Things That Merlin Isn't Allowed To Do

by Itar94

COMPLETE [Merthur] A list which everyone in Camelot should be aware of, in which Arthur is a prat/possessive and Merlin is stubborn/too endearing for his own good.

36. Get Captured by Lunatics

Things That Merlin Isn't Allowed To Do (According to Prince Arthur)
36: Get Captured by Lunatic People During Important Quests

When Merlin wakes up the shadows are yet dark in the corners, and a hand is shaking his shoulder, a voice persistently tugging at his ear. To no avail he tries to wave them both off.

"Wake up, lad."

"…Ugh. Gaius?" The servant glances up from the pillow, wincing when the candlelight is too bright and sudden for his sleep-drunken gaze. The physician looks kind of worried, that anxious frown across his temple which makes Merlin uneasy. What's happened now? Has Arthur been enchanted? Or the king? Has some hell-bent-on-revenge dark mad sorcerer entered the caste and tried to burn down the stables? Or has Arthur done something prattishly stupid again like trying to leave in the middle of night and save some damsel in distress?

Merlin really, really hopes it's not the latter. Arthur's got an ego big and is prattish enough as it is, and the warlock doesn't like it that much when Arthur rides out and saves damsels in distress - any damsels really that isn't him - not that Merlin is a damsel that needs saving, or riding after. Well, maybe Gwen he'd accept if she's in trouble and Arthur wants to save her, but that's different, they're friends and now Merlin seriously is losing train of thought.

"Whaa...?"

"It's right before dawn," Gaius informs him. "You need to help the prince with the packing."

"…Packing? … Packing." Merlin says, confused before remembering: "Oh. Oh no. Not another of those quests." With a pained groan he buries his face in the pillow and Gaius reminds him, again, he has to get up, he's Arthur's servant and has to wake before him and blah blah blah, before the old man leaves the room, probably to catch some more sleep or mix some potion. Merlin wishes he could do that - not the potion, but the sleep.

Half an hour later an annoyed prince barges loudly into the chamber. "Merlin!" he bellows on the top of his lungs, probably waking half of the city. "Where the hell have you been? I've been waiting forever! I had to dress myself and my best boots are missing and I can't find the saddlebags, why've you left me waiting for so long you incompetent idiot!"

Merlin blinks up at the red-faced, panting man from where he's trying to hide beneath the covers. "You dressed all by yourself? What an achievement, sire. I'm seriously impressed."

"No one likes your sarcasm this early in the morning, Merlin!" Arthur retorts and throws something at him, which lands on the bed and across Merlin's knees with a thud. A crossbow, a half-filled pack and one of Arthur's old furred travelling cloaks, which he eventually has given to Merlin (or let him "borrow" - the prat would never admit to giving something away, Morgana would never stop teasing him) since his manservant has for months complained about the cold and wet, about the dark forests and how he almost always freezes his feet off and other miserable things that's included when travelling. And the cloak means only one thing - one dreadful thing.

Arthur doesn't mean to go on some short trip around the neighborhood and shoot a hare and say hello to some farmers by the city outskirts and be back by nightfall. No, he's planning on a month-long journey god knows where and he'll drag Merlin through rain and cold mud and creepy forests. And the warlock will be busy trying to keep his toes warm and not have Arthur killed. Yep. Wonderful. Maybe he could feign a terrible illness or something and thus convince Arthur not to go?

It's worth a shot so Merlin tries to look at pale and pathetic as possible and coughs weakly.

"Well, come on!" the prince orders, lively like he's planned an outing to a theme park. "The Grail's not going to wait for your lazy backside!"

Right, so, maybe not.

()()()

They've been walking for half a day when they run into the first trouble.

Yes, walking, because for some reason, all horses were either being used already, or needed to be re-shoed or simply were too tired to be ridden – the stables were completely void of any of them. No matter how much Merlin had complained and pouted, they had found no other option than to walk. (Though Percival had offered to give him a piggyback ride, but then Arthur intervened and said there was no carrying to be done, except possibly by himself only - not that he cared about carrying anyone since he's a prat - and Merlin had sighed then and given up because he couldn't let Arthur go on this stupid Quest without him. Then the prince would get himself killed.)

