"I think it says clary sage." Merlin holds the parchment to the light and turns it slightly, as if there is a hidden message between the ink that he will be able to better see with narrowed eyes. "Or maybe it's chamomile?"
The red-haired woman he has come to looks at him strangely, albeit with a little annoyance. "Clary sage or chamomile," she repeats slowly.
"I don't know. Can you read this?" Merlin offers her his list from Gaius.
She looks offended by what she sees. "Who has given you this? A child?"
Merlin wants to tell her no, although he does think Gaius is being very childish indeed. He drops his hand in defeat. "I'll just take both, please."
He spends the next hour much in the same way, trying to figure out whether he's reading mugwort or myrrh, or calamus or cinnamon and slowly filling up his bag. He visits the red-haired woman twice more, and she asks whether he is a poor simpleton or merely and very deliberately making a pest of himself. She threatens to call the soldier over who is standing on the corner of the street, and he doesn't go back again. His father's warnings had also come with instructions to not bring unnecessary attention to himself, though Merlin knows his father was thinking more along the lines of causing destruction in courtyards rather than annoying traders.
The coins which Gaius has given him to purchase his required items are running low, because he's been left absolutely clueless and he has settled with his solution of purchasing one of each of the things which seem most likely after much guesswork. Merlin isn't sure how Gaius thinks this is going to keep him busy for only the rest of the day, because he's not going to be returning until next year at this rate. There are people who now also pointedly avert their eyes when he is nearby, because they do not want to give him the impression that he is welcome to speak with them. He has either annoyed them, or they have been quietly warned by a neighbour when he is near and so he dawdles for a long time without approaching anybody, head bent over his parchment while he studies it and mutters to himself.
He wonders whether Gaius is standing at his table and chuckling into his books until he has to take a chair.
"Hello," someone says gently, coming to the side of him. His head snaps up and he notes the concerned look on the stranger's face. "I'm Guinevere. Most people call me Gwen… I'm Lady Morgana's maid."
"Oh," he says, because maybe he should be wondering how exactly it is that the Lady Morgana's maid can help him but instead he is remembering the dark-haired girl he still sees in his dreams, who had once confused his magic and whose hand had tingled when it had grasped his.
"Are you lost?" Guinevere asks when he offers nothing else. "It's just I've seen you pass me a few times now, and—"
Merlin holds up his list with a glum expression, and thinks he should have admitted defeat a long time ago—perhaps before he even walked out of the door. "Supplies."
Guinevere smiles kindly, like she might think that yes, this is the simpleton who she's been hearing the traders mutter about. "What are you looking for?"
"I'm not sure," he tells her honestly. He looks genuiely apologetic about it.
"Well, maybe I can help? My father is a blacksmith and he often sends me out for things that he needs. Can I…?" She nods to the parchment questioningly and reaches out.
"Why not." He hands it over all too willingly. "I'm not doing so well."
"Oh, come on now," she says as she examines Gaius' scrawl. Her eyebrows furrow. "I'm sure you are smarter than you look…" Her eyes widen as they pull away from the ink. "Um. I mean. You seem, uh…" She pulls a face. "Sorry. It's just—"
He can't help but smile. "I'm Merlin," he says, to save her further embarrassment, but she ducks her eyes anyway and holds the list closer to her face. "I've been sent out for supplies but, well." He waves towards the paper in his explanation, though not that Guinevere notices because she's practically hiding behind the parchment.
"It's very messy." Her voice is hesitant and slightly muffled. It takes several seconds for her to lower her hands and look at him with crippling shyness. "Did you write this?"
Guinevere definitely thinks he is an idiot, and Merlin laughs like one. "No! No, Gaius did. I'm his new apprentice," he explains, as he sees interest flicker on her face when she recognises the court physician's name.
Apprentice. He didn't think that he'd find himself returning to Camelot after so long, only to wander aimlessly through it searching for unnameable herbs, to serve somebody in a way he had not intended. He imagines the Druids will look disapprovingly at him and say, "This is not the destiny we foresaw, Emrys," when they discover what he is wasting his time trying to achieve, but then, he's not really sure what he did expect, other than to be reunited with Gaius and (hopefully, he remembers with a sickening and sinking feeling) Arthur.
He's still worried that Arthur will not recognise him, that he has forgotten. There are ancient ones who believe that the two of them can no more easily escape one another as they can the destiny which has been written since before the first dragon spread its wings, but what if? Twelve years is such a long time for those who are not yet men.
"I like Gaius. He is a good man." Guinevere passes back the sheet back to him. There is still embarrassment lingering on her cheeks, and she might believe that he is stupid, but she is undoubtedly kind if a little awkward. "He doesn't suffer fools gladly."
"No," Merlin agrees, glancing down at his list.
"I didn't mean that you are a fool," she insists quickly, and she looks as if she wishes to be able to take cover once again. "I only meant—"
"It's okay." It is hard not to smile with Guinevere, he realises. "He probably thinks that I am a little bit of a fool," he admits, if only to ease her worry.
"I hope you manage to find everything." Her body dips slightly in her farewell, as she is likely used to doing as a maid to royalty. "It was nice to meet you Merlin," she says, and her smile is as awkward as the rest of her as she hurries away. He can hear her muttering to herself, and smiles again.
He forces himself to carry on with his task, otherwise he knows that he will find himself following her; Guinevere will lead to Morgana, and he's eager to find somebody other than Gaius who he knows and has missed. He might have only met her only once, and his memories as a six-year-old are vague, but he has never forgotten the two who stirred his young magic more than anybody else: Morgana and Arthur.
Merlin pushes forward through the streets. The traders still turn away from him, Gaius might still be laughing in his rooms, and the morning might have long passed him by, but he only has to decide whether he has to buy agrimony or rosemary and then he can seek out the company of the only one he craves more than Morgana, Gaius or even Arthur.
Kilgharrah.