they walked away. Once they were out of sight, he frowned and fiddled with the money Arthur had left him idly, staring holes in the wood grain of the table until the barmaid appeared with his food, and then he smiled at her.
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…
"I'm not sure the harper is one of the fire starters," Merlin let out as they readied for bed.
"And what makes you think that?" Arthur asked, flopping unceremoniously onto the bed opposite Merlin.
Merlin shrugged. "He played harp for several hours, then came in and used his earnings to buy a drink and two meals. I think he's just a traveling minstrel."
"With a sword, Merlin?"
"Maybe he's paranoid," Merlin answered swiftly, sitting on his own bed. "Or he's got a child with him, and the sword is to protect the kid."
Before Arthur could comment back about the stupidity of that idea (swords were expensive, after all), someone screamed outside. They looked at each other and then both jumped up and threw on their proper clothes in a flash before running outside.
"There!" Merlin shouted, pointing to a house on the edge of town that was now engulfed in flames. Another one was lighting at that very moment and sparks from the first house hit the straw/grass roof of the house next to it, catching it on fire too. "It's spreading!"
They rushed over to the houses as everyone else ran around like chickens with their heads cut off attempting to find some way of stopping the fire. Merlin looked from fire to fire, thinking. He could stop the fire with magic but….He looked at Arthur as he started lifting dirt and throwing it on the first house. He hurried up as close to the nearest burning building as he dared and knelt down on the ground to gather dirt, like Arthur was.
"Infidel!"
Merlin narrowed his eyes in confusion and then flipped around just in time to see the sword descending on him. He gasped out, falling backwards. The sword landed in the dirt between his feet. "Ah."
Looking up at the face of his attacker, Merlin saw the harper. He looked livid! Merlin scooted backward about as successfully as a turtle on its back, and then flipped over and pushed himself up to run away. "You won't escape," the harper said lowly, picking his sword up from the dirt.
Merlin wasn't moving fast enough! He could practically feel as the harper brought his sword down on Merlin's back, and then suddenly Arthur was there, blocking the attack and throwing him back. "Merlin, where's your sword?"
"Uh..," Merlin finally managed to find his feet and fumbled, pulling the sword from its sheath quickly and standing at the ready. "Got it!"
Arthur rolled his eyes and then had to block another attack from the harper. "Why are you attacking us?" Arthur demanded, pushing the man back and slashing at his right side.
The harper dodged and came up from below. "Because. No one has the right to do what you have done," he said as he stabbed upward at Arthur's gut.
Arthur dashed backward and held his sword at the ready, prepared for the next attack to follow. The harper ran at him, sword high in an attack, and then suddenly he diverted and ran around Arthur instead. Arthur's heart rate sped up when he realized the harper was going for Merlin: the easier target.
"Merlin!"
Merlin gasped. The harper's sword came down hard from above and Merlin distinctly heard Arthur's voice yelling 'head!' in his mind. He lifted his sword, successfully blocking the attack. It was heavy, the harper pressing down on his with everything he had, but Merlin had been training with Arthur and he was much stronger. With a yell, Merlin shoved upwards and the harper took a step back, dropping the attack. Merlin, breathing heavily, smiled to himself. He'd done it!
His victory was short lived because the harper swung sideways at him and he had to quickly parry. "Left," he grunted out as they hit. The harper pulled back and came at Merlin again. "Right." He lifted his sword to block the second attack. The sword came from straight ahead. "Forward." Merlin took a step back, tripped over his own feet, and went down in the dirt again.
He fell so close to a burning house that he could feel the fire practically touch his back. He was so shocked he dropped his sword.
"Idiot!" Arthur grumbled, stepping between the harper and Merlin to knock the attack wide.
"Just die!" the harper shouted in frustration.
"Tristan! Stop!"
All three fighters stopped and turned to see a very familiar face standing just to the left of the fight. "Lancelot?" Arthur asked, stunned.
Tristan looked at Arthur, then back at Lancelot. "You know the culprits?" he spat incredulously.
Lancelot shook his head, running the last few steps to be beside them. "No. Tristan, this is Arthur and that's Merlin," he motioned to Merlin as the least trained of them stood up. "They're good. They're my friends."
Tristan looked between them twice before lowering his sword and sheathing it. "Then who started the fires?"
"Worry about that later. For now we need to put them out before the whole town goes up in flames," Lancelot reminded them all, gesturing to the now five buildings that were lit up.
"We need water," Arthur said.
"There isn't enough, just a small well in the middle of town," Tristan commented, motioning to villagers with small pails of water already dumping the miniscule amounts of liquid onto the raging fires.
"Then dirt!" Arthur said loudly before rushing off to try and help. Merlin looked at Lancelot once before running after Arthur.