After a couple of miles Gwaine also finds some things he calls 'coconuts' which he had come across before, in his earlier less knightly days, and happily demonstrates how to use them to make the same sound has hoof beats, giving the illusion to any eventual incoming enemies that they're riding and thus are kind of dangerous - which of course Arthur thinks it's completely ridiculous. In Gwaine's own opinion it's quite a neat trick. (Some weird arguments about nuts and swallows and riding arise, and Merlin ignores them from then on and has a nice conversation with Percival and Leon about flowers instead. Much more interesting and well-mannered.)

But, six-odd hours after they first set out, Merlin's feet are aching and he wonders if any of the knights still have the energy to hunt or if dinner tonight will have to be composed by only bread and cheese. He'd really like some venison. Maybe he could make doe eyes at Percival and …

His thoughts, however, are cut short when Arthur suddenly tenses up, raising his hand in an abrupt gesture and everyone stops, causing the servant to walk right into the prince's back.

"Huh? Why've we stopped? Are we there yet?"

"Be quiet!" Arthur hisses on his breath and grabs Merlin's arm, pulling him behind him before the servant can protest, into the centre of the group. The knights move to draw weapons when suddenly a voice cuts through the trees:

"You cannot pass this forest." A man materializes on top of the slope, surrounded by a number of similarly clad men, with chainmail and white tunics.

"Excuse me?" Arthur says. "I'm the Crown Prince of Camelot and these are my knights; sir Lancelot, sir Gwaine, sir Percival, sir Elyan and sir Leon and my faithful servant Merlin. We are on a greatly important quest. You will let us pass."

"No. We cannot," says the man stubbornly.

"Why? Have you a claim on these lands?"

Merlin is pretty sure they've not crossed the border yet. He leans closer to Percival and murmurs under his breath, "Do you think there's any other way around?" since the knight's traveled pretty much everywhere - unlike Gwaine who's only traveled to places that has a tavern.

In response the giant man shakes his head. "Not that I know of."

The speaker nods at Arthur. "We do have claim. For we are the Knights of Ni, and to allow you to pass you must fulfill our … demands– lest we'll have to punishyou." The word is heavy with foreboding and Arthur's hand around his sword hilt tightens.

"Demands?" the prince narrows his eyes at them. The men in white tunics are all wearing swords at the belt, and might prove to be fierce fighters. And as they appear to be knights (albeit he's never heard of this 'Ni' - it must be a faraway kingdom), Arthur would like to avoid any battle with them, since it could cause problems in the future - they already have enemies enough has it is.

"Sire," Lancelot says quietly on his left, "it'd be best if we agreed to their terms. I've traveled far and have heard of the Knight of Ni, and they have a … dangerous reputation."

"All right, let's hear it, what are your demands?" Arthur says in a 'I'm-not-very-impressed'-tone.

"You will fetch us a shrubbery!"

"A … what?" the prince asks stupidly. He's been expecting a fight or demands for gold or information or – something else logical. The man who'd spoken the order gives the prince a look as if he's a prathead and Merlin has to stifle a giggle beneath his hand.

"A shrubbery!" the speaker repeats.

"A nice one!" interjects a high-pitched voice from the left.

"Or else, we shall punish you with the Curse of Ni!" The words are dark and luminous and Merlin stops chuckling as soon as the words make contact with his eardrums, eyes going wide and his magic bubbles up, ready to be used in case of attack. He's insanely curious whatever the men wants a shrubbery for, it's the start of a giant forest after all and there are no gardens in sight; surely they must be pleased with the greenery around them. Or maybe they just want some variation.

Arthur stiffens. A curse … That doesn't bode well. He can't help himself, glancing to his right where his servant stands. He can't take that kind of risk with the servant here; perhaps, were Merlin safely back at Camelot, he'd have taken the chance and thrown down his gauntlet by the stranger's feet, supported by his knights, but if the man possesses some form magic and can curse them…oh, he shouldn't have dragged him with them!

Merlin senses his gaze and raises an eyebrow not-so-subtly and Arthur shakes his head at him, hoping the idiot understands it means "let me do the talking and don't do anything stupid now".

