A/N: Thanks for the reviews!! They make me so happy! I'm not completly sure about this chapter, this was only meant to be a small piece of a larger one, but has escalated into the largest chapter so far...oops..:D I really should be studying for my exams next week but I just have to get this story out of my head first or I'll go mad!! Please review!! :D:D:D
Chapter 7-The Balance of the World
Three weeks...three weeks had now passed since Merlin's disappearance, and Arthur had still not come to a conclusion over his doubts. Every time he asserted himself, fresh worries and contradictions would lap into his head, and the vicious circle would begin again.
He stood alone in the courtyard at sunset, the last of the townspeople were scurrying off to their homes. He ignored the intrigued glances that everyone threw his way; they were all well aware of his recent self-torment-some nosy palace servant had seen to that- and they all avoided looking directly at him; like he was diseased.
Arthur wished more than anything for Merlin to be back, to offer him a smile and a silly comment, which Arthur would then tease him mercilessly for. He now knew Merlin was not evil, he couldn't believe he ever had, but Merlin's betrayal of trust still hurt. More than anything Arthur resented Merlin for not trusting him, as he had trusted Merlin. He could not believe that Merlin would not have confided in him. All right, so maybe he wasn't the most attentive master that Merlin could have, but he certainly cared about him, more so than any other prince would about his manservant. Merlin had been his friend, had had known him well and for the most part knew when he was upset. Merlin could have trusted him...
Arthur sighed. He knew why Merlin had tried to keep his identity a secret, he was just trying to save his own life, but it didn't make it any easier to accept.
Arthur was pulled out of his reverie by Sir Leon who was running frantically towards him in full Knight armour. Arthur turned frowning, there was an uncharacteristic look of alarm on his face.
"My Lord! Your father requests your presence immediately in the Great Hall!"
Arthur stiffened. Something serious must have happened to induce this look of fear in Sir Leon's face.
"What is wrong? What has happened?"
Sir Leon stood in front of him, panting heavily, from evidently running all over the place to find him.
"King Cendred has broken the Peace Treaty, and is mobilising his armies on his borders. Some have already began to march towards Camelot. We are at war."
Three weeks had passed...and Merlin had begun to settle into his strange new life with the Druids. A routine had been established; he would wake with the sun-admittedly something unusual for Merlin, but this was a strange place- and he would do the meditation that Fyrmest had recommended. At first he had felt incredibly stupid, sitting there on some tree stump with his eyes closed "listening for nature" but over time, he had come to enjoy it. Fyrmest had been correct in saying it was good for him, in the tranquillity of the forest, Merlin was able to truly feel his own power, learn about it and discover its weaknesses and flaws. The "balance of nature" as Fyrmest had called it, truly helped to calm him and offer him a place where he could just listen, relax and forget his worries.
If Merlin had been told just a month earlier he would spend up to an hour listening to trees and birds he would have laughed his head off; but things were now different. When he tried to explain this to Fyrmest he had nodded clearly impressed.
"You are growing Emrys, like the trees around you, and soon, even the strongest axe would be rendered useless against you."
Fyrmest often talked in riddles, and Merlin soon discovered why. It seemed the teachings of the Druids did not include lecturing or studying out of books. It involved a journey of self-discovery, the person was not given solid facts and told to memorises them. Instead, they were taught how to do things for themselves, to expand their minds, listen and appreciate more as they progressed. Fyrmest said:
"Even the tallest tree does not stop growing, neither will you, your journey of discovery is just beginning, and it will never end.
Merlin also discovered that Fyrmest also liked using trees to convey his meanings. Slightly odd, he had thought as first, however he soon learnt the real reason for this. Each of the Elders had a certain element to which they were more attuned and it seemed Fyrmest's was Earth. As leader of the group he took on the title of "Chief" and no longer carried the title which identified him as the High Priest of Earth, a title which always caused Merlin to crack up in laughter, whenever he heard it. The name "Fyrmest" meant "Chief" in the Ancient Language. Brim, Byrne, Lyft and Eard were the respective titles for the High Priests of Water, Fire, Air and Earth; Eard being the title Fyrmest had once carried, before his election as leader.
After his silent contemplation and a bite to eat- literally a bite, the Druids were very fond of humbleness and very aware of those less fortunate- Merlin would begin his studies with Fyrmest. The morning would be spent learning more of the Ancient Language, the official tongue of the Old Religion. Beforehand, Merlin had only ever learned phrases which he had needed for various spells, and had never even considered becoming fluent in the language.
