Roaming the Magical Wilds
The First Day
Welcome to The First Day in which Merlin humbly faces mild rejection on all fronts and decides to take a holiday and the kingdom goes to bed completely unaware that this will be a very trying week.
It was a gorgeous morning and Albion was in full bloom.
Merlin breathed in deeply. He gave the guards a chipper nod and knocked on the door of the royal chambers. He had a standing breakfast invitation. The door opened only wide enough to allow the view of the king's face. Arthur radiated stress and tension, in direct contrast to Merlin's relaxed, cheerful air.
" 'Morning. Sorry about this, but Guinevere and I need to breakfast alone. We, uh, need some quiet."
"Ah. Rough time?"
The king's fingers flew up to massage the bridge of his nose as they had so often lately. Merlin understood perfectly. Gwen's difficult pregnancy was wreaking havoc on her emotions and Arthur was already on edge with a diplomatic nightmare. The trade negotiations with Mercia were low level but surprisingly full of headaches. Bayard, aging hard and ready to turn over the reins of Mercian leadership, was still wary of magic. And he had not been happy -no, not happy at all- to learn that Camelot's court sorcerer was that same skinny serving boy whose rash accusations had almost precipitated war those many years ago. All in all, Merlin was quite glad he wasn't in Arthur's shoes.
"It's fine. I'll just see you later," Merlin whispered reassuringly. The king reached out to clap him on the shoulder before closing the door.
Merlin swung around and headed for the kitchens. Speaking of aged rulers in Albion who weren't too fond of Merlin, entering the cook's clanging and clattering domain required the utmost patience and diplomacy. He was well known and respected but cook still made him feel like a trespasser in the kitchens regardless of whether or not his errand was sanctioned by royal decree. At this point in time, she was sure to be in full battle mode at the prospects of feeding the foreign nobles. Sure enough, as he reached for a ladle to fill his bowl with some porridge from the servants' communal pot, she menaced him with her 'smacking' ladle.
"Why're you back in here, you scamp? You're meant to take breakfast with their majesties."
"Um..not, not this morning."
"Ready to be shut of you, are they?"
Merlin felt a little hurt by her assumption.
"No, it's just.. Her Majesty is feeling indisposed."
"Right." She stood her ground and brandished her ladle. He backed away respectfully as she scooped him a small bowlful. He hitched his friendly grin in place and thanked her kindly although it did little to improve her mood.
"I don't have time to keep an eye on you so take that back to your room and don't let me catch you sneaking any of my biscuits on your way out!"
Merlin good-naturedly thanked her again for the porridge. Instead of heading for his tower room, he leaned against the wall in the corridor outside the kitchen and quickly wolfed the porridge, then, with a whisper and a golden gleam, sent the clean bowl and spoon back to the stack of dishes with a small 'pop'.
Where to go? What to do? Making a quick decision, he headed up to the walls and sucked in a deep breath as he emerged into the fresh morning air. The guards looked back and then traded glances.
"Everything quiet?" he asked. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the men grimacing. Perhaps his visits were becoming insultingly frequent.
"Yes, my Lord." One elbowed the other.
He sauntered along occasionally prodding at the wards. He'd long ago finished putting all the protection he could muster on the citadel and had rechecked them all again the day before.
The guard with the ready elbows muttered in sullen tones, "Makes you wonder what he thinks we're even here for."
"Shh!" hissed his fellow.
The man carried on, not bothering to lower his voice, "Makes you wonder how we ever got along without magic to wipe our noses."
The other guard cursed him, "Have a care, you fool, or your mouth will land us in the dungeons or worse!" He turned apologetically to Merlin. "I'm sorry, my Lord. It was a late night in the tavern. He doesn't know what he's saying."
"I understand. You have your job to do and I have mine. My wards will keep out the magical threats but they can't keep a weather eye out for trouble that's on the horizon or already here. We rely on you men for that. Camelot has always been in good hands." He turned a sterner glance on the other guard, "Keep your wits about you, late night or no."
The man gave a more respectful and subdued nod.