"Very well," the prince proclaims solemnly, "we shall fetch you a shrubbery. A nice one," he adds, at seeing the warning look one of the men sends him.

Accepting the answer, the speaker nods and the Knights of Camelot backs off a bit to talk without being overheard.

"Sire, such a thing could be dangerous!" sir Leon says. "Who knows what lurks out there. Nightfall is nearly upon us."

"We need to cross this forest," Arthur answers in his immovable, princely manner and that's the end of discussion.

"But where are we going to find a shrubbery?" asks Merlin. "I'm tired and hungry and I'd really, really like a warm fire right now, I feel like my feet are going to fall off…"

Immediately the knights swarm around him offering both jackets and cloaks and thick leather boots, all of them shaken off by an annoyed prince who announces: "You and Leon can stay here and make a fire, we need to camp anyway. The rest of us will search for a shrubbery and bring it back to the Knights of … Ni."

As soon as he gets his hands on a map he'll take a moment to find out where in Albion exactly Ni is situated.

()()()

"Shrubbery? It's been good business all up till a couple of years ago, an economic crisis the traders say," says the weather-worn man with a pair of old hedge-scissors in his hands. "There's no one who wants to pay for shrubberies anymore."

Arthur tries his best to act if it's not completely abnormal that a ragged-looking man would be selling shrubberies in the middle of nowhere. Actually it's just about half a mile northwest of the place where they'd encountered the Knights of Ni, and the prince wonders why on earth they then just couldn't fetch a shrubbery themselves.

"Well, we'll pay, as long as it's a nice shrubbery," the prince says. "And as long as it isn't too expensive!"

"What'd you expect, a royal discount? Nah, nah, that won't happen in my shop," says the man stubbornly, and an argument ensues in which heated words are thrown both ways.

Eventually Elyan intervenes, offering some of the coins he's kept in his pocket (he'd meant to melt them down and forge something pretty with them, he's starting to grow tired of just making horse-shoes and swords. Especially since for some reason Percival drops by every second week asking for a new weapon, claiming his old one's broken or that he's given it away as a gift, and Elyan can't convince him that swords mightn't be the best token of affection. A bracelet is better, or a nice necklace.)

At last they've got their hands on a shrubbery and together, carrying it as if it's a most valued treasure, they bring it back to the Knights of Ni who looks gleefully at the thing and announces that they can pass. By that time Merlin's feet have warmed a bit by the tiny fire on the other side of the glade and they are ready to set off, full of energy at this achievement.

(Lancelot says something about going back and buying a second shrubbery though, for Gwen; maybe she'd have liked it.)

()()()

Another forest to cross; another long trek in which Merlin barely can keep quiet his complaints which are all now justified; another cry of "You shall not pass this forest!" that rings out so loud and suddenly that the knights nearly jump straight into a thorn bush.

"Who's there?" cries Arthur, tugging Merlin behind him. "Show yourself!"

A man clad entirely in black steps out onto the path, armed and with a dark crest on his battle-worn blood-splattered tunic. A helmet is covering his face. The Black Knight waves his sword at them dangerously. "You!" he cries, pointing at Arthur. "Let us do battle. I shall defend this road with my life!"

The Crown Prince of Camelot would never back down from a fight, so he responds to the confrontation with a warrior's fervor and conviction. "I accept your challenge, sir knight!"

Gwaine takes seat by a large tree root. "Let's watch!" he says and pats his knees. "Merlin, d'you want to sit in my lap? There'll be a great view and very comfortable," he offers which Merlin thinks is very kind and he smiles at the knight about to say yes, but Arthur doesn't agree because he loudly proclaims, "No, Merlin will not sit in your lap. Or in any lap except mine. And since he can't do that right now, when I'm fighting, he'll sit right here instead." The prince spreads his cloak like a blanket on the ground, stubbornly glaring until Merlin takes seat, and not letting anyone sit right beside him, and that's the end of discussion – again.

So they gather in a circle around the two combatants, and Arthur draws his sword and grabs his shield. The fight starts out evenly. Both men are skilful fighters, but after half a minute or so, Arthur has gained the advantage and is driving the Black Knight into a corner. However, the disguised man is obstinate, refusing to give up and Merlin is worrying his bottom lip (what if Arthur does some reckless move now and gets hurt? Oh god he will, because he's such a prat and then Merlin'll have to use some spell to get him out of it).

