The Sword In The Stone
There it was, glinting in the midday sun, challenging any who were confident enough to come forth and claim it for their own. Many had tried, but all had failed and with shattered hearts had let go of their grip, turned away from the stone empty-handed and looked at their raw and bleeding hands knowing that this was not to be their destiny.
But this day was different.
Uthers son stepped forth, his eyes fixed on the hilt of the sword. The dampness in the air was pleasant and cooling to him. Arthur took a step, paused, then walked closer to the stone.
The crowd that had gathered to watch were silent as their prince approached ever forward towards the stone.
Arthur was now but a few paces away, a few seconds from reaching out and taking the sword in his hand. This is the moment he feared most for if in that first touch he felt any doubt, everything would fall.
The crowd watched intently as Arthur reached the stone. A young boy was desperately trying to escape his mothers grip as she tried to hold him back with his baggy shirt clutched in her trembling hands. "Eoin!", she said, "Eoin!", and she tugged him back harder. The little boy relented then as his mother regained control. She bent down and whispered in his ear, "He will be our King, I know it, and thats no way to behave in front of our King, is it?" Eoin shook his head, then stood still, his eyes growing wider as he could see Arthur placing his hand on the hilt of the sword.
Arthur entwined his fingers around the hilt as if making a promise to never let it go until it was freed. He wished then for some sound in the woods, some distraction to allay the doubt that had crept up on him. To his dismay, there was no birdsong to ease the tension, no calls of encouragement not even a breeze to sing through the forest. In that moment, he was alone.
All he could see was his own hand, his knuckles turning white from holding on so hard. Arthur took a gulp, and with one foot upon the stone and the other on the slippery ground he squeezed his eyes shut and pulled.
Gasps came from the crowd as the sword slid out as easily as a knife through butter. Arthur had not dared open his eyes but upon hearing the cheers from the crowd he did, and saw that he was releasing the sword from its prison. Arthur pulled harder still, as a sudden fear that it would spring back into place or that his hand would lose its grip consumed him.
But as Arthur pulled harder, so the sword became more resistant. There could not have been more than a foot to go when the handle cut into Arthurs hand. He grimaced for a moment but did not linger on the pain.
His foot that had been steady was now slipping in the damp leaves of the forest floor. His other leg ached dully as he continued to pull, his leg bent against the stone. Blood poured over his hand and his grip slipped for a moment.
A few people had their eyes covered, except for Eoin. His gaze never waned. His eyes were big and bright as he watched in excitement.
Arthurs hand was slipping on the handle. He could no longer feel the pain, just the fear of losing his grip. With a shout, he pulled with everything he had, and then saw nothing but darkness.
Then the shouts came. Then the cheering. Arthur sat up on the ground. He was still holding the sword, had not even let it go as he had fallen back onto the damp leaves. He smiled quietly as he caressed the craftsmanship of the sword he now held. A sword no other man had since it had been imprisoned.
Then he stood up, slightly shaky at first, and with his bloodied hand he held it aloft in the air as the crowd cheered, "All Hail King Arthur of Camelot!" And Arthur smiled at them all and felt a great light surround him.
Eoin came towards him, his mother too late to stop him and he bowed at Arthurs feet. Eoin stood up and said sincerely, "My mother had faith in you and I never looked away, not once! I knew you'd do it!" Arthur grinned, "Well thank you, young Sir!" and Eoin ran excitedly back to his mother as Arthur watched, still smiling as Eoin pointed in Arthurs direction and his mother blushed and curtseyed.
It was some time before the crowd left, before the cheering stopped and everyone left for home. Arthur was now truly alone.
For a moment, he ran his fingertips along the sword once again until he lay it on the forest floor. Then he fell to his knees and wept. As the sword lay in front of him, half covered by leaves as a breeze picked up in the early evening, Arthur saw what it represented then. His father was lost to madness, it was time to say goodbye. It was his time now.
Arthurs tears fell for a little while before he picked the sword up, and started to walk away. He turned back once to look at the stone, before setting off home to Camelot.
But his tears were not the only ones shed that day.
A short distance away, behind a tall birch tree, a slight figure was stood. His hand touched the bark lightly to steady himself as a tear fell slowly down his cheek, a small smile threatening to appear on his face. Merlin looked towards the empty stone for a moment before he quickly made his way home.
Arthurs chambers were lit dully by a few candles. He sat at the large table, the sword laid out upon it as he rested his head in his hands.
Just then he heard the comforting creak of his door and Merlin came in with some water and food. Arthur looked up at Merlin as he placed the items in front of him but Merlin just busied himself with mundane tasks, not knowing whether to bring up the subject of the sword.
There was silence for a minute before Arthur broke it by saying in a playful tone, "Don't you want to know what kind of day I had?"
Merlin was busy folding up some shirts and he smiled to himself before turning back to Arthur. "Uh, well its not like anything interesting happened to you today. Probably just your usual boring routine of training, training and more training!".
He grinned and Arthur smiled helplessly as he rolled his eyes. But suddenly they both stopped smiling and Merlin said after a moment, "I'm proud of you."
Then there was the difficult silence that normally followed these sorts of moments between them. Merlin hoped for a snappy retort to ease the mood but none came.
