Author's Notes: I don't know what I'd do without my reviewers. Probably never finish this story. I've had plenty of time to work on it, but when school starts I may not update as frequently--but I shall never abandon it! This next chapter was two days in writing. I'm quite fond of it, though I did tend to get off on detail and dialogue and subplots. I hope I managed to keep the story moving. The first half is about Arthur and includes many details from legend and from various versions of the Camelot story. Also, Merlin's values are like those of all four Hogwarts Founders, with the addition of a reverence for nature. The second half started when Kitty said she wanted more of Riordan. I sat down and tried to think up a history for him only to have the poet tell me everything. He wrote himself (literally, I suspect) and his part in the story fell immediately into place. Pay attention and you may notice more sketchy foreshadowing.While Nimue is more likable in this chapter, rather like Hermione after the troll incident, there is something foul going on in Kane's fortress.

Night:

That boy...

How could Camelot possibly fall under him?

He arrived dutifully an hour after noon, though he had not enjoyed our last lesson. He wore a finer tunic than usual, though it was a bit big on him, and his hair had been cut. I raised an eyebrow.

"Been made a page, have we?" I smirked.

"No, sir," Arthur drew himself up to his full growing height. "I'm a squire."

I shrugged. "Good practice, I suppose—what with you having your own order of knights and all."

"What?"

"Today's lesson," I began. "Shall take place outdoors."

Arthur brightened. "Then we're not just sitting inside?"

"No. Only Archimedes is to remain at the cottage. Someone must take all my messages, you know."

"I see," Arthur muttered (the way he always does when he has no idea what I mean).

"Come along," I instructed.

I walked off in the direction of the gorge, Arthur scurrying in my wake. I hope being a squire, however briefly, will correct his posture and gait. He does not currently cut a very commanding figure.

"What are we doing for today's lesson, Merlin?" he asked, stumbling a bit over a log.

"I am going to teach you values I deem imperative," I replied, surreptitiously moving a stump out of his way with a spell.

"Imperative?"

"Very important," I said.

"Oh," Arthur scampered over the place where the stump had been. "What values do you think are imperative?"

"A love and understanding of nature, loyalty, intelligence, ambition, and bravery. Kindness and acceptance come naturally to you, so I needn't teach those. I also value sly wit, but you're too straightforward and honest for that."

"Er, thank you?"

"Ah," I beamed. "We're here."

We stood on the edge of the gorge. Bold trees teetered on shelves of rock that descended to an uneven plain far below. Sunlight buffeted the stone until heat rose in invisible columns up through the middle of the miniature canyon. Both sides were too steep to climb unaided, and Arthur stood a safe distance back for fear of loosing his footing and sliding painfully down.

"Tell me, does the man you serve hunt?" I asked.

"Yes," Arthur frowned. "Of course."

"Not merely for food. Does he enjoy trophy hunting? Killing for the sport of it?"

Arthur saw where I was heading. "He is a good man! Only he—he thinks it's fun."

"He shoots birds out of the sky," I said tersely. "He does not appreciate the wonder of flight."

It was then that I began to weave a spell. As with the stump in the forest, Arthur did not notice. Preparing the spell silently was a bit trying, as I had to use thought in place of incantation. It took a while to ready my spell, but Arthur had launched into a speech defending his master. Perhaps I didn't have to teach him loyalty, either.

"And I just I don't think you should be speaking about him that way," Arthur was saying.

"And I don't think you should be speaking at all," I smiled. "Learn by living."

Arthur opened his mouth to respond but was quite suddenly turned into a hawk. He blinked bemusedly and glanced down at his feathers. His head snapped back upright so he could glare at me, but glaring introduced him to a hawk's amazing vision. He jerked his little hawk's head about, staring in all directions, amazed by his keen eyesight. I grinned, reminded of the first time I successfully turned into a merlin.

"Now you may learn the wonder of flight hands-on—er, talons-on," I told him. "Fly up to the lowest branch of that tree just over there, please."

Excited, Arthur spread his wings and attempted to take off. It was not as funny as when Archimedes fell yesterday, for Arthur really had no idea what he was doing, but it was endearingly comical. He flapped vainly on the ground for a time before he at last managed to flutter up to the branch. He glanced aside, embarrassed.

