It seemed to Arthur that, despite four days' worth of clouds, mud, and a clinging mist, Merlin hadn't quite stopped smiling. Not that he was going to complain about it. An upbeat, daydreaming Merlin was better than a hunched over and gloomy Merlin after all, and it wasn't as though he was as unrelentingly cheerful as Gwaine was. Merlin was pleasant to be around. Half the time, Arthur just wanted to punch Gwaine in the face to get him to shut up about his upcoming nuptials.

It was always 'Linnet this, and Linnet that' these days, like Gwaine didn't have anything better to talk about than the color of her eyes or the funny way her lips twisted when she was deep in thought. Arthur couldn't remember being so vocal about how he felt for Guinevere, but then, there wasn't a man in Camelot who liked to talk as much as Gwaine did.

They were all just going to have to endure.

Gwaine's voice drifted toward him again. Arthur turned in the saddle to see who the brash knight's victim was this time. Poor Lancelot, riding just ahead of Gwaine, had a long-suffering look on his face and a slump to his shoulders. Arthur threw him a smirk and shrugged before turning back around.

"Think he'll stop jabbering on about Linnet once they're married?" Merlin asked.

"Probably not," Arthur replied. "He'll be obsessed for a while after the wedding, then they'll develop a daily routine and we'll start to hear him complain about how her hair ends up in his mouth while he sleeps, and she'll rant about his smelly socks." He tugged the hood of his cloak a bit lower over his head. The heavy mist that hung over the land was turning into a light rain. "When it comes right down to it, we're doomed."

"Hmm." It looked like Merlin had forgotten what they were talking about. His gaze swept over the fog-shrouded trees away in the valley below. A soft smile pulled at his lips. He sat up straighter in the saddle and his eyes unfocused like he was looking back into memory.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know what's going through your head right now?"

"What?" Merlin looked back at him, all wide-eyed innocence. His smile spread wider. "Sorry. Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Oak trees."

"Oak trees?" Arthur asked. It wasn't the answer he had expected.

Merlin's grin widened. "Yes. Oak trees."

Arthur stared at him for a beat, noting the sparkle in Merlin's eyes, despite the gloom and the rain. His imagination conjured up uncomfortable visions of Merlin, Niniane, forest clearings, and the sorts of things that went on between men and women in love. He shook his head to try to clear it away, turning his thoughts to Guinevere instead, which only became images of himself and Guinevere in the woods, and…

He felt his cheeks flush and was glad for the hood hanging over his face. Not that it hindered Merlin's laughter, because it always seemed that Merlin could sense what he was thinking. And since his thoughts wouldn't wander away from their licentious path, Arthur had to admit that he was just as stupid about Guinevere as Gwaine was about Linnet. "We're all idiots," he grumbled.

"There are worse things to be stupid about than the woman you love," Merlin said softly.

Arthur glanced out from under his hood. Merlin was looking at him, a wry, knowing smile on his face. "I suppose you're right about that," Arthur said.

"Sire!" Leon's voice drove out all thoughts of Guinevere, Linnet, or any other woman who might have been lurking about. The mud-spattered knight rode up alongside Arthur. His hood was thrown back, and his hair was plastered against his face. "The scouts have reported back. Urien is lining his men up, just as you predicted. About a third of his men are encamped with him on the valley floor. They're backed up against the ridge, and most of the rest are behind them on the ridge itself, or waiting at the edge of the forest."

"And their numbers?"

"Roughly equal to ours, if the count's accurate. We'll be evenly matched if it comes to a fight," Leon said.

"Which it most likely will," Arthur said. "What about their reserves? Is Urien holding any men well away from their current lines, to surprise us later on?"

"Not likely," Leon said. He threw an apologetic look toward Merlin. "The closest village is Ealdor, and that's another few days' march away." The sorcerer's wince was palpable, even from an arm's length away. "They wouldn't have the resources to feed and house even a small part of an army. Keeping them provisioned out in the highlands in autumn would be difficult at best."

"But not impossible," Arthur said. "Send out the second scouting group. I want to be absolutely certain of Urien's numbers. Merlin." He glanced over at the sorcerer to find that he was staring northward. Toward Ealdor and the ruins of his childhood home. "Merlin?"

He started and snapped his head around to look at Arthur. "What?"

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. There was a mournful look in Merlin's eyes that he couldn't quite hide. "Have you seen anything with whatever magic it is you can use here?"

"You mean, have I seen something of the future or of Urien's plans?" Merlin asked. Arthur nodded. "No. I've tried to scry him a time or two, but it was just like staring at a brick wall. I couldn't find anything."

"Is Morgana here, then?" Leon asked.

Merlin shrugged. "Not that I've seen. But I couldn't find her at Blackheath, either."

"Right," Arthur said. He spared a glance for the land around them. The road was dropping toward the valley floor. Across the narrow plain, a ridge of jagged hills guarded the way up into the mountains "We're almost there. Ride back to the healers' wagons, then, and start preparing them to camp. I want them set up before nightfall. And keep a weather eye out for anything strange, and tell me if you find anything. I don't like surprises in battle."

"Does anyone like surprises in battle?" Merlin smirked, but there was a grateful light in his eyes as he tugged Altair around and nudged the horse into a trot, disappearing into the mist and rain like a ghost.

"Is it just me, or was he relieved to go?" Leon asked.

"Ealdor's not so far away," Arthur said. "Would you want to be reminded of the time your mother burned to death, and magic forced you to experience it along with her?"

Leon winced. "I suppose that would be more than a little upsetting."

"Yes. So I'll give him plenty to do to keep his mind off it," Arthur said. "With any luck, we'll all be too busy with negotiations to think about anything else. Now let's get moving. The sooner we reach the end of this road, the sooner we can set up camp. Whether we fight or talk in the morning, we'll all need our rest."