A/N: I haven't done an author's note in a while. I just wanted to explain something mentioned in a guest review. At this time Rory has only shut away memories twice. The first time he blanked out for a lifetime but it wasn't planned. Basically his brain reached critical mass and he created the wall piece by piece in order to save his sanity. The second time, he didn't have to build the wall. He only had to open the door and as I said in the narrative, the whole process only took a moment. So, he doesn't blank out for a lifetime every time he squirrels away his memories. That was a one-time thing.

Another thing that I have to address is, as a few reviewers have noticed (btw, very clever readers), I am touching on the legend of Merlin and Arthur. I hesitated to do this because so far everyone or thing/place I've talked about has been based on actual historic events. Also, Doctor Who has visited the story of Merlin before with the Doctor being Merlin. But the official timeline doesn't pick up for another two or three hundred years when Rory will somehow find himself in the possession of the Knights Templar. That's a lot of time where not much recorded history happens but a lot of legendary stuff does. So, I decided to go ahead and write a storyline involving Merlin. I took a lot of my cues from the Merlin of Mary Stewart's books but I didn't follow her vision faithfully at all. This is definitely my version and I hope you like it.

6 months

Malin was in a temper. Rory was trying to feed him some of the mashed peas and his tiny dictator was having none of it.

"C'mon, Malin. Peas! Yum!" Rory made what he hoped were happy, encouraging gestures with the spoonful. "Fresh from the garden. C'mon, now. Uncle spent a lot of time tending them so they'd be nice and yummy for you. C'mon Malin. Who's a good boy? You are. And good boys always eat their peas."

Malin finally consented to try a bite and Rory sighed with relief; then with despair when the infant promptly spit it out.

He'd be so relieved when Malin was weaned.

2 years

"Malin, do you need to use the potty?" Rory watched the familiar look of concentration on the toddler's face. "C'mon, Malin. We use the potty, right? Yay! Potty!"

Malin waddled up to the potty and Rory sighed with relief; then with despair as the toddler sat down on the potty and pooped merrily into his nappy.

He'd be so relieved when Malin was potty trained.

5 years

"C'mon Malin." Rory said encouragingly. "What sound do S and T make? Remember the blends? S and T make what sound?"

"I don wanna." Malin yelled, hands over his chest. "I tired. My head hurts. I wanna play."

"You can play as soon as we've done our reading." Rory said in what he hoped was a stern voice. "You know the rules, Malin. We practice every day and every day it gets a little easier. Now, you did this just a few seconds ago. What sound do S and T make together?"

"I don't care!" Malin cried.

Rory sighed.

He'd be so relieved when Malin learned to read.

8 years.

For the first time in his long vigil, the experience of raising Malin had made Rory happy he never slept. He should have become the primary care giver to a child long ago because instead of pining away the hours in each day there suddenly weren't enough of them.

Malin never failed to awaken before sunrise, generally between 5 and 6 a.m. as far as Rory could calculate. He was never sleepy or petulant when he woke but eager and excited about the day. Even as an infant and toddler Malin awoke with an energetic smile.

Rory still had a few hours. He was almost finished grinding the wheat for Malin's bread. Rory always mixed it three parts wheat and one part barley. When he'd first met Remigius hoping to buy some seed, Old Gran had told him if he mixed barley into the grind it helped to keep the bugs away. Rory also noted that Malin seemed to enjoy the flavor much more.

Rory took the small pile of powder and mixed it in his large wooden bowl adding the little dish of yeast, salt, beet sugar and water. He'd figured out how to refine his own beet sugar but the salt had to be bought. However, the sugar was a rare luxury and it was easy for Rory to find people willing to trade the few odds and ends he found difficult to make himself for a small supply of the stuff.

He also found a good market for his wooden bowls and other carved wood items. With his laser he could make precision cuts, carvings and even decorative designs. His bowls, plates and cups were always perfectly formed and smoothly polished. So much so that Hamleigh the trader had commissioned a large order that he intended to peddle on his next excursion. Rory was grateful for the extra income. As much as possible he avoided spending any small income he received, preferring to save it for Malin's future.

The boy would eventually grow up, after all. He'd meet a girl and get married and Rory somehow doubted anyone would want to grow old and raise a family in a dank cave with an old legend. He sighed, and wished he could somehow slow down time.

What?

Rory froze, his hands covered in the bread dough he'd been kneading.

Slow time? How many days and nights had Rory wished for time to move faster? That he could skip a century or two? And now he was wishing that time would slow down?

He glanced over to what looked like a bundle of random clothes and blankets but Rory could see the four little fingers clutching an edge. This was his little one.

