Author's Note: This story is for Kitty O, because she inspires me to write. And because – I think you will all agree - she is prolific and hilarious and gifted and adorable. Kitty, we lift our glasses of Diet A&W Root Beer and salute you.

If you've seen Lerner and Lowe's musical "Camelot", you will recognize the inspiration for this story.

Please review. I love reviews - even 1-word reviews. It lets me know you read my story. ...In fact, I hereby initiate the 1-word review challenge for this story. What will your word be?

"Arthur, out with it."

"What are you talking about, Merlin?"

"Riding with you today is almost as fun as wrestling a wilddearen. What exactly has got such a burr in your saddle?"

Arthur was sitting against a fallen tree trunk, looking down at the dirt between his boots. "Nothing," he said, which they both knew actually meant "I don't want to talk about it."

The man seemed utterly morose.

Almost as soon as the Five Kings had officially parted company from the peace talks, and before all of the visitors had even left Camelot's gates, the prince had suddenly insisted on taking a long hunting trip. He had barked at Merlin to finish packing before there had really been a chance to begin, and then to save time, "his highness" had actually gone and saddled the horses himself.

Five exhausting hours of hard riding later, Arthur stopped and dismounted, then threw up his hands in frustration. His horse was missing a shoe. While Merlin was sent to retrace the last few miles of their ride, the prince magnanimously took a nap . When the servant returned empty-handed, Arthur's mood seemed actually worse than before, and Merlin had had enough.

Aside from being irritated and exhausted, Merlin was befuddled. He knew for a fact that the day before, Arthur had been kissed by Gwen in the tournament tent. While his own experience with kissing had been admittedly limited, it had been enough for Merlin to expect Arthur to be in a better mood. What could possibly be bothering him?

"Since you have failed to find the horseshoe, I'm going to have to find a blacksmith. There's a town about six or seven miles from here. I suppose we'll have to camp here, and then walk to town in the morning."

Merlin internally noted that Arthur had not insisted on continuing to the town immediately, which meant he understood Merlin was tired and wanted to rest. Merlin appreciated it, and let the gesture take the edge off of his annoyance. He set about making camp.

"After the week we've had, I suppose we should be grateful to get away for a while," said Merlin, fishing. "At least there aren't any girls around."

"That's debatable," said Arthur.

The insult was pathetically weak, and Merlin simply laughed at it as he cleared space for a small fire circle. "You know, you're really quite good at brooding. I'm sure it takes exhausting effort."

"At least as much effort as you put into your mindless prattling."

"No, for me that definitely comes easily." Merlin began walking around the clearing, finding branches and twigs for burning.

Arthur continued to study the ground. At last Merlin stopped and looked at him.

"Come on, Arthur. Tell me what's wrong."

Arthur looked up at Merlin, and then looked at the ground again. "You wouldn't understand. It's … girl trouble."

"Ah." For once, Merlin wisely said nothing and waited.

"I went to see Guinevere. I wanted to apologize. I thought that after she had..."

He trailed off. Merlin, unbelievably, kept his mouth shut.

"She sent me packing. I don't don't understand it."

Merlin heroically censored himself from uttering the obvious zingers and instead quietly placed kindling in the fire ring.

"One minute a girl is kissing you, and the next she's telling you to get out of her sight," said Arthur. "What can she be thinking?"

Merlin considered that. He thought of Gwen and Vivian. Then he thought of Morgana. "I wouldn't worry too much about not knowing what a woman is thinking. They don't do it very often."

Arthur sighed. Merlin lit the fire.

"I have no idea how I'm supposed to handle Guinevere. I need to figure it out."

"And that's why we've ridden leagues and leagues into the woods today?"

"It's much easier to think out here."

Merlin listened for a moment to the trees rustling quietly. "I suppose it is," he said. This was something Merlin could understand, and it explained why Arthur had lately been so keen on impromptu hunting and fishing trips.

Supper was cooked. Crickets chirped. Companionable peace reigned, until it was replaced by snoring – which neither of them noticed.