Chapter Two:
Crack, rustle, crunch. "Merlin, as usual, you are going to give us away. Why do I bring you along on these things anyway?" Arthur continued grumbling at his servant as they made their way through the forest. Most of the complaining was just meant as usual banter that both of the young men had gotten used to enjoying over the years.
"Sorry," Merlin whispered, somewhat nervously.
The king was about to retort to his servants lack of response when a rustling noise ahead of them caught Arthur's attention. He held a finger to his lips, and then carefully raised his crossbow aiming for a stag just appearing between the trees less than 20 yards away. The majestic animal sniffed the air, eyes wide, as it sensed for possible danger. Appearing to find nothing it began to walk slowly forward the rest of the herd following through the trees. At a signal from Arthur a few clicks and twangs and the crossbow bolts from the knights sped towards the deer, many striking true. Samhain feast would be good for the people of Camelot this year. After Morgana's troops had decimated the stores, the venison would be more than welcome for the winter.
"Well, I guess I should go gather firewood," Merlin stated with a resigned sigh.
Arthur stood, a bit dumbstruck, when Merlin quickly moved off into the forest, just as stoically as he had left with the laundry that morning.
"What did you say to him?" Gwaine queried coming up beside his king, leveling Arthur with an accusing look and a raised eyebrow.
He stood there, his mouth opening a closing like a fish, as Arthur tried to piece together what was going on. He looked over at Gwaine as the other knights came up beside them, "Is it just me thinking that there is something troubling him?"
"Gaius said he hasn't been sleeping well." Leon stated with a small shrug. Arthur looked at his knight curiously. "Everyone in Camelot has noticed something going on with Merlin; I simply decided to ask the one person that might know."
"Hmm," Arthur took the news to heart, "Gwaine, why don't you go see if he needs a hand?" He offered, knowing that of all the knights Gwaine was probably the closest friend to Merlin.
Gwaine gave the king a cocky grin and a flourished bow, "If it gets me out of bleeding and stringing up the deer, gladly!"
The forest was familiar to Merlin, as he quietly followed the game trail through the trees. His mind barely on the task of gathering wood, Merlin needed a place to think and clear his head. His time spent with Arthur was strained, but try as he might, the young warlock couldn't bring himself out the anxiety that gripped him. Each time he looked at Arthur, the dream version would come to mind. A clearing just ahead lead to a haunting view of the Perilous lands, just one of the many places where Merlin had feared Arthur would discover the secret of his magic.
As he neared the edge, Merlin's breath caught in his throat. Below him, the land that was previously barren and brown now held a hint of green life. Grass and saplings had begun to take hold, fighting for life amongst the wasteland, mosses and lichens filling in around the stumps of ancient rotted trees. Even the dark tower far out in the distance seemed to hold fewer ghosts than before. Acting on impulse he hastened his steps, forsaking the hunt for tinder complete as he practically ran down the path to the bridge that crossed into the Fisher King's lands.
Not far behind him came Gwaine, curiosity etched on his face, and his lips twitching as he looked around him. He knew that Merlin had come this way, but couldn't fathom why it would be so hard to catch up to his friend, unless the dark-haired young man was out here after more than just firewood. The knight's reaction upon seeing the valley below was no less dramatic than Merlin's had been and suddenly he had an inkling of where his friend might be heading.
Grettir stirred the pot in front of him, seeming not at all surprised when Merlin came rushing into his camp. "Ah, Magic! Once again we meet." He announced to the forest with his arms outstretched, he gave a low bow to Emrys. "Come and have a sit with me." The short man offered, gesturing to a small boulder that magically appeared.
"Hello, Grettir." Merlin answered with a smile, gladly accepting the offer. "I saw from the hill above the lands of the Fisher King."
The little man nodded, "Yes, the transformation has begun. It will be many years yet before you can reinstate it to its former glory."
"Before 'I' can…" Merlin began to question, his eyes going wide.