There wasn't enough dirt either. The ground was only faintly covered with loose dirt and it was packed too tightly for them to shovel it out quick enough. The village was burning and nothing could stop it.
Merlin looked around himself. No one was near him. It'd be ok. Besides, Arthur now believed every good thing was 'his sorcerer' protecting him and helping him.
"Lafian lígbryne," he said, looking up at the sky.
Clouds formed, covering the sky in a layer of light grey. They grew dark and heavy and then suddenly water poured from the sky onto the village. It wasn't his most inconspicuous magic ever, but it would have to do. In a moment, everyone was thoroughly wet and a bit uncomfortable with it, but the fires were out in a flash so the villagers belayed their comfort for the miracle that had just saved their town.
"Good….áblinnan," Merlin murmured, and the rain drizzled to a stop. The clouds took a bit longer vanishing than they had appearing, but it didn't matter. He took a deep breath, held it for three seconds, and then let it out. "Whew."
"Hey! They started the fire!" someone shouted, and Merlin looked over to see a man pointing at three men rushing out of town like they themselves were aflame. You could barely see them in the dark.
Arthur, Lancelot, and Tristan all rushed passed him so Merlin quickly ran out of town after them. The men didn't even make it to the woods nearby. Arthur, Tristan, and Lancelot caught up to them before they could set a foot within the wooded safety net. Arthur tackled the middle one, the leader it seemed, and then hit the man's head against the hard ground just hard enough to knock him out. Lancelot had a short sword fight with his bandit, but won easily in about two swings of his sword and also incapacitated that man. Tristan was the interesting one.
He ran up and tackled his guy, much like Arthur had, but was quickly shoved off. Tristan rolled back and up to a standing position again and when he did, Merlin saw he had a rope in his hand with a weight on one end. Tristan spun the rope in a circle quickly and Merlin heard a slight noise, barely audible in dead silence let alone a scuffle. The man laughed outright at the weapon and pulled a sword; crude but sharp. He took one step forward. Tristan threw the weight out toward the man and then pulled it back in and suddenly the man yelled in pain and grabbed his head. Merlin saw something fly off and away, but was paying too much attention to Tristan to see what it actually was. Tristan grabbed the rope, ran at the man, and punched him in the gut before head butting him. The guy went down fast, a bit of blood dirtying the ground where he hit.
"What just happened?" Arthur asked curiously, still sitting on his victim. He nodded to Merlin, who pulled his belt off and handed it to Arthur so he could tie the leader up.
Tristan held up his arm and, a few short seconds later, a hawk landed there. Merlin gaped at it. He'd never been this close to a hawk before!
"Tristan is a hawksman," Lancelot explained. "He's very good."
"So you sword fight, play the harp, and work with hawks," Arthur said easily, coming to stand by the new guy now that he'd detained the criminal. "You're pretty good."
Tristan looked down humbly. "I do what I can. In any case, we should get these men back to town."
Arthur and Lancelot nodded in agreement and they carry-dragged the three men back to town. The villagers brought some rope and Lancelot tied the men together and to themselves. Arthur gave Merlin back his belt.
"These are the men who burned your village," Arthur began, and was immediately interrupted.
"They should be punished!" a man shouted.
Another agreed loudly. "Drag them through the streets!"
"No! Toss them in the river and let them drown!"
Merlin grimaced. He'd never heard such angry crowing before! Everyone was shouting, agreeing with someone else on how to best torture, hurt, and punish the criminal who destroyed a part of their village. In the dark of the night, with only torches and such to light the roads, the scene was ominous and foreboding: the dark side of human nature.
"No!"
Everyone stopped at Arthur's shout.
"These are the men who burned your village, and yes, they will be punished. But they will be punished in Camelot. They have burned many villages, hurt many people. They will be judged for all their crimes in Camelot by the King."
"And who are you to say so?" another man asked snidely. "They were caught in our village. We should judge them here!"
"They were caught in your village," Lancelot interceded gently, "by Arthur Pendragon and his men. He came to help you, yes, but allow him to help the others that were grieved in these past days as well."
Tristan gasped along with the rest of the village, staring at Arthur in shock. Arthur let them gawk for a moment and then he took control of the situation again. "I'll take these men to Camelot at first light. For now, does anyone have a place to hold them overnight? I'd also like to get started repairing the burnt houses."
Nobody slept that night but the criminals.
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Merlin was packing the horses the next morning, making sure they had everything they had left with and nothing else: the villagers had tried to give Arthur gifts, but he'd adamantly refused and promised pain to Merlin if any of the gifts made it into his saddlebags.
"Oh no," he let out, looking around. "Where's my sword?" Arthur had given him that sword to borrow, not to lose!
"Looking for this?" a voice asked, and Merlin turned and came face to face with Tristan. "It is a fine sword," he commented as he handed it to Merlin. "You wield it well for a servant."