"Not bad for a first try," I chuckled, crossing to the tree (he was perched at my eye level).

He hid his head beneath his wing.

I laughed. "Come now! It's harder than it appears. It took me days to perfect."

He remerged, blinking at me curiously. I winked and changed into a merlin. I have done this countless times, but seeing Arthur's shock returned some of the old fun to it. I neatly joined him on the branch and winked again. I am beginning to believe only magical birds can wink.

After a session of demonstration and a bit of trial and error, Arthur was ready to fly out to the middle of the gorge. He had only been at it a few minutes, but he soared quite naturally. He seemed to be enjoying himself as he practiced changing direction when he unknowingly came upon one of the warm updrafts. He was startled at first, but soon realized the thermal's potential. He rode it ever higher. I circled a ways lower, remembering the rush of seeing what seemed like the whole world in miniature below you.

I executed a loop that said Isn't this fun? He replied with an experimental cry of joy.

Arthur sounded so like a real hawk just then that Icarus appeared, wondering whom this new intruder in his territory could be. I wheeled and came between them, conveying to Icarus that this hawk was my friend. Icarus thought at first I had befriended another wild bird, and was hurt until I made him realize that the hawk was actually another transformed human. Icarus dipped respectfully in the air, complimenting Arthur's natural flying ability. Arthur actually understood, returning the motion.

Soon after Icarus departed, I knew the spell was nearing its end. I signaled Arthur to follow me and swept into a dive.

No horse dead or living can match a diving bird of prey for speed. Arthur soon found this out and raced to beat me back to the tree. Noticing this, I tucked in my legs for better aerodynamics and won easily. After we had both landed, I ended the spell, returning us back to our natural forms. Arthur sat on the branch, swinging his legs excitedly.

"Do you now appreciate the wonder of flight?" I asked, lowering myself to the ground.

"Oh, yes!" Arthur gushed. "That was amazing! It was so free and exhilarating and fun and I kept thinking I was going to crash but I didn't care I wanted to push myself and I went so high I could see that castle you told me about with the king and the two dragons and when we were diving we were going so fast and you beat me even though you're old!"

I chuckled. "I am experienced. –Did you learn an appreciation for free and wild things?"

He nodded fervently. "Oh, yes!"

"You may squire faithfully now, but when you are ki—a knight yourself, remember this day and why you should not destroy living things needlessly."

He nodded again and paused. "What about trees?"

"What about them?"

"I don't want to cut them down, but I must to get wood and material for making things. I much prefer climbing trees to killing them."

I looked pensively at him, surprised by how well he'd learned. "Sometimes it is necessary to kill. Everything must die. Often, things die for a purpose. Plants die when animals eat them or when we use them, animals die when they kill one another to survive or when we kill them."

"And we die when we kill each other in wars," Arthur said quietly.

I sighed. "Some men believe they die in wars for a purpose."

"I wish they didn't."

"So do I."

Arthur's legs had stopped swinging over the branch. He hugged the trunk of the tree, staring out over the ravine at the retreating sun. He looked older.

"What about you, Merlin?" he asked at last. "What do you think is worth dying for?"

"Only one thing is worth dying for, my boy, and that's love."

"I see," Arthur muttered, and I think he did.

We were silent on the walk back. It was a calm evening, so I opted to take the long way by walking Arthur to the road he used to get home. Because of this, the subject of love came up again sooner than I expected.

A young pair of lovers was also enjoying the evening, strolling dreamily along the road ahead of us, fingers entwined. We soon passed them, our own leisurely pace being swifter than theirs. I thought little of them until we had moved out of hearing distance and Arthur asked me about them.

"How does he get her to love him like that?" he queried.

"Now that's an interesting question," I said evenly. "What do you think?"

Arthur frowned. "I don't like it when you try to teach me by asking me questions. Why not simply tell me?"

"It's the Socratic teaching method, thank you, and it gets you in the habit of figuring things out yourself and using your head instead of waiting for someone to tell you what to think. You'll thank me when you can rule strongly apart from your advisors."

