Author's Note: I had a very hard choice to make today. I had to choose between watching 'How I Met Your Mother,' or writing this story. In the end, I decided to have my cake and eat it to. I am doing both…sort of. More like I am listening to the show while writing. It's just as funny. I am very excited to write this chapter….I hope it turns out the way I want it to. Thank you for all the reviews….my inbox basically exploded yesterday. I freaking loved it! Do it again! Welp, hope you all enjoy!

Arthur felt he was finally getting the hang of this flying thing. It would never be his preferred method of transportation, sure, but at least he hadn't felt like puking. It had only been an hour, but Arthur didn't sweat the details. He'd even started to look at the landscape passing quickly below them. He didn't recognize anything, but he hadn't really expected to.

Even Merlin seemed to be rejuvenated a bit by the crisp morning air. He wasn't his normal exuberant self, but he had sat up and Arthur would take whatever improvement he could get. At one point the warlock lifted his arms high into the air, like a bird spreading his wings, and let his head fall back slightly, the wind ruffling his hair. This alarmed Arthur so greatly that he nearly fell off of Kilgarrah trying to get behind him in case the man was about to fall.

"Don't do that," the king snapped, covering up his concern with rudeness. "Honestly Merlin, sometimes I think you don't have a brain in that skull of yours."

"You are the one that almost fell off, sire. It makes one wonder who's really the brainless one in all this."

"Merlin," Arthur whispered dangerously. "Don't forget who is king here. I can have you thrown in the stocks."

"I suppose you could," Merlin said, some of the usual mischief returning to his eyes. "But, I should remind you that I am a powerful warlock. Everyone has heard me call you a cabbage head a million times, but imagine the look on their faces if you really did have a head made out of cabbage."

Arthur would swear in later years that he had a number of witty retorts for his servant at the ready, but chose to be the bigger man and hold his tongue, due to Merlin being so sick. Merlin let him get away with it because even the king deserved to win sometimes.

"Kilgarrah," Arthur called to the dragon, his voice catching on the wind. "Why is it taking so long? Last time I checked the Druids were fairly close to us."

"The Druids that live within your kingdom do not have the power needed for this particular task, young Pendragon," came the dragon's reply. "We search for the Fair Folk."

Merlin perked up at this, but the look on his face was not one of recognition, but of confusion. For once the warlock was just as much in the dark as Arthur was.

"You've never mentioned the Fair Folk before," Merlin said. "And neither has Gaius. "

"Gaius would not have needed to," the dragon replied. "Their time was long before him and any records of their existence have passed into myth."

"Then how do you know of them," Arthur asked.

"Young king," Kilgarrah admonished. "I am a dragon. We can live to be a thousand and our memories do not fail as humans do."

"Who are they," Merlin asked, his voice eager.

"They are the first Druids, Merlin."

"The Fair Folk," Arthur scoffed. "That's just a story. Everyone knows that."

"Do they," the dragon laughed. "Oh, young king, you still have much to learn. The Fair Folk were very real, I can assure you. As are their descendants."

"How is this going to help Merlin?"

"The Fair Folk were healers, Arthur. They far surpassed any knowledge of the subject we have today and were unique in that they used their own source of power. They called it Gwella and its power outshone even the Old Religion. But, as with every power, there is a cost of sorts. Gwella was a magical representation of the Fair Folk's compassion. They were a peaceful people and as such their magic could only be used for such purposes. The sorcerers of the lands across the sea coveted their power very much and set out to take it from them."

"What happened to them," Merlin asked quietly, his head bowed in sorrow as if he already knew the answer.

"The humans set upon them with great ferocity," the dragon answered. "The magic they carried could not have defeated the Fair Folk, Merlin. But the violent manner in which it was used was something their people had never encountered before. They would not willingly take another's life and had no choice but abandon their cities and seek refuge elsewhere."

"Where did they go," Arthur asked.

"They came to each king within Albion and sought refuge with them," the dragon explained. "Out of all the great rulers only one had compassion and gave the Fair Folk his protection. His name was Tosturi, though you would not recognize that name. For generations his heirs have protected what remains of the Fair Folk and will continue to do so until there are none remaining."

"That is a great story," Arthur snapped. "But we've got to find them first. Do you even know where you are going?"

"Indeed," Kilgarrah replied. "The last of Tosturi's heirs is King Holdor and the Fair Folk have a sanctuary there."

Arthur knew very little of King Holdor and couldn't ever actually remember meeting the man in person. His lands were shrouded with mystery and nobody had ever returned from it. Tales abounded of a great mist that hovered just at the edges of his realm and it was said that any who entered were swallowed up by its reaching tendrils. Some stories suggested that if the person in question was found worthy they would be allowed into a land of great peace and beauty. Others said that travelers were gobbled up by horrible creatures in the fog, their screams echoing across the barren sky.

