I think this may be my last pre-written chapter, so I guess this is my cue to sit down and get to work. I sense a conflict in my near future because I'm spending this week with my sister, so I may or may not have the time to write another chapter. You'll know by next Sunday whether or not I'll be able to update on Saturday, lol. Anyway, happy Thanksgiving, y'all! Even if you don't celebrate, I wish you a happy week anyway, and I hope you take a moment to reflect on what you are grateful for in your life :)

To Give Away a Child

Yesterday, Gwaine had been pretty much in the slums, emotionally speaking. He kept thinking about Merlin. He had been terribly worried for his friend, uncertain whether he had died or not. He had been furious when he heard that Arthur called off the search, but when he had time to think on it, he understood Arthur's reasoning, and he understood that Arthur was in just as much pain as he was if not more. Gwaine suspected that Arthur had only given him this mission- shutting down the slave mine- to get him away from the castle and escape from his sorrow for a bit. He was grateful for it then, but even more so now because, well, he had found Merlin!

Gwaine was not entirely sure what to make of the whole situation, but he was glad to have Merlin back. A bit battered and emotionally scarred, maybe, but alive, nonetheless. Gwaine did worry about Merlin's health for more than one reason, but there was little he could do about it at the moment. It was a full day's ride back to Camelot, but Gwaine was currently carting Merlin over to a nearby village. As it turned out, Merlin had a baby. Merlin had mentioned the baby's mother dying, and the way he said it made Gwaine believe that Merlin had been close with the mother. Their relationship was unclear, and Gwaine was not going to press for details- at least, not yet- but Merlin was obviously upset about her death. In any case, Merlin had a baby, and it needed a woman to tend it. As such, Gwaine had dragged Merlin onto his horse with him and rode as fast as he could to where he knew there was a town waiting. Normally, Gwaine would not go to a village outside of Camelot's borders for help, mostly for diplomatic reasons, but since they had the baby, he figured that an exception could be made.

Merlin carried the baby in his arms, trying to distract it from its apparently empty stomach. Gwaine kept one arm wrapped around his friend to prevent him from falling since Merlin was not holding on to anything and everyone knew about his imperfect balance. He noted that Merlin was thinner than he had been before, which could only be expected considering that he had been confined to the life of a slave probably for the past several weeks, but seemed especially dangerous for someone of Merlin's stature. He also could not help but notice that Merlin stank. His clothes were tattered, dirty, and bloody. His hair had grown an inch or so and was considerably more unruly than usual. All of it was, again, only to be expected, but after the comforts of living as a knight of Camelot, it was probably only the memory of his old life that kept him from saying anything about the smell and ratty appearance. Besides, it was not like Merlin could do anything about it. It was entirely possible that he did not even notice the problem.

Gwaine pulled on the reins to stop the horse at the edge of town when they arrived. He and Merlin slid off the horse's back, and Merlin immediately started hustling down the main road, calling for help. The baby squealing in his arms probably informed the people what kind of help they were seeking. Gwaine tied his horse to a tree and jogged after Merlin, catching up just as a woman and a couple of men came out to meet them.

"What's going on?" one of the men asked, apprehension warring with concern in his posture and tone.

"Please," Merlin panted, presenting the child, "my baby, he's starving. I didn't know where to go for help."

My baby? Gwaine raised a brow at that. Not 'this baby', but 'my baby'. Obviously, it could not actually be Merlin's baby; he was not missing nearly long enough for that. Gwaine was also pretty sure that he would have heard something about it if Merlin had been seeing a woman. So, not really Merlin's. Why claim it, then? Gwaine evaluated his friend once again, and there was suddenly little doubt in his mind that Merlin had been helping take care of this babe before the mother had died. He was too attached and mindful to have only been caring for it for the past day.

"You came to the right place, dearie," the woman shoved past the two men to approach Merlin, and she extended her arms towards the child, "give him here."

Merlin obeyed; she took the baby and walked away. Merlin watched her go with anxiety still lacing his features. She entered a nearby house which Merlin did not take his eyes away from until Gwaine brushed shoulders with him and one of the other men started speaking.

"That's Margie," he said, sounding almost exasperated, "my wife. We recently had a baby of our own, and Margie's always had a generous spirit."