Where to go and what to do. I've got it! Gaius. Gaius always needs something done. Whistling cheerfully he made his way to the physician's chambers. As he approached the familiar door that stood ajar, some youthful whining met his ears.
"But why? It's not my turn, Gaius! I did it yesterday."
"You mean you went out lollygagging yesterday! If you'd brought back what was asked, there'd be no need to send you off again. This misfortune is of your own making and you very well know it!" It sounded like Gaius was at his wit's end with the youngest of his two new apprentices.
When Merlin walked in, the boy rolled his eyes and muttered, "Oh great. And here's Lord Perfect."
Merlin's brows scrunched in bemusement. Lord Perfect?
"Good morning! Did I hear that some herbs need gathering, Gaius? I'd be glad to go for you today. I'm at loose ends and herb picking actually sounds quite nice," he offered.
The boy quickly looked over at Gaius who shattered the boy's hopes with the stern raise of one eyebrow.
"No, thank you, Merlin. He must learn, just as you did."
The boy grumpily yanked the bag from the peg on the wall and swiftly headed out.
Gaius raised his voice after him, "And woe betide him if he comes back without the mugwort again!"
Merlin's eyes twinkled. Gaius grouched on, "That one complains far more than you ever did and the other exceeds your clumsiness." At those words, a pot containing some ground mixture slipped from the fingers of the gangly apprentice in the corner and fell to the tabletop, scattering the precious powder. Gaius cried out in frustration as the boy fumbled, trying to pick it up, scattering the powder further, blushing hard. The irate physician growled at the cringing youth. "For heaven's sake! Get the brush and sweep it up."
"No need," said Merlin kindly and with a flash of gold the dusty grains streamed back into the jar. The mortified apprentice sank to the bench with a whispered "thanks".
"You never gave me even a quarter of the trouble that these two do, Merlin," huffed his mentor.
Merlin snorted.
"That's not the way I remember it. Gaius, weren't you the one who told me that someday people wouldn't believe what an idiot I was? Perhaps you've forgotten as well." Merlin winked at the boy in a friendly way.
Gaius harrumphed fondly as Merlin gave the old man a hug.
"I guess I'll leave you to it." He waved goodbye and left.
The wandering warlock headed back into the main corridor and chanced to run into the harried king. Judging by his finery and the stormy countenance, Merlin guessed that the king was on his way to the council. The least he could do was lend him company on the way.
"How was breakfast?"
The king glared at him.
"Not enough sausages, then," Merlin joked, attempting to soothe him.
Arthur couldn't even bring himself to respond.
"What, no pithy comeback? Wow, Arthur, you really need to bash something."
"Or someone," the king replied. "Are you volunteering your services?" He slowed to a stop in front of the council chamber and took a deep breath, then released it slowly. "No matter, everything must wait until after this bloody meeting is over."
Merlin frowned.
"You don't have to do this alone, Arthur. I'm supposed to be your advisor, right? I'm sure I can-"
"If you're offering to attend the talks, let me stop you right there," Arthur said shortly. "I remind you that the Mercians are still nervous about magic and suspicious of you. So, no. No, thank you. I don't need any more complications."
Merlin gave him a contrite look, opened the door for him and with a bracing clap on the shoulder, sent the king on his way.
—m—
'Morning, Gilli!" Merlin bumped into his friend crossing the courtyard. The young man had several scrolls protruding from his bag. Evidently, he'd been visiting Geoffrey for a bit more research.
"Morning," he returned the greeting with a hint of reservation.
"You look like a man in a hurry."
"It's the guild meeting this morning."
"Oh, yes! I'm curious to see the outcome of it."
The magic guild had been discussing ideas for lighting the city at night. Gilli's pet project had been enthusiastically endorsed and he was flattered to have been entrusted with a leadership role.
He glanced up at Merlin and asked very nonchalantly, "Will you, uh, be attending, then?"
Ah. Merlin recognized the reason for his earlier reserve. Everytime he walked into a guild meeting, everyone immediately deferred to him even though he had declined a position on the guild's council.
"No! No thank you! I just lucked out of one of Arthur's meetings and I'm not looking to ruin my free time with another! I'm sure you have this well in hand. You just let me know how it goes later, will you?"
