"What the hell do you mean I can't offer Gilli a knighthood?" Arthur asked in frustration as he flung his cape across the table in his solar.
Merlin sighed and roughly ran his calloused hands over his face.
"I don't want George back and you said you would find me another servant!" The king pointed out, whining like a spoiled prat.
Leon stood off to the side attempting to stifle his amusement, while the warlock offered a blank stare at his cousin. "I need Gilli where he is. By your side, Arthur. Not out on some random patrol. I know knighting him, a man with magic and the ability to use a sword, would be a huge step forward in showing the people you are serious about accepting it, but find someone else to be your token sorcerer slash knight, please."
The king glared at Merlin before glancing over towards Leon, "You've met him, you've seen that he has skill with a sword and his deeds have proven his loyalty. What do you have to say about this?"
The blond knight looked stunned and weighed his words carefully, "I would accept him and train him as a knight if that is what you wish, Sire. I agree he has more potential that simply being a servant."
"He already is more than a servant!" Merlin argued and the other two looked at him in confusion. He took a deep breath and sighed again. He was saved when someone knocked at the door and Gilli popped his head in.
"My Lords?"
"Yes Gilli what is it?" Arthur asked impatiently.
"I wanted to see if you needed anything," he stated reluctantly.
"You know, why don't you just ask him and then we can save ourselves some headache," the warlock grumbled.
Arthur glowered and motioned for Gilli to come into the room. "Fine then. Gilli what would you think if I offered you a place among the knights?" He stood proudly, secure in his knowledge that as king he wouldn't be refused. He nearly choked on air when the servant responded.
"Thank you, Sire. I appreciate the honor, but I don't think my employer would appreciate if I were to accept such a thing."
"Your employer?" Leon hissed, his hand immediately going to his sword as suspicions ran through his mind. He relaxed slightly when Merlin snorted.
Daggers of ice shot out of the king's eyes at his former servant, "What do you mean, your employer?" he asked Gilli without breaking eye contact with Merlin, already suspecting the truth.
"He means I am the one who hired him and put him in a place where I can best protect you through him. If you made Gilli a knight then he wouldn't be able to shadow you and move in circles that I no longer can thanks to being made a noble and all."
"I didn't MAKE you a noble," he spat.
"No, but you didn't have to acknowledge it. I was perfectly happy to come back and take my place at your side. I can't even walk around the Lower Town without people watching me now! I needed someone who can; someone with magic and skill to take care of himself and help keep your supercilious arse out of trouble. So I hired Gilli as your servant."
Leon grinned slightly as he caught on to Merlin's reasoning, "He's right, Sire." He waited for the king to look at him before continuing, "Perhaps an honorary knighthood that could be kept secret would be a better position for the boy?"
"Uh, standing right here while you lot discuss my fate," Gilli muttered.
The three men looked at him. "Alright, Gilli, what do you want us to do?"
The servant glanced at Merlin who nodded for him to go ahead and voice his opinion. "I think the secret knighthood would be best. Although, Sire you do really need a whole team of servants to keep up with your demanding schedule, but I feel my place...especially after the last few months, is silently by your side."
The knight and the king looked at the boy with a sense of new-found appreciation as he continued.
"When I first came to Camelot I had the opportunity to..." he swallowed and glanced at Merlin for support, "I could have killed King Uther in the tournament."
Arthur's eyes narrowed at this revelation and he gave Merlin a sideways glance for confirmation. He took a measured breath and pinched his lips, but kept silent while the young sorcerer continued.
"Merlin stopped me. I didn't understand why and although I finally realized that it would have been wrong, I still thought it wrong of him to hide in the shadows when he could so easily have taken out the one man that caused so much suffering. We parted on...well not really good terms, but we had an understanding and my gut said to trust him.
"It took longer than I thought, but when I heard the laws changed and such I truly began to see his sacrifice. If I had killed Uther it would have changed nothing. It was him being more patient than the gods and letting you find your own path, Sire, that allowed for things to become better for us and our kin.
"That is why I am your servant, My Lord, but I work for Merlin. If he feels it would be in the best interest of the kingdom and our kind for me to stay silently at your side then well I may grumble and complain, but I do it for him."
Arthur rolled his eyes, "Lovely, my cousin has his own secret society of magical body guards."
The other three men chuckled, understanding the compliment hidden behind the outward annoyance. "Sire, from all you have told me of Gilli's accomplishments thus far, a position equal to a knight would be in order, but it needs to be much more subtle to allow for the movement required to protect you."
"As your servant, Gilli can go virtually anywhere you go Arthur and he can access many places in the seedier areas that even the knights can't get to. Especially with everything that's been happening as the Golden Age of Albion dawns under your rule. I need someone I can trust to protect you at your side. He is that person."
Leon turned and studied the young man. He had promise to make an exceptional knight if that was the path he chose, but it said much more about his character that he would rather remain at the king's side in the guise of a servant, much as Merlin had done for years. "I will train him secretly as a knight, Sire," the older knight offered.
"And when are you going to have time?" The king snickered thinking about the upcoming wedding. He stood silently for a moment in thought with his arms crossed over his chest. "No, since you are my servant I will train you personally, Gilli."
The young sorcerer looked on in wide-eyed wonder at the three powerful men before him. "Sire, I... I don't know what to say."
"Say 'Thank you, My Lord'," Merlin encouraged.
(*~*~*~*~*)
The path was known only to a handful of the hardiest souls; mostly smugglers and ruffians who had nothing to lose. It was far to the south of the gorge and to the bridge most commonly referred to when crossing into the Perilous Lands from Mercia. Tristan led a handful of men through the dark treacherous tunnels. While it took nearly three days to navigate the passages, it saved time in the long run.
