Author's note:
Thank you for the reviews! This is the first story I've posted, so all feedback is welcome!

Merlin absentmindedly sat staring at his bowl of Weetabix one morning, thinking through the many lives he'd led. When he snapped out of his memories, he looked down to see that his cereal, having been soaking in his milk for too long, had become a mushy mess. He grimaced and forced himself to finish his goopy cereal quickly. He rinsed his dishes, put them in the dish washer, grabbed his reusable bags, and walked to the market.

Merlin spent most of his time at the grocery store in the cheese department. He had already picked out the rest of his groceries and decided to treat himself to some nice cheeses. He had been looking through all the different kinds for at least fifteen minutes and had an armful of cheese. He had just settled on a lovely triple cream brie as his last variety when he turned around to go back to his trolley. As he turned however, someone ran right into him, pushing him to the side and causing him to drop the ten different varieties of cheese he was holding. Merlin glared after the person who had run into him without even apologizing. He groaned as he bent down to collect up his items.

"Here, let me help you with that," a man said with a hint of an accent. Merlin looked up to make eye contact with the warmest brown eyes he'd ever seen.

"Lancelot," he breathed.

"Pardon?" the brunette furrowed his brow as he picked up a wedge of parmesan.

"Uh, I-I said, 'thanks a lot,'" Merlin stammered, feeling extremely flustered and awkward standing before an old friend who obviously didn't recognize him. Well, of course he doesn't recognize you, you were a young man when you last saw him, Merlin thought, but it wasn't as if he could turn back into the Merlin that Lancelot would recognize right here in the middle of the dairy department.

Lancelot smiled at Merlin in response and picked up Merlin's brie, the last of the cheese. "This is an excellent brie," he said, looking at the label. "It is from my home town, actually." He stood up and continued to smile at Merlin. "Here, is this your trolley?"

Merlin simply nodded as he found himself completely speechless. His silence didn't faze Lancelot, who placed the armful of cheese into the cart.

"Are you here by yourself?" he asked, and again Merlin nodded.

Lancelot's smile widened and he insisted on helping Merlin with the rest of it. Merlin protested, but to no avail, and found himself trailing behind Lancelot, who was pushing the trolley. His mind was racing through a million questions, none of which he could ask, and providing him with nothing to say to Lancelot. The other man didn't seem bothered though. He preceded to strike up a conversation about the only information he had about this old stranger; that he was buying a ridiculous amount of cheese. Merlin was struggling with his own thoughts so much that he failed to listen to what Lancelot was saying, but he did manage to grunt and mumble several replies.

They went through the redheaded woman's checkout, and she looked relieved to see that Merlin had someone assisting him this time. By the time they had finished at the checkout and Merlin had paid, he had managed to pull himself together a bit more. He was not about to lose his first real and definitely-not a hallucination lead in 1000 years because of a bit of shock. He was determined to find out as much about this new Lancelot as he could. Merlin bent down to pick up his bags, but Lancelot beat him to it, taking most of the groceries and leaving Merlin with only the two lightest to carry.

"It's great to see so many people opting for reusable bags instead of plastic ones nowadays," Lancelot said, having run out of cheese-related topics.

"Oh, yes, well when you've lived as long as I have, you can see the impact that every person makes on the planet," Merlin replied. "But I can take it from here, thank you for your help."

"Are you driving home?" Lancelot questioned, searching the parking lot for an unknown car. When Merlin shook his head, Lancelot insisted that he help Merlin carry the groceries home. Merlin caved, if only to have more time to get information.

After a minute or so of silence, Merlin spoke up to ask, "What was your name, young man?"

"Lance, sir," he replied. "And yours?"

Merlin squinted at him, to make sure that he was seeing who he thought he was. But he was positive, it had been a long time, but he was positive that this was his dear friend Lancelot – of course a young man in 2019 wouldn't go by that full name though.

"Hmmm?" Lance asked again. When he was met with a confused look, he repeated, "Your name?"

"Oh, Mer –" Merlin stopped halfway through, catching himself but completely blanking on his current pseudo name. "… name is Bedwyr." Merlin finished, now feeling self-conscious about his tongue-in-cheek reference to his past.

"Bedwyr?" Lancelot paused for a moment. "Wasn't he a Knight of Camelot? Quite a Welsh name, isn't it? You don't seem to have much of the accent though. Did you grow up here?"

"No, I didn't. I grew up in a small village, not too far from here but not within Whales." Merlin paused, trying to place Lancelot's hint of an accent. "And yourself?"

"Oh, I'm from France," Lance smiled. "I came here to go to graduate school."

"Oh." Merlin furrowed his brow in thought. "What are you studying?"

"Conservational biology," Lance replied, his face lighting up at the thought of it. A wide smile spread across Merlin's face. This young man was certainly filled with the soul of Sir Lancelot. In the middle ages his dream was to become a knight of Camelot to help others, and in the 21st century he was working towards helping the planet.