Merlin looked at the sword bashfully. "Arthur needed someone to let him beat them, but he also wanted a bit of a challenge…so he taught me a bit. It's taken me more than three years just to learn to block," he laughed.
Tristan 'hmm'd deep in his throat. "Yes, well, who needs a sword to shield themselves when they can summon rain with a breath of a word?" he asked offhandedly.
Merlin nodded once before blanching, dropping his sword mid-way through tying it to the horse, and staring at Tristan in shock. "W-what did you just say?"
"I was standing a few feet behind you last night when the rains suddenly came and put out the fires. I don't know much about magic, but I know quite a bit about languages. You spoke in the language of the Old Religion, of the mages, and suddenly it was raining. It didn't take much to realize you had caused it," Tristan explained.
Merlin stared, wide-eyed, at Tristan for several long moments. First Lancelot, now Tristan…He turned and thumped his head against the side of the horse, which shifted slightly at the prodding but didn't move away. "No…" His secret was just about everywhere now, wasn't it?
"Don't worry," Tristan assured him. "I won't reveal your secret. I admire you."
"What?" Merlin asked, standing up and giving Tristan a curious look.
Tristan crossed his arms across his chest. "My native land is Cornwall, to the far southwest. My father is King Mark of Cornwall." Merlin took a half step back. Tristan was a prince like Arthur!
"What are you doing here, then?" he asked quietly.
Tristan looked highly uncomfortable. "I fell in love with a woman from another country, a princess of Ireland to the west," he began. "A great many things happened, but in the end…she was made my father's bride." Merlin grimaced. "I couldn't stay. I felt betrayed by everything I had known and cared about, by kings, queens, and country alike. So I ran to Camelot. I met Lancelot here." He looked behind Merlin and Merlin turned to see Lancelot and Arthur helping a man begin rebuilding his house. "He is a great man."
"He is," Merlin agreed.
"Lancelot and I both know what it is to lose the one we love to royalty," Tristan continued and Merlin turned to face him again. "He taught me that friendship, loyalty, and honor are worth fighting for, even if it all seems hopeless. He said that was something his love taught him before they were separated. And yet Lancelot is always speaking of the greatness of kings and the promise of the future of Albion. I knew he meant Camelot's Prince, the man who pulled the fated sword from the stone in the Canyon of Balin. I thought he was simply being foolish because of a seer's prophesy, but he continued on about the honor and goodness of Prince Arthur Pendragon." Tristan shrugged. "Yesterday, I realized Lancelot was telling the truth. Arthur is both a skilled warrior and a kind ruler. Today he breaks his own back to help rebuild his kingdom."
Merlin laughed. "You'd be amazed how often he's been doing that." Tristan nodded. "But…what does that have to do with you admiring me?" Merlin asked, confused. He picked the sword from the ground and tied it to the horse properly.
"Lancelot spoke of you."
"What?"
Tristan shrugged. "Not by name. But he spoke of a younger man of great character, someone he trusted with his life. He often spoke of a loyalty so deep and so pure, that the young man would give his life willingly, no matter what." Merlin smiled uncertainly and made to shake his head 'no', but Tristan stopped him. "You use magic in a kingdom where even to think of doing so means certain death, and you do so to serve and protect the future king of all Albion. I'd say that sort of loyalty is something quite extraordinary."
Merlin shook his head anyway. "No…it's nothing. I'm just trying to help," he insisted.
Tristan cast a glance over Merlin's shoulder to the others once more before continuing. "You've inspired me, all three of you. I ran away from my own kingdom because I couldn't handle it. I was a coward. I believe that, beyond Mark and Iseult, I felt betrayed by those of noble blood…because I am of noble blood. You and Lancelot, however, despite your adversities, believe in a king so fully that I feel….stupid, selfish, for the way I've behaved." He nodded to himself. "I think I can trust Arthur to be a good and just king, a truly great king."
Merlin smiled. "Yea. He's going to be great." A laugh escaped him. "Even if he is a prat sometimes."
"Merlin!" Arthur's voice traveled over and Merlin winced, even though he knew Arthur hadn't heard him. "Are you done yet?" he whined.
"Nearly! Sire!" Merlin responded, then shrugged at Tristan and went back to packing the horses. Tristan laughed lowly at Merlin's sheepish face and moved to tend to his own horse.
"Really. It's two horses," Arthur muttered, rolling a rope into a hoop shape. Lancelot let out a laugh. "What?"
Lancelot shook his head and shrugged at the same time. "You know….I knew you would be king….but I never knew you would be king of Albion." He paused and then nodded his head, setting the shovel in his hands point down in the dirt and resting his hands on it. "It's an honor….to know you."
Arthur shifted. "So you heard about that."
