*************BellaLupus Your wish is granted, you know it is all a matter of belief, Nic Coay I'm glad that I have won you for this pairing and this story! xD (Maybe I have to say, that I never really saw Merlin as Mab's son, she only created him with her magic, that's all) Arwen You are so right, they should just marry.. moment.. that would be to fast, I still wanna write a little bit until they get each other ;-)... if that really is, where the story intends to go... it has somehow gotten a strange life of its own. For the rest I don't want to give away to much, but you could have the right suggestion. all - so thanks you guys for reading, and a Happy New Year!**********
Tenth chapter
The next morning came and Merlin was ready for facing the Lord of Dun Tagell. He forbade Mab any leaving of the barn, which had been quite dispensable, for Mab was still in no condition of running around. She wouldn't get far, that she knew by herself already, being exhausted after putting herself up in an upright sitting position. Though Merlin didn't wanted her to get anywhere near the infected villagers. He couldn't imagine if she was vulnerable to the disease or not – cause she had been on the brink of death for too long now. He wouldn't risk anything. So ignoring her protests he left early in the morning. Passing through the village he saw some men carrying another dead body to the burial ground. Maybe coming here had not been my brightest idea, he thought. The way to the fortress was not the easiest one. The castle, built on an old Roman fort, was partly on an island situated in a bay and only connected with the shore through a small passageway. But to reach those gates Merlin had to climb numerous steep stairs. Only a fool would try to lay siege on a fortress like that, he thought thinking of Uther and his foolishness.
When he passed the gates he shortly nodded to the guards, who seemed to recognize him. Inside the court yard he observed some young knights practicing their fighting skills. Three were attacking one young lad at once. But without any difficulties he managed to parry their moves. His long red hair flew through the air every time he made swift turn to block one of the swords aimed at him. It fascinated Merlin how agile and gifted the young knight fought. He actually was far better than Arthur. Maybe he was not as strong as Mordred, but his techniques proved him being indeed a fighter worthy of the round table. Only that the round table wasn't anymore. Neither were Arthur and Mordred. At least there still is Mab, he thought. Still not sure if his decision at the burning castle had been right. He didn't even know if he still hated her, he couldn't be her friend, could he? No he had not yet forgiven her, but at least I have her under my control, he thought. As long as she was in this state she was no danger to anyone and by keeping her with him he could make sure, that she never would be in future. So he had a task and purpose for himself and something against the creeping loneliness he sometimes felt. "Sir, may I help you?", a voice pulled him out of his reverie. "Sir?" Merlin looked up and noticed the young fighter he had been watching before him. "Oh, well yes perhaps you can.", he finally answered. "I need to speak to the master of this castle – King Marc." "There you have chosen a nearly impossible task for my uncle is very busy.", the young one said. That thought had already occurred to Merlin. "So you are …." "I'm Tristram, son of Conomor.", the lad replied proudly, "But I and my half-brother Custeninn have been raised by our uncle after father's death." "So young Tristram, I know your uncle has problems with the Irish, but would you still be so kind and furnish him information?" "Of course Sir, what shall I tell him?" "Tell him Merlin, former counselor of King Arthur, wishes to speak him." The eyes of Tristram widened in surprise. And the little freckles danced on his cheeks in excitement. "You are Merlin? THE Merlin? The wizard?", he called. Modestly Merlin said; "Well if you like to call me that, I probably am." The young knight was startled by this revelation. Of course he had grown up with the stories of the round table dreaming that one day he could join those knights too. "I will lead to you to my uncle immediately, master Merlin!", was his eager answer. "Just follow me." Thus he sped forward, and Merlin had his trouble in keeping up with him. "Wait, wait", he called, "why is it that after your training you are still that full of energy?" Tristram laughed at this, "I don't know what you mean, that was nothing at all, just a nice warm up." Merlin felt old. Of course he was old indeed, but he didn't age like normal people, or he would already be a hoary geezer. And now after many years he felt for the first time very old. "Well you are a capable fighter, that I could see.", Merlin mentioned instead. The young knight blushed at this and his pale face became slightly pink. "Don't say that my Sir." "But I mean it", Merlin replied, "I bet you'd beat any Irish champion sent to Cornwall." This made Tristram thoughtful. An idea was forming in his mind, and he would discuss it later with his uncle. He led Merlin to King Marc who after knowing the wizards reputation was glad to give him an audience.
