Title: Memoirs of Merlin
Author: Mori
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This interpretation of Merlin is mine, but the Harry Potter ideas incorporated in it are not.
Author's Notes: Bear with me as I battle my easily confused mind and feebly attempt to chapter this thing. Anyone recognize the ancient Chinese story about the dragon thingy?

Evening:

Well.

After traipsing through the woods for an age and getting a miniature forest stuck in my beard (complete with wildlife), I found him.

Guess who was with him?

O, you can't guess, can you? You're a piece of parchment. I shall have to spell some sentience into you in the absence of a riveted reader.

Nimue was with him.

"Merlin," she purred as I stumbled, aghast, into the clearing. "Does this belong to you?"

She was sitting on a log next to a bewildered Arthur with the grace and dignity as if she was seated on a throne. Arthur, the actual royal, tried not to look at her, but his eyes slid inexorably toward her every few moments before he tore them away again. I half expected him to greet me with a changed voice.

"I, er, forgive me, Merlin: I got lost," he stammered. The poor boy looked close to collapsing--whether from exhaustion, trauma, or puberty I'm not entirely certain.

"It's all right, Arthur," I told him in what I pray was a reassuring manner. I admit I wasn't looking at him when I said it.

"Merlin," Nimue breathed again. She flips her "r's" when she says it in such a lyrical way. "What are you doing with this young man?"

Arthur is hardly a young man, though I must admit at last that he is almost one.

"He is my pupil and friend," I replied.

"Why, Merlin!" she smiled.. "You never told me you had a ward."

At once, I understood Arthur's behaviour, growing suddenly unable to meet Nimue's silver-blue eyes. I looked elsewhere, everywhere, anywhere but at her. I stared intently at Arthur's left ear, which caused him to turn around uncomfortably to see if I was looking behind him (staring at someone's left ear, I discovered in my merry youth, is a wonderful way to bother them). I shifted my gaze to the boy's hair instead, noting with pleasure that it was sandy brown, not at all like his half-sister's natural near-black.

"Well, I, er, we'd best be off, Arthur m'lad," I muttered.

Arthur leaped to his feet and eagerly moved to my side. We turned to leave, but Nimue caught my arm.

"Wait, Merlin. I must speak with you."

I don't recall sending Arthur ahead or sitting down on the log with Nimue gazing dazedly into her icy eyes, but there I was. She leaned unnecessarily close, stunning me with the scent of lilies. I was completely and regrettably enthralled.

"I know you fought on my behalf with the council," she murmured mellifluously. "And I'm so grateful to you for it. Yet, I wonder, may I ask of you another favor?"

"Hngh," I gasped.

She took that as a yes, grinning so beautifully that the sun dropped in the heavens to better see the beam that outshone his own.

"Because I am not allowed to sit on the council and learn of new magic there, would you teach me what you know?"

I blinked, regaining a bit of intelligent thought. "Wh–what?"

Nimue leaned so our shoulders touched, her hair brushing my arm. "You're so wise! You are undoubtedly the best of the council. Could you not show me a little of your extensive knowledge?"

Ah! She had appealed to my ego, and Archimedes wasn't there to keep it in check. I was already light-headed–now my head swelled to a size that rivaled Morgan's.

"I–I'd love to," I said without thinking.

Then Nimue did a very un-Nimue-ish thing: she squealed like a young girl and hugged me excitedly. It was not a seductive or loving embrace. She was genuinely thrilled. I blinked again, shock further clearing my mind and deflating my head. I was able to learn briefly what was going on in that strange mind of hers.

I saw her come upon a flustered Arthur in the forest, approaching him amiably but with the air of a cat stalking her prey. She asked him conversationally–more like an interrogation–who he was and what he was doing here. He told her he studied with Merlin, and hope of likewise learning from me danced through her mind. Only she wanted to learn magic so she could–

Nimue suddenly released me, composed again as if the hug had never passed. The light in her face and eyes was gone. I had been shut out.

