The River of Sioned
.
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There had been no specific incident that made that day any different from any other, unless it had been playing jester yet again to the visiting Queen Annis the day before. No particular happening that, right now, as Merlin sat on a rock to wash the dishes in an anonymous little river on the border of the Western Lands, his hands moving purely by rote while his hollow gaze stared bleakly at nothing, that could be said to be the starting point. Perhaps it was the knowledge that the day wasn't in fact different from any other that was, indeed, the problem.
It will never change, will it? he asked himself. It was less a question than a realization of fact. Even if I reveal myself, all of this has gone on too long.
The being taken for granted, being overworked like an easily expendable old plough-horse, the inconsiderate degradations that had now progressed to his being forced to degrade himself for the enjoyment of others… it was a cumulative weight that was crushing him inch by inch.
Even if I reveal myself now, no one will be able to take me seriously, or see me as anything other than the rushes on the floor, there to wipe their feet on. No one will ever listen when I try to tell them something's wrong.
The worst was the growing isolation. Even Gaius, who knew what he was, did not always see the true man before him. Even Gaius did not always listen at times, nor trust his judgement, no matter how much he had done to save the Kingdom. The real him had become invisible, screaming with mute futility, unseen and unheard.
All they see - all they will ever see - is a jester. A fool. An oafish boy.
Not a person.
Not a friend.
It was there, as he sat numbly by the river's edge, a rag in one hand and a plate in the other and both forgotten, that Merlin the warlock, secret protector of Camelot, lost the last of his hope.
History indeed might have turned out very differently had he not then heard the singing.
"Aw di do, aw dee do da day,
Ah di do, aw dee day,
He whistled and he sang till the green woods rang,
And he won the heart of a lay-ay-dee-ee"
And that is when Merlin looked up to see the maiden kneeling amongst the wildflowers across the way.
-x-
Her voice was a mixture of innocence and coyness, her creamy young skin touched by the most delicate of rosy perfection and the brilliant sun glowed against her red-gold hair, giving her aspect an almost ethereal halo. But it was the aura of peace and rest about her every movement as she filled her jug with water that truly drew him. At that moment, his heart shattered and his wits dulled by misery, love and attraction did not strike him half so hard as the urge to simply lie in her welcoming arms as they both lightly dozed an afternoon away amidst the grass of a drowsy, sun-filled meadow.
"Good morning to you, sir," she called to him.
"Good morning," he replied politely.
"If you'll forgive my saying so, gentle sir, you appear weary and in need of refreshment."
Insects buzzed lazily around them as the gentle breeze rustled the bulrushes along the bank. The sun's reflection on the river's surface was a path of golden white, the edges sparkling like tumbling gems as the light caught the ripples of the water. Merlin stood and cocked his head, considering the situation with some confusion.
The light is wrong. It shines like early summer, but I am sure it's fall.
"All you need to do, kind sir, is swim across."
It is fall. Hazelnuts were on the ground. The leaves were changing.
"Isn't it a fine day?"
The water will be frigid. It was so cold last night.
"The water will be so refreshing. And it is sweet to drink," she added, displaying her jug.
Why is the sun behind her? It should be to my right.
"Are you not thirsty?"
Yes.
Her voice grew as soft as a mother's touch against her babe's downy cheek. "Come, Merlin, let the stream wash away all of your cares."
Merlin, his boots already off and his trousers rolled up to save them from a wetting while he did the washing up, stepped a bare foot into the water.
-x-
In the end, it was a simple matter. Caught up in the enjoyment of the way the water playfully buoyed him along, its wonderful coolness easing the heaviness of his worn muscles, he did not notice that the river was getting wider and wider the further out he went, nor did he notice how the background of muttering voices that had started when he walked into the water faded as the same carefree song the maiden had been singing drew him forward. Every few yards he would hear a name come through -
Will...Lancelot...Freya...Gwaine...Gwen...Gaius... Father...Mother...Arthur.
But, while he turned his head at the last, it still was not enough to pull him back. Through years of exhaustion and hurt he'd already lost so much of himself, after all. Giving too much of himself had left too little to cling to, and so, when the maiden's voice told him, "Follow the song, dear Emrys," he did so happily.
By the time the transformation was complete and his clothes had dropped away, he no longer remembered that he had never reached the other side of the river.
-x-
"My thanks for your help this day, dearest Sioned."
"Are you certain this is the right path, Malfric?" the maiden asked. Her voice was still a thing of enchanting wonder, but it now resonated with the sense of endless years no youthful maid could ever hold.
"Yes," said the man holding a staff. "It is time for destiny to be set in motion."
"But will not Arthur's kingdom be at risk while Emrys dwells apart from the world of men?"
"It is a chance that must be taken. Your actions today will keep Emrys safe from the witch Morgana for a time, but more importantly, it is time for the young Pendragon to be made aware of the great gift he has always held."
"You believe he cares so much for his servant that he will be willing to see?"
"Do we have any choice but to try?"
-x-
Not so far away, a new-made selkie dashed gleefully through the water to the sea.