"What has put you in such a foul mood, young Warlock?" Kilgharrah asked, as they soared through the air. "I thought the visit to your keep would have lifted your spirits."

"It did, old friend. I'm sorry, but…" He sighed heavily. "Oh, never mind. I'm sure you don't want to hear about it."

The old dragon smiled knowingly. "Women, be they human, dragon, or otherwise, have always sought to make a mess and then blame it on a male while they clean it up."

"Are we talking about the Red Dragon or Morgana?" He asked sourly.

"Both, my friend."

They flew along for awhile, each in their own thoughts. Merlin was lost in his contemplation, wondering what Kilgharrah meant. Finally, he felt the urge to ask, "Do you know what she was doing in the Perilous Lands?"

"Trying to set things right by her standards."

"...And did she?"

"That remains to be seen, Merlin. Perhaps we will know tomorrow, perhaps we will never know in either of our lifetimes."

"So tell me, can you change form like she did?"

"Alas, that was a sacred gift... even among dragonkind. It is passed down, it was said, from one dragon to another in order for them to act as an ambassador of sorts to all the smaller races. I fear that the wisdom behind it was lost with her."

"When she died, she told me something. She said 'Hawthorn will be ready for when your time comes'. Do you have any idea what she meant?"

Merlin felt the dragon underneath him tense. "So, that is it then. Very interesting."

"What? If you know something, please tell me."

"Forgive me, Merlin, but that is a prophecy I am not allowed to speak of... and I ask that you do not order me to divulge its secret. It is a very sacred knowledge that even I am not fully privy to."

"But, you know what it means." Merlin pursed his lips in frustration.

The rest of the journey was made in silence. The Dragon Lord was trying to figure out why the Red Dragon would decide to be at her most cryptic in her last moments. Meanwhile, Kilgharrah was putting together the pieces the ancient dragon had worked so diligently towards. Her words finally made sense to him of a future when magic would return to Albion and the great dragon realized how wrong his own interpretations may have been.

"So, what you are really telling me is that you have no idea, whatsoever, about where this Cauldron might be?"

The head of Bran the Blessed, Prince of Corbenic, First Knight of the Fisher King, yawned. He was bored with the numerous ways Arthur had attempted to ask the same question. "Off the top of my head...I still have to say 'no.' For the love of the gods, it won't matter how you try to trick some other answer out of me. It will still remain the same. I haven't a clue."

Gwaine laughed, taking entirely too much pleasure in jokes concerning Bran's situation.

After the Dragon Lord had flown off, the others had spent the rest of the night in the seaside castle. Well rested, they headed out with the early morning light towards what Bran found out was now dubbed the Dark Tower. To him, however, it was still Castle Corbenic...and home.

The return trip had taken them longer than the journey out, and by now they were well into their third day.

Clarissant was doing her best to keep up. She was weak and needed to rest more than the healthy knights. Occasionally, Percival or Gwaine would carry her; trading off between them with the head in a make-shift sling. As of yet, the King of Camelot hadn't offered to take more than his own belongings, Bran's axe, and the book Taliesin had written.

Percival could be heard chuckling at a few of the quips, and Arthur acted as if he hadn't heard what was said. Bran truly wondered how someone like Gwaine had survived for so long. The jokes were hilarious at first, but soon grew old after one particular joke.

"Did you hear about the guy that was born without a body?

"Well, he and his mates went out drinking one night and got really wasted. Suddenly, out of his head popped a body. So, he had more to drink. Then his arms...so, he has more. He was amazed when his legs popped out. He was so excited, he ran out of the tavern into the road...only to be killed by a runaway carriage that he was too drunk to notice.

"His buddies were gasping in shock and yelling for the guards that their friend was just run over. One of the guards comes up and says 'Well, he should have quit drinking while he was ahead.'"*

Scowling, Clarissant scolded her brother and even Arthur began throwing things at Gwaine to get him to shut up. The jokes did slow a bit. However, as they walked, to keep himself amused the roguish man began to sing. At one point, Clarissant, while walking next to Percival who was carrying Bran, asked softly. "Are you sure I can't be locked back up just to get away from him?"

Percival smiled down at her. "Naw, he'll stop after a while. He typically isn't this bad."

"Ah, it is my presence among you that has caused this," she said, feeling a bit guilty.

Percival laughed, "No, I think it's more the lack of Merlin that has cursed us all to this. Arthur's moods and lack of focus, and your brother's mischief. I think Gwaine is just trying to show off."

"This Merlin threatens them with his power to behave? I'm surprised he hasn't been killed for such actions against a king," Bran commented, as he listened to the conversation.

"Not at all. What you both saw of Merlin before he left, was something very rare. In fact, I can count on one hand the number of times I have seen him so serious, and I've known the man for years. Once he gets his head back on straight, you'll see what I mean." Percival instantly cringed at his own words, and offered an apology to Bran.

Bran ignored it. He wanted to inquire more about this man when his ride suddenly stopped as they came to the top of a cliff overlooking the towers. "Is that smoke down there?" Percival asked. Bran wished he could turn and look. Arthur and Gwaine drew their swords as they came alongside.

"Do you think it's her?" Gwaine asked, his carefree attitude disappearing in light of possible danger. He squinted at the castle in the distance.

Clarissant was once again surprised at the maturity her brother showed in these situations and had to remind herself that they had both been very young when she last saw him.

"Let's move carefully in case it is," Arthur suggested, drawing his sword.

Arthur peered around the edge of the gate first. His battle-trained eyes scanned the courtyard.

On the far side, next to the door they had been barricaded behind nearly a week before, was the setup of a small camp. A pot was cooking over a fire, but there seemed to be no one around it. He wondered briefly if the bridge keeper had decided to come out of his forest.

"Hey, that smells like…" Gwaine started to say, looking at the king with a twinkle in his eye.

"Merlin's stew!" They both said together, smiling.

Percival came up beside them with a silly grin. "Well, we better get some before he gets back."

They pulled out their bowls and ate quickly, encouraging Clarissant to do the same. Bran could only smell the meal. Gwaine quickly pointed out when Arthur questioned it: "The man hasn't the stomach for it!"

Gwaine piled the remaining stew into a bowl and hid it off to the side. Clarissant was about to protest, when she spied someone hiding in the shadows nearby. The dark-haired man put a finger to his lips, obviously wanting to remain concealed. Once the pot was scraped clean, Merlin came out from his hiding spot with a load of wood in his arms.

"About time you lazy-daisies got here, I thought I'd have to eat all …" He looked down into the empty pot and stifled a melodramatic sigh, as he sat the wood down. "Oy, I see how it is. I save the day, and cook you dinner, and what do I get in return, eh? Merlin doesn't need to eat. 'Hey, who's that dying of starvation on the side of the road?' 'Just a nobody-simpleton who's kept us all alive and well fed for the past eleven years. He won't mind missing a meal or two.'" Merlin was pacing around, ranting and waving his arms in a flourish.

The three warriors from Camelot were having a hard time keeping their faces straight, as the warlock slid down against the wall and pouted. Arthur finally gave in and brought the bowl over to his cousin.

Merlin looked up at him with a well-practiced roll of his eyes, before he grinned and stretched his legs out. "Naw. I already had some before you lot got here."

"Ooh hoo. Finally getting smarter, are we?"

"Well, I don't know about you, Sire."

Arthur laughed, glad to see his cousin back in good spirits, and decided not to let the food go to waste. He picked up his spoon, only to stop as Merlin coughed. The king looked down at the scowl on Merlin's face. "What?"

Innocently, the warlock held up his hands. "I didn't say anything, Sire." His blue eyes flicked to Arthur's midsection.