"Does he flatter her?" Arthur mused. "Did he begin by threatening her? Did he persuade her through sweet words? Did he plead with her?"

"That," I smiled. "Is nonsense."

Arthur sighed, exasperated. "Then what do you do?"

"Love her."

"Yes, but how do you--?"

"That's it. Simply love her."

"That's it?"

"Yes. Merely love her."

"But...if you are trying to win her affections, do you not already love her?"

"Some men forget that in the wooing process."

He still was not convinced. "Surely loving her is not enough?"

"It is. Many women do not get enough love, and there begins the strife."

He regarded me curiously as though I had turned into a bird again. "How do you know all this?"

"That," I sniffed. "Is my business alone. One should not doubt the wisdom of an old man."

"Very well," he smirked.

I sent him off and shook my head. He needn't worry about love yet. And when he does find his queen, she will be lucky to have him. I only hope she is deserving of his love.

Today was a most philosophical day. Socrates would be proud.

Dawn:


I rose early in case Nimue, like certain other witches who enjoy tormenting me, came early. I did not wish to be awakened so rudely again.

Archimedes conveniently forgot to tell me last night that I received a message while I was out. I really should have turned him into a newt for his ineptitude, but the letter was too disquieting.

"Merlin— Your poet friend was loath to tell me whom I might contact about his recent confinement, but after several hours of persuasion he mentioned your name. Ah. I will not foul these words—it would do him ill tribute. He gaspedyour name. Strange how his voice yet rings sweetly as he whimpers.

"I write to inform you that the bard Riordan can no longer meet with his fellow sorcerers as he has failed in his part of an agreement with me and is obligated to remain in my custody. My own axe has cleaved the evil talisman of his power. I am certain that you will be able to continue your unholy witchcraft without him, and I trust you to inform the other conjurers of this minor loss.

--Lord Kane of the Axe"


Damn him. Damn him and his ransom and his wand-smiting axe and his title! May Cerberus gnaw upon his entrails!

Kane is known for his ruthlessness. He is the quintessential feudal warlord. I'd no idea Riordan had been in his service. Of course that is where our dear poet had been getting all of his information on the war.

Riordan is hardly an aggressive man. What will he do without his wand?

Nimue must wait. I've far more urgent missions to—

Curse my luck! She is here.

Mid-Morning, In Midair:


Insufferable woman.

She refused to leave until I told her exactly why I was canceling our plans. Then, upon hearing of Riordan's plight, she insisted on joining me on my little rescue mission. Of course, I refused to allow her to accompany me, but she really is even more stubborn than I am.

She is not an Animagus. She cannot turn into a merlin and travel great distances swiftly. I had to get out the flying carpet I had obtained in the East. It is not nearly as fast as soaring in bird form, and though it has ample room for three passengers, Nimue claims to be afraid of heights and has inched unnecessarily near.

She cannot read over my shoulder, however. I have charmed this page. To her, it appears to be a map that I meticulously scrawl upon.

Why did I bring this parchment in the first place? I need no excuse to avoid conversation.

Truly.

Evening:

I have a new respect and appreciation for poets and bards of every kind.

Kane resides in the kind of castle I abhor: a fortress of cold stone and steel. There are no windows, only slots through which archers may fire. Arrows are the only fire this grim and glooming place sees. Even the tower where we landed was frigid like some abandoned grave.

A lovely first place for Nimue and me to journey to together.

I shrank the carpet to the size of a kerchief and pocketed it. We stole silently down the narrow tower stair and conferred in a dark and lifeless corridor.

"Which way do we go from here?" Nimue asked, quite nonchalant for one on a dangerous mission.

"I, er, I don't currently know," I confessed.

"What?" Nimue cried as loudly as she dared. "How could you set off to rescue someone when you don't know where he is being held?"

"He's in this castle, I know that," I said crossly.

"You can't possibly find him on your own," she sighed.

I raised an eyebrow. "You think so? In the time it took for this discussion, I have figured the first two turns we should make down the hall."

"What? How?"

"I do not have time to teach you now, woman! I told you the lesson was cancelled." I tugged impatiently on her arm. "Come!"

