AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Hey guys, so this is my first attempt at writing a fanfiction. After reading countless of them, accompanied by my love of writing, I decided to give it a go!
This is my first story, about the prophecy of Arthur returning. This is only the first chapter, but believe me, there will be alot happening in the next couple of chapters!
So yes, I hope you guys enjoy it! And feedback via reviewing is very much appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any of the characters in it!
Much love,
wombaat xx
CHAPTER ONE: Burning Beginnings
A petite oakwood hut, hidden in the depths of the forests of Baleuun stood crumbling beneath the shrouds of flaming tree tops. The hut reeked of burning bark and smouldering smoke. Daylight was concealed by the cloud of smog; the only source of light arose from the flames nipping at the lush woodland. In the near distance, Merlin let out a heavy cough as he crawled his way on the forest floor towards the edge of the Baleuun Valley. Reaching the valley, Merlin turned back and stared back into the thickness, unable to see his beloved home collapsing, victim to the fire.
Merlin's dirt-painted face bore the creases of old age. His silver beard was mangled and matted, with the odd oak leaf hanging twisted in the frizzed hairs. The red cloak wrapped around his body in a protective manner, but it too was creased and mangled, torn and tattered. He let the short breath, he was holding. He was safe but alas, he had lost his home. This had been his residence for a century, his refuge after the fall of Camelot and the death of the Once and Future King, Arthur Pendragon.
Although the prophecy had come to pass, and the destinies of Merlin and Arthur unfolded, uniting the land of Albion, Guinevere and her knights could not keep the burden of maintaining a Kingdom. Enemies grew as time passed, flooding the castle from within. First the maids and servants began to dislike the Queen and her choices, their words slowly poisoning the peasants who lived in the outer rims of the Camelot fortress. Camelot fell from within. The few Knights who lived after the Battle of Camlann could not withhold a mass of people, fuelled by anger and hatred. They fled with their Queen. Yet Merlin did not come to their aid. The death of Arthur tormented him, haunting his nightmares; pleading with him to save him, demanding answers as to why Merlin let the darkness take him.
The oakwood hut became Merlin's refuge. Many winters passed, without hearing any word of Camelot. His youthful appearance began to show the indications of his old age; ebony hair striped with silver, beard spilling down from his chin, creases outlining his eyes. He spent many of his days collecting shrubs and finding wounded beasts dwelling in the forest and healing them. Though, the thought of Arthur never left his heavy mind, Kilgharrah's words, kindled a flamed of hope within him.
Merlin wheezed, attempting to form words from his smoke poisoned breath. The air of the Baleuun Valley responded to the magic that resounded within Merlin. His eyes flashed gold, and a low hum filled the Valley. It grew louder and more resilient until rain crashed down from the sky. The flames slowly perished, until all that was left was the blackened trunks of the burnt trees.
Merlin called for Aithusa, hoping the still young, white dragon would not ignore the Dragonlord's calls.
Aithusa, come now. You must not disobey me.
Minutes later, a drumming of wings could be heard resonating throughout the Valley. A white dragon came into view and landed in front Merlin, who still lay on the ground.
You called, Warlock, she hissed.
Aithusa, help me, please.
And why should I help you, Warlock. You are the reason My Lady no longer walks with us. She is our kin, a being of the Old Religion, and you thrust a sword forged of my kin into her body, Aithusa spat.
I am a Dragonlord, you cannot refuse me, Merlin shouted. Aithusa flinched, as a flood of guilt engulfed her conscience.
What is it you wish of me Young Warlock? The gentle tone seeped through her words; her ebony eyes so riddled with hatred, softened slightly.
Please Aithusa, please heal me. I can barely breathe, he wheezed. Closing his eyes, Merlin felt his chest constrict further. His mind opened to the darkness of his fate as Death engulfed him, its arms reaching, wrapping, holding Merlin's limp form. He could hear heavy drums beating in the background, accompanied by a chorus of deathly screams. Like a haunting whisper against the wind, he heard maniacal laughing, taunting him. The beating grew louder, with each sound being drawn out, lingering in the shadows. Merlin heard the beating slow as something landed heavily in front of him.
Young One, open your eyes, a voice called to him. Merlin pleaded with his conscience, to open his eyes, but he could not prevail. The flames flowing that surrounded his mind were burning him when he attempted for control.