The man, who did not appear particularly young, as his brown hair was already greying, began to usher Gwaine and Merlin towards what must have been his house. His companion, a younger-looking man, gave them all one more wary glance before leaving them alone. They went into the house that Margie had entered, their guide closing the door behind them. It was the late afternoon now, and the light filtered neatly into the house. Margie's husband led them over to a table and they sat when he gestured for it. Out of the corner of his eye, Gwaine could see Margie tending the baby that Merlin had given her, its cries having quieted. He also noticed that Merlin was having trouble tearing his eyes away from her.

"I'm Goran, by the way," the man introduced himself while taking a seat.

It was only polite to answer in kind, so Gwaine spoke, "I'm Sir Gwaine of Camelot, and this is my friend, Merlin."

"Camelot, eh? What brings you to these parts?"

"King Arthur sent me to shut down a mining operation involving slaves," then Gwaine lightly clapped Merlin's shoulder, "that's where I found my friend, and the baby."

Goran grunted in sympathy and Margie wandered closer to ask, "No mother?"

Merlin shook his head forlornly, "She died yesterday."

As if in response to the statement, the baby started to whimper. Margie immediately set to soothing it.

"His name is Rowan," Merlin informed her with the slightest sparkle in his eyes.

Margie offered a small smile and started using the babe's name in her attempt to calm him. It seemed to work, so the men's attentions returned to each other.

"So, you planning to stick around?" Goran asked.

"No," Gwaine instantly answered, "we will leave just as soon as we're sure the baby's taken care of."

And in that moment, Gwaine realized that the baby was receiving the desired care. There was little reason to stay any longer. Margie was looking like she may have been thinking the same thing. Gwaine was ready to leave should Goran give the word. Beside him, Merlin shifted his weight.

"Well," Margie put out a thoughtful tone full of compromise, "if he ain't got no mother, I'd be happy to take him in."

Goran glanced at her reproachfully, and she stared back at him with a challenge that wilted whatever had been on his mind. Goran nodded minutely to her. Gwaine turned to Merlin, expecting to see a smile, but finding a frown. Merlin looked unsure about the proposition. My baby, Gwaine remembered.

"Merlin," Gwaine put a firm hand on Merlin's shoulder, hoping to convey his feelings through it—Merlin, I know you've been taking care of this baby, but you can't anymore; it needs a mother, Margie here is fit and willing, and you are in no shape, no position, to take a child.

Merlin met his eyes and seemed to catch the message that Gwaine could not say aloud. He deflated a little as he nodded consent. Gwaine suspected that he knew it would be for the best. He gently patted Merlin with the hand that was already on his shoulder.

"I suppose we'll be on our way then," Gwaine stated, moving to a standing position.

Merlin followed almost somberly. Gwaine tried to sympathize, but it was a difficult thing. He was not attached to the baby. In fact, he would prefer that it stay with Margie. It would be a load off for Merlin, and the baby would be cared-for. Goran extended his hand, and Gwaine shook it. Merlin walked over to Margie.

"Thank you," he said to her before turning to the baby, "Goodbye, Rowan."

Merlin ran his hand over the baby's head and then Gwaine began to lead him toward the door. Merlin walked stiffly and stared resolutely forward. Gwaine could see how hard this was for his friend, but it was for his own good.

It just figured that at that moment, the baby started crying again. Merlin froze, and Gwaine could see the conflict raging inside his friend. They were almost to the door, dang it. The baby's cries started to escalate instead of calm as Margie tried to placate him. Merlin's entire body seemed to tremble, his jaw clenched, and his shoulders tightened.

"I can't do it!" he finally exploded in a half-shout, "I can't."

Gwaine closed his eyes as regret flooded him. By the time he turned around to face the inside of the house again instead of the door, the baby had found its way into Merlin's arms. Merlin held it close and started speaking to it; the effect was almost immediate. The screams went away, not even a whimper left in their wake. Gwaine was surprised at this, but he was even more surprised to see that Margie was looking at Merlin with nothing more than understanding and sympathy. There was no irritation or resentment over his reclamation, nor even shock. She put her hand on Merlin's arm, and he raised his eyes to meet hers.

"I know a few ladies," she pronounced, "I'll get you some things for your baby."

Merlin gave her a watery smile, and she departed the house. Gwaine approached his friend. He looked down at the baby and he honestly could not see what made Merlin so determined to keep it. He raised a brow and tried not to frown.

"Are you sure about this?" Gwaine murmured.

When Merlin turned his head to face him, he did not have to speak for Gwaine to know his answer. Gwaine needed only to observe the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes. The knight then recalled what it was that people had been muttering for as long as he could remember, and he was only now realizing that there might be some truth to it:

It is nearly impossible to give away a child.