A/N: Here it is, the long awaited Merlincentric Chapter :D
As always thank you EchoRose480 this wouldn't be here without you. You made it better with your advices.
Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin, if I did, Episode 5X13 never would have happened: P
~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~
Chapter 11 - A Meeting Foretold
Gaylen watches with a growing sense of relief as Camelot's knights ride away from the village. When the men have finally disappeared from sight, the physician turns away from his position at the window and crosses the room in a flurry of robes and anticipation, "It is time," he murmurs, retrieving a small chest from the table, carrying it over towards the prone figure resting on the bed.
Quietly, he perches himself on the edge of the quaint mattress, his slender fingers carefully reaching inside the box to pull out a black polished stone. Holding the object almost reverently, he moves it forward and places it on the fevered skin above Merlin's heart.
"Emrys you must awaken," he says earnestly, repeating the movement several times until there is an identical stone within each of the boy's palms and one upon his brow.
Gaylen inhales deeply, in a vain attempt to try and quell his nervousness as he prepares to complete the ritual he had been training to master since he was a small child. He allows his hands to reach up and gently cup the sides of the younger man's face, both palms trembling lightly as they come into contact with the pallid skin that is stretched over sharp cheek bones. Swallowing thickly, he closes his eyes and persuades his entire being to focus on the task at hand. He clears his mind, opens his thin lips and begins to chant deeply,
"Bancofa séocen lete se stánas ofásíeðe ond hælan," feeling a slight stir in the stillness around him and from within him, he repeats himself again, "Bancofa séocen lete se stánas ofásíeðe ond hælan."
With a flash of gold from within his sienna eyes, the room is enveloped in a rush of warmth. Gaylen watches on baited breath as the infected wounds that lay scattered upon the pale chest before him began to transform. The sickening discharge that had previously been leaking from the inflamed gashes begins to dry up, and the angry red of the wounds regresses. Scabs form as the skin partially heals, and the once pale and fevered body cools beneath his very hands.
The older man lets out a relieved exclamation, overwhelmed with his success.
"Emrys!" he calls, tapping the younger man's face gently. He lets his eyes flit over the features before him, searching intently for any sign of stirring. He is quickly rewarded with the rapid fluttering of dark lashes that lay against cheeks which are now flushed healthy with reviving life, "Emrys!" he beckons again urgently, his summons answered this time by a deep groan and subtle twitch.
After a few passing moments, the physician is bestowed his first glimpse into the two blue eyes that had previously remained hidden. They blink rapidly, full awareness having not yet taken its hold, and the sporadic movements are soon followed by a drawn out moan. Gaylen smiles reassuringly and leans back, giving the man before him some space, allowing him the room he will probably need to gather his bearings.
The younger man is understandably disoriented, his eyes opening wider in confusion as he gazes up at the unknown man beside him. He then glances around at the unfamiliar room and instantly his features flicker from bewildered to wary, and then back again.
"It is good to see you awake, my lord Emrys," Gaylen speaks ardently, and the other man's reaction is instantaneous and alarming.
With unexpected speed, Merlin flips sideways off the bed with a hoarse cry of pain, eyes blown wide with alarm and trepidation. He scrambles desperately to put some sort of distance between the strange man and himself, "W...who..." he rasps, his voice breaking off as the dryness in his throat sends him into an unpleasant fit of heaving coughs.
"Do not be frightened of me," Gaylen says gently, slowly rising to his feet with both hands held before him in a pacifying gesture, "I am a physician. You were injured and your prince brought you here."
Gaylen reaches for a small cup on the table near him and brings it forward, keeping the bed between them in hopes that it will keep his distressed patient calm, "Drink some water, dear boy. It has been days since you have last spoken."
Still guarded, but slightly appeased by the mention of Arthur, the younger man hesitantly takes the small offering in his pale hands and brings it slowly to his lips. An awkward quiet fills the room as Gaylen patiently waits for the dark-haired man to sooth his throat.
When the cup runs empty, it is placed gently on a nearby table, both men continuing to eye each other with deliberation.
"Y…you called me Emrys," Merlin states hoarsely, breaking the silence.
"Indeed I did, milord. You are well known among my people."
"You're a druid?"
"I am," Gaylen confirms, "My name is Gaylen Abriathon. I have lived here in Welshire for many a year, awaiting this very moment in time."
"Welshire?" Merlin blurts in obvious confusion, "And what do you mean by this moment?"
"You are in the village of Welshire. I was told by your companions that you were too injured to survive the return journey to Camelot, so you were brought here, so that I may help you."
"Our meeting was foretold many years ago when I was but a child and you had yet to enter this world. Our clan's seer told me that the Emrys of Prophesy was soon to come, and that I would one day be needed by him. She gifted me with four healing stones and told me to train in the medicinal arts, and that when I came of age, I was to travel west to this very village and settle. I did so and I have awaited your arrival ever since."
Blue eyes gaze upon him with deepening interest, the need to understand evident within every crease marring his brow. Merlin's stare is calculating and penetrating all at once and he opens his mouth in an effort to respond, "Why?" he asks softly, "Why would you let your life be dictated to you like this?"
Gaylen smiles knowingly, "I could ask you the same."
"That's different," Merlin asserts with a deepening frown.