"This is vital for your studies," Fyrmest had told him, almost sternly, when Merlin had first complained. "At some point, you may be caught off guard and need to create an impromptu spell. It is always wise to be prepared, for what will happen inn the future, it is as unpredictable as fire."
It seemed also that most of the official Druid meetings were conducted in the Ancient Language, apparently so any who did not belong were quickly spotted, or that hostile eavesdroppers would be oblivious to the conversations of the Druids. Also, the Ancient Language seemed to be very binding. The very magic in those words seemed to have some sort of power as they were spoken aloud. Fyrmest said that you should be incredibly careful what you should say in the Ancient Language, as often, it will hold you to your word, whether you have changed your mind or not.
At first, Merlin found the language nearly impossible to master, grammar and sentence structure had not been important when reciting spells, but after a while, as with the meditation, he came to enjoy it. He liked the way the words sounded when he spoke them aloud, how they seemed to hang in the air afterwards, radiating powerful energy.
After the mid-day meal, Merlin would be given his own free time which Fyrmest had advised he spend perfecting magical control exercises. He had recommended that each day, that Merlin spend some time with each of the four Elders as they each taught him about their own specific elements. These exercises included him being able to reach out into the world around him, and draw upon the natural magic inherent all about. He was then told to do various deeds, all testing his aptitude for the element and his level of control over it. It was extremely difficult, for drawing on one element alone threw nature into an imbalance, which he then had to sort out, by drawing on these powers equally, without actually using the magic he summoned. He didn't quite understand the theory, but he seemed to be making fair progress.
Brim had told him that each sorcerer usually has some sort of preference for a particular element, or "discipline" and usually devoted their whole life to studying it, and better understanding it. He had been amazed to discover though, that Merlin showed an extremely powerful aptitude for all four, which was almost unheard of.
"Well, they don't call you the Chosen One for no reason," he had said mentally with a smile.
That was another thing Merlin had to get used to. The silent conversations with three of the four Elders were awkward at first and slightly unsettled him. Most Druids used mental communication fairly often, an old defence mechanism in case of their identities being overheard by those who meant them harm. The Ancient Language was only used when there were many of them, and the sheer number of mental voices would drown each other out and cause severe headaches.
However, Merlin had adjusted to this quickly and soon found himself becoming friends with Brim. He was only about six years older than Merlin, by far the youngest of the Druid Elders and always had a happy smile on his face and eager to help. He had such an easy-going and flowing personality, and never gave up, rather like the element he was named for; a river was always moving, steadily going towards the sea a such a calm pace. However he could also get angry very quickly, reminiscent of rapids and waterfalls, as Merlin had found out one afteroon when the orb of water Merlin was meant to be levitating, drawing together both Water and Air, had burst over Brim's head, completely soaking him.
The only lessons which Merlin did not like were the ones where Byrne was instructing him in fire. Merlin had never liked fire, its destructive power had been all too great when the dragon had attacked Camelot. Merlin's impressions of Byrne did not change, he didn't trust him at all. Of all the Druids, he seemed to be the one who showed no sign of pleasure that he was there, rather, regarded Merlin constantly with hungry and thoughtful look in his eyes, as though trying to figure him out which made Merlin extremely unconformable. It sent the shivers up his spine. Byrne also had a fiery temper, though not surprisingly, as Merlin found out himself by accidentally (and sometimes deliberately) setting his cloak on fire. Byrne looked at him with such extreme hatred when this happened that Merlin recoiled constantly. A fierce burning In his eyes showed how much he resented Merlin. Byrne reminded Merlin of Arthur when he had first met him; arrogant, close-minded and completely selfish.
However, Merlin tired not to think of him. On the rare times he had free he spent it by the small river which ran close to the village, silently contemplating his life. He could feel his power growing inside of him, and that scared him slightly, He didn't know whether that was because his magic was actually increasing or whether he was now simply more aware of it.
Evenings were spent with the whole village together, sharing one large meal. Storytelling, would then often take place, the stories themselves having deep profound meanings which they were supposed to work out for themselves. Then the Druid children, one each night, would display what they had learnt that day. They had already chosen their discipline, and there were shows of fire-creatures, shimmering water droplets of different colours, the control of the wind to create creatures out of leaves or smoke and sprouting flowers from the earth. The children were encouraged to display their Gifts; one of the main aims of a Druid's life was the pursuit of knowledge, in any shape or form. Merlin wished he'd had such a chance when he was a child, instead of being ashamed and frightened of his abilities, they should have been nourished and promoted.
For the most part, Merlin was happy. He no longer had to hide who he was, he could just be completely open with these people, and for the first time he was actually learning about magic, not from lying on his bed reading a stuffy old book, but by actually living it.
