Hi. So here's another one. Though this one's not purely my story. Well this version is (I'll explain in a sec how that works), but the main story idea is both mine and my housemates. See the 'OC version' in the title up there (top left if you missed it, but then again if you missed it I don't know exactly how you found or are reading this fic. However.)? Good, well I will now go on and explain why such a title addition like that is required.
So explanation as promised: my housemate, vegetables-will-have-their-revenge (minus the hyphens), and I have decided to embark into what we believe is uncharted waters in fanfiction writing. We have this story idea (Módléas ealddayas) where we both have the same major events occurring, but from different points of view- mine is seen through the eyes of an original character (OC) of my own (with basically no input from vegetables-will-have-their-revenge. They are MINE.), and hers, which is from the main characters'(MC), i.e. Merlin and Arthur's side. The two versions begin in separate places, and, as the story continues the two sides will come to interweave in and out of each other.
Given this, it is therefore entirely possible for you to read just one of the version, but we both believe that reading both will result in a much richer reading experience for you, the reader (and it's that really the main point of this?). We can guarantee, of course, that each version differs highly from the other, so no fear of reading the same thing twice. Rather than that we feel by reading both you will obtain a much more rounded picture of this latest threat to 'our' beloved Camelot. So here's hoping you enjoy (whether you read one, or both, versions. Fingers crossed for both!)!
Glad you stuck with me for that long and somewhat arduous explanation (you ARE still with me right?). Now all that's left to say is: Have what will hopefully be an enjoyable read, and here's hoping this works :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. And neither does Vegetables-will-have-their-revenge. :'(
Chapter One
The bush rustled fiercely before the sound was abruptly cut off by a rabbit hopping out into the clearing. Resting on its hindquarters it sat, ears erect and nose twitching, alert to any danger which would send it back into the undergrowth. After some time, in which nothing predatory had appeared, it hopped across to the quiet brook which bubbled down from the distant mountains. Pausing, it checked its surroundings once more, before lowering its head to drink. Once it had had its fill, it rose and turned, preparing to head back the way it had come, but froze suddenly as a bush to the left shook. Panicked, it leapt away along the brook edge, and consequently right into the awaiting trap. It had very little time to struggle, before a pair of firm hands seized it and broke its neck, ending its futile attempt.
Taking some of the vine wrapped around her waist, the young woman looped it round the rabbit's feet with a practised hand and then secured it to her cord belt, where it hung against her covered thigh next to another rabbit and a wild pheasant. Sweeping her dark coffee mane off her face she crouched down, brushing her fingers lightly through the disturbed earth beneath the trap, carefully smearing away all impressions of the scuffle. Resetting it, she again returned to the bush which had startled the rabbit, dragging a branch behind her to remove the signs of both hunter's and prey's movements. Settling back down behind the leaves' cover, she wound the end of the trap vine round her right foot before turning her gaze back towards the stream edge, awaiting the next poor creature to wander too close. Time passed slowly without any further creature visit, and so as the sun sank amongst the tree tops she yawned and unwound the vine from her foot, before crawling from the bush and rising with a groan. Hobbling around to regain blood flow in her sleeping feet and stretching out muscles gone stiff, she gathered up her trap and added it to her belt. With a glance towards the sun, she deemed it time to leave, and so, turning, set off with it on her right back towards her den.
The forest was at one of its most active points in the day. Trailing her hand across bushes and tree trunks as she walked, the girl watched the flurry of activity transpiring around her. As she passed two squirrels dropped the nut over which they'd been chattering and leapt away up the nearest tree to disappear amongst the leaves, a small bevy of quail were foraging amid the ground elder searching for bugs, and even a doe with its fawn could be seen grazing calmly in a small glade. She greeted a fox as it crossed her path carrying a pigeon in its jaws, before it disappeared into the bushes. Passing a stream pool, she stopped and knelt down to scoop water to her mouth, lifting her head once as an owl screeched as it flew overhead. Drinking her fill she rose and continued on her way.
As the sun slipped below the horizon she arrived back at her home. Not that she'd been here that long- only a moon cycle and four phases. Time was not really something she cared for- she simply followed her desires and instincts, and watched the movement of the sun and moon where needed. Shrugging off her shabby, brown patched green shawl, she untied her day's winnings and hung them on the vines looping across the ceiling at the back of the cave. It had, previously, been a wolf pack den, but had been abandoned as the pack had left to follow the deer grazing migrations. Where other people would have avoided the place because of this, all she felt was a sense of security and so had instantly ventured inside, and had been there since.
Taking some wood from the pile on one side of the cave mouth, she placed it inside a ring of rocks, before drawing her strikers from her pocket and crashing them together over the kindling with practised ease. On her second strike sparks showered onto the twigs and bark at the base and caught, a small flame springing to life. Dropping the strikers she bent and, cupping her hands, blew on the flame, causing it to baulk before eagerly leaping higher and catching hold of more wood to burn. She tended the fire for several minutes, until she felt it right to place the larger chunks of wood on, before rising and retrieving one of the rabbits and a roughly carved wooden bowl. Settling in the cave mouth she drew a knife from her belt and, with an ease born from years of experience, skinned the rabbit in one go, placing the skin aside for later care and use. She then gutted and butchered the carcass, before placing the pieces of meat aside on a large flat rock she kept nearby for that purpose. Rising again, she lifted the larger water skin from its place beside the log pile, only to find it essentially empty. With a soft sigh she slung it over her shoulder and, dropping another log onto the fire to keep it burning till she returned, set off towards the nearby lake, the bowl of entrails in her hand.