Young Warlock, you have given up. I am ashamed, the voice called again, hints of hurt and desperation emanated off the voice's tone. Merlin's eyes remained closed, tears of apologies trickled down his ashen cheeks. Merlin realised he could no longer fight the flames and the darkness, as he drifted further and further into his own torment and subconsciousness.
A searing pain shot through Merlin's chest, followed by darkness oozing out of him, like blood oozing from a battle wound. A trickle of warm air surrounded his body, swarming through his open chest, flowing to his lost and frozen mind. The warm air danced around the flames surrounding his mind, elegantly attacking and seeking access to regain what was lost. The chorus of deathly screams ceased, the maniacal laughter subsided.
Young One, it is done, you may open your eyes, the voice whispered softly. Merlin squeezed his eyes and then released them, as they opened letting a blinding light in to sooth him. The light slowly faded, as Merlin gathered himself. He took in his surroundings. His eyes scanned over a calm and mysterious waterbed against a backdrop of pristine, white mountains and a luscious forest of ferns. This was his Avalon. Merlin stared at the familiar creature in front of him. Its large wings folded against its dark body, talons scraping at the ground, tail curled around its flanks.
You look well in death, Kilgharrah, Merlin smiled.
Ah Young One, you still have a lot to learn. Death has not taken you yet, you are simply between the world of the living and the dead. My kin is working hard to revive you; you are needed in the world of the living. This, Young One, is in your mind, but indeed does not make it any less real.
Kilgharrah reached his head forward, softly nudging it against Merlin's shoulder.
"Merlin?"a masculine voice cried in the distance. Merlin tore his eyes off his friend, and to the waterbed of the Avalon River. The water began to tremble, as a man clad in silver armour marched from its depths.
Merlin gasped. He scrambled from the ground and staggered to the man. Death had not aged Arthur; he still bore the same youthful appearance as the day Merlin laid him to rest. Merlin reached his hand forward, towards Arthur's shoulder but hit nought but air.
Merlin, I wish for you to be careful, it is only Young Pendragon's spirit, and not his whole self. Kigharrah warned.
"Merlin, the time is close. I will come back to Camelot", Arthur promised. "I must go back now, but lose no faith." The River sprawled its waves to surround Arthur, wrapping around him like a protective blanket. The river returned to its calm self – no evidence of Arthur's appearance remained.
Young Warlock! A familiar, desperate voice called.
Merlin, you must go back. Aithusa is calling you back to the living, Kilgharrah cried. We will meet again, my friend. For when Arthur returns so shall I; for all of our fates are bound. Until I see you again.
Kilgharrah soared into the sky, those drums beating again from the sound of his wings, flapping into the distance. Merlin stared, for as long as he could until another light blinded him, forcing his eyes to close.
Merlin felt the familiar trickle of warm air surround his body. He let it roam his form, and inhaling its warmth. He felt it flow to his chest, releasing the constriction.
Oh Young Warlock, forgive me. I failed you,Aithusa cried. She had wrapped herself around Merlin's limp form protecting him, using her white wings as a shield whilst she attempted to heal him. Once again, Merlin opened his eyes to a familiar setting of the blackened forest of the Baleuun Valley.
Aithusa, you have never failed me, despite your hatred. Thank you, Merlin said softly. He leaned into her, embracing her.
You are the last of my kin; I will not allow the hatred I once held for you to control me again. What was done in the past was a result of My Lady's actions. You did what you must.
Merlin began to recite his experiences at Avalon, in his state of purgatory. They lay there conversing in silence, excited for what the future held.
Aithusa gasped. Merlin's appearance was changing, the creases that marked old age, began to soften and smoothen out against his feature. Colour returned to his white matted hair as it shortened itself to its length in Merlin's youth, his silver beard disappearing. His crimson cloak draped around itself around his body, no longer torn and tattered. However Merlin's eyes did not change. They still bore the sentiments and burden of all the winters that have past, beyond his youthful appearance. Merlin stared down at his gaunt fingers, and wrinkled backhand as they slowly became more youthful. His eyes were riddled with shock.
It is happening, Aithusa gasped. Arthur is returning.
There we have it folks! The first published chapter of my first fanfiction story! What did you guys think?