"The Hidden Marks of a Forgotten People" (Rose)
My devastation has set in heavily. Merlin's soft, sweet voice breaks the barrier of my thickening loneliness, "I know it hurts, and I wish I could say the pain goes away, but it never really does. You, however, will come to tolerate it. You will be a stronger person because of what has befallen you. I know it. You're going through this for a purpose, and maybe, someday you will see what it was. There are things in life we do not understand, and perhaps, that is because we are not meant to. Please, trust me when I say, things will get better- I promise." I move my head up and down against his chest in a nod.
"I do trust you," I whimper, "But, please, take me away from here. I want to leave. I cannot bear to be here any longer than I need be," I beg, more tears trying to force their way out in a harsh manner.
He squeezes me soothingly, "Alright; but first, a proper burial for, at least, your father."
"Okay," I choke back a sob as he removes his grasp on me and I force myself to release mine on him.
He starts to collect my father's body to bring it back to his steed. "Merlin," I speak out, and he faces me; but I cannot find the words to say, so I let my eyes bore into his, mine slowly filling back up with tears. I concentrate, trying to link my mind to his. I feel a strange sensation. I know the connection is made. 'One last thing before we go...' I tell him. Even my head voice sounds grief-stricken.
'What is it?' His voice fills my head.
'Do you have a knife, or something sharp suitable for carving?'
I hear him again. 'Would magic suffice?'
'I'm sure no one will mind,' I substantiate.
He tightens his lips into an embarrassed smile of sorts, and then runs off to fetch the horse. When he returns, he asks, "What is it that you need me to do?"
I swallow, "Mark the names of the dead on the branches of the great oak which was the focal point of our home- one branch per family. I will guide you through it. On the base of the trunk, put 'Here subsided the race of a forgotten people.'"
He nods, and chants the same spell with slight variance after I spoke each name. When we've finished, I step back and peer up at the fine cuts that only a trained eye would see. I had him translate the line for the trunk into an ancient script that strictly learned people would even recognize. This is odd, yes, but traditional and fitting. "Thank you, Merlin."
"Old Haunts and New Perception" (Merlin)
She thanks me, and I respond with a simple, but heartfelt, "You're welcome." We both stand, gazing at the large tree's branches with the specially etched words. "Let's get going," I say after a moment of silence.
"Alright," she says quietly. I feel cold as I hoist her father up and onto my loyal beast. I don't get back on the saddle; instead, I lead the animal by the reins.
"You can ride if you want, I just didn't figure-" I stop there.
"I'm fine, don't worry about me," she speaks in a small voice.
'Oh, but I do,' my mind retorts. Keeping this to myself, I try to remember the shortest route to where I want to guide them.
Feelings of dread seize my heart as we near the place that, not so long ago, I had to send off someone that I loved.
"Here we are," I say after a good deal of walking. We are very near to the edge of the wood that surrounds the lake near the city of Camelot. I wrap the reins loosely around a low branch. I am not worried simply because my horse is very mild tempered and not into running away from the person who gives him oats every day.
I can see Rose step out towards the lake in my peripheral vision. "What is this place, Merlin?"
I follow her out into the open, "This is the Lake of Avalon."
"It holds significance to you," she says knowingly.
I try to play things off, "Well, yes; it is the dwelling place of the Sidhe."
"I know this. That's not what I meant," she shakes her head. "I can see it possesses the power to evoke strong feelings from you."
I fight off the tears prickling my eyes, threatening to spill.
"Come on, Merlin," she comes closer to me, "Remember that you can tell me anything."
I breathe out hard, through my nose in a lame attempt to control my emotions. "This is where I laid a Druid girl, Freya, I rescued to rest."
She stands at my side, facing me, searching my face, "You loved her."
"Yes," I admit as a tear slides down my cheek, which I quickly swipe away.
"Oh, Merlin," she places a hand on my arm, rubbing it softly. I am temporarily able to abstain from shedding any more pointless tears. "Sit down," she kneels, and then positions herself comfortably on the ground, patting a spot next to her. I follow suit.
I stare out at the water, watching it glisten in the late afternoon's sun. In its light, I recall the fire I set to Freya's body as she floated away, separating from me. I set a part of my heart to rest with her that day. Another tears falls, hitting my lap. This time, Rose plays the part of the shoulder to cry on. "Tell me about her," she requests.
Before I know what I'm doing, I tell her everything. I start with how I came across Freya in that cage and continue on to how I got her out and the nights we spent together. This led to speaking of her curse and what she had done, which led to the story of her end. I choke up, just a little, "I'm sorry; I'm making a fool of myself." I push my fingers into the corners of my eyes to prevent any further tears.
"It's okay to cry, Merlin," she puts her arm around me. She places her left hand on my left forearm, which is resting on my leg. "Never apologize for caring. Don't ever do it. Saying you're sorry is making a promise to make an effort not to do it again. What would become of you if you ceased to care?" She doesn't wait for an answer, which is ideal, considering I don't have one. "Well, I'll tell you. You would no longer be Merlin. One of the things that define us is what we care about in the world. If you have a love for material things and money, truth be told, you would most likely be shallow. If you put others before yourself, you are kindhearted, but sometimes that also makes us lonely. For kindhearted people who do things for others simply to do them, do not expect others to repay them in any way, shape, or form. They are often hurt when they seem abandoned by the same people they would give their lives for. They don't cry for themselves; they think of it as a selfish doing. I am here to tell you, there is a time to cry. Don't wait for your emotions to all boil out over something trivial, because, trust me, it will happen. You have a better heart than most, Merlin. Don't give that up over a few well-earned tears."
The things she's said feel like the best kind of hug from a person full of so much love, it radiates from them, and a punch in the gut all at the same time. She is right. I can't keep this in. I can't shut off my just my negative emotions. It's all or nothing. If I do that, I'll become numb to all of them, even the pleasant types. "I won't," I mutter through a new set of tears. I cry harder than I have in a while, letting out all the contained suffering from the past two years. She pulls me close, letting me rest my head on her shoulder. She runs her fingers through my hair the way a mother might comfort her child. She doesn't just try to calm me, but she cries with me. It feels wonderful and horrible all at once.