Arthur had always passed such fantasies off as nonsense. He was nothing but a realist, after all. He guessed that Haldor was a reclusive man, a hermit, one might say. It didn't bother Arthur one way or the other. As long as the strange king remained within his own borders Arthur wouldn't spare him another thought.

Now, however, with all that he had heard he was not so quick to pass the stories off as folly. He wondered, though, which story would be right? The land of peace and beauty or the creatures? He fervently hoped for the first option.

"So we fly to these Fair Folk and then what? Demand that they heal Merlin?"

"First you must find them," the dragon replied, not noticing both the men's confused glances.

"But you just said that you knew where they were," Merlin said, frowning. "Which is it?"

"It is both, young warlock. I know where they reside, but I cannot take you there."

"What," Arthur exclaimed, his voice rising. "How are Merlin and I supposed to find them in time? We don't know where they are!"

"Peace, King of Camelot. The journey to the lands of the Fair Folk is one each must make for themselves. None will be granted entrance that haven't earned it. There will be three paths you may take. Each path will have a series of obstacles you must face to prove your character worthy of their gifts. "

"What is it with magical beings and test of worthiness," Arthur muttered.

"Power is corrupting," Merlin said, drawing a rather pensive glance from his king. "Or can be in the hands of the wrong person. Strength of character is everything when it comes to powerful magic."

"The young warlock would be correct," Kilgarrah said. "The Fair Folk were driven from their lands due to greed. They will not allow such a thing to happen again for fear their power will be tainted by whatever evil seeks them. If a man can conquer the tasks set before them then they are worthy of the gifts the Fair Folk have to offer."

The two men passed into a comfortable silence and the dragon had no more to offer. They flew for perhaps another hour, Merlin slumped once more over the Kilgarrah's back. He insisted that he was only resting his eyes, but Arthur was positive the dragon's spell was beginning to fade. His unlikely companion had said that the magic wouldn't last, but Arthur had been so grateful for any relief that he hadn't bothered asking how long. A day? Two? A few more hours? He didn't know.

It was mid-day by the time they landed and Arthur was overjoyed at the sight of earth. He had the strangest urge to kiss the ground, but resisted, knowing that both Merlin and the dragon were watching. He looked around them and took note of his surroundings.

They had landed in a small grove of trees, barely large enough to hold them. The sun was bright overhead, but it strangely didn't seem to penetrate any of the surrounding forest. It was as if the light had run into a stone wall and could go no further. Three paths stretched out, each going in a different direction. The road could be seen for perhaps a hundred feet before a sheer wall of mist cut the path from view.

Arthur felt uneasy, but he wasn't afraid. For some reason he got the feeling that the mist wasn't a danger to him. However, what lay inside of that mist could be a different story. He turned away to find Merlin watching him as if trying to gauge if Arthur would actually go through with it. The king decided not to comment on the black lines that were straying into his hands and up the other side of his face. Instead, he turned to Kilgarrah and asked the question that had been bothering him for some time.

"So how are we going to take these tests with Merlin being so sick? I can't fight off monsters and protect him at the same time."

Merlin laughed slightly. "I think you are missing the point, sire. Kilgarrah said the Fair Folk were a peaceful people. Whatever these obstacles are I do not believe they will encompass killing."

"Merlin," Arthur said nervously. "I've always been the warrior, you know that. You are the one that's good at all the sensitive thinking or whatever you wish to call it."

"You're the sword and I'm the shield," Merlin said quietly, a thoughtful smile relieving his sickly features for a brief second.

"What did you just say?"

"Nothing, sire."

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by your nonsense comment, I'm good with my sword. What if you go back to that Shadow Place and I have to pass the feelings test on my own?"

"Arthur," Merlin said gently. "In some areas of your life you are the most arrogant prat imaginable."

"Well thanks, Merlin. You really helped ease that concern."

"Shut-up, sire. I wasn't finished. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by your nonsense comment, you can be an arrogant prat in some areas. But, in others, you completely underestimate yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"Arthur, I have seen the lengths you will go through for your people. I have watched you fight on when all hope was lost because it bought them more time. I have seen your capacity to forgive and your capacity for mercy. You are honorable to a fault and fair in everything you do. You judge people not by their title, but by their actions. You believe in people and inspire others to believe in themselves. Arthur, there is a reason the people of Camelot are proud to call you their king and it isn't because you are a great swordsman. Its because you are a great man."

Arthur was quiet for a long time. He glanced at his manservant who was looking at him, as he often did, with complete sincerity and loyalty.

"Sometimes Merlin," Arthur whispered. "I feel I don't know you at all."