"Ha! Coward! Come at me!" The Black Knight waves his sword, which he's holding with his right hand, and moves toward Arthur, who easily sidesteps and aims a second blow.

Suddenly, Arthur lunges forward as if to cleave the other man in two from head to toe. The Knight moves aside, so that Arthur's original plan fails, but holds his left arm outstretched so that it takes the full blow.

The audience draws a sharp breath.

"Missed!" cries the Knight and if not wearing that helmet, Arthur is sure he'd see the man make ridiculous faces at him. Naturally, Arthur takes offence, and he's annoyed now, how can anyone be so – so stubborn? Any other man would've given up by now!

"'Missed'? How can you say that! I just cut off your bloody arm!"

"So?"

The prince shakes his head and attacks again, resulting in the loss of the Knight's other arm, and the sword drops heavily on the ground. Leon picks the weapon up for closer inspection ("Ruddy handiwork, but maybe Elyan could upgrade it.").

"Silly-nilly, fight me!" The Knight tries to kick the Prince, who just stares at him.

"You have no arms.You're hardly fit to fight!"

"It's just a flesh wound. Now, are you a man, or a chicken, Prince of Dork-a-lot?"

No one with their sanity intact would ever say such a thing to the Prince of Camelot - especially not if you haven't got all of your limbs intact. The furious face of Arthur's is rather amusing, albeit not to Merlin; he's just tired of the prince making such a prat of himself and finding enemies everywhere he goes. Now he's got to polish his sword again.

Merlin shakes his head and shares a word with Lancelot: "This whole quest is starting to get ridiculous."

"Yes, quite," says Lancelot just as Arthur completely and fully without any doubt defeats the Black Knight, who's now been reduced to a torso and … well, just a torso. Merlin wonders how the man's not bleeding dry; maybe it's magic, or some medical miracle – Gaius really would've liked to know.

"Come on, let's go. Let's put as much distance as we can from this strange man," says Arthur, hefting his sword and grabbing Merlin's wrist, tugging him along. The rest of the company follows suit and disappear among the greenery, leaving behind a quite disappointed Black Knight.

"Hey, come back and finish the fight! Hey, coward! Coward!"

()()()

So they trek along further on the path and reach a river. It's wide and wild but fortunately there's a stone bridge, old and weathered; Arthur and his band of merry men (err, wait, not so merry anymore, after all this walking and no Grail in sight. But they're a band of men, at least) approaches it relieved that at least their feet won't get any wetter. For some reason there's an old man in gray cloak standing there on the riverbank and a queue of travelers has formed, and they're all impatiently waiting and stomping their feet. Arthur, unsurprisingly, pushes past them all to stand first in line.

The old man holds up his hands in a Stop right there!-motion. "You shall not pass this bridge!"

"Oh no, not again," sighs a very tired Merlin.

"You will let us pass!" demands Arthur with all the authority he can muster, albeit he too is running out of patience. "I am Prince Arthur of Camelot."

"I am the Keeper of the Bridge. To cross it, you must answer three questions," the man says, explaining: "Three, not two, nor five, or even eleven – no, three, purely that number – three questions, and no other number of questions-"

"Yes, yes, yes we get it!" shouts Merlin, aggravated, making wild gestures with his hands and completely ignoring the wide eyes he receives from the knights and prince at the sudden aggression. (The man better not be full of riddles like the dragon!) "Just ask the stupid questions!"

"Yes. The questions," the man says solemnly, steps a bit closer, first to face the prince who looks stoic and princely, as usual. "The questions. We begin with the first question. The first, not second or third - the first. What is the number of questions that I shall ask you from now on, after asking you this first question?"

"…Two. Yes, since that was the first question, and three minus one is two," answers Arthur after a slight pause.

"You figured that out all by yourself?" asks Merlin with mock-wide eyes and ducks just in time to avoid being hit over the head.

"That is the correct answer," says the Keeper approvingly and Arthur allows himself a smug grin.

