Many described London as beautiful this time of year. It was spring. The famous almost infamous rain of London Town had moved on to plague another poor village in the countryside. Rays from the Sun cast subtle shadows through the new grow of the trees at the park. After all it had only been a half a week since the last down poor. Joggers, picnickers, and sunbathers littered the lush green grass almost like cigarette bubs congregated around the ash trays after the morning break at the supermarket. Happy cries from children and dismayed one from their parents permeated the sun warmed air, but the shouts came from farther off past a grove of birch, oak, hazel, and cherry trees. The blossoms on the trees were abundant even as the gentle breeze blew many unsuspected flowers off. He could almost hear the sorrowful cry as these children of the wood left the home of their birth to fall helplessly to the group without much in the line of protection. One particle luscious blossom that he had heard burst forth with what he felt was an almost joyful cry fell in the front of his path and he knew he had two options before him. He could trample the gorgeous specimen of this spring by continuing down his allotted course or he could just step over the pretty little thing.
Perhaps it was spring fever, but he did not care to squish one of these new creatures or have someone else perform the deed. Without his knowledge or want, a sigh escaped his lips. He could not kill such a poor flower. He bent down and plucked the blossoms from the dirt of the path. He twisted the short steam around in his thumb and forefinger a few times before stopping completely under a large shady oak. Why did this little fleur choose to leave home? The melancholy that had wrapped around him as he had been walking through such a beautiful and fragile scene around him temporarily left him. If the world choose this small flower to fall into his hands, he should enjoy the sun as much as the other people in the park.
He was in silence contemplation as another man walking confidently up to stand in front of him.
"Good gods, Merlin, is that a flower? You really are a girl, aren't you," came a voice from the man that he now shaken him from his thoughts.
"I am able to appreciate art when I see it, Arthur. Unlike some people I know," he retorted back. He added a smirk to show up his striking company.
"I do appreciate art because I'm looking at it right now," the man answered with a smile. With that smile he was pulled completing out of his declining mood of the morning. How could he be sad when he had someone like Arthur to cheer him up? He gave Arthur a winning smile that he knew would make his friends knees shake. He saw with satisfaction the other man's smile falter for a split second and his eyes sparkled.
"Let's go eat! I am starving," he exclaimed, grabbing the other man's arm and pulling him towards the road outside of the park and the restaurants lining the lane. "As you wish," the man said as he interlocked their fingers. A happy, contented smile still played on his lips as he was led out of the green park.
Finally, Merlin and Arthur were together again.
For all my non-French friends fleur is flower. Hope you like this one-shot! Review, please!