There was only one thing that detracted him from his happiness: Morgana.
After three days of rest, Morgana has finally awoken, re energised. Merlin had stayed by her side day and night, racked with guilt over what he had caused to happen. He wanted to explain again...to try and win back the friendship that he had so missed.
But when Morgana woke, she had taken one look at him sitting there by her bed, her eyes had filled with angry tears and she had turned her head and faced the inner wall of the room and completely ignored him.
Merlin had to admit, it was better than being mercilessly hit, but it hurt more.
When she had been able to leave her bed, she had refused to see him, wandering off by herself for hours on end, ignoring Merlin's calling after her. She spent a lot of time with her mentor Byrne, which greatly troubled Merlin; what sort of things was he teaching her? It deeply bothered him.
He found himself constantly ambushing her, trying to force her to listen to him, but she did not even acknowledge him. He was dead to her.
Eventually, on Fyrmest's advice, he had given up. She needed time, time to sort this out for herself. Forcing himself upon her would not solve anything, it would only further drive her away.
One night, as they had been sitting by the fire, where Morgana was sitting opposite, pretending not to notice him, despite Merlin seeing her eyes occasionally flit towards him, Fyrmest had spoken:
"I understand that it is really none of my business, but I would like to know. Why was it that you did not confide in Morgana, and help her with her her own troubles? Oh, do not think I am condemning you," he cried, seeing Merlin's face. "I simply would like to understand you a little better."
Merlin sighed. He had been expecting this question. He had realised that Fyrmest would have seen he was concealing something from Morgana.
"Someone once told me, that it was best Morgana did not know the true extent of her powers. That it would interfere with my destiny. I argued with him, I truly wanted to tell her, but the thought of ruining things for Arthur stopped me. It was truly upsetting seeing Morgana suffer on a daily basis and not be able to tell her, but I could not see what else I could do."
Fyrmest nodded slowly.
"Who was it that told you this? He must have been very wise and commanded great respect if you took his words so seriously."
Merlin hesitated. He was not sure how much he should reveal.
"His name was Kilgharrah, " he said, hoping to sound off-hand and wished fervently that Fyrmest would not recognise the name.
But he did.
He let out an audible gasp and whispered in an awestruck tone. "You have conversed with the Great Dragon?"
Merlin nodded. "He used to call me down to see him. He told me many things, many of which helped to save Camelot, and Arthur. He was the one who told me to... kill Morgana."
Fyrmest looked amazed.
"It is almost unheard of that a dragon would give advice and impart wisdom to a mortal. This is just more proof of your immense power. He must have seen great promise in you."
Merlin scoffed. "No he didn't. All he did was to manipulate me, convince me to release him, and look what happened! So many innocent lives lost because of me!"
Fyrmest heard the resentment and regret in his voice and did not question him further.
However, a while later he added softly.
"Yet, you stopped him. A dragon, once its mind is set on doing something will not be drawn from its mission. By all logic he should still be attacking Camelot now. Only a Dragon Lord could have stopped him, that Dragon Lord saved Camelot, he should not feel guilt for what has happened, guilt will never get him anywhere. The mark of a true and pure man, is the one that can accept his mistakes and take steps to correct them. The Dragons and Dragon Lords are bound by an ancient Treaty, which states that neither of the two races can bring about the extinction of the other without great repercussions. The two exist in harmony and if the balance of that were to be revoked.... The Dragon must remain alive still. The Dragon Lord showed great compassion. His heart must indeed be pure. He should not blame himself, for he is as strong of character and the trees are of their roots, neither can be ruffled."
He gave Merlin a very knowing glance, bade him goodnight and left, leaving Merlin on the bench by himself.
He tried to take Fyrmest's advice, and for the most part it worked, looking forward to the future benefited him greatly. He found he had fewer nightmares when he went to bed with guilt lying heavily on him. The nightmares of the fall of Camelot.
Still, it hurt more than he cared to admit to anyone. Not that there was anyone to talk to. The village people were friendly enough, but they all revered him in a strange way, and at times they were almost fearful of him. Some refused to look at him directly and called him "My Lord," which Merlin resented and immediately contradicted. After all he wasn't Arthur, He didn't enjoy the attention.
Despite being in a large community with those who respected and looked up to him, he still felt lonely. He missed the companionship of his friends in Camelot.
One day, three weeks after the events in Camelot, Merlin was walking alone in the forest, when noticed a shining white light in the forest. Merlin, being Merlin, followed it without a second thought. He passed through the trees, mesmerised by the brilliance of the white that shone thorough. A purity that touched his very soul.
