A Humble Gate
I am a gate, humbly made of iron and heat, wrought into the desired shape. When I first came out of the water, held ever so lovingly by the blacksmith's tongs, I had no idea I would be destined for such a great entryway. I was a small gate, not as big as my fellows who were born to guard cities and palaces.
I was installed quietly at the end of a stone tunnel, with a rather pleasant view of the forest. For a while, an armored guard was stationed beside me. I often tried to converse with him, but he was always silent. So I took to watching the trees.
After a time, the guard stopped coming. I was a bit lonely without his company, but I had the deer and the grass and the spiders that wove webs in my squares. Eventually the bush beside me grew, and leaves twined their way through my metal. Rain rusted me, and years of disuse rusted me shut.
Then, one night, as I was taking a nap, footsteps sounded behind me. Suddenly I was being grabbed. "Merlin!" someone whispered. "Merlin!"
My metal heart stopped. It was the prince of Camelot. Using my gateway! I creaked with excitement. I had never thought this would happen.
The prince had a little boy with him. He turned to him now. "Don't worry, he'll be here," he said reassuringly.
Suddenly, bells began to chime. The prince pulled desperately on me. I tried to yield, I really did, but I had grown lazy over the years and had not the strength to help him.
The little boy clung to me, and his hand was cold and shaking. The prince hit me. "Dammit Merlin!" he cried. More shouts and footsteps reached my iron ears.
No need to hit me, I thought bitterly.
The boy and the prince let go, and I immediately regretted being angry. He was the prince of Camelot, he could do whatever he wanted to me! Please, I'm sorry, I begged.
Abruptly, another boy appeared, this one in my line of sight. "Hey," he greeted.
The prince's hands were hot with anger as he grabbed me again. "Where the hell have you been?"
"I had trouble getting out of the castle," the boy stated quickly.
"Well get this grate off, they're coming."
Grate? I thought. Wait wait wait. I am no grate, I wanted to say. I watched the boy weave a grappling hook—yes, a grappling hook through my limbs. "Hey!" I shouted. The boy ignored me.
Without warning I was ripped from my place in the stone wall, creaking with agony as I was thrown onto the ground. The prince and the boy ran over me. I thought I would die. I was sure of it. At least, I told myself, I died serving my prince. And I knew that was more than any other gate could ever ask for.
Hours later, a blacksmith came and picked me up. He restored me to my former glory, however meager it may have been. New hinges, some remolding, and a polish. And then I was put back in my post, shiny and new and ready to serve the king if he ever came by again.
After that, I got a lot more through traffic. You would think that they would station a guard on me after the Druid boy, the servant boy coming and going, various prisoners, and the like passing through me. It seemed I was no longer a secret, but a path well-traveled by thieves. I tried to bar their entry, but they always pushed through.
The servant boy was my most frequent visitor. At first, I held a grudge (I mean he did pull me off a wall) but I soon got over it. We became good friends.
Most recently, a man dressed in all black has been using me. I don't mind—he looks like royalty and I am obliged to serve. Yet something about the way he walks, like he's not supposed to be near me, makes me uneasy. Sometimes a beautiful woman with crazy hair is with him. She frightens me. I feel as if she would not hesitate to blow me off the wall, and she has threatened to do so before.
Tonight, the man in black has a lot of men with him. His fingers shake as he swings me open. I wonder what they are going to do. I wonder if I will be of any good tonight.
*AN: This came from my mom. She was watching Merlin and pointed out that EVERYONE uses this one gate in the side of the castle. So I wrote about it. Tada.*