"Would it not be wiser to separate?"

"But I know the way!"

"I mean," Nimue said patiently. "You can go free your friend, and I can make sure no one stops you."

"Oh. Very well."

We parted without another word. I pushed Nimue from my mind and stalked down the corridors like a dog after a scent trail. The occasional guard got in my way, but I was so intent they tended to...fall senseless to the ground as I passed. A few of them already nursed magical injuries; it seemed Riordan had been slightly more aggressive than I'd imagined. After a time I stopped running into any guards, though I might have seen the end of a retreating cape around a few corners.

As time passed, my urgent search became a focused fury. I strode, seething, through the halls and descended to the belly of the castle like a righteous messenger storming through Hell. I came to the firmly locked door I sought and saw the thick wood hinged with hunks of iron. I needn't have shouted "Alohomora;" the ebony thicker than my arm shattered beneath my glare.

Riordan looked up, stunned. A thin line of dried blood trailed down his face. It began at his hairline, crusting his foremost auburn curl a purplish brown, traced his brow, continued from his temple down his jawbone and tapered off near the corner of his mouth, now open in surprise. He attempted to rise from where he sat against the far wall, but winced and slid back down. He contented himself in fixing his green eyes upon me.

"Merlin?"

"Of course," I smiled slightly. "Who else would be mad enough to come for you?"

He wearily returned the smile. "Who else would be so kind?"

I crossed the small room and touched him lightly on the head with the tip of my wand. The trail of old blood vanished along with most of his pain. He exhaled, relieved, and allowed me to help him to his feet.

"You are strong for an old man," he chuckled.

"What, my arm or my magic?"

"Both."

I smirked and shook my head. "Foolish youth. You've more strength in your smallest toe than I have in my arm. Was it this same senselessness that began your struggle with Kane?"

"Lord Kane and I had an accord," he sighed. "As long as I acted as his bard, he would not turn on me for being a wizard."

I snorted. "Yes. He does not hide his loathing of our kind."

"Kane loves power more than he hates magic, however. He loved displaying his greatness in showing guests that his wealth was such that he had his own bard. He loved hearing tales of war and conquest. The warriors wanted similar entertainment—surely they have memorized the catalog of the Trojan War by now. None among them appreciated the beauty of poetry, the art of rhyme."

"You made such sacrifices for the council," I murmured.

"I did find happiness," Riordan smiled. "The servants understood the songs and stories of adventure for the sake of adventure, laughter for the sake of laughter, and...love for the sake of love." His smile grew sad. "Though Marina spends each day washing and sweeping, she knows more about love than any high lady. She came to me often with requests for myths of love, sitting attentively for hours, enthralled by each word I gladly spoke.

"I became one of the tragic lovers in the stories I told. I lived to brighten Marina's banal life, drew breath only to delight her with more stories. Every love song was for her. I never imagined the enamored state I had so often described could be so painfully glorious."

"Painful?" I frowned.

Riordan was no longer smiling. "My affections were unrequited. She was merely in love with the idea of love—the songs and stories struck no knowing chord in her. Devastated like some doomed hero in one of my foolishly sentimental myths, I began avoiding her to heal. Seeing her in the halls reopened the wound of my futile love. I languished, unable to walk near her or recite a single verse on love. Though I have not seen her in days, she is ever in my thoughts. Love does not die when it is ignored. All joy abandoned me, my will to carry on withered, and gladness fled. She so filled my heart that there was no place for song there anymore. I soon lost the power to tell any tale or hum any tune. When Kane called for me to relate the death of Hector before his men, I could not..."

He stopped, unwilling or unable to continue. I lead him gently to the door.

"Let us away," I said. "There is no longer any happiness for you here."

He nodded and went with me out through the hall. We traversed corridors without incident until that dratted captain appeared.

We rounded a turn and faced a line of nervous guards headed by a proud-looking man.

"I had reports of a great and terrible sorcerer flying down the halls, his head wreathed in white flame and his blazing eyes too fearsome to behold." he sneered. "Yet here I find a bent old man and a broken bard."

"Your conceptions of wizards are ill-conceived," I smiled amiably. "Even bent old men and broken bards can possess great and terrible power."