"That must be interesting. What sort of job are you looking to get?"

The conversation turned rather jovial as the two asked questions back and forth. Merlin often stumbled over his responses – it had been so long since he'd had such a long conversation with someone that he had trouble remembering his fake backstory.

"Do you live around here?" Merlin asked.

"No, I live over on the other side of town, but my partner just moved into the area."

"Oh?" Merlin raised his brow. "Here." He pointed down his driveway.

Once Merlin had unlocked the door, Lance placed the bags on Merlin's kitchen table, admiring his house full of odds and ends. Merlin tried to offer him a drink of water or some money as a thank you for the help, but Lance shook his head and refused politely before leaving.

Merlin flopped down on his couch, his mind spinning with the insanity of meeting one of his best friends hundreds of years after he died. Arthur must be returning soon, he thought, his body buzzing with an anxious excitement.

Merlin could not get to sleep. He had been lying in bed for hours. He'd tried reading his most boring text, but he had become engrossed in it for the first time. But it was 3:30 in the morning and his eyes were too tired to read any more. His mind was now buzzing with all of the new information he had, and he knew there was no way sleep was coming now.

He sighed and got out of bed and pulled a long jacket on over his pajamas, slipped on some shoes, and headed outside for a walk. Merlin walked along the thin tree lined path that led down to the lakefront. He often came down here to think.

As he came out of the forest, he was surprised to see a bright green light glowing in the sky above the lake. His jaw hung slightly ajar as he took in the wavering green glow and he smiled. Perhaps it wasn't too bad that he couldn't get to sleep. He smiled and reflected on how long it had been since he had seen the Northern Lights – they weren't often visible from Wales. As he watched, though, something began to seem strange. The glow wasn't shining in the sky like the northern lights. It didn't waver in the same vertical way, in fact, it seemed to be coming from the lake itself. Merlin furrowed his brow as he cocked his head to the side, intensely watching the glow become even brighter.

Suddenly, the green light blew into a bright yellow and even further into a blinding white light that lit up the night sky. Merlin lifted his arm to shield his eyes. He walked closer to edge of the water.

Merlin.

Merlin jumped as he heard his name spoken in his own mind.

It's almost time, Merlin. The woman's voice was familiar and reassuring. Squinting into the dazzling light, Merlin could just see the outline of an arm holding up a sword.

"Freya," Merlin whispered. He had spent many nights by the side of the lake talking to his first love, but he was never sure if she was still there.

You must take this now Merlin. Your King will soon return. Merlin pulled himself together and, with a flash of his blue eyes, the sword gently floated over to him. Merlin took the sword in his hand and examined it. Freya had kept the sword safe for over a thousand years. It's bright silver and gold shone beautifully in the white light. Gwen's father had made this sword, and Merlin had strengthened it with the fire of Kilgarrah, one of the last dragons to live in Albion. It was a fine sword, and it certainly seemed to be time it returned to its rightful owner, Arthur Pendragon.

As quickly as it had come, the brilliant white light faded to yellow and then green until there was just the faintest glow above the lake's surface.

"Thank you, Freya," Merlin said as he turned back towards his cottage. So I was right, Merlin thought, It is now time for Arthur to return to Albion. I wonder how much longer he'll be. When he arrived back at his home, Merlin was feeling heavy with sleep. He made sure to lock the door behind him, placed the sword next to his bed, and went to sleep, forgetting to remove his coat and shoes.

The next morning, as Merlin slowly woke, fuzzy memories of the events at the lake came back to him. What a strange dream… he mused as his eyes flickered open. He rolled over and saw Excalibur sitting next to his bed before bolting up right. He reached for his jacket before realizing that he was already wearing it and looked down curiously at his shoes and back at his bed. Had he really gone to bed like this?

He shrugged it off and sped down his path to the waterfront. He burst out the other side of the path, calling Freya's name, his voice deep with desperation. There were several groups of people lounging on the small beach, including a young couple strolling the water's edge and a family having a picnic. As they turned to stare at him, he realized what a big scene he was causing and sat down on the sand. He held his head in his hands, as if trying to stop calm his racing mind.

Arthur's return is nigh.

Further along the beach, Morgana and Morgause were sunbathing. Morgana sat up to look at what the commotion was.

"Isn't that the man who bumped into you at the plaza a few weeks ago?" Morgause asked as she shaded her eyes with her.

"I think he is…" Morgana wondered.

"Poor thing must be senile. Probably looking for his wife," Morgause mused apathetically.

"He must live around here… It's strange I haven't seen him before."

"Maybe you have – maybe that's why he looked so familiar."

"Oh, that must be it," Morgana smiled, nodding nervously. That's much less alarming than recognizing him from my nightmares, she thought.