A/N: Well. Um, here I am. I am soooo sorry for the long wait between chapters. I could give a long story filled with excuses about why I haven't updated in so long, but that's not what you're here for. So without further ado, chapter 4. I know this one is pretty short in comparison to my other chapters, but I didn't know how to make these events happen in a better format, and I kind of liked it anyway. Hopefully there's enough angst and bonding to hold you over until the next chapter, when the real action happens. Let me know what you think :)
Disclaimer: I still don't own this. Seriously, I doubt I'll ever be that lucky in this lifetime.
Namaste.
Without quite being aware of it, Merlin realized that his feet were taking him to the outskirts of Camelot, where the bards were camped. His fingers were clenched tightly around the silver hair in his pocket, trying not to think about what it meant. As he came closer, his resolve turned sharply inside of him, and he stopped.
He couldn't just walk into their peaceful encampment and accuse them of murder when the man's fate was clearly self-inflicted. Even if I did, to what end? Merlin thought to himself. They would think him as close-minded and harsh as the people of Camelot.
He didn't have any real proof of their involvement in any of it except for a scrap of song half-remembered in a nightmare and a single hair. Hadn't he seen the bards walking around town earlier the previous day? Ariadne could have accidentally brushed up against the man, or any other number of innocuous happenings. It didn't mean anything.
Even as he tried to console himself, a part of his mind coldly noted his extreme reluctance to speak with them about it. Merlin frowned. When had their opinion begun to matter so much to them?
He sighed and scrubbed at his tired eyes, wearily continuing his stride. If they were involved, it was his responsibility to figure out what was happening. No matter what his personal feelings were, Camelot had to come first, in all things.
He stepped into the clearing, and saw Ollie pacing around with a scrap of bark and a piece of charcoal, muttering to himself. Keelia caught sight of him and jumped up, running towards him with a genuine smile.
"Merlin! I'm so glad you came!" she said, her eyes dancing with happiness.
"Yes, well, I wanted to see you—all of you," Merlin said, catching his words and feeling the tips of his ears flush again. Gods, something about this girl left him tongue-tied and feeling like a fool.
"Come, sit down with us," she said, taking his hand once again. "You look like you wish to say something."
He willingly followed her, dread growing in his heart as he walked towards their fire ring.
Keir was mending a shirt, but looked up and nodded to Merlin in greeting, unsurprised. Ariadne and Devar, perhaps sensing the tenor of their friends' thoughts, rose from where they were lying and joined them, flower chains abandoned. Christine settled herself down quietly after giving a warm smile to Merlin and pressing his hand in greeting. Only Ollie was left, still pacing around and frowning slightly at his bark scrap.
Finally, he looked up and saw the gang waiting for him. "Oh, Merlin! It's you. You're just in time to hear my new sonnet, written especially for the beloved King of Camelot, Uther Pendragon," he began, his wide grin threatening to split his face.
"Not now, Olwyn," Keir said in a flat tone.
The man looked shocked at the use of his full name. "If you'd like to sit and talk seriously of things, then by all means do so, but kindly refrain from hindering me to do what I'd like," he said, a little peevishly.
"This concerns all of us." Keir said, locking eyes with the prankster.
"Then how come Finn isn't here?" Ollie challenged, raising his chin.
"I was gathering firewood for tonight," a deep voice said behind him. The tall redhead was carrying a bundle that easily weighed as much as Merlin with ease. "Some of us actually work and contribute to the group," he added, getting a dig in.
Keelia hid a smile at Olllie's hurt expression.
"You wound me," Olwyn said, putting a hand to his chest in mock pain. Nonetheless, he began walking towards their small congregation.
"I have been very busy as well. Listen-"
"To us all he is an inspiration, the very height of nobility
His steel eyes pierce through lies, although limited is his virility."
"Ollie," Keelia began.
"Let me finish!" he exclaimed, actually stamping his foot, although his eyes shone with glee.
"If to challenge with steel, you'll not leave without a nick
His kind, sensitive nature only surpassed by the size of his—ow!"
Ollie let out a painful yelp, having tripped over an unseen tree root and lay winded in the dirt.
Finn rolled his eyes, walked over and yanked him up by the back of his shirt.
"You shouldn't make verses like that about the king. I'm serious, Olwyn," Keir said, looking at him with a troubled gaze.
"It would be treason if he heard that," Merlin murmured, without thinking.
"Then he'd better not hear of it," Devar said, watching the warlock closely.
Merlin flushed and was about to protest when Keelia turned to the handsome bard.
"Oh, stop, Devar! You really think Merlin would report us for a harmless snatch of verse? He isn't so shallow, as to betray those he cares about for any type of personal gain!" She finished, voice sharp, every line in her body singing with tension.
Merlin stared at her in shock, he had never imagined her to have such a quick temper.
Devar raised his hands to her in surrender, then turned guilty eyes on Merlin.
"Forgive me, friend. That was completely tactless and singularly rude. We do not turn on our allies here."
"No, it should be I who apologizes," Merlin said back, with feeling. "You have every reason to mistrust others, and I spoke without thinking. My statement was not with any kind of reward or punishment in mind, only to your safety. If anything were to be found suspicious by the hands of the Court…" he trailed off.