What if you had to choose? The voice in his head asked. The dratted alien's voice.

"No." He whispered. "That's not fair."

But what if?

"Stop it!" Rory hissed, covering his head with his hands, surprised to find tears in his eyes…and dough in his hair.

He finished kneading. Greased another bowl, set the dough down in it, covered it with a damp cloth and carried it over to sit near the still warm embers of last night's fire to rise. Then he walked over to the small stream and washed the bits of dough from his hands and hair.

He placed a clean but damp hand on the Pandorica and leaned his forehead against it.

"I don't have to choose." He whispered to the girl in the box. But it frightened him how hard that decision would be. He realized suddenly that he would have to choose Amy. If the Pandorica were destroyed it wasn't just that Amy would die. She would, yes, and that would destroy Rory but it would also destroy the Universe. Or, rather the Universe was in the process of being destroyed. If the box wasn't safe, the Doctor couldn't fix things. Not that Rory understood it all, he didn't. The Doctor had been popping in and out of time like a maniacal whack a mole and, of course, didn't bother to explain, well, anything. He'd just said something about Amy and memories, what was it?

"Memories are more powerful than you think and Amy Pond is not an ordinary girl; grew up with a time crack in her wall with the Universe pouring through her dreams every night. The Nestene's took a memory print of her and got a bit more than they bargained for, like you. Not just your face but your heart and your soul."

Total event collapse. That's what he'd called it.

"All of creation has just been wiped from the sky. Do you know how many lives now never happened? All the people who never lived?"

And Earth was the eye of the storm. The last light to go out. Somehow, Amy's memories had something to do with the Doctor's plan to get all those lights lit back up again.

"Your girlfriend isn't more important than the whole Universe." He'd said, and Rory'd rightly cleaned his clock for it. Maybe Amy wasn't more important than the whole Universe to anyone but Rory but she might be the Universe's only hope at being righted and that meant that whatever happened, Rory had to keep her and the Pandorica safe.

Malin stirred and Rory shook himself, wondering how long he'd been lost in thought. He glanced over and saw the dough had risen to twice its previous size. He dutifully punched it down again and set it in the iron bread pan to proof. Now, that little item had cost a pretty penny. Rory'd paid dearly for all his precious pots and pans and took great care of them.

He walked over the cave wall he'd hollowed out into a fire oven and added fuel to the flames, making sure the oven would be the proper temperature when the dough was done proofing.

Malin stirred again and Rory knew he'd be awake in the next twenty to thirty minutes. The bread would take at least another forty. He'd better milk the goats and gather some eggs to tide the boy over until it was ready.

Rory stepped out into the darkness; his mechanical eyes seeing perfectly in the strange starless night. He grabbed the wonderful waterproof basket Madge had taught him to weave from the reeds that grew near the river and thought again that he really needed to teach Malin the trick. But Rory always made teaching Malin the things other people couldn't teach him the priority. And the number one priority among those things was medicine.

When Malin set out on his own, Rory wanted him to know how to take care of himself and his loved ones. Then again, wouldn't it be wonderful if Malin settled down in the village only an hours walking distance from 'the crystal cave' as Malin had taken to calling it? Rory so often imagined what kind of man Malin would be. What kind of father would he be and to what kind of children? An image of a small girl climbing about in the little orchard Rory had cultivated brought a small smile to his face as he walked down to the small padock of goats before he shook himself.

"Getting a bit ahead of ourselves aren't we?" He muttered but with a smile. It was wonderful to have things to look forward to.

No. He stopped still as the thought occurred to him. It was wonderful to have something to live for.

Guarding Amy was something he lived for but it required nothing of him. He waited. But no one could really make an existence out of waiting, especially an existence so long as his.

He milked the goats and gathered most of the eggs, leaving a few to hatch, grabbed a few strawberries and made his way back into the cave. The bread had risen beautifully in the pan and was ready for the oven. Rory grabbed the heavy iron skillet, stirred up the small fire, set the pan atop the flames and began frying an egg.

As usual the smell was enough to wake the stirring boy and he sat bolt upright with his customary smile.

"Good Morning, Malin." Rory greeted, not being able to resist the smile that spread across his own face upon seeing his boy's happy grin.

"Good Morning, Uncle." Malin replied stretching happily. "I had the most wonderful dream."

"Come eat your eggs and you can tell me all about it before you forget." Rory said warmly.

"Eggs!" Malin pealed and scurried over to his place at the table. It was a rough creation made a bit early in Rory's career as a wood worker and he was tempted to replace it. But, it did get the job done and it seemed a bit of a waste to fell another tree when this table would do.