Alvarr assured them that the hidden path would lead the party close enough to the tomb of an ancient king and avoid many of the dangers in the wyvren-infested lands. Without it they would have needed to follow the gorge up into Mercia and then hope that the crafty little bridgekeeper would allow them passage; before adding on another two days, or more, of back tracking.
Tristan was reluctant to ask the sorcerer where the information came from, as he learned long ago it was sometimes better to not know those things. The few dealings the two men had previously always ended up profitable for them both, so there was no reason to expect that this would be the exception.
The Perilous Lands were just as Tristan anticipated from the last couple of times he had been through. Absolute and utter nothingness. Barren rocks and decaying tree stumps, a few nasty swamps, and complete lack of habitation was all that these lands had to offer.
The smuggler kept his eyes on the sky, wary of danger, but after a few hours the lack of wyvrens only served to increase his nervousness. With the hastily drawn map Alvarr had provided them, it didn't take more than a day to located the landmarks and finally spot the three massive stones that served as the entrance marker to the dolmen*.
(*~*~*~*~*)
The rain fell gently and cleansed his spirit as well as his body. The smell of the wet pine and ferns, the rhythmic pulse of the water rattling the branches and rustling against the leaves of the deciduous trees; it all seemed so new to him again. The last time he passed through here as a whole man was when he set off to free his sister. So long ago. He never understood how it was that he didn't go completely bonkers from the centuries. Much of it was blur after Taliesin left, Bran couldn't even begin to know if he had even been awake during that time or if he had slept.
Rolling his shoulders as the slow methodical movements of the horse under his seat carried him towards his home once more. His fingernails still held a tint of green, but after a few weeks of travel and a good scrubbing, BrĂ¢n Fendigaidd, first son of the Fisher King and heir to Corbenic, felt almost human again. Despite having been given the offer of returning to Camelot he knew his place was to be on his own throne. It would take many years to rebuild all that the centuries had laid to waste. The sooner he started on it, the better it would be for everyone.
All the time and travels, losing his body, his family, his lands...nothing could prepare for what he saw as he crested the hill in Mercia that overlooked the valley into Corbenic. The rain steadily grew heavier and the clouds ominously darker as he neared. He barely made out the edge of the forest as it passed over the river gorge where Grettir's camp should be. A black wall of clouds, similar to what they had recently faced in the hell dimension stood out and obscured any sign of the land beyond.
Yet even from this distance Bran could ascertain that the storm clouds, while unnaturally thick and dark, were indeed still just clouds and not the undulating mass of spirits. He glanced back at the borrowed servants and squire with the cart carrying the cauldron that caused so much strife. He planned to bring it home find a way to restore the lands from his father's curse and then see if there was a way to destroy the blasted thing. Although he knew if such a thing was possible it would likely destroy him as well. He had no family left and save for the two old magical guardians no friends from before. Lady Clarissant was kind to him, but with her husband and new child arriving, he remained honorably aloof from her.
Merlin was a kindred spirit in many ways, as was the king, and many of the other knights Bran had become recently familiar with. Perhaps it was foolish of him to think he could regain his throne and restore Corbenic.
He took a final evaluating gaze from the ridge through the downpour wondering at the maelstrom beyond the gorge before motioning the others onward. They would reach Grettir's camp within the hour and hopefully find some reprieve from the storm before moving across the bridge and closer to his home.
The torrents of rain only seemed to increase as they neared the gateway to Corbenic and the trees offered little protection as they groaned and strained against their roots. Many of the weaker branches broke off and littered the forest floor making it nearly impossible for them to bring the small cart through the already rough terrain.
Suddenly it was as if a bubble of magic rose up around them. Grettir sat smiling from the fallen log near his fire and started to welcome the travelers. He stopped and a look of awe filled his face when he caught sight of Bran.
"My Lord," He stood and bowed before the prince. "I see you found what you had lost. Hopefully you made sure it was screwed on tighter this time. And that color is a very smart choice."
"Hush dwarf!" The prince roared with a laugh and greeted the short man.
"Come and sit, all of you! The tempest has been growing and as you can see," he motioned to the bridge, "This is as far as you can go for now."
Bran looked to where Grettir had motioned and the storm that raged beyond his camp. The bridge that had stood for hundreds of years was all but gone. He felt his heart sink.
His face darkened and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. Although he knew his homecoming would hold no fanfare and celebration he at least thought he would make it home. "I finally return with my father's cauldron and I can't even make it across?"
"I'm sorry, my prince, I tried to keep the magic in place as long as I could, but the powers beyond are as strong as the land itself. And it is awakening."
"What is, Grettir?"
"The demon that brought together the five kingdoms. The one your father helped to entomb."
Bran finally turned away from the devastation of the bridge and leveled his gaze at the keeper.
"He never told you the story, did he?" Grettir clucked his tongue, "Well sit and have some soup and I can tell you of it."
AN:*dolmen-also known as a portal tomb, portal grave, or quoit, is a type of single-chamber megalithic tomb, usually consisting of three or more upright stones supporting a large flat horizontal capstone (table), although there are also more complex variants
HUGE MASSIVE AND BEAUTIFUL THANK YOU to Nance for proof-reading (and generally being an absolute goddess of the English language) and IcarusLSU for plot and flow assistance.
Megami- don't choke or you won't be able to read more of the fic!
Helen - Aylass said she will try if she can find the right footage. Thanks!
Nance- you already know you are amazing! Thanks!
Monkeymail- are you really surprised I managed to make that awkward? I think it's my specialty LOL
Icarus- yeah you know what's coming LOL