If she has taught herself Occlumency, what knowledge can I really offer?

When I caught up with Arthur, I told him we'd skip today's lesson and move on to history next time. He seemed both disappointed and relieved. I returned home and collapsed in this chair, feeling drained. Odd. I've hardly done any magic today. Surely seeing into Nimue's mind didn't undermine my energy? No. I fear it is Nimue herself that has that weakening effect.

Perhaps I won't get Archimedes a female owl. He'd be much better off a bachelor.

Following Morning:

Curses. I cannot stop thinking about Nimue and possibly teaching her. That would be most odd, instructing a peer. Really, I should stop pondering it. It can't possibly be that difficult or that awkward.

Mid-Morning, Same Day:

I sincerely hope she does not show up in a green velvet dress.

Mid-Morning, Moments Later:

Not that I would find that distracting. It would merely be cumbersome and might catch fire while working at a cauldron.

Moments Later:

I just realized we never agreed on a specific time. Suppose she just—shows up?

And I still have twigs in my beard.

Moments Later:

Not that I care.

Moments Later:

Archimedes is sitting on my comb. May he choke on his next owl pellet and die!

Midday:

Not that I needed the comb. It's just a very fine relic, an ivory trinket I picked up in Africa while studying the beasts there. Although I really don't approve of the slaughter of animals for their tusks, it was a gift. And really, there are plenty of creatures roaming that continent, it's not as though they will be—

Oh, dear. I must send word to my compatriots there about possible dangers of overhunting.

Not that they will listen to me.

No one does.

I think I'll have rice for lunch. Nice, grainy dish I picked up during my travels in the orient. The plants don't do well in England's climate, but a little bit of magic and they thrive.

Rather like that many-headed Fireball I had to thwart while in China. The monster thrived and terrorized the countryside for an age. Honestly, if that man was going to breed beasts that wildly, he deserved to have a few of his daughters eaten.

Archimedes is giving me a reproachful look. I didn't mean to sound cruel! His daughters were inane, subservient little dolls. Rather like elves, actually, only slightly taller and clothed in silks. And I did get rid of the dragon! Quite simply, I might add. The beast was most stupid—clearly not every head was equipped with a brain—and mistook reflections in wine for real humans. That overly heroic lad didn't need to lash out so viciously with his sword, however. Dragon blood is impossible to get out of one's hat, so now mine has an unattractive red stain on the rim.

After Lunch:

Still, I'm the most powerful wizard in the country. You'd think I would be able to get rid of a simple stain...

And no, this has naught to do with Nimue, so Archimedes can stop winking at me.

Moments Later:

Can owls wink?

Perhaps I imagined it.

Moments Later:

By my beard, he did it again!

What an irritating familiar I have. Icarus was much better company, if a bit foolishly brave. But I have settled down, and I cannot ask a wild falcon to reside in a dilapidated cottage. Merlins must soar free!

Even this Merlin. I fully intend to resume my worldly wanderings once Arthur is seated soundly on his throne. I may not be able to travel as quickly as I once could across land, but my magical ability has improved greatly and may render journeys on foot unnecessary. Icarus, as always, can ride thermals high above us insignificant humans. I may have to transform and join him, though that would hinder transport of my various tools and articles.

Alas, I'm growing nostalgic. I remember cavorting across the country with my loyal falcon perched on my shoulder as a boy no older than Arthur, committing mild acts of chaos and never getting caught. Somehow, word of my powers still reached the king, who was eager to use my blood for the foundation of his castle. That was an unpleasant experience, believing I would be killed and talking my way out of it. Talk, I have found, can move people more than swords or spells. Words have a great power that can be used for good to build a kingdom or for ill to destroy it.

My, that is an unhappy thought. Camelot has yet to be founded and I'm fretting over its decimation. With Arthur as king, how could anything go wrong?

Evening:

Unless Morgan was queen.

I shudder even to write it.

Fortunately, she and Arthur are related, and she could not possibly join with him to gain the power she craves.