No. 2: Talking is overrated

Whumpees: Merlin, Gwaine

Rated T: some curse words, be careful kids

Merlin was up before the sun, and for once, he was enjoying it. Merlin usually got up with the sun, completing his chores and doing some cleaning before finally waking Arthur up, but today, he didn't need to do any of that.

Today, he was going to see his mother.

Merlin hadn't seen Hunith in many months, and for once, there were no magical beings trying to take over Camelot, no evil witches or high priestesses dropping gauntlets, and no neighboring armies marching on the citadel. It had been (dare he say) a little boring, as life dripped from one day to another.

It was a crisp autumn day, too, with a bit of dew marking his footprints as he hurried to the warmth of the stables. When he turned the corner and saw Gwaine leaning against the wall, munching on an apple, he almost fell over. It was strange, running into another person so early in the morning. "Gwaine! What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, telling his heart to slow down before it beat right out of his chest.

"Sick of playing soldiers," the easygoing knight said. "Arthur gave me a few days off to accompany you to Ealdor."

Merlin brightened at the thought of some company, and they quickly saddled their horses, loaded some gear, and headed off into the still-awakening forest.

It was a bright morning that turned into a pleasant day, one of Merlin's favorite times to ride. A light breeze crossed his face, his mare was enjoying herself, and even Gwaine fell silent after a few hours, simply enjoying the ride and each other's company. They bedded down for the night, rising again to find some berries for breakfast and munching on some of the snacks that Gaius had packed for Merlin. They passed the tree ridge of Camelot, heading east into the Forest of Essetir and closer to the border between Camelot and Cenred's kingdom. As they saw the Ridge of Essetir in sight, Merlin straightened himself in the saddle and could tell Gwaine was doing the same. Merlin was getting a tingling feeling, where the leaves whipped a little too fast and the normal animal noises were a little too quiet. Arthur always made fun of his tingling feelings, but they were rarely wrong.

Gwaine was ahead of him, and suddenly as if a big invisible hand had picked him up, he fell from his horse, landing with a big "umpgh" on his hip. Merlin looked around wildly, trying to find the culprit, but soon felt his own world tilt sideways as blackness closed in.

Merlin woke with a snort on the floor of a damp cell, just as the sun was going down. Gwaine was laid on his side away from him on a bale of straw that was supposed to serve as a bed, he supposed. He quickly checked his pulse, breathing a little easier that he could feel Gwaine's soft heartbeat, and started his pre-physician check of any broken bones before turning his friend on his back.

Gwaine blearily looked up at Merlin through half-lidded eyes. "I suppose we didn't magically make it to Ealdor and drank all the ale, now did we?"

Merlin let out a soft chuckle. "No, we did not. We're somewhere in a cell… now, who was the last person you pissed off? You're not invincible you know."

Gwaine shifted around and tried to make himself as comfortable as one could be when they're laying on a bed of straw. "Merls, there's soooo much you don't know about who I piss off and why. Like, books. Tomes. I could fill all of Camelot with who I've pissed off." He yawned. "But, what's a good life if not for a few enemies?"

Merlin took another look at his face. One of Gwaine's eyes looked black, and from working with he knew that having one pupil so big and another normal wasn't good. Sometimes the knights came in with some bonks on the head, and that usually happened. Gauis always had him stick around and keep them up for a long time, something about head wounds and sleeping… he couldn't remember.

"Well, I think of life is a good life surrounded by friends that aren't injured that I have to keep fixing up. So tell me, where else does it hurt besides your hip and head?"

"Merlsey, how did you know my hip and head hurt? Are you magic?"

Merlin had to quickly remind himself that Gwaine was most likely concussed. "No, Gwaine, I saw you fall off your horse. So, tell me."

"Ah, what's falling if not flying without a purpose. OK. Hmm… head, check. There's a weird halo around you, like you're an angel. I'm assuming you're not, because an angel would be less bossy. Mmm, hip. That makes my whole left side hurt." He took a deep breath. "Ribs seem OK." Turned his head from side to side and flexed his fingers. "Yep, all the little parts work. Do you need me to wiggle my ears, too? Because I wasn't really able to do that before, so I think you'll be a tad disappointed."