Gilli smiled unreservedly this time. "Sure."
They chatted amiably as they passed through the barbican and into the town.
With a "good luck!" slap on the back, Merlin sent him on his way and headed in a different direction.
He wandered through the lower town, nodding to friends and acquaintances. The tradespeople seemed in good spirits but were too heavily engaged in their day-to-day work to really stop and chat. It was odd, he thought, to be the one with nothing to do. He could only have dreamed about days of freedom just a couple of years ago but now had no idea what to do with himself. He spotted the school ahead and knew he really shouldn't peek in but he couldn't help himself. He was so curious about actual magical instruction. He ducked past the doorway and edged along the side of the house to eavesdrop through the window. The druids generally welcomed him with a kind of deference -which was painful in its own way- but the students reactions were a mixed bag. Some froze up and wouldn't practice while others wanted to skip their lessons in favor of having him show off, some others looked painfully embarrassed at their efforts. He knew they found him likeable enough and his abilities awe-inspiring but both he and they knew he couldn't relate to their struggles, not really, so beginning and mid-level instruction -which covered everyone at the moment- was left to the druids.
Through the open window he heard a student cry out in frustration while another gloated. The instructor's voice comforted the one and reprimanded the other.
"Your flame was small but it was real. Celebrate that, Diany. Conjuring a flame is basic but not easy. You know this as well, Mark. I'm sure you can relate to Diany's struggles. Bigger isn't always better. Your task is to learn control, not to compete against your neighbor."
"I've already mastered that! I want to do more! Something bigger and more exciting! Like Emrys!"
"You are hardly Lord Emrys and you haven't yet demonstrated control and finesse. You must respect the flames before you take the next step. Fire is not a toy. Please step away from Diany. It would be unfortunate if your flames collided. Strange things happen when uncontrolled magic mixes."
Merlin looked down at the small flame he was currently weaving through his fingers. Fire was easy. And it had always been a plaything for him as a small boy. He wondered if he'd unknowingly set a poor example. Perhaps this was why the instructor seemed to stiffen whenever he visited. He extinguished the flame and slipped back around the corner of the house.
He wandered aimlessly around town, exchanging greetings with friends and acquaintances, enjoying the hustle and bustle in the sunshine, finally making his way to the training grounds.
Merlin handed water to Gwaine and Leon and joined in critiquing the newer knights' skills. After all those years spent on the training grounds as Arthur's unofficial squire, Merlin had developed a quick eye for proper form and technique even though he personally was still not great at handling a sword. Arthur finally made an appearance, obviously hoping to work off some of the tension of the morning. When the king finished warming up, Gwaine jogged out to meet him, leaving the commentary to Merlin and Leon. After a few minutes, Knights dropped their matches to gather and watch the incredible swordplay between the two best swordsmen in Albion. The form of the two warriors was impeccable and the swords danced and flashed. Gwaine made a dig about the king's flushed appearance. Mental focus was part of the game, after all. Such tactics didn't usually work on the king, so there were many surprised gasps when Gwaine landed a heavy blow to the king's side, sending him reeling to the left and down on one knee. Merlin made the mistake of observing, "His stance was too tight. It's down to all the stress."
Arthur snapped, "Will you shut up!"
"I'm just trying to help."
"You're not helping. You're being a nuisance."
The knights eyed the ground uncomfortably. They were always grateful for Merlin's mitigating influence whenever Arthur was on edge but it was clear that there was little he could do for the king today.
"We don't need your 'help'! Just leave!"
Merlin bit his lip in regret, nodded "sorry" and transported away in a glimmer of light and soft whirl of wind. The knights looked at each other. Ever defensive of Merlin and willing to take a chance on visiting the stocks, Gwaine knocked the already-guilt-ridden King upside the head.
—m—
Merlin arrived in his tower chambers and looked around critically. Nothing to fiddle with. No problems to solve. Well, the floor looked a little dusty. He decided to clean, since he had no manservant.
"I could get a bucket of hot soapy water, roll up my sleeves and kneel on the hard dirty floor for old times sake, but ...nah!"