Mab meanwhile discovered the disadvantages of her new condition. Tiredness was the smaller evil. A strange gnawing feeling came from her stomach, another unpleasant feeling from her lower body. Every time she tried to get up, the whole world seemed to seesaw and after a few steps her knees gave in. Crawling was easier, but she hoped nobody would see her like this. She felt bitter, how unworthy of her, crawling like a beast. Yes it was, she thought. Knowing the meaning of the word unworthy, something Mordred and Morgan never had learned. But her poor Mordred how should he have known? She had never taught him. And now he was gone. Tears filled her eyes. So she added another very unworthy action to the crawling and feeling hunger – she cried. Not making any further intentions of trying to stand up and leave the barn, she just sat there and cried.
"What prominence do we have here in our little fort?", the King joked. Raising his hands in a placatory gesture, he continued; "I know you used to dwell here in Dun Tagell, in times of Morgan Le Fay and her son Mordred - be our guest again, Merlin." It astonished Merlin to hear, that after so many years his reputation still had not faded. And even now nearly a half year after Arthur's dead he still was welcome and well known in some parts of Britain. "I'm surprised, to see a Cornish King on the throne of Kernow so shortly after Mordreds demise.", Merlin said. "Oh my family never left indeed.", the king stated. "We always have been the leaders of the Dumnonii, even though Mordred took Tintagel, my brother Cado and our cousin Geraint stayed and reigned on Castle Dore." He led Merlin over to the other wall. There was a hand painted map on the wall. It showed the British Island and the territories of the old kingdoms before Arthur had united them. "Interesting indeed.", Merlin murmured studying the map. "I heard of a Constantine of Cornwall who is trying to become high king now.", the wizard stated. "Yes my nephew, Custeninn, has high ambitions, but I don't approve them." King Marc grimly turned and poured himself a goblet of wine. "You mean the throne of Britain wouldn't appeal to you?" "No, I'm bound to Kernow with all my heart, and only to Kernow."
He poured another goblet of wine and handed it to Merlin. For a moment nobody of them said a word. Merlin drank the sweet wine. Then the kings voice started to sing the lines: "Where the Gorse and Foxgloves dance and sway upon the rolling moors; and the sea wind blows her emerald kiss from north to southern shore; where a Song of Stone sings out in-tune to Transatlanic waves, If I could but hear that song again, my soul it would be saved." Merlin was moved by the king's sudden confession of devotion for his country. He wished that he himself could feel likewise, but he had never felt homelike anywhere, anywhere but in two places. First had been his and Ambrosias hut and second had been Mab's realm. But still Merlin had always felt torn between two worlds. Marc, who had finished his song, said; "Now you know, why it troubles me this much having to pay tribute to King Diarmait." Merlin understood. But that actually had not been his main purpose to talk about. Politics seemed getting far too complicated for him now. "Well you have another capable nephew - trust him with those matters!", he stated, "there are far more severe things just in front of your own doors." "You mean the plague.", the kings voice was drained in sarcasm, "I guess as a wizard you bring us a solution?" Merlin was stunned. "I .. aah … well I haven't thought about that." But King Marc only laughed humorlessly, "I didn't believe you to be that good, don't worry." Now Merlin frowned, unsure what to make of this. "Oh, no offense by that", Marc said, "I just don't believe, that you could stop a plague devastating the whole country." That news shocked Merlin. "Sorry, did you say the whole country?" "Well messengers have arrived from the Durrotriges and from Demetia, it is only a matter of time." That was not a good sign. Merlin wondered if it would be better if he left the cities. Diseases never reached the woods and wilderness he guessed. But what of the people? "Don't worry master Merlin", the king said reading Merlin's thoughts, "we will do what is in our best, it is not your job to save our people" "But what will you do?" "In a few days, when I have came to a conclusion about what to do with Tristram, I will order the construction of a new monastery." Merlin seemed not convinced, "But what use would that bring?" He couldn't understand the blind belief of the Christians. But Marc answered; "I'm not sure if that will ease the wrath of God, but it definitely will appease the people." What else could Merlin say? There was nothing left he could do. So he returned to the barn.