Malin grabbed his polished wood fork. The British hadn't caught on to forks yet and Rory dimly remembered that the Italians invented them in order to eat pasta. Pasta which had been brought over by Marco Polo from China. It'd be difficult for Polo to make that particular trip considering he had no stars to guide him in this strange version of Earth. So, Rory found he had no problem in introducing a technology that didn't exist because, when you thought about it, it really should.

Malin knew nothing of these concerns that had made the fate of the utensil in his hands so dubious as he scarfed down the eggs with gusto.

"Mmm, ishgoo." He mumbled with a full mouth.

"Malin, manners." Rory scolded.

Malin took a few seconds to finish the bite in his mouth completely before saying meekly, "Sorry, Uncle."

Rory smiled, "Good boy. Now tell me about this dream of yours. Quick before you forget."

"Oh! It was wonderful!" Malin exclaimed. "Mother and Father were there and Amy and we were all in the high meadow with the goats but they weren't bothering us. We were just lying in the clover all of us and Nimue and looking at the moon. Then, all of a sudden there were stars!"

Rory's eyebrows lifted, "Really? Stars?"

Malin nodded happily. "Yes! And they were just like you said they would be! Like the song, you know?"

"Yes, I know. I'm glad you dream of stars, monkey." Rory said, calling the boy by his favorite pet name.

Malin poured himself a second glass of milk, took a big gulp and sighed happily.

"Is there bread?" He asked.

"I'm sorry, what do you want to ask me?" Rory said, feigning confusion.

Malin sighed but said politely, "May I please have some bread, Uncle?"

"Yes, you may." Rory answered walking to the oven where the bread should be just about done. "And thank you for asking so politely."

Malin giggled.

About an hour after breakfast Malin and Rory were outside in the garden. Rory was talking about some of the different medicinal herbs and plants and how they could be used for different illnesses when a small sweet voice called out to them.

In a flash Malin was on his feet and running to the paddock to release the goats.

"Good bye, Uncle!" He called as he led the small herd down the hill to join the larger herd being shepherded by a small girl.

"Hello, Centurion!" The girl called, waving.

"Hello, Nimue!" Rory called back. "Be careful heading up to the pasture!"

Nimue rolled her eyes but smiled. "We will. We always are."

Rory let Malin get halfway down the hill before calling out.

"Malin, my lad. Are you perhaps forgetting something?"

The boy stopped short and felt around his left side and back. Nimue giggle as her friend trugged up the hill with scarlet cheeks to collect the satchel containing his noon meal.

"Don't be in such a hurry." Rory chided.

"Yes, sir." The boy smiled. Then turned and ran at what Rory thought was a dangerous pace down the steep hill.

Rory watched them make their way toward the high valley across the steam where the lushest clover fields were. Nimue plucked at the satchel which Malin pulled out of her grasp and her laugh echoing through the small valley would have reached Rory's ears even if they weren't inhumanly sensitive.

Was it really eight years ago he had reached into Tenea's womb and plucked out this little miracle child?

"Please," Rory whispered to the now tiny figure in the distance. "Don't be in such a hurry."

Thanks so much for sticking with this story. Long just doesn't seem to be an adequate descriptor, lol. Thanks also for your reviews. They are very encouraging and enlightening.

I remembered something else. Someone asked why I didn't just have Rory write a journal. That is actually something I plan to have him do later but at this point in history writing utensils and things like vellum and paper are extremely hard to come by. So, I didn't think it made sense. It's a good thought though and I do plan to incorporate it later with a little help from our favorite immortal, time-travelling human. (hee hee, spoilers)

Another thing (last one, I promise) is I feel like I owe an apology for having such a long empty spell of writing. At first it was because I was actually having a non-fiction article published. I wrote a paper that got presented at a couple conventions and then a peer review journal showed interest in publishing it as an article. (I was a history student...I know, you're all SHOCKED.) I submitted it and they accepted it but wanted me to revise it. If you are familiar with academia, having a sophomore paper published is a really cool thing. I revised and revised and revised and they kept asking for more. It was finally done and I thought, "Yay, I'll have time to write fiction again." But then I got sick. I got so sick and tired and just blah that I thought I'd never write more in this story again but then I was properly diagnosed, had a quick surgery and now I feel normal again. It's weird but I'd actually forgotten what that feels like. I started thinking that my 'good days' were normal and they so were NOT. So, now I'm very happy to be healthy and feeling normal again and writing more of this story is a joy again.

Anyway, long story short: Thanks for your incredibly patience. You all rock.