"You two are full of naught but words," the captain growled.

"Would you have us fight, sir?" I asked.

"'Twould hardly be a fight, old one. The pair of you would be dead in moments."

"Really?" I inquired, feigning surprise. "You too can kill without touching someone?"

He paled but maintained his bravado. "You have not the power!"

"I have, sir. However, you are correct that you will not die by my hands." Some white fire ignited in my eye. "It is not that I cannot kill you—I will not."

"Either way, I am the victor!" he cried unevenly.

I countered before he could lead the charge further than half a step.

"STUPEFY!"

The swarm of guards fell in an untidy heap. I wrinkled my large nose theatrically at the human mess and parted the pile with a twitch of my fingers. Riordan laughed as we passed unscathed.

"Your hexes are quite powerful," he commented.

I shrugged. "I was angry. They tend to intensify when I am angry."

We were almost to the tower when we passed a large hall. Enraged voices filtered through the closed doors.

"...thought we had...guards will be...never said..."

"...foolish...truly believe...have lost..."

"...foul trickery..." the voice rose. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

Nimue's voice screamed back. "NOT IF I SILENCE YOU FIRST, SCUM!"

Kane shouted, but he was down when I had burst through the door. Nimue stood across from him, her wand aimed at his heart. A purple gash streaked across his chest. While a formidable and dangerous curse, it is not fatal. Nimue glared once more at the prone figure of a once-powerful lord and swept over to me.

"Let us hasten from this place. I revile the very air."

We three journeyed back to my cottage, as it is nearest. Icarus sensed unrest and came to glide next to our carpet. I instructed him to go to Archimedes and send him for Elwin, who would be able to shelter Riordan until the poet had fully recovered. When we arrived at my home, it was done and Elwin was waiting. He lives near enough to Apparate at the edge of the forest and walk to my cottage. I nearly regretted placing such a powerful ward over these woods, but remembered the centaurs and their need for isolation.

I saw Riordan and Elwin safely off. The poet thanked me and began speaking of being in my debt or some similar nonsense until I waved the matter away. Archimedes returned looking pleased with himself, and I ended up giving him the dead rat I had denied him earlier. It was not until my friends had departed and Archimedes was occupied with his meal that Nimue spoke again.

"You are the wisest, bravest, most foolish man I have ever known," she said, the breathiness in her voice replaced by an equally lyrical clarity.

"Thank you," I replied. "You are the most determined, most daring, and most fascinating woman I have ever known. And your hexes are to be reckoned with."

She smiled—a genuine, appreciative smile. "I still know so little. I could learn much more from you. You've depths of power none can fathom."

"You have your own hidden talents,"

"Will you still teach me to unearth more?"

I paused this time. She seems to be so capable already. She can easily function and flourish in the world without learning further magic.

But her gaze today was earnest, lacking any motive but a need to know.

"Yes." I agreed.

"Thank you!" she cried, a trace of that girlish excitement I had glimpsed returning. "You are too kind!"

"One can never be too kind, my dear Nimue,"

She checked her glee. "Oh. I meant, it is very kind of you, and you are always so caring, more so than most."

"Really?"

"You did not have to go after Riordan today," she said seriously. "You could have sent word to Mab, or waited to bring it up at the next council meeting, or just left him there, imprisoned and sorrowing and alone. You remind me how much selfless kindness is in the world."

I reddened for what, I am proud to say, was the first time all day.

"You're too kind," I muttered.

"Oh!" Nimue plunged a hand down her sleeve and retrieved a familiar bottle. "Your owl left this on my windowsill. Does he often make off with trinkets of yours?"

I stared at the flower, bemused. "Not often. He knew this one was a gift. I cannot imagine why..."

Archimedes made a choking sound inside. I resolved to turn him into a newt the first chance I had.

"I now return it." Nimue handed the bottled flower to me and smiled. "Keep it out of his reach and in your sight, and think of me."

She turned and strode off. I stared after her.

Perilous missions and encounters demonstrating one's power is bring out more of a person's true nature. Nimue is not a breathy, alluring little apparition but a strong and impressive individual.

I like her all the more for it.