Before he could reach the barn, he was stopped by the old hag. "Young Sir, will you do me a favor?" "Madam", he nodded. "Will you take those two buckets and get us water, for the dinner?" Merlin reached for the buckets, "of course Madam." "You see my legs are not well today, and I usually get our water from the little stream on Barras Head.", she explained, "I don't like going down to the well in the village, people are talking too much." "Yes they probably do.", Merlin said trying to ignore the lamenting of the old hag. "Where is that Barras Head?", he asked. "It is near the castle. That is why my legs wouldn't make it today." He had heard enough. After ensuring the old woman that he would immediately return with two buckets of water, he took off. He definitely wouldn't repeat the way to the castle just for getting some water. The well was nearer, and he didn't care about talking people. So when he approached the village's well he prepared the buckets with ropes. Just when he began settling down the first one into the duct, he heard someone clearing his throat.
"I wouldn't recommend you taking that water." When Merlin turned, he saw his long time mentor Frik standing before him. "What do you mean by that Frik?", he asked. The gnome smiled surreptitiously. "Well you see, there is one well here in the village, and nearly all villagers are infected by a strange disease… isn't that a coincidence?" A horrible realization dawned on Merlin. The old hag got her water from somewhere else, and she wasn't ill yet. How could Frik know? This couldn't be, he would never… Merlin shook his head in disbelief. "You are not telling me, that this well is poisoned?" "I am only making a suggestion, but you get my point, Merlin." "But how can you know this, Frik?", Merlin asked visibly alarmed. But Frik just ignored his question. Instead he asked; "How is our dear Mab?" Something seemed wrong to Merlin, he felt the suspense now lingering in the air between them. He carefully chose his words. "I would say she is quite ordinary, if I knew it.", this indeed matched the truth, for he really didn't know how she was at the moment, but he also felt a strange resistance for giving Frik any further information. "Well if I were you, I wouldn't run around with her in the public." Frik smirked at the speechless Merlin. "You see someone could easily recognize her as the witch she really is." Merlin's mouth opened widely in horror. But Frik wasn't finished yet, "You know the people will be searching for a cause of their plague." "You KNOW absolutely that is not true, Mab hasn't to do anything with that!" Frik pulled his hands defensively in the air, "Well, well, it's just what people could believe, if they get the wrong tip from somewhere." "YOU WOULDN'T DARE!", Merlin was upset. No, he was outrageous. In his anger he stormed towards Frik. He grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and gave him a good shaking, "You don't dare doing this!" "Tut-tut!, Merlin, why this sudden outburst? And just because of our enemy?", Frik asked. "Or did the little beast twist you around her finger?" SLAP! Merlin's fist collided hardly with Frik's cheek. The gnome moved his hand to his beaten face, cupping it, he said; "I thought you to be more resolute." Before Merlin could answer to this, he heard a voice from behind. "What's going on over there?" It was the old man from the burial ground. He held a lantern in one hand and watched most distrustfully at them. Shit, was all Merlin thought. He just wanted to start explaining; when he looked around and saw that Frik was no longer there. He stood there alone with his buckets at the well. "Sorry Sir, just an argument about the water.", he mumbled taking his buckets for a leave.
Now he finally knew he had to leave with Mab. Pacing to the stream that flew to Dun Tagell's haven, he was brooding all the time about the new information he had now. He hurried getting the water and on the way back his fear was increased. It already began to grow darker. Clouds were moving on the sky promising rain. He regretted somehow that he had left Mab alone for the whole day. The first drops of rain fell, when he entered the court of their farmstead.