Into the woods
In retrospect, switching places with the king of Camelot may not have been the best idea in the world, observed Merlin as he ran through the trees as fast as his skinny legs would carry him. It had all been Leon's idea, he knew that riding to Cendred`s kingdom, through the forest would make an excellent opportunity for an ambush; they all had, so he had come up with a plan. Merlin was part of that plan. Merlin always put Arthur's safety above all else, so he had willingly volunteered to be a part of it. So here he was now, wearing one of Arthur's royal red tunics and running for his life.
It had all been going quite well until the attack, they had all been joking and laughing at each others expense - mainly at Gwaine`s (due to the fact that he had been turned down by Helga the barmaid), and then Cendred`s men had come out of nowhere. They knew that Cenred would probably send men after them - despite his assurances that he only wanted peace with Camelot - but they had not expected quite so many. In the fight that ensued Merlin had stayed on the side-lines, picking off any stray men who came his way with a hasty spell or two. But then he had been spotted. Six men - obviously assuming he was Arthur had come towards him and Merlin - knowing that he wouldn't be able to use the sword at his belt, without embarrassing himself, had run.
And that brought him up to now, running through the darkening forest away from men who thought that he was someone important - Well at least he was trying new things! Merlin could hear the men pursuing him, they were shouting to each other and their footfalls were all too audible in this empty part of the woods. The boy knew that he couldn't keep on running forever but he didn't have much else of a choice - he couldn't fight off this many men alone and the knights were probably still busy fighting. He was on his own.
Just as this realisation hit him, his foot snagged a tree root and he fell to the ground in a painful heap - he felt a stab of white hot agony burn to life in his left ankle and cried out in pain. He knew that it was probably fractured – if not broken. "Curse my clumsy feet." muttered the servant as he painfully pushed himself back to his feet. He continued to move as fast as he could, pain stabbing through the injured appendage with each shuffling step he took through the branches that whipped at his face and clothes as he passed them, but he knew that he wouldn't get far on a fractured ankle.
Merlin only came out of his glum thoughts when he realised that he couldn't limp any further in this direction - his path was blocked by a wide, dark and very deep looking river. Oh come on! thought Merlin desperately. The men behind him were gaining fast and Merlin knew that he would have to make a decision quickly - so he jumped. The freezing cold water hit Merlin hard, but not as hard as the crossbow bolt that pierced his leg, Merlin yelled out in pain and splashed about in the water, desperately trying to swim to the other side.
Merlin heard voices yell in triumph behind him and felt hands gripping his shoulders tightly from behind, dragging him out of the icy water. He flailed about and lashed out at the man holding him, who swore and dropped the servant to the ground. Merlin struggled to his feet, dripping wet and drew the sword that had been given to him as part of the disguise, he waved it in what he hoped was a threatening manner at the men who had circled him. "The mighty King Arthur of Camelot doesn't look all that mighty to me!" shouted one of the soldiers to his friends who laughed nastily and nodded their agreement. Each man was large and muscled, all of them were brandishing weapons and looked very pleased with themselves for managing to maim and corner the "king."
"Stay back! I'm warning you." shouted Merlin in his best impression of Arthur's official "you should be scared" voice. It didn't seem to effect the men in the slightest, they just laughed louder as they circled closer, trapping him against the river bank.
"Or you'll what? Throw a royal tantrum?" The men were all grinning savagely at Merlin who was trembling from the effort of holding the sword up, pain and from the cold river water. His injured ankle and the place where the crossbow bolt had struck him hurt with all hells fury - he gritted his teeth hard against the pain.
Merlin chanced it and lunged forward at the closest man with his sword, who simply dodged out of the way, letting the boy stumble forward, his injured leg flaring blindingly in agony, causing him to drop his sword in the process. The laughter turned to a practical storm of hilarity and the men converged on him. Merlin felt something hard and heavy hit the back of his head and collapsed to the ground.