One of the people in the queue seemingly doesn't like the fact that the prince and warlock has moved to stand first in line, despite being the last to arrive, and shoves Arthur's shoulder. "I was here first! Give me the next question so I can pass!"

The old man nods slowly. "The second question. The second question is important." He pins the person down with a steady gaze. "What is your favourite colour?"

"Purple."

Abruptly an invisible force grabs the speaker and lunches him off the bank, down into the dark abyss of the cold swirling river. "No! I meant yelloooow!" echoes a pained voice before there's a great splash below.

Gasping in horror Arthur grabs Merlin and pulls him back, closer to himself, ignoring the weird look the servant sends him. "Be careful!" he hisses. "Don't stand that close to the ledge!" The prince's pulse unwillingly speeds up in fear; will that be their fate if they fail to answer the questions correctly?

"Now. The final question. The third question – third, not second, or first – the third." The old man turns back to Arthur. "Say you have a coconut, from a foreign continent, but it had not been carried to Albion by travelers or traders, but a number of birds since it's not possible for the coconut to have traveled here by itself. How many swallows would you then need to carry a coconut all this way?"

Arthur opens his mouth to answer, but is cut off by Merlin, who is kind of confounded as some vital facts are missing from this question for it be properly answered. "What kind of swallows? European or African swallows?"

"I – I don't know." And so the old man is tugged off the bank and down into the river, leaving the bridge open and free for anyone to pass. A relieved sigh is heard from the queue, and they all walk over the bridge as one.

"What a stupid question," mutters Arthur on his breath, and they continue onward.

()()()

Merlin thinks at this moment, when they've finally crossed the stupid forest, that they must be near to finding the Grail now (whatever that is: he might've snoozed through that particular council meeting) and go home, to a proper bed, with proper food and a hot bath. Mm, a hot bath …

Of course he shouldn't have thought so. Of course not.

It is at this moment, that they come across wide hill and at its top is an old castle. The large doors are closed and none can be seen by the window. "Sire," suggests Leon, much to Merlin's relief, "it's been a long day. Perhaps we could seek shelter here."

"Yeah, I second that!" exclaims Gwaine and starts making noise with the coconuts again. So, deciding on this, the knights, prince and servant approaches the castle, with Gwaine hitting the coconuts together despite (or maybe because of) Arthur's constant complains of that he might go insane at the noise.

Suddenly a two heads peek over the edge of the wall, over the gates. "Who'z there?" a voice cries out in an odd accent.

"It is I, Prince Arthur of Camelot, some of my Knights of the Round Table and my servant Merlin," answers Arthur. "We seek shelter for the night."

"Do you bring 'orses?"

Arthur raises an eyebrow, not that the men can see that being so high up on the wall. "No, we don't bring any horses."

"But it zounded like you're bringing 'orses," says the voice suspiciously.

"Naw, it's only my coconuts," explains Gwaine and holds the two halves up for them to see, and then claps them together making clop-cloppeti-clop noises as a demonstration. "See?"

"Coconuts?" exclaims the second person on the wall, also with a nasal accent. "Pas possible! Coconuts come from zee African continent, that iz a very long way, and they cannot migrate on their own – and we don't have traders going there, non, ce n'est pas logical."

"Perhaps they were carried, by migrating birds. Like swallows," suggests Percival.

"Swallows? Are you silly, little man? European swallows cannot carry the weight of a coconut. You'd need three, four of them and who'd get them to cooperate?"

"What about African swallows? They'd be able to carry that, even though alone," says Lancelot confidently.

"But they do not come this far north, non non non. They do not like zee rain. And how do you know about them anyway, since they have never been 'ere?"

"Uh," answers the knight uncertainly, for he truly was not sure where he'd heard this: it might be a loose rumour from the street, something he's picked up on his travels before knighthood.

The first speaker cuts in, "Where did you say you come from again?"

"Camelot. Cam-e-lot," repeats Arthur now a tad bit annoyed (are they slow or something? They need to get inside before it starts raining and Merlin's feet get cold!).

"Camelot? Englishmen! No, we won't have you here, no. Go away! Leave!"

"Why?"

"Because you're Englishmen!"

"Pray tell, what is that?" asks the Prince who has never heard the word before.