It was done in a trice.
As the small swirl of dirt and dust sailed out the window, Merlin wondered aloud, "I wonder what good an epically powerful warlock is when there's no need for him." He looked around and muttered, "I guess it's time for a vacation. I don't feel like I need one but it looks like everyone needs one from me."
Merlin's enthusiasm for his plan grew as he mulled over possible vacation destinations and stuffed his pack with supplies. The possibilities were quite exciting, really. He changed into his most comfortable pair of well-worn trousers, softest faded tunic and most favorite neckerchief.
"I think that's everything… wait! A note! He'll kill me if I don't tell him I've gone." He shuddered, picturing a furious, red-faced king and quickly scribbled a note and set it in plain sight on the table before glancing around.
"Guess that's everything."
A small rune–inscribed chest caught his eye, then the Sidhe staff affixed to the wall. Then the collection of druidic medallions atop his wardrobe. "Oh yeah, 'don't want anybody messing with my things! It'd be just like the prat to assign me a servant while I'm gone. I'd come back to a hole blasted in the wall and a toad named George." He grinned before setting a seal on his doors and windows then transported to Aithusa's keep.
He made his way between the boulders surrounding the entrance and called to her with mindspeak.
"Aithusa?"
The white dragon roused herself from sleep and grumbled a reply.
"What is it, Merlin?"
Merlin approached and stroked her cheek.
"Nothing important."
The dragon groaned.
"A mid-day nap is my favorite thing and it is difficult to sacrifice it for 'nothing important'."
"Sorry. I just wanted to spend the afternoon with you. I was lonely for you."
The dragon nudged him in forgiveness. "To me that is not nothing, it is something important. It has been too long since we enjoyed the skies together."
"Yes," he grinned. "I was hoping to go flying if you feel up to it."
"I do, my friend."
"I've decided to take a little vacation so when we're done could you drop me off in Essetir?"
"It would be my pleasure."
Not long after, the pair could be seen soaring across the treetops.
—m—
Evening approached. The royal supper was delivered. Herbed salmon, mmm. Arthur hoped that maybe Merlin would show up for dinner as he sometimes did. He strode to the door and took a quick look up and down the corridor. No sign of the lanky warlock. He sighed. Merlin could pout with the best of toddlers. He returned to help Guinevere take her seat.
"Will Merlin be joining us?" she asked.
"I'm not sure but I think it unlikely. I didn't get around to asking what his dinner plans were."
"Oh." She sounded disappointed. "I was thinking of asking him if he knew of a safe way to help me sleep more comfortably so I'm not such miserable company for you."
"You could never be miserable company."
She smiled tenderly. "One of the things I love about you, Arthur, is your courtly kindness but sometimes your manners are so impeccable that it also makes me wonder if you really mean it." She sniffed. "I feel like I've done nothing but add to your burdens this past week."
"Nonsense, my love," he responded, leaning over to kiss her but before he could land the kiss, she leaned away from him.
"I'm sorry. Could you.. could we.."
"Yes? What is it?"
"Could we have a different dinner? The smell of the salmon is making me feel ill. I'm so sorry!" Her tears were welling up. He sighed again and gestured to the servant. Yes, Merlin's company would have certainly lightened the atmosphere this evening but, he supposed, after his poor treatment of his friend it would probably be too much to hope for.
I'll make it up to him tomorrow.
—m—
As the glowing sun finally dipped below the horizon, Merlin slid down from Aithusa's shoulders onto a patch of familiar farmland. "Good hunting, my friend," he murmured as the white dragon launched into the sky.
He cast a contented glance around the sleepy village before striding toward the most familiar cottage.
There was a warm glow flickering behind the shutters and the smell of warming pottage and fresh bread. He breathed in deeply and leaned over the fence to pat the cow before knocking lightly on the door.
A warm voice full of love and joy came pouring out with the warm glow of candlelight.
"Merlin!"
His mother's arms encircled him.
At last, someone was glad to see him.
—m—
In the sealed chambers of Camelot's Court Sorcerer, a solitary beam of moonlight fell upon the small note, lying on the table.