Overcrowded
Full Summary: When Gaius falls ill, Merlin becomes acting physician. With a variety of patients, royal and peasant alike, Merlin is not only overworked, but falling ill as well. Things don't help when he and his patients are cut off from the rest of the castle...and when a non-magical but highly skilled assassin arrives hell-bent on killing Uther.
Disclaimer: If I said I owned it, I'd be lying.
Note: This is my second Merlin story—the first some of you may have already read. (Stone Circle). Although the first is not yet finished, I hope that this story will become as (cough) popular as the other one is already. You know that feeling, when you've got a great idea for a story and you've just got to write, no matter that you've got 50 other stories to update? Yeah, that's me—although thankfully I recently updated my Fantastic Four story, and the Stone Circle I updated last week. Now I've got to update that ever-present National Treasure one...
WHEN: Sometime after the Poisoned Chalice
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Chapter 1
Merlin remembered the day clearly—although as to which day it was, he couldn't say precisely...they were all blurring together now. Gaius had taken him aside, and place a hand on his shoulder. He had said to Merlin that he was getting old, and would probably not be around much longer. "Gaius, don't say that." Merlin had replied instantly, but the physician would hear none of it.
And that was when Merlin's mentor told him that, "You're to be the next court physician. No, I won't hear it," He had said, when Merlin tried to interrupt. "I want you to take my place and that's final. If you don't, you won't have a home after I die—the next physician would kick you out, Merlin—and if I know you you'd have a hard time earning a wage. As a physician, you would merit more respect then the other servants would receive, and you probably wouldn't even have to serve as Arthur's manservant anymore."
Merlin had managed to cut in with many harried protests, stating that it was his destiny to protect Arthur, and if he was not Arthur's personal servant, then it would be a lot harder to fufill it.
"Nonsense." Gaius had replied. "You'll have plenty of opportunities to save him. Enough of that." He again cut off Merlin's objections. "I mean for you to become the next court physician, and if you you are to be one, you must start learning at once."
And so Merlin had learned. He learned the names of different herbs, different measuring beakers, tools and received a variety of lectures on how to keep a patient warm without a fireplace. He and Gaius both agreed that it was very illogical for the physician to be without a fireplace, but what could they do? And he learned quickly, and when Gaius attributed that to magic, he had cheerily responded with
"It's obviously my natural brilliance that's doing it."
Privately, he had, and still learned healing spells with the book of magic. When he had first suggested it to Gaius, he had been met with furious reminders of the consequences if he was caught. So he learned in secret.
Soon, Merlin had become decent at healing, and with the guidance of Gaius, successfully treated patients, from bruises to fever. But then those were small cases.
And how Merlin now longed for those small cases!
Gaius had taken ill a few days before, and was occupying one of the two beds they had. This was another problem they felt was ignored—why on earth would the court physician have only two beds for patients? Of course, there was also the problem of space as well—the room was so crowded...
Merlin had managed to control Gaius's fever, and was now sitting at Gaius's beside, when suddenly...
"Merlin!"
Merlin groaned.
"Merlin!"
Arthur, you prat. Merlin slowly stood and walked up to his room. Arthur was occupying it, having been the victim of both a bear and the wrong end of a careless knight's mace. Of course, Merlin's bed wouldn't do for the prince, and a few servants had been burdened with the task of carrying the prince's covers and pillows down to the room, as well as a soft mattress that was suitably sized for Merlin's bed frame. Merlin's own pillow, blanket and sheet were being stored for any future patients. Merlin himself had been getting very little sleep—if he fell asleep at Gaius's bedside, Arthur would wake him up with his unrelenting complaints—and if he fell asleep at Arthur's he would immediately be alerted to Gaius's side at the slightest cough or moan. If there was a chance for actual rest, which was very little, Merlin would waste it with worrying about his patients.
"Yes, sire?" Merlin asked through gritted teeth.