"What you are, you nit-pickle! Englishmen, Britons, Cameloteans, same difference! Get out our zight! Your father's a hamster and your mother smelt of elderberries! I fart in your general direction!"

"I think that was an insult, sire," adds Leon unnecessarily.

This, naturally, starts a quite lively discussion and things getting thrown over the wall in attempt to drive the prince and his men away. (Involving stones, swallows and cows. Nothing could be more irrelevant.) Arthur really didn't like the way these people (the French, he believes Leon called them) are treating them. They're coming as guests, after all, not about to attack or anything!

Enough is enough. There's only that much a man can take before he must strike back. When a crossbow falls and lands on Leon's head with a thud, causing the knight to cradle the offended piece of weaponry muttering about 'Poos mistreatment of lovely crossbows, indeed', Arthur draws his sword.

"Enough!" he shouts. "Stop your insults and let us in, or we'll storm your castle!"

The attackers don't stop, as expected.

"Er, sire," murmurs sir Elyan, "is that really wise? We're only six armed men, against a whole castle—"

Meanwhile, Merlin thinks they're all being ridiculous. They'd better just move away a bit and make camp, even if the cold damp ground isn't that inviting, it's better than sharing a roof with these lunatics. So he starts backing off to do just that, he saw a pile of wood not far from here and a fire sounds very nice.

But a then, all of a sudden, a large fishing net falls over the wall and envelops him. Before he can react, the Frenchman holding the other end of the rope starts pulling and no matter how he struggles against the net, he just won't get out.

Why me? Merlin wonders miserably. Why do I have such terribly bad luck? Why not somebody else, like Leon, or Percival? Theynever get into troubles like these.

"Ha! In your faces, Englishmen! We've now got a captive!" And as soon as they've hauled a startled Merlin over the wall, the French start making a victory dance.

"Merlin! MERLIN!" shouts Arthur in panic and then in anger, face twisting in fury. "Let him go you bastards!"

"Na-na-na-na! Come try, silly Englishman!"

Arthur growls like an animal, fists tightening. Abruptly he turns to his knights, who share his darkened expression. "We've got to take the French's castle and rescue Merlin."

"We could siege them!" suggests Gwaine and curses the French with venom in his voice. Nobody lays a finger his best friend's head without consequence.

"Yes!" agrees the other knights, voiced by Leon. "We're few but if we built some kind of weapon…an element of surprise…" They huddle close behind a large boulder, pulling out from their pockets what items are at their disposal and spread them on the ground: a few knives, a map, some cheese and bread, two silver coins and a piece of rope. "If we take them at nightfall -" says Arthur, but is cut off by a slightly anxious voice from above their heads:

"NIGHTFALL? NO! YOU'VE GOT TO HELP ME NOW YOU PRAT!"

"All right, not nightfall, as soon as possiblethen," hurries the prince to correct himself and adds, louder: "Don't worry Merlin, we'll rescue you!"

"ALL RIGHT, I'LL BE WAITING RIGHT HERE THEN!"

Arthur turns back to his men. "Any ideas?"

The knights look at each other, thinking hard. Very hard. After a few silent minutes, Leon's eyes suddenly light up. "Actually, I think I've got a plan…"

()()()

Merlin bites his nails impatiently. "What's taking them so long…? They should be here by now!"

He hopes they're not planning on something extremely stupid, that'll get the hurt, though. Really, the French aren't that bad or even dangerous. They're just so terribly misunderstood, that's all (maybe it's those weird dishes which they're now trying to make him eat).

()()()

The plan involves some … constructing, so they withdraw back under the shadow of the trees. Just before walking out of sight, Arthur hears a voice over the wall:

"ARE YOU PLANNING ON RESCUING ME?"

"Yes, Merlin, don't worry!" the prince calls back. "We've got a plan!"

"OH, ALL RIGHT … THAT'S GOOD."

Conveniently they find an axe and saw and some nails and two hammers. Perfect. Now they can get started!

The plan is rather awesome, in Arthur's opinion. Even if the construction is both loud and large, and none of the knights will be swayed, for they are convinced that their master plan will work, and they won't let the French get away with insulting their honour or intelligence – and definitely not get away with taking Merlin from them!