Arthur averted his eyes and started playing with his food. "I could have done with you there. For some reason, when you're around, everything always seems to turn out...right." Arthur looked up at Merlin then.
Merlin smiled, "But it did turn out right, I mean, this is it isn't it?" and he placed his hand on the sword but then a sudden flash came to his mind, the moment when he had placed it in the stone and the magic streamed through Merlin like electricity. He let go quickly, afraid Arthur would see.
"I didn't know you were that squeamish Merlin!" Arthur said, thinking Merlins abruptness at laying the sword down again had been because of the dried blood upon the handle. "No sire, I'm not usually...its just...Uh..."
"You're babbling", Arthur said affectionately, "Thats a good sign!".
He stood up from the table then winced slightly. Merlin hurried over as he saw Arthur had not yet had his hand bandaged. Merlin ripped a small piece of his scarf off and took Arthurs hand, "Here, let me". Arthur grudgingly co-operated as Merlin gently bandaged his hand.
The candles flickered and shone in the silence when Arthur suddenly spoke. "Whoever put the sword there had powerful magic. Incredible magic, I could feel it, like it knew my thoughts and doubts."
Merlin almost stopped then but he gulped and carried on. Arthur continued, "It was almost as if it was meant for me, like it knew me."
Merlin desperately wanted him to get off the subject so said breezily, "All done!" and went to leave. As he turned away Arthur called to him, "Merlin!" Merlin froze on the spot, fearful his heart pounding against his chest had given him away. Merlin slowly turned to face Arthur.
The room seemed suddenly illuminated as Arthur said, "I want to restore magic to Camelot." Tears stung Merlins eyes and the joy he felt could not be compared. But he had to contain it just in case it was all a dream.
Arthur continued, "My fathers madness is consuming him..." Arthurs voice trailed off before he continued, "has consumed him and...and now I am to be crowned King, I no longer want his Camelot, ruled by fear and hatred and ignorance. I don't believe that magic is always used for evil but my father suppressed my beliefs so that I had none of my own. But everything I have seen recently, what I felt today holding the sword, made me realise that it is what people do with magic that matters, not the magic itself."
Merlin couldn't hold back any longer and he let his tears fall. Arthur frowned, watching Merlin wiping them away hurriedly.
Walking over to him Arthur said, "Thats not exactly the reaction I expected!" He smiled kindly at Merlin as Merlin gratefully grinned back.
Composing himself he looked straight at Arthur and said softly, "I knew you weren't like your father." There was silence once again before Arthur replied, "You never fail to surprise me, Merlin, do you know that? You can be too bold and often speak out of turn but... you are always thinking of everyone else rather than yourself and..." Arthur hesitated, "...and that is an admirable quality to have."
Merlin saw the sincerity in Arthurs eyes and mumbled a "Thank you", a little overwhelmed by Arthurs statement.
Arthur slapped him on the shoulders as he often did when feeling slightly awkward and he made his way back to sit at the table.
He picked up the sword, saw his reflection but did not recognise it for he did not look like a King, he had none of his fathers weariness etched in his skin, no sadness behind his eyes, just a young man with a huge responsibility stretching ahead of him and in that moment, Arthur felt more scared than he had ever done in his life. But Merlin looked over as if seeing him for the first time and he saw his King.
Merlin was careful not to stare too long at Arthur so he turned away and left him to his thoughts.
As Arthur stared at the sword, turning it around carefully in his hands, he suddenly saw another figure in the reflection. An old man, a very old man with a blinding white beard and piercing blue eyes.
He didn't act on this vision, he believed himself delusional at that point as after all, this had been no ordinary day.
But those eyes...those blue, sparkling eyes...at once wise and kind but also...also...
Arthur peered closer to the image in the blade, squinting slightly as he lifted the sword up so the candles could shed a little more light upon it.
The old man held his right hand closed, lifting it slowly upwards. Arthur watched intently not caring now if it was merely a vision, he had to see what the old man held in his hand.
As he lifted it ever higher, the old mans hand started to shake slightly until he slowly unfurled his fingers to reveal a beautiful sphere of shimmering silver. It rotated in his palm, shining ever more with every second that Arthur watched. It was simply beautiful and Arthurs heart fell when the old man curled his fingers back and the sphere disappeared.
He smiled towards Arthur before turning away slowly.
A tall but twisted wooden staff aided his departure and with every tap on the ground, every shuffle forward, the vision faded a little more until the old man was barely visible in the blade anymore.
Arthur turned around then, hoping to see the him in his chambers, for now it was too real to be a vision, he didn't want to think he had inherited his fathers madness but most of all, he had to know...
He twisted round in his chair quietly, only to see the familiar dark head of Merlin leaving the room... and suddenly Arthur saw him for the first time.
"Merlin!" he whispered.
Closing the door behind him, Merlin stood outside and let the huge smile that had been wanting to rule his face the last few minutes take over.
Arthur looked back at the sword and it was just his reflection now.
He smiled as tears pricked his eyes because he knew who those blue eyes belonged to. He had always known somehow.
And Merlin smiled wider than he ever had before, his heart lightened.
He would be free.