Chapter Six: Two's Company Three's a Crowd ..or not
Arthur awoke in a comfortable bed. The house was quiet, the only sound was birdsong outside the window. He enjoyed the feel of the cushioned carpet under his bare feet and pulled soft clothing from a small closet. This age certainly was one of comfort. He went curiously poking about the house, calling softly for Merlin, feeling somewhat shy. There was no warlock to be found nor even a paranoid pet. He had obviously gone out. The king stepped out into the late morning sunshine and wandered a path until he finally spotted Merlin sitting in a garden patch, rolling a ripe strawberry between his fingers, staring into space.
"Merlin," he called softly but received no response from the warlock, the fierce little fire-breather on his friend's shoulder, though, acknowledged his presence with a threatening chirring growl.
"Merlin," he repeated, laying a hand on his friend's unoccupied shoulder. Merlin twitched and looked up.
"You're here," he said wonderingly. "You're really here?"
Arthur frowned slightly and squatted beside him, keeping a firm grip on his shoulder.
"I'm here."
"I thought it was a dream."
"You put me in the room next to yours, why didn't you come check?"
"I was afraid." …that you wouldn't be there didn't need to be said.
The dragon nuzzled his cheek and Merlin responded automatically, reaching up to press him closer.
Arthur was nervous. He'd never known Merlin to be afraid or so ..lost. Striving for some normalcy, he responded, "I know I was a bear before breakfast, but I hope I wasn't so bad you'd fear waking me now."
The strange, dreamy quality in Merlin's eyes gradually cleared and he grinned.
"You were a bear after breakfast as well, Sire."
"King's prerogative, Merlin. Now what say we have breakfast? These berries look good."
Merlin eyes flashed, bringing a bowl sailing toward them from the house.
As soon as the bowl was full, Arthur slung his arm around Merlin's slim shoulders, earning a surprised and gratified smile from his friend, and not minding much as the dragon nipped peevishly at his sleeve before flying on ahead.
"Don't worry," Merlin teased, "You won't have to subsist on strawberries. I'll do us a fry up."
The Once and Future King marveled at the ease of cooking in the modern age. Everything smelled so much cleaner and fresher without the smoke of a cook fire permeating everything. It was much faster too. The heat for the pans was instant. Amazing! The cold apple juice from the fridge was disconcerting, though. He waited for it to warm up a little. He enthusiastically dug into the eggs, bacon, toast and sausages but stopped to chew and watch as Merlin put a bit of some reddish-orange sauce on his eggs and put a tiny cup of the sauce on the plate of sausages for his pet.
"What is that?"
"It's Tabasco sauce. A sort of spicy sauce to put some kick into bland food. Penn loves it although he gets a little tipsy if he drinks too much of it."
Arthur's curiosity was piqued. "Could I try some?"
"Sure, I guess. You want to be careful and just use a tiny bit though because it's quite, um, quite strong."
Arthur dribbled some across a forkful of egg and bit in. Two seconds later he threw the fork down, spitting and swearing. Merlin laughed and apologetically offered him some more toast.
Apparently the fiery sauce was meant to be consumed only by dragons and their lords.
After breakfast, they wandered down to the lakeshore to sit in the sunshine and toss pebbles in the water. They watched as Penn swooped above the water, sometimes tucking his wings and diving beneath the surface only to shoot up again a moment later leaving a shimmering, falling trail of droplets.
The warlock was the first to break the silence.
"What was it like where you were?"
Arthur glanced at him and rubbed his cheek thoughtfully before answering.
"I'm not really sure. It was very odd. I haven't actually been awake for long. I have the feeling that time passes strangely there. I have a memory of passing by people we'd known. I think I saw your mother and father, they seemed happy together. Gaius and the knights too, I think, and Guinevere." He stopped and swallowed. Her loss was fresh. Merlin gripped his shoulder. Arthur cleared his throat and continued, "They send their greetings and love. There may have been others. I don't know, it was all very dreamlike and strange." He shook his head and barked an uneasy laugh. "I'm not entirely sure it was real, but the one person I know was real was the Lady, my guide. She waited with me through a cycle of seasons and then brought me through the door."
"The Lady?" Merlin's voice was quiet.
"Yes."
"Was she beautiful and kind? Lovely dark hair and gentle smile?"
"Yes."
"Freya," Merlin whispered.