After a surprisingly short amount of time (about ten or fifteen minutes) they're ready and start pulling the giant construction (they added wheels for convenience's sake) toward the castle. Albeit it's a very awesome plan, Arthur still isn't sure what the thing is supposed to imitate.

"A donkey," clarifies Lancelot (for the third time) as they approach the gray stone walls.

"Reminds a bit of you, actually, don't it princess?" says Gwaine and once ducks just in time to avoid getting smacked on the head. But how could anyone have resisted saying it?

The prince is not in the mood for jokes. "Be serious will you! They've got Merlin!"

"YES, COULD YOU PLEASE GET ON WITH RESCUING ME NOW?"

"We're on it, Merlin! Hang in there!"

Making a few final adjustments, they place the giant donkey right in front of the castle gates, before knocking loudly on said gates and then sneaking off to hide behind a rock. Then, apprehensively, they wait and watch as the French slowly open the gates: muttering about acadeau they inspect the donkey and start pulling it inside. Once it is, the doors close again with a heavy thud and a lock is snapped into place.

"What now?" hisses Arthur to Leon.

"Well, once the donkey is inside, Lancelot, Percival and I will jump out of it, swords at the ready. The French will be completely unprepared! And then we'll … What? What's with that weird face?"

"You complete and utter buffoon! You never said that anyone was supposed to be inside it!"

"… Oh. Oops." The knight looks terribly embarrassed. "I didn't mean to forget about that, sire, I really, really didn't."

Tearing at his hair in despair and wailing like a man about to face doom in bitter frustration, Arthur buries his face in his hands. This is so, so unfair.

"WHERE'S THAT RESCUE YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT?" echoes Merlin's voice over the wall. "I'M STARTING TO BECOME A TAD BIT EXASPERATED NOW. THE SNAILS TASTE NOTHING LIKE CHICKEN. AND NOW THEY'VE DRAGGED THIS GIANT WOODEN DONKEY INTO THE CASTLE … OR IS IT A DONKEY? NEVER MIND, THAT'S NOT RELEVANT."

"We're working on it, Merlin!" Arthur answers, trying to sound as calming as possible, he doesn't want his servant to get even more frightened than he surely must be right now in the hands of enemy soldiers. No, he must make sure that Merlin is soothed. "We're going to get you out of there! Just wait a little longer! Have faith!"

"I HOPE WELL YOU DO," is the answer. "YOU SHOULD BE GLAD I HAVE THIS KIND OF PATIENCE!"

()()()

Back on square one.

"I have an idea!" sir Elyan exclaims. "I just need some rope, wood, two horseshoes, something big and sharp like a big pair of scissors and a volunteer … It's gonna be awesome!"

"Well that we should be able to get our hands on," says Lancelot, hopefully.

()()()

The man looks delighted at the weary knights' hurried approach. "Oh, hello again, fellows. Another shrubbery, already? I haven't been this lucky in my affairs for at least five years!"

"Not a shrubbery," corrects Arthur, "but we'd like a pair of hedge-scissors."

The man glances at the pair in his hands with a frown. "I like these a lot."

"You'll get them back in one piece, I swear on my princely honour," the prince assures him.

"Hmm. All right then. Five silver pennies. No less!"

With a sigh, Arthur hands over the money. At this rate they'll come back to Camelot completely broke.

()()()

The knights and prince watch confounded as Elyan's mysterious plan takes physical form: a wooden structure growing bigger and bigger, with ropes criss-crossing wildly. The horseshoes, found at the bottom of Lancelot's pack, have filled the function of some kind of pulleys. They've been instructed not to touch anything. Which is a very hard order to follow when you're curious and prone to prod at things (like Arthur and Gwaine and pretty much all of them) and Elyan's berated them at least six times already for touching things they shouldn't.

"ARTHUR, WHERE ARE YOU? THINK OF ALL THOSE TIMES I SAVED YOU. WERE I EVER THIS SLOW?"

"He sounds rather aggravated, sire," Leon supplies but Arthur is still not very pleased with the knights and gives him the cold shoulder.

"I'm not listening to you," the prince mutters before answering the warlock; "We're working on it, Merlin!"