"Is it?" the older man counters, "You were destined to protect and serve the Once and Future King, to bring about Albion and lasting peace. It was my own destiny to be here and give you aid so that you may continue on as you were meant to. We all are destined for something, just not always something as prodigious as the likes of yours."
Merlin feels a blush rise to the tips of his ears at the obvious adoration in the man's tone, "I'm just a man…a servant."
"You are anything but," the older man smiles fondly, before reaching down to pick up a bowl of healing paste along with a small vial from the bedside table, "If you don't mind, milord, I would request that you allow me to treat and wrap your wounds. The healing stones purged the infection from your system, cleared your fever, and allowed the wounds to partially close. I do not wield the power to heal you completely, nor do I perceive that such a miraculous recovery will go unnoticed by your companions, but you will heal. Death no longer knocks upon your door and so I have accomplished the task I was born to achieve."
"It's enough, and I thank you," Merlin says gratefully, walking quietly around the bed in order to finally stand before the older man. Carefully he moves to sit on the low mattress, clinching his eyes with a wince, the fingers of his left hand curling protectively into his side as the wounds protest briefly. When he opens his eyes once more, there is a small vial being proffered directly in front of him.
"Take this," Gaylen offered, "Your recovery is still far from complete. I have no doubt that you are in pain, for your pinched brow betrays you."
Merlin accepts the potion gratefully and knocks it back without hesitation. He waits for the sudden horrifying aftertaste he has come to expect, but frowns, looking curiously at the empty glass when it fails to come, "What was that?"
"A tincture of willow bark and yarrow, with a touch of hem bane."
Merlin's eyes widen and then they twinkle with momentary mirth, "I wish you'd teach Gaius how to prepare this, most of his potions leave one to wonder which is worse, the ailment or the taste of the treatment."
A smile is shared between both men and Gaylen chuckles softly as he positions himself in front of the warlock. The older man goes about carefully applying a generous layer of paste to the exposed wounds on Merlin's torso before gathering a few linen strips and beginning the time consuming process of binding the injuries.
When the final knot is tied sometime later, the physician leans back and appraises his handiwork, "That should do for now," he announces in apparent satisfaction.
Merlin nods in agreement, "Thank you."
"Of course, milord."
"Please call me Merlin. I'm no lord, and Emrys is not a name I am known by outside your people. I'm afraid my friends wouldn't understand."
"I will do as you ask, but you haven't a thing to fear, for it will be time yet until your friends return."
Merlin looks up in bewilderment, eyes widening as if it was finally registering that he had not seen or heard from Arthur or any of the knights since his return to consciousness. Nervousness begins to pool in his stomach as he realizes the implications, "Return?" he questions, "Where would they have gone?"
"It was my understanding that the king had sent you on a quest to defeat the creatures that are terrorizing the northern villages."
"Yes. We were riding towards Grensweld," Merlin acknowledges with growing dread, "You're not telling me they left me here and continued on to Grensweld, are you?"
"No, they needn't go as far as that. We ourselves have been plagued by the attacking beasts for weeks. We have lost many good people, and others have fled in fear. Prince Arthur and his Knights departed for the hills not long ago in an organized effort to defeat the creatures."
"No!" Merlin cries out, stumbling to his feet, "They can't!" he hisses, "I'm not there!"
The warlock spins around, eyes scanning the room for something, before zeroing in on a dark blue tunic resting over a nearby chair. Diving for it, Merlin barely registers that it is one of Arthur's spares before it is over his head in a flurry of painful movements.
"Where do you think you're going?" Gaylen scolds, trying to chase after the boy as he goes to retrieve his boots that have been placed near the hearth to dry.
"I have to go after them," is the warlock's only reply, as he pulls the worn leather over his heels.
"You can't be serious," Gaylen scoffs, "You're in no condition to follow."
"You don't understand."
"What I understand is that you have just regained consciousness after days of burning with fever while infection ravaged your body. You need to rest, you need to heal!" he insists.
Merlin looks down at the hand that is now clutching tightly to his forearm before glancing up to lock eyes with the man towering over him.
"You said you knew my destiny was to protect the once and future king," he pauses, letting the words sink in, "Then you know why I must go. Without Arthur, there is no Albion, and without me there, he is vulnerable. They cannot fight creatures of magic with swords alone-you know this."
The druid accedes reluctantly, and his grip loosens before dropping away completely, "Then you must hurry, Merlin."
Merlin smiles thankfully (gratefully) and steps away from the older man, "Which way did they go?"
"Towards the hills north of the village, there is a cave there that is believed to be where the creatures reside. The knights are riding for it as we speak, but you can follow. Use your magic as a guide. It will not lead you astray."
The warlock retreats towards the door as fast as his wounded body will allow.
"Merlin," Gaylen calls, just as the younger man reaches for the handle, and suddenly he is pinned with an inquiring gaze.
"Your horse is still housed in the inn's stables. You will need it if you are planning to travel swiftly."
Merlin nods gratefully and disappears though the door. The younger man is hastily making his way down the hall when Gaylen's deep calming voice echoes throughout the confines of his mind, 'Take care, young Emrys. I shall await your return.'
'Thank you, my friend. I will.'
~~~~~~~~MERLIN~~~~~~~~
Spell: bancofa séocen lete se stánas ofásíeðe ond hælan – body troubled by sickness let the stones purge and heal.
A/N – Hooray, Merlin is on his way!