Night had now truly fallen on the forest, and yet it held no fear for her as she slipped among its shadowy folds. Ears open to any misplaced sound, she strolled through the gloom, confident in her familiarity of the path she followed. After mere minutes she arrived at a small clearing dominated by a huge oak with branches so large they enclosed the glade in a leafy roof, allowing not even a single beam of moonlight to enter. The young maiden approached the tree without hesitance, and, into a knoll between two of its giant root, she knelt and tipped the bowls contents. Bowing her head she offered a quick prayer to the forest spirits and implored them to keep the forest and its inhabitant's safe as they had been doing. Finishing this she rose, and began to wend her way back through the forest, her mind intent on her supper and sleep. As she walked she gathered a sprig or two of herbs to add to her meal; rosemary, thyme and a little silverbeet. Her leisurely pace ceased, however, when she heard the unmistakeable sound of a fire popping, and without turning her head she cast about with her eyes and ears for the source. She determined it was coming from a little ahead of her and off to the left; from the South West. Licking her finger she tested the wind and then slipped forward, circling to approach the source of the fire from downwind. As she slunk closer, the crackle of the fire increased and other noises could be heard- the rasp of stone on metal, and the murmur of human voices. At the edge of the light thrown out from the campfire she halted once more and, crouching, crept forward until she was concealed by a bush no more than eight feet from where the travellers sat. The two men and one woman were oblivious to her presence- as the girl knew they would be- and continued their conversation without fear of being overheard.
"So how many do you believe have been called?" the woman asked the older of the men.
"A good number, I would estimate. We are all here to help shape the future after all."
"Indeed" agreed the last of the three. "It is not every day people like us can help influence an event so great."
"It will not be long before all we have lived for comes to pass, and the new world shall arise," the older man proclaimed, "Now let us sleep, for we rise early tomorrow." With mumbled affirmations the small camp quieted, and before long all three occupants were asleep. Pleased to have discovered that these people would be moving on the next day, the young woman slipped away and re-joined her trail, by way of a stream, before hurrying back to her cave.
Placing the now full water bag back in its usual position against the log pile, she took the jointed rabbit back to the fire pit. She took out a small dented pot from among her few possessions, into which she then tipped some water from the water bag before adding the rabbit and a few crushed herbs. Leaving it to simmer, she moved to the back of the cave and ferreted under her ragged bedding blanket, before finally pulling out a small charm. It had been something her father had carved for her for her fifth birthday from an inch thick disk of walnut, and depicted a wolf howling to a sickle moon besides a blooming rose bush. The craftsmanship was truly magnificent. Though her father had been a carpenter as well as a farmer, his greatest joy had been creating these little trinkets, and she had loved to watch his whittling. He had been teaching her but had died before the technique had solidified in her young mind.
It didn't stop her from trying though, and so she again returned to the fire and the stew with the amulet and a chunk of firewood. Hanging the amulet around her neck by its cord, she redrew her knife and began carving slices off the block. Glancing up every so often to check on the stew, she carved herself a fist sized, roughly cubic block. Changing her hold on the knife and placing the wood between her knees she began to shave curls off, smoothing and shaping it further, until she had smooth, waving curves around the entire edge. Again changing her hold she began scratching into the face of the wood, but a glance up saw the stew to be ready, and so she put her whittling aside. Pulling the stew from the fire with a stout forked stick, she left it to sit and cool, while she quickly went to relieve herself. Returning to find the stew had cooled sufficiently she took up a wooden spoon and dug in ravenously. There was no need for the table manners her mother had so pressed upon her in her youth. Scraping the last vestiges of the food from the bottom of the pan, she placed it aside and, taking up her sleeping blanket against the cold, turned her attention to the perusal of the night sky.
The moon was nearing its full glory; in a night or two it would be a glowing sphere in the heavens, and the stars were numerous and bright. The young woman had never understood peoples' concern with the dark; to her it didn't really seem dark at all. The moon's rays were lighting up the tips of the trees and casting an ethereal silvery glow over the world. To her it was simply magical. And so it was that she fell asleep, wrapped in the depths of her blanket, the moon's luminescence highlighting the shimmering tones in her hair, and the forest spirits watching over her sleeping form.
So there you have the first chapter. We would love to get your comment so please leave one, good or bad. If you've only read this version I urge you to go read Vegetables-will-have-their-revenge's MC one as well. It really will give you, to coin an old phrase 'the other side of the story'.
Think of this version as one side of a coin and, being the avid Merlin fans that you are, I'm sure you will follow the underlying statement there implied. Good reading and hope you enjoyed \(^_^)/