"She loves you, you know."
"It's mutual."
—oOo—
This new life was, at times, disturbingly strange and Arthur often found himself at a loss as to what to think or do. For instance, one Saturday morning, Arthur wandered into the living room scratching his chest and yawning to find the resident warlock and accompanying pet dragon sprawled on the sofa together watching "cartoons", a fast moving pictorial meant for the entertainment of children. Colorful cereal was scattered around and, as he watched, the dragon staggered drunkenly away from a tiny cup of hot sauce only to collapse into a soft cushion.
"You should've named him after Gwaine, the way he slurps that stuff down."
"It helps settle his stomach after he eats too many marshmallows," Merlin responded absently.
"Then make him cut back on the marshmallows."
Merlin and Penn shot him identical pouty glares.
Arthur gave up and watched the two magical creatures on the sofa continue to crunch sugary cereal.
Finally, after a few weeks of adjustment, life at the cottage had settled into a comfortable pattern but the unspoken truce between Merlin's two friends remained fragile.
While it was ridiculous and unflattering, Arthur had to admit that he and the pet dragon were jealous of each other. Penn was much better at comforting Merlin when he became quiet and withdrawn and seemed to hold such episodes against Arthur as though it were all his fault. Penn was obviously upset that Arthur got to go out and do things with Merlin like visit the village and go shopping. He also couldn't exactly chime in during their long conversations about world events and history. Judging by the baleful glares and snorts of smoke, Penn wouldn't have had many good things to say to Arthur anyway.
It was on a Wednesday that things between them came to a head.
"Merlin?" Arthur called. He was ready to be done with his assignment studying world events of the 1800's and so headed to the kitchen for a snack. In the living room, he came across Merlin napping on a reclining chair in the sunshine. He'd been painfully aware that many of his history lessons led to sleepless nights for his friend. Sometimes the conversations drifted into silence when the warlock was lost, wandering in memories he was unwilling or unable to relate and couldn't shake free. Those were times when only Penn could reach him and gently pull him back to the present. As difficult as he had found his adjustment so far, it was nothing to Merlin's lot. He quietly slipped past the slumbering warlock to the kitchen. Surely he was competent enough by now to figure out a snack.
Aha! A bagel! The round bread was far better toasted. Unfortunately, although his studies of the industrial revolution helped him understand the rise of machines in daily life they did not prepare him to actually use a toaster. Having watched Merlin work the machine, he realized that minute adjustments were required to make the thing toast bagels properly. He looked around for help and spotted his miniature nemesis.
"Excuse me," he addressed Penn. "Could you toast this a bit for me?"
Penn obligingly swooped over and burnt it to ashes.
"You little monster!" Arthur cried, royally outraged. "You think you know what it is to be a prat? I was in training to be a royal prat from the moment of my birth, you can ask Merlin…oh wait. I guess you can't," he finished nastily.
Penn leaped at Arthur spitting a thick plume of white hot flame. Arthur swiped a large frying pan from the counter to shield himself and pointed the flexible water nozzle from the faucet at the ferocious little menace before releasing a full pressure spray.
A strangled shout interrupted their battle. Penn angled his wings tightly and shot out of the kitchen. Arthur dropped his makeshift weapons and followed close behind. Merlin lay caught in a nightmare, struggling and moaning. Arthur pulled up short as the dragon began a strange sort of crooning, rubbing soothingly against Merlin's cheek a few times before nestling down over his heart. As the soft chirring and crooning continued, Merlin sighed, quieted and drew in one last stuttering breath before settling into deeper sleep.
"It's you." Arthur sounded stunned.
The dragon ignored him, never ceasing his lullaby.
"You're the one they sent. I thought she meant a person but it's you."
Merlin heaved another contented sigh. Arthur came closer and quietly knelt beside the recliner. He watched the little dragon work his magic, soothing their friend for a few minutes.
"Thank you," he murmured, then added just above a whisper, "I'm grateful to you for taking care of him. I should apologize. I'm sorry for everything I've said or done that was disrespectful to you. I guess I finally understand. You're not just a pet, are you. You take care of him. You're his caregiver and companion. "
Penn responded with a proud look of acknowledgement and snuggled closer to Merlin's heart. Arthur gently brushed a stray bit of fringe back from Merlin's forehead and left them in peace.
—oOo—