Inside he's churning with anger at his servant's captors: he swears that if the French have done any harm in any manner to Merlin, if they've touched him, he'll cut off their-

"ARTHUR, ARE YOU THINKING EVIL, REVENGEFUL STUFF AGAIN?" comes a berating cry. "I'VE TOLD YOU, IT'S BAD MANNERS!"

"Shut up, Merlin!"

"Sire," interrupts Elyan (thankfully) in that moment, wiping sweat from his brow. "It's finished."

()()()

The French are crowding around him, armed with forks.

"Try this, try this. It's zee best fromage bleu of zee whole Bretagne!"

"Really, I'm full already …" the young warlock stammers clenching his stomach. He's not eaten this much in years. "I can't eat any more."

"We've not even past the starters yet! What's with zee English, can't you stomach a simple meal? We're not onto zee main course yet!"

"Please," Merlin pleads, making large doe eyes which in the past always has worked – but his captors seems to possess total immunity.

But suddenly, dinner is interrupted by a high-pitched voice:

"…aaaaAAAAIII!"

Merlin nearly jumps out of his skin at the scream, followed by a crash, something heavy – a body? – landing right on the table filled to the brim with strange foods and cheese and wine. The table cracks and collapses onto itself and the body is covered by a now food-stained white cloth. It takes a moment for it to untangle itself, revealing a furious prince clad in full chainmail and armour and bright red cloak.

"Arthur!" cries Merlin, relieved. "You took your time. I've been waiting forever."

The prince quickly draws the servant into his arms; a much safer place than in the arms of any of those crazy Frenchmen, in Arthur's opinion. "Are you unharmed?" the man asks in a hushed voice, while pulling him backwards away from the French, who with furious expressions are closing in, forks raised high.

Merlin feels a little breathless after the impact with the prince's chest but then the arms around him are very comforting and warm. "Yes, yes, I'm fine."

"Come! I shall protect you from these dangerous men," Arthur says and steers him towards the edge of the wall, while fighting off the French bravely with his sword, and then grabs the rope hanging off the edge to start climbing down. Below a group of anxious knights are waiting for their return. "Let us leave this silly place."

()()()

When they finally, finally are back in Camelot – eight hours and fifteen minutes (Merlin counted carefully) after the whole thing with the French - Gaius raises the Eyebrow. The group looks very worn out for having been on a trip for not even three days. No coaxing is needed to convince Merlin to come to his chambers, take a bath and rest his feet.

"Did you find what you sought?" the physician asks curiously while preparing a bubbling potion.

"Nah," Merlin shakes his head as he collapses onto the bed his head hitting the pillow. Oh, a pillow! A real fluffy pillow, that's real, and fluffy and not soiled by dirt or roads or rain! Even if it's drained in the smell of herbs, he snuggles it. He's really missed pillows, and proper food, and a bed.

"Arthur kind of gave up about the grail thing (could you please someday when I've recovered from this immense tiredness, explain to me what that is, anyway?) when meeting the French."

"The who?"

"It was a mess, Gaius," Merlin informs him, gesturing wildly with his arms and hands, eager to vent his frustration mostly without taking any pauses to breathe between the sentences. "Arthur kept being such a giant prat, stubborn like a mule (well no surprises there) and it took him ages to get me away from that dreadful, horrible castle. And then there were the Knights of Ni, they were kind of creepy, althought Arthur managed to solve that and I got to warm my feet by the fire but of course it took only like ten minutes before they were soaked and coldagain. My feet, that is. And the Black Knight too, he was as stubborn as Arthur and they could probably have kept fighting forever but luckily, they didn't, since the Black Knight wasn't that good even if he was stubborn. Not to mention that bloody Keeper of the Bridge who wasn't at all as nice as the Fisher King's Keeper of the Bridge, I liked that guy better, even if I think Gwaine disagrees -"

"Stop and breathe! I cannot hear a word you're saying!" Gaius interrupts sternly and a red-faced Merlin does so, pausing and inhaling deeply.

The old man puts down the knife he's been using to cut the wood-sorrel onto the work-bench, staring at his ward in concern. "Merlin," he says seriously and takes seat on a chair next to the bed. "Start from the beginning, and tell me everything."