He emerged from behind a large oak and came upon a magnificent sight.
It was a unicorn.
It was younger than the one Merlin and Arthur had encountered previously, a great deal smaller, but just as beautiful. Merlin felt extremely small and powerless in the presence of this creature of pure magic....he had never thought any thing could be so beautiful...
Slowly, he stretched out his hand and began to approach the unicorn. He also reached out with his mind, encountered the animals consciousness and calmed it, assuring it in the Ancient Language,he would not hurt it. The power of the Ancient Language was inherent in all living things, they had come to trust and respect those who used it.
However it did not seem to need much persuasion. It came to him freely and allowed itself to be touched. Merlin ran his hands through its silky mane, his heart breaking at the sheer beauty and innocence of it. After what seemed like hours, the unicorn slowly retreated and faded back into the gloom of the forest, leaving Merlin spell-bound in its wake.
He stood transfixed for a few moments, savouring the experience he had just had when he heard a rustling behind him.
He turned quickly, prepared for an attack, but found only a small Druid boy watching him.
"How did you do that?" The boy asked admiringly, his soft brown eyes widened in wonder.
Merlin laughed.
"It's not difficult. Unicorns will come to you if you are pure of heart, with no resentment or hate; it cannot abide evil thoughts."
The boy frowned.
"Does that mean I can have a pet unicorn if I concentrate in lessons instead of playing pranks?"
Merlin laughed again.
"You can never have a pet unicorn. They are creatures of pure magic, the epitome of good and innocence. They cannot be tamed, however they will come to you if you are deserving. And believe me, you will never forget your first encounter with a unicorn."
Merlin certainly knew he hadn't. After the disastrous events which had taken place after Arthur had killed one, he had devoted many an hour in researching them with Gaius's old books. They seemed to have some hypnotic hold over anyone who saw one.
Suddenly, Merlin felt the hairs begin to rise on the back of his neck. He looked around uneasily, peering into the gloom, but could distinguish nothing. However he could not shake off the feeling that something was watching him.
He tuned back to the boy who was regarding him in curiosity. He looked no more than about eight years old, with very pale skin. His light-brown feathery hair fell over his liquid brown eyes, which seemed to have a constant inquisitive expression. An expression which wasn't unlike the one Merlin himself had had at his age.
"Let's go back to the village," Merlin said hurriedly. Something was telling him this was the right thing to do.
The boy agreed and the walked back through the trees to the village. The boy stared at him so much that he kept tripping up over his own feet and almost fell more than once.
Merlin smiled in amusement. He believed he had just found his first "loyal subject". Arthur would be proud.
The village then came into sight through the trees and Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. Now that they were safely back inside the village he began to talk again to the boy, guiding him over to the fire where they could sit in peace.
"What's your name?"
"Halwende. But you can call me Hal if you like." The boy looked suddenly very shy.
"Hi there, Hal. I'm Emrys. But you can call me Merlin if you like." Merlin smiled down at him.
Hal looked frightened at being allowed such a personal freedom.
"My aunt says I should treat you with respect. She says you're going to be the one that helps us all. Is that true?"
"I hope it is, " Merlin said to himself, more than anybody.
"You always look so sad, why is that?" Merlin was slightly shocked at the direct honesty of the boy.
"Well, I suppose it is because I miss my friends back home. I miss having someone to talk to. And I know I cannot go back, at least, not yet. And I'm afraid one of them might not accept me for who I am.
"Why can't you got back? If you miss them you should just go."
Merlin smiled sadly, staring down at his feet. "It's not that simple."
"Seems simple to me. If you miss them, go and see them. It's what I'd do. The one that you're frightened won't accept you sounds pretty stupid as well."
Merlin laughed. "Well, he certainly isn't a genius."
"I'd accept my friend for who he was. If I had a friend that is. If I truly knew him and trusted him, I wouldn't have a single doubt. He shouldn't either. You can't just think you know something about someone. You need to know it.
Merlin considered his words carefully. The way he looked at the world seemed so innocent, yet Merlin knew his words to be wise, despite his tender age. He tried to change the subject.
"You live with your aunt? Where are your parents?"
"They're dead," came a voice from behind them. Merlin whirled around as he heard Morgana's voice. Why was she speaking to him now?
Her eyes were full of anger.
"They were slaughtered by Uther when Halwende was but a baby. All because his father had unknowingly sold potion ingredients to a sorcerer at his stall, ingredients which were used to create a poison used against the Knights. They were completely innocent. And Uther killed them."