"I need some water. My throat is parched." Arthur said from the bed. He was in a sitting up position, his right leg, hand, and his head both heavily bandaged, with small patches of blood seeping through. Although the king had been furious at first at the thought of Arthur not returning to his chambers and duties, Merlin had carefully explained that with Arthur's hand and leg, it would be impossible for the prince to wield a weapon or successfully outrun the enemy ("My son does not outrun the enemy," Uther had denied). At any rate, it was agreed that during Arthur's recuperation he would remain with the acting physician.
Going back down the stairs, Merlin dipped the prince's goblet into a bucket of water—Gwen, bless her sweet heart, had brought it an hour earlier—and returned to Arthur, who took the goblet without a word and drained it. "Another." The prince gave him the goblet back. Merlin sent him a scathing glare before heading down the stairs to the bucket, rubbing the rim of the goblet clean with a piece of cloth.
Merlin returned to Arthur's bedside, and held out the goblet. When the prince reached for it, Merlin retracted his arm, careful not to spill the water. "Hey!" The prat exclaimed in surprise. "What was that for?"
"This time," Merlin tilted his head. "You're going to have a sip, then I'm going to set the goblet down."
The prince looked at him in confusion. "What?"
"You're wasting water by downing it all in one go." Merlin looked at Arthur, rolling his eyes. "It's not wine, your royal pratness. We need to save it." He paused. "If you don't do what I say I'm going to—"
Arthur cut in. "Fine!" He gestured impatiently for the goblet, and Merlin handed it to him reluctantly. Arthur looked at Merlin, the goblet at his lips.
Merlin looked back.
And Arthur downed it.
"Arthur, you prat!" Merlin snatched the goblet away from the prince, and stormed down the stairs. "No more for you!"
From his room, Merlin could hear the prince call back, "You really need to learn how to treat your patients with respect, Merlin! You..."
But by this time, Merlin had blocked out the sounds of Arthur ranting. Slamming the goblet down on a table, he sat down in the chair next to Gaius, fuming.
Actually, Gaius hadn't made the fact that Merlin was his apprentice official yet. Arthur was assuming that after Gaius recovered, Merlin would never tend to another person again. Merlin could picture the prat's face when Gaius did make the announcement. The prince would be disbelieving, and he would even start to laugh-
There came a sudden, desperate pounding on the door. Merlin found the energy to leap up from his seat, and rushed over to let whoever it was in. But before he got there, the door burst open, and a man cradling a small girl stumbled in. "Please!" The man's cries were desperate. "My little Beth—she's very sick. Please, help her!"
Merlin asked the man to stay there for a moment, and then hurried over to a corner of the room, lifting up an old and rickety table—one of the table legs was broken almost in half. With his back turned to the man, Merlin muttered "Bótettan." The table leg repaired itself, as well as the other odd scratches. Merlin then brought the table over to one of the only free spots in the room. He then spread the sheet over it, put the pillow down and gestured for the man to bring his daughter—Beth—over.
"Tell me when it first started." Merlin ordered, examining the girl. At the man's hesitation, Merlin added, "If you don't know, tell me when you first noticed."
"Erm, about four days ago." The man shifted uncomfortably. Merlin looked up momentarily, surprised.
"What? And you didn't find her help sooner?"
"I have four other children and a wife who I caught with Sam—that rat—in my bed three days ago. It's hard to find time when you've got a job, five children to worry about, and an unfaithful wife to-"
The man had drawn himself up, speaking with purpose and exhaustion.
"No—I'm sorry. I completely understand...?"
"Dan Molle."
"Mr. Molle." Merlin again turned his attention to Beth. Cough, fever...apparently stomach pain as well... Merlin grabbed a cloth, dampened it and put it on the girl's forehead.
"I can't stay." Mr. Molle looked at him pleadingly. "I have a job. I'm a cobbler. People will..."
"Of course, sir." Merlin replied—he had already begun to make a cough syrup.
"Thank you." Relief was evident in the man's eyes. "If you ever need a good pair of shoes, let me know." And with that the man was gone.
Merlin stood there, the not yet-finished beaker of syrup still in his hand. "I wish you hadn't told me her name," he said softly to the closed door. "It makes things so much more personal."
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So...yeah. One of my longer first chapters. Advice is greatly appreciated.