Grettir cut him off in a sing-song voice, "But that is neither here, nor there, nor anywhere at this time. You have come here to receive a gift we have arranged for you."
Merlin looked skeptically at the short warlock, "Most gifts, where magic is concerned, have a catch." The young man thought of his own 'gift' and the secret he kept from his best friend about it. His mind wandered to Morgana's 'gift' of prophecy and the dark path it took her down. Along with many favors from Kilgarra over the years and the prices of those – including losing the great dragon upon Camelot. "Dare I ask what this is going to cost me?"
"The price has already been paid by many of those you have assisted over the years. Be at the shore of Avalon when the veil between the worlds is thinnest. It will be there until sunrise of All Souls Day only."
Merlin raised his brow skeptically, "What is it?" He asked, trying desperately to contain the sudden jump of his heart. His dreams, the woman he loved... the fear.
"The gift is a touch of magic leftover from before the Fisher King's son, Bran the Blessed, left for Anwnn and lands beyond, with his father's cauldron." A distant look appeared in the old dwarf's eyes, "The land is healing, but cannot be fully restored until the Cauldron of Winter is returned by the heir of the Fisher King from the western lands of Summer." The short man smiled playfully as he began to disappear in front of Merlin, "Don't be late, she may wait forever on the shores of Avalon, but you might not get a chance to see her, it will depend on if you have the strength!"
"She? Grettir, what do you mean?" But the short warlock was already gone. Merlin spun around a few times looking for the trickster. His heart was beating so fast in his chest, could he really get a chance to see Freya again? He felt torn inside – the nightmares plaguing him gave a clear indication that something would happen if he went. If he tried to avoid it, he would cause it to come about in the worst possible way – a lesson the young warlock had learned the hard way. Taking a deep breath Merlin steadied himself, whatever transpired would come about, despite his protests. "Fine then! I'm taking your firewood as the price of not giving me a straight answer, Grettir!"
"…she may wait forever on the shores of Avalon, but you might not get a chance to chance to see her," Gwaine had finally reached the bridge in time to catch the last bit. Merlin didn't notice him, but the knight was certain the dwarfed man was looking straight at Gwaine before becoming invisible, "it will depend on if you have the Strength!" Last time they encountered Grettir, the roguish man remember the way he greeted Merlin and himself: 'Magic' and 'Strength'. Part of him always wondered what that was about, if he was honest with himself, deep down he knew he would find the answer.
"She? Grettir, what do you mean?" Gwaine ducked quietly and quickly into some bushes just as Merlin stood up, looking around for the now invisible bridge keeper. A frustrated Merlin began yelling about taking the firewood. After picking up the wood, Merlin stomped off – seemingly in a mindset closer to normal than he previously had been. The hidden knight bit his lip to avoid laughing at his friend. Gwaine waited to make certain the raven-haired young man was away before coming out of the bush. He nearly fell over when the dwarf appeared in front of him.
"He's going to need the strength of a true friend and the honor of a brother for what is to come. Be patient with him and follow your instinct."
"Wha…I…" Just as suddenly as he appeared, Grettir was gone again, leaving Gwaine shaking his head and blinking in disbelief. Finally he pursed his lips and exhaled in defeat. "Alrighty then, instinct trusting it is."
By the time Gwaine made it back to the camp, Merlin was already working with a few other servants on the evening meal and preparing the meat for transport back to Camelot. "Whatever you said to him, seems to have worked." Arthur stated, coming up behind him. He gave Gwaine a pat on his shoulder before moving off to supervise the progress of the work. The scruffy knight put on his best smile, hiding well the fact he didn't actually accomplish his mission.
Moving over to Merlin, he nudged his friend, "You and me need to have a talk soon," He whispered.
"Oh?" The dark haired young man looked up curiously, "about?"
"Courage, Strength, and Magic," Gwaine looked pointedly Merlin. The two stared at each other for a moment. The knight squeezed Merlin's shoulder reassuringly, "Not here or now, but soon."
