As Gaius was doing his rounds about the castle, he came across Arthur. "Gaius! I was hoping I'd run into you. Where is Merlin?"
Gains hesitated, he'd told this lie time and time again, but it didn't feel right this time. "He's running errands for me, did he forget to get a replacement today?"
"No, no. He just didn't tell me. When will he return?"
"A few days, Sire."
"A few days! And he didn't see fit to ask my permission?"
"Well, Arthur, it was very short notice- the errand, that is!"
"And what is this short-notice errand?"
Gaius should've just lied, saying it was a rare herb for some peasant. Instead, he told him the truth: "He... he didn't want to worry you with it, so he didn't tell you. His mother- she died. He went to say his final goodbyes."
"Hunith? She... and he didn't...?" Arthur sighed, "You know, every time I start to think Merlin and I are friends, he goes and doesn't tell me about important things." Arthur shook his head. "I guess it's my fault, he doesn't feel like he can tell me things like this. I'd just hoped that after all this time he would."
"Sire, if I may, I don't think that's it. Merlin trusts you, but he was so distraught he left without much of a second thought. He was too overcome with grief to think of others. He didn't have the duty that you did when your father died- he doesn't think like that."
"You're right. And there's not much I could've done to help him. I don't understand what goes on in that big head of his, and I never really know what to say to him."
Gaius chuckled, "No one ever does, Sire."
Arthur put his hand on Gaius' shoulder, "Thank you... for being honest. It means more than you can know."
Gaius bowed and started to make his way down the hall before he turned to Arthur, "You know, Arthur...I think Merlin considers you a friend more than you give yourself credit for." He turned away to continue his rounds, pretending not to notice a stunned Arthur.
When Merlin finally reached Ealdor, he was exhausted. The people of the village welcomed him as best they could. After all the years, they still didn't really consider him a member of the community. But they all loved Hunith, and so they tried to love Merlin.
Hunith's grave was beautiful. The flowers covering it wove in patterns and the stone that marked her name was of better quality than any in the town's graveyard. And Merlin hated it. He hated it so much. They didn't deserve to mourn her, to decorate her grave. And she shouldn't have even had a grave. She should've been standing there, happy and healthy because that's what she deserved.
Merlin wanted to cry. He wanted to let out all of the anger and sadness, but the tears didn't come. He kneeled by her grave, the sun set and rose and he didn't move. The only difference was there were more flowers, new ones, the color of the sun. They seemed to glow at night, and shimmer in the day. And you could almost feel the warmth of Hunith's gentle and firm touch. And the wind seemed to be her voice, singing a lullaby.
And so Merlin decided to stay. He couldn't go back, he hadn't said goodbye, he wasn't able to. Hunith's hut seemed empty, as crowded as Merlin was in it, and even though nothing had been moved or taken. Without her, there was nothing.