This is my first fanfic that I've posted, so I'd love it if you all could let me know what you think. Also, this chapter is more like a prologue or, as I said, opener; chapters after this will probably be longer and more detail-oriented. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Merlin and its characters do not belong to me.
Wood creaked as the carnival caravan rolled along the dirt path, the old wagons clearly protesting to the terrible pathway it found its oak wheels upon. However, the wagons could rest assured that they were not the only ones aboard who were less than content with the current conditions. Inside the smallest of the convoy, the crew of Incantasi's Fourth Fantasy grobbled.
"Bloody hell, Borin! Get off, will ya?" Fendrel snapped, yanking away his limbs in the most exaggerated manner he could achieve. "It was as though you were my wife, the way ya hang all over me." His words were grumbled as the youth curled against the closest wall. Even though his dusty blond hair swept in front of his eyes, the painstakingly cruel glare the boy gave was still clearly visible.
"Eh, well pucker up, sweetheart, 'cause we all know I'm the closest thing you'll ever get to a wife." Borin sneered unattractively. Though relatively young, with his age just hanging over twenty-five or so, the man needed no help when it came to causing aversion to his appearance. For Borin, a short, muscular man with muddy hair, was the group's brawler and, thus, had many scars littering his face and body. And it was as if God himself wished further out-casting on the man, because both his eyes seemed to have a milk-like fog inside them, which certainly never helped his appeal.
Fendrel grunted, muttering an exceptionally distasteful comment about Borin's mother and a well-known brothel. Though the comment would generally roll off of someone's back and be written off to teenage angst, the uttering pushed the brawler's last button. "Bastard!" Launching forward, Borin pushed his way over the two people crouching between Fendrel and himself. Before the boy could fully react, he was pinned to the wall with a face full of angry fist-fighter.
"Thea! Thea! Stop the caravan!" A small girl pounded on the front of the wagon's interior, calling to the driver. With a sudden jerk, the carriage halted. Though the small vehicle was meant for only about five people, twelve crammed inside it, making for a very uncomfortable stop. Fortunately, though, it caused enough momentum to throw Fendrel and Borin apart.
"Aye, what's happening? Why'd we stop?" A thin woman pushed the top off of the trunk she travelled and slept in. Stretching as she unfolded herself from the contortionist's box, the groggy brunette peered about the cabin. She yawned, repeating her question. "Why'd we stop?"
"No reason, just your brother being a mule again."
The girl snapped fully awake at the sight of Fendrel. "Good." She reached out, brushing her hand across her brother's bruised face. "You're face needed some fixing." A smirk slid onto her face, nodding briefly as she noted nothing. Forcing a rough laugh, Fendrel rolled his eyes.
"You bunch done beating each other yet?" Thea dropped her head in from the open door on the roof of the wagon. "Because we're almost to Camelot."