Merlin let out a huff at that. "Great, you're so full of jokes. Glad your sense of humour hasn't left." He palpated his hip and leg. "I don't feel a break, but that's probably really strained and you shouldn't walk on it much… like we'll really have a choice, until we figure out who took us."

Gwaine had Merlin check the small window (there wasn't anything that told them where they were), and they both ended up dozing a bit more, until the lock outside made a huge clang as a guard unlocked it. He and another guard took both Merlin and Gwaine by the shoulders and they walked – limped – up some stairs, down a long hallway, and into a darkened throne room with low candlelight throwing shadows across a tall, skinny man's face sitting on the throne, surrounded by muscley men with leather tunics. Forced to their knees, the two guards stayed right behind him as the tall man in charge spoke.

"Right, you two… the men taken from the Forest of Essetir, eh?" A lackey to his side nodded in affirmation. "Mkay. Well, the name's Robert, and you are just lucky enough to be found by me. Y'see, I deal in labor, and there's two buyers already lined up for you."

Merlin couldn't help but blurt out, "You're a slave trader? We're not slaves!" He got a quick fist to the face for that comment and heard Gwaine shout, "Oi! That's my friend you're hitting! You can't even pick on someone your own size?"

Merlin tasted blood and looked over at Gwaine, surprised by his sudden quiet – the quiet that was brought on by a strap of leather pushed across his neck, only letting little gurgles of air or shouts past as Gwaine scrabbled with the hunk of muscle in charge of the leather. As Gwaine's face turned purple, he slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Robert swaggered up from his throne and leaned in front of Merlin. "See here, boy," his rotten teeth reeked in Merlin's face. "This is what happens when you speak out. I don't care who you are or where you come from; I will break you." He nodded at the guard behind Merlin and he was forced to his feet; forced to leave Gwaine.

"Get this miscreant outta here!" was the last thing he heard of Gwaine for two whole days.

From Robert's throne room, Merlin had a dizzying set of turns and stairs he was forced down too fast, so that he almost tripped and fell, only held up by the set of meaty hands at his back. He was thrown in a group cell of other stringy and starved-looking people, young and old alike, all without any hope behind their eyes. The group mostly kept to themselves, except for William, who introduced himself to Merlin straightaway. "I had a best friend named Will, in Ealdor, where I was going," Merlin said as way of conversation with the plucky brunette that reminded him of his friend from a lifetime ago.

"Ealdor? That's not far from this place at all, perhaps just a half-day's walk" one of the older men said. "Robert only took charge of this ruined castle a few weeks ago, so we still didn't know to keep on the lookout."

"And how did you get caught?" Merlin couldn't help asking.

"I was travelling to Camelot to visit my sister, she lives in the lower town there. Do you know anything of Viola?"

Merlin smiled, thinking of Gwen's old neighbor. "She's very well, she was the neighbor of my best friend Guinevere." The old man smiled. "Thank you, boy. At least my death will be more pleasant as I think of her alive and well."

Merlin was confused. "Are we going to die here? I thought we were to be sold as slaves."

An older woman piped up. "Oh, dear boy, he'll sell us alright. Then we'll work and toil until our deaths, only given small breaks to sleep and small pieces of bread to eat. We'll be too tired to revolt, and then we'll be sold again when they tire of us – if we make it."

Merlin had a destiny to protect, a king to serve, and a mother to see. He wasn't going to be taken that lightly and immediately started asking the group about escape routes. As much as they tried to convince him that it was too risky, that the only person who tried had failed and was shot to the heart with a crossbow, Merlin wasn't taking no for an answer.

Meanwhile in his cell, Gwaine was being broody. Now his throat hurt like hell, along with his head and his hip, and worst off, he couldn't figure out where Merlin was being held. None of the guards would talk to him, and the cells on either side were empty, which was not a good sign. Empty cells meant that Robert was serious about killing or selling his slaves, quickly. He couldn't get the last image of Merlin out of his head, confused and scared. He had never seen Merlin scared, not in any of the battles or fights they went on. "For as stringy of a boy as he was, he sure was confident" he thought before shaking himself. "Merlin IS confident", he said in a quiet, raspy voice. No use in using past tense to describe his only friend in the world quite yet.

