A Stranger's Gift
Chapter 10
Merlin passes a second long and lonely night in his new home wrapped in a thin blanket on a pile of straw on the floor. He'd spent the day before after Gaius left sorting through his belongings that Gaius had brought with him. There was a pack of food, but Merlin knows it will not last long. He'll have to hunt and scavenge, and definitely find some way to buy what else he'll need in a nearby village.
He wakes to the sunlight streaming in from the window on the back wall, with a small black cat curled up next to his chest. When he moves, the cat does also, in a long luxurious stretch, reaching out with her paws. He studies her, wondering if she belongs to anyone around here. She is quiet and small, sleek black from her ears to the tip of her tail, except for the white tips of her back paws, and a white spiral in the fur on her chest. "Like a triskellion," Merlin thinks. When she finally opens her eyes, she gazes at him steadily with an unblinking golden stare. He shrugs and rises from the straw pallet that he has made for his bed. He rummages in the pack for something to eat for breakfast, the cat following his every move with a relentless stare not stirring from her spot in the sunbeam illuminating the pallet.
He heads outside to check on Cora, tied up under an overhang behind the cottage. Reluctantly he gives her one of the apples that Gaius had brought. He'll have to sort out feed for her as well. He wonders in passing, "what does the cat eat?" He supposes that if the cat has survived thus far on her own, she could no doubt fend for herself. He's glad there's a well, so he will not have to find a reliable water source in the wild. All in all, he feels the cottage will serve his needs. And it's close to the border with Camelot. He'll be able somehow to keep watch over Arthur and the Kingdom. Gaius had left one of Niniane's messenger pigeons* with him, so he'll be able to communicate with him if he needs to.
He spends the morning clearing out accumulated detritus and debris, sweeping the room clean. The cat trails his steps as he moves back and forth with his tasks to make a home for himself. When he stands at the workbench he's set up under the window, she curls in and around his legs, purring steadily. He's organizing the provisions he found in the packs. With the supply of medicines Gaius had brought and the bounty of the surrounding forest to create his own, Merlin will have his basic medical supplies. He's decided he's going to become a traveling healer, trading treatments for food and goods and what coin the patients could pay.
He looks down at the cat at his feet, smiling at her twirling movements around his legs. He dips a goblet in the bucket of water on the small table near his fireplace, taking it outside to drink it on the bench he'd left against the wall. The cat follows him and jumps up next to him on the bench, studying him. She purrs loudly, butting her head under Merlin's hand. He strokes it absentmindedly, gazing unseeing into the woods.
Several days pass in this manner. Merlin has hunted small game, gathered berries and nuts to make food for himself. The cat keeps him company, playfully trying to catch Merlin's attention. Late one afternoon, the cat is asleep in a patch of sun on the bench outside next to where he sits reading, on her back with her front paws bent over the white swirl on her chest. Absently, he reaches out with his hand and gently ruffles the fur on her belly. She arches her back and waves her front paws around. She rolls around and sits up, head tilted, and gazes at him, "what is she thinking?" Merlin wonders. He smiles at the cat and takes his book inside with him. It's time to get his supplies organized for his travels.
Merlin's collected fresh herbs and mushrooms and prepared additional potions and salves. It's time, he decides, to venture out and try his luck and skill as a physician at nearby towns. He's standing at his workbench, packing up his supplies in a medicine bag, to ready it for his planned journey on the morrow. The cat had jumped up onto the bench and is sprawled out on her side, watching his movements, golden eyes unblinking, lazily flicking her tail on the tabletop.
"So Cat, do you think maybe I'll be able to get some news of Camelot?" he says aloud mostly to himself, reaching out to stroke the cat.
"Just don't cross the border into Camelot, you dope," Merlin hears in his head, over the sound of the cat's purr as she adjusts her head to nuzzle into a better position under his hand.
"Yeah, I know. I'm really not an idiot." He smiles ruefully at the recollection of Arthur's favorite insult, raising his head to look out the window at the fading afternoon, gently stroking the sleek black fur.
"Could've fooled me. You got yourself banished."
"Well, it's better than dead." Suddenly, he realizes what is going on. He stills his hand and looks at the cat, who stares back at him and twitches an ear. "Great! Now I know I am alone way too much. I'm definitely losing it. I'm talking to a stupid cat!" She sits up in a quick lithe movement, fixing him with a sharp golden stare.
"Hey! Watch what you say!" The cat arches her back, fluffing her tail. "And I suppose trotting out in the middle of the night to chat with a giant talking lizard is normal? In what Kingdom?"
"Kilgarrah is not a lizard. He's a dragon."
"Whatever."
"Why'd you start to talk just now?"
"You finally addressed me directly." The cat blinks slowly once. "Though technically, I'm not actually speaking. Only your mind can hear me."
"I guess this means that I will have to give you a name."
"No thanks; I already have one."
"I think I will call you Midnight."
"Seriously? Midnight? For a black cat? How unimaginative."
"Okay, do you have a better name?"
"Yes. My own of course: Magical Mister Mistoffolees."
"That's way too long. I will call you Misto."
"Suit yourself. Oh, and Emrys? I know you're the Dragonlord and all, but you better not expect me to come every time you call."
xXx
In a swift fluid movement, Arthur lifts his sword to the upper left quadrant to parry the attack from Gwaine, whose swing meets Arthur's sword with a bone-jarring clang. On the practice field behind them, Leon runs the squires through their drills, while Percival has paired off the younger knights for their own sparring practices. Arthur had told Gwaine to 'give it his best shot' in their sparring match. The two men are equally skilled and have been going full tilt for a while. Both are breathing heavily from their efforts. Arthur grunts when Gwaine's last blow strikes. He feints to his left as if following his sword's trajectory, and Gwaine's movement follows, opening up his side when Arthur shifts for a full-on body block. Both men tumble to the ground; they turn on their backs, panting up into the sky, and lie side by side.
"Did you know?" Arthur asks after a few minutes, then adds, "about Merlin?"
"Nah. No one did," Gwaine answers. "Though I'm not sure about Lancelot. He was Merlin's closest friend in Camelot."
"Gaius knew."
"Well, yeah, he was his guardian." Gwaine turns his head sharply to look at Arthur. "But I'm angry that the scrawny little squirt didn't trust me, though," he grits out. "I would've kept his secret."
"From me?" Arthur slows his breath and stares at the clouds scudding overhead, his expression suddenly sad.
"Yeah. You would've had him executed."
Arthur draws in a sharp breath at this revelation. "Maybe at the very beginning," Arthur admits honestly. "Maybe." He thinks for another moment. "Not sure what I would've done, before." He turns and gives Gwaine a weak lopsided smile. "Okay, I admit it. There were times I did want to kill him: he was certainly annoying enough."
Gwaine huffs out a small laugh, before he says more seriously, "did you never suspect?"
"There was always something about him; I could never quite put my finger on it. But really? No, I never did." He shakes his head. How had he been so blind?
"You know, I've been thinking back on all the times we've fought, outnumbered by our foes, and against all odds, when these strange accidents would inexplicably befall our attackers, and we'd win the encounter. Merlin'd be in the middle of it all and emerge unscathed, while the rest of us were wounded, battered and bruised."
"He was hiding," Arthur scoffs.
"Nah." Gwaine pauses, musing. "I don't think so. I think that actually he may have had more to do with our victories than any of us ever realized."
"Using magic?" Arthur is incredulous.
Gwaine nods. "Yeah." The two are silent again, each staring up at the sky lost in thought, listening to the sounds of shouts and swords of the men on the field behind them.
*A/N: See "The Runaway Servant" by Nantasyland for more on Niniane's pigeons.