He didn't need to finish. They were all aware that anything perceived as threatening to the king or his domain would end in the bards' swift removal, either by banishment or by death. King Uther was nothing if not efficient.
"Great, we're all friends. Now what did you want to tell us?" Olwyn butted in.
"Do you…what I mean to say is, are you all aware of what happened last night?" Merlin said, feeling the unease curl in his stomach.
"We were all here, well before the eighth hour struck," Christine said gently.
"A man in the village—he killed himself last night," Merlin murmured, dropping his eyes.
"That's terrible," Ari responded, her beautiful face marred by grief and loss.
"Why would you tell us this?" Keir asked, unkindly. "I agree, it's tragic and it's always horrible when something of this nature happens, but why bring it to us? Does the king think we were involved?"
Merlin could sense the group's sudden confusion, and his mouth went dry. He cursed his weakness and tripped over his words again.
"No, he doesn't—I mean, the king doesn't think you've done anything. It's just that—" he stopped, hating that he had to say what he thought.
"Merlin, are you alright?" Keelia asked. "You're feverish," she said, laying a dry hand on his hot brow.
"It's nothing, I'm fine," he lied, knowing that his fever had worsened since that morning. His vision swam slightly as he tried to smile at her, suddenly aware of how terrible he felt.
He blinked for a long moment, shutting his aching eyes. When he opened them again, he saw Christine kneeling in front of him with a kind expression.
"Our Christine has a healing touch," Keir said, leaning forward to watch the young man in concern. "Whatever's wrong, she's always able to sort it out."
Christine put a hand on Merlin's arm, then closed her eyes. "A deep fever burns within you," she stated quietly. "And…something else…" she frowned slightly, Merlin's eyes reflecting his astonishment.
"Just hush," she said, sensing the raven-haired servant was about to say something. "Wait a while."
He obeyed, head swimming with fever and lack of sleep. Merlin dimly felt himself slipping off the log, but strong hands caught him, and he let his head loll to his chest. He heard the quiet murmur of concerned voices, but not clearly enough to answer. All he could focus on was Christine's warp grip on his arm, comforting but almost burning, all at once.
In his mind, he felt a pervading sense of peace wash over his quick, disjointed thoughts exacerbated by the fever. He felt something lifted from him, taken in a way that was clean and almost surgical. With this absence, came a blessed coolness that swept over his being. The relief was such that he could have cried. He let out a breath that he hadn't known he was holding, then slowly opened his eyes.
Everyone was grouped around him, all looking at him with silent concern. He then became aware of Finn's strong arms supporting him on his right, and Keir's steady hand on his left shoulder. Christine released his arm, then rocked back on her heels.
"His fever's broken," she said, leaning against Keir in an easy gesture of love. "He'll be alright now."
"Feel better?" Keir asked, looking into Merlin's eyes. Merlin looked back in simply awe, still not sure what had happened and dizzied by the bard's multi-colored eyes.
"Yeah, much better. How did you do that?" he asked, stunned.
"I've always been able to help with things like that," Christine said modestly, shrugging in a gesture that made her look young. "There is much anguish in you, for one so young. The weight on your shoulders is far too great to bear alone," she said, looking sincerely looking into his eyes.
Merlin drew back, heart picking up pace in fear. If she somehow knew…
The rest of the group watched him closely, but without a shred of embarrassment.
"We are not unacquainted with loss and hardship, Merlin," Devar said quietly. Ari silently took his hand as he looked down.
"We all left the places we came from, but for different reasons. They turned their backs on us because they could not see the way we could," Keelia continued, voice shaking with emotion.
"We have seen things that would render it beautiful beyond belief, if they could be shared. And we have lost things that would tear it apart if that cost was ever demanded again," Olwyn finished, trademark smile replaced by a look of inconsolable sorrow. Finn laid a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, eyes reflecting his shared pain.
Keir looked at him steadily. "Even though we've only known each other a short time, I sense a kindred spirit in you, young one. You burn with the same fire we do, the same passion beats in your chest as it does with all of us. You needn't hide from us. Not ever."
The words, although simple, were uttered with such sincerity that it was impossible to doubt their truth.
"I know," Merlin said, speaking what he felt.
Keelia smiled at him, even though her green eyes were filled with tears. The distant bell in Camelot rang, striking noon.
"Thank you," the warlock said, rising from his place. The others rose also, standing with him in a circle.
"You're more than welcome, Merlin," Keir said. "Perhaps we'll see you in town later. We were planning to perform at one of the taverns tonight."
"Yeah! And recite more poetry!" Olwyn chimed in, laughing like a fool until Finn shoved him to the side good-naturedly.
The tension was broken, and they all laughed. Merlin left, feeling light and carefree.
He was almost to the Camelot limits when he stopped, smile freezing. He made sure he wasn't being watched, then focused on a small rock. Familiar power rushed through him, and the pebble skipped easily across the ground. Staring with an inscrutable expression, he turned back towards town. He couldn't stop his mind from wondering about his newly restored magic, the looks on the bards' faces when they confessed their pain, and the silvery-blonde hair in his pocket.