One story up and across the hall, Merlin had a plan. He had stayed up all night to formulate an escape, and the good (if there was a good) thing about being in a big cell with other people was that he could see more movement. He had memorized the guard runs, and drawn a rudimentary map of where he remembered everything of importance: him, Gwaine, and Robert's throne room. He also had something that he had forgotten about until he put his hand in his pocket: Gwaine had offered his gloves to Merlin yesterday morning, when he was so cold, he was shivering a bit. Those gloves were the key to finding Gwaine.

While the rest of the crew slept, Merlin crept to the unoccupied corner the group had been using as a latrine. One quick chant and a flash of gold later, he was in an alcove on the other side of the cage. Another whispered chant and flash of gold, and he was tiptoeing in the hall away from his cage, following the sparkling trail of magic to Gwaine.

Gwaine wasn't too far at all, and Merlin wasted no time in disposing the guard and using his keys to unlock the cell. "Gwaine," he whispered.

"Merlin?" the incredulous voice on the other side didn't sound good. It was best that they hurried out.

Merlin grabbed Gwaine's arm and pulled it across his shoulders, and they quickly found their way out of the castle. It was a good thing Gwaine was looking down the entire time, in pain, as Merlin's eyes flashed gold more times than he was comfortable with as he heard guards coming.

Finally, they were out of the castle, and they collapsed in a small ditch as soon as they found some tree cover. "Merlin, I could kiss you, you know" he heard Gwaine as he was huffing and puffing, trying to get his breath back.

"I'd rather you didn't, but I'm glad to see you're mostly in one piece… do you think we can make it another half-day's walk?"

Gwaine coughed breathily. "For you, anything."

So they walked (hobbled). Merlin wasn't focused on anything other than putting one foot in front of the other, and Gwaine was quiet. The only sound was Merlin's breath as he guided them through the forest, over the tree roots, and around or over the streams, accompanied only by Gwaine's raspy breaths. Merlin hadn't been so relieved to see Ealdor as this time, almost falling over in relief as he saw the thatched houses and his mother's old quilt hanging on a line, drying in the sun.

Merlin nudged Gwaine, only getting a small grunt in response. "We made it," he breathed. Gwaine slumped further to his side, barely coherent enough to put a foot in front of another. They hobbled all the way to Hunith's house, where her joy of finding her son on the stoop is quickly overtaken as he collapsed at her feet, too tired to make it in.

The next time Merlin wakes up, he's tucked in his childhood quilt on the floor as his mother stirs a pot of soup on the fire and Gwaine's soft snores come from the bed above him. It's dark outside, which means he's been asleep for hours.

Quickly, he gets up, feeling his joints creak and groan at the sudden movement, and he's back in his mother's arms.

"Merlin, what happened?" Hunith always had a way to make him tell her everything – and Merlin did, from their trip to being captured and finding the way back home to Ealdor.

"Is Gwaine going to be OK?" he looked at the rugged knight and winced at the bruises on his neck.

"Yes, I think so. I have a tonic for the bruising around his neck, and warm things should soothe his throat. Are you OK? When was the last time you ate?"

Merlin's stomach grumbled in response to her question and they both laughed. "It's been awhile, and I'm sorry to scare you, Mother" he said.

"Ah, Merlin, you've always had a knack for finding trouble. Let's tuck into some soup, and save some for Gwaine in case he wakes up."

A week later, and Gwaine's back on his feet, helped by Hunith's ministrations and hearty food. The bruising has changed to a glorious yellow and green, and his voice is back to normal and Gwaine is back to his chattering self. As for Merlin, he's happy to help his mother with all of her autumn projects, though he finds his mind wandering back to Camelot, back to Arthur, with every passing day. The village has offered them two horses to travel back to Camelot, and though their return trip will be a bit longer to wholly avoid Robert's lair, they promised to return the horses as soon as they could