Lancelot smiled, more at ease now. "Everyone knows about that. The most powerful seer in the world foretold it. Every noble on the continent was there."
Arthur shrugged but said nothing. Lancelot shifted and turned his gaze on the villagers. Arthur would be a great king. He had a kind and noble heart, and the best manservant anyone could ask for. He deserved Gwen.
"Ahem," Lancelot cleared his throat and looked back at Arthur. He glanced at the sky a moment before saying anything. "You know….that rain," he started. "How lucky, right?" he laughed nervously.
Arthur stopped spinning rope and just stared at the ground a few feet in front of him. "Magic," he breathed out.
Lancelot stopped breathing momentarily. Oops. "What?"
"It was magic." Arthur tossed the completely coiled rope down to the side and faced Lancelot. "A lot of things can happen by accident, but not that. I'm no simpleton and I know magic when I see it," he said quietly, taking a step closer to Lancelot still poised by the shovel.
"And it if was magic?" Lancelot asked uncertainly.
Arthur shrugged, but held Lancelot's gaze. "I'm beginning to see a different side to magic these days. So much has happened and magic….well, it's a part of my destiny, it seems." He offered the ex-knight a little smile and Lancelot returned it.
"A great destiny indeed, sire."
A horse came up next to them then, led by Tristan. "Sire," he said with a nod of his head.
"Tristan?" Lancelot wondered aloud. "What are you…?"
Tristan pat the horse's neck. "I am inspired," he began. "I will return to Cornwall and accept my place at Mark's right hand." Arthur's eyes widened almost comically but he got his expression under control by the time Tristan turned to look at them. He stared right at Arthur. "My Lord Pendragon." He dropped the reins of his horse and knelt down in front of Arthur on one knee, propping himself up on the other. Bowing he head he said, "From this day forth, I swear my allegiance to you, Arthur Pendragon. My sword is at your command." He looked up at Arthur, who looked shocked. "Should you ever have need of me, simply send word and I will ride on bolts of lightning to be at your side, no matter when that is."
Arthur mentally shook himself and calmed his expression. He placed his hand on Tristan's left shoulder. "You would be most welcome, Prince Tristan," he said easily, like that wasn't a huge shock for him. "I look forward to the day we meet again, though hopefully it will not be for battle." He took his hand back and motioned for Tristan to stand, which he did. "When next you are in Camelot, you shall be called Sir Tristan, a strong knight of Camelot."
Merlin came over with his and Arthur's horses, looking curious but staying silent. Tristan nodded and mounted his horse. "I will come at your call, or upon your coronation," he said once he was in the saddle. "For now, I must return home. Until then," he said in farewell, nodding to all three of them in turn, eyes staying on Merlin a moment before he turned his horse around and rode away.
"He's impressive," Merlin said at length, sounding awed.
Arthur and Lancelot turned to look at him. Arthur frowned. "Impressive? He's impressive?" he asked incredulously, then scoffed and got on his horse. "Let's get back to Camelot. We've got criminals to punish."
He spurred the horse on and it walked over to where the three bandits were tied, grumbling about hunger pains and being hit with rotten vegetables first thing in the morning. Merlin blinked a few times, unable to understand what just happened, and then Lancelot laughed. "What?" he asked.
"Nothing," Lancelot assured him with a shake of his head. "I heard a wizard is supposed to stand at Arthur's side. I've no doubt about which it will be." He shrugged. "Though it is causing quite a scandal," he added almost teasingly.
Merlin tugged on the stirrup on his saddle absently. "Well, Camelot is known for its hatred of magic. Now a magic user will help rule the country," he said with a shrug. "I'm not surprised that Uther isn't the only skeptic."
Lancelot nodded. "Keep an eye out. You've got Cornwall on your side now, but other countries might not be so happy about Arthur being king."
Merlin hopped into the saddle. "I'll keep both eyes out," he promised with a smile like it was a joke. He frowned and shifted nervously in the saddle. "Lancelot….About my mag-"
"Merlin! I said now!" Arthur practically whined from down the street.
"I'll say hello to Gwen for you," Merlin told him in a rush, and Lancelot frowned so Merlin frowned too. "It's alright." He gave Lancelot a reassuring smile. "Bye." Merlin lightly kicked his horse into a walk and left Lancelot standing in the road with a shovel. He turned and moved to continue building a house once Merlin and Arthur were gone.
…
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Next Time: Merlin
Merlin finds an injured bird in the forest one day and brings it home to heal. Meanwhile, the castle is plagued by a series of maladies and strange occurrences that no one can explain. The only clue is a hint of silver in the sunlight. Could Merlin's new pet have anything to do with the events in the castle? But really, how much harm could a little Merlin do?
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Translations:
Lafian lígbryne = pour water on flames
Áblinnan = cease, desist.