Morgana then swept off, without looking back. Merlin was stunned, why had she just spoken to him like that? And with such conviction for people she didn't even know? He wasn't allowed to ponder this though as Hal had other thoughts on his mind.
"I think she'll forgive you, you know. Nobody can stay mad forever."
He spoke with such absolute faith and wide-eyed innocence Merlin had to smile.
"I hope that is true, for all our sakes."
"It is, I know it is."
Merlin said nothing.
"I think she's in love with you, and that's why she's so angry." Hal stated simply. He seemed quite proud of himself for making such a deduction.
Merlin almost fell off of the bench.
"Wh-what?" He spluttered. "How...what... makes you think tha-that?"
"She said she hated you."
Merlin was lost.
"How does that mean she's in love with me?" Merlin asked dumfoundedly .
"My aunt always says that women say they hate men when they're in love with them." The boy stared up at him, looking slightly confused, as though amazed Merlin didn't already know this.
Merlin laughed for a long while.
Hal frowned, and appeared to be completely unaware of what was so funny. However, he just shrugged his shoulders and looked into the fire.
"Want to see what I can do?" He asked excitedly.
Merlin nodded enthusiastically, still reeling from the boy's innocent assumptions.
Hal grinned widely, held out his palm, and with a look of great concentration said:
"Byrne frīcian"
The flames in the fire began to leap up and dance around, small firgues just visible in the glowing logs. Wonderful shapes appeared, but nothing was more wonderful than the look of sheer joy on Hal's face as he watched his own efforts.
How could anyone ever suspect magic was evil?
However, the moment was ruined as screams began to erupt from the furthest end of the village. Merlin wasted no time, and leapt up, racing towards the scene of the disturbance. He looked around and could see no obvious sign of the fear he could almost taste upon the air.
Until he looked up.
Diving around in the sky was a Griffin. The same Griffin, Merlin knew, as the one that had attacked Camelot.
And now it was here.
Had it followed him? Why was it here? Was he going to be responsible for even more chaos and loss?
The Griffin swooped down on the village, ripping apart houses with its claws and burying people in the remains. Druids were frantically throwing spells at it, desperately trying to penetrate its magical barrier. But none of them knew what to do.
Merlin did.
He spied a long, sharp branch on the ground, no doubt the remains of one of the dwelling places. He raised his hand at it and said : " Flēogan"
The stick rose to about head height and Merlin turned to face towards the Griffin, who was now heading directly for Hal, who was frozen on the spot, terror etched on his face.
Merlin summoned all of his power, and yelled with all of his might:
"Bregdan anuiel geptheluec!"
The make-shift spear, now glowing blue, shot forward at the speed of lightning and embedded itself deep within the Griffin's chest.
The animal let out an agonising shriek, that made Merlin shudder, and it fell, crashing into the remains of the houses, and lay very still.
The Druids who were assembled nearby, frozen in the process of fleeing, were all silent.
Then, as one, the all turned to face Merlin, joy, wonder, admiration and gratitude reflected in each of their shining faces.
Great, thought Merlin to himself. Now they're never going to stop calling me "My, Lord."
Hours later, Merlin lay in his bed, still pondering the day's events. How had that Griffin followed him here from Camelot? Had it followed him? And what had its strange words meant? In the light of everything else that ha happened to him recently, the mystery of the Griffin and who sent it had been pushed aside. Now he could not stop thinking about it. He was now sure that it was not the Druids, they would never have risked attacking themselves like that, especially since one of the older Druids had been crushed under the weight of his collapsing house. He died instantly.
Merlin shuddered to think that this man might have died because of a grudge someone bore him. Who could have sent it. What had it meant in Camelot when it had said: "Come to us....?" Who were "us"?
Merlin felt more frustrated than ever. Fyrmest had plied him with questions asking him again and again what he knew. He only wished he could have been more help.
Merlin finally gave up his meaningless battle with his thoughts and tried to resign himself to sleep. But then there was a gentle knocking on his door. He sat up, confused. What was happening now? Had Fyrmest figured it out?
But then the person Merlin had been least expecting, ducked through the door and turned to face him.
Merlin practically leapt out of bed when he saw who it was.
"Morgana? What on earth-"
"Shh, Merlin." she said, holding a finger to her lips. "You must come with me."
She turned and went back out into the night. Merlin considered for a couple of seconds, was this a good idea? What did she want?
Then,he figured, what the heck, and pulled on a dark cloak.
He followed Morgana out into the moonless night.
A/N: Please tell me what you think! I know Merlin's acting a wee bity depressed at the moment but I'll promise he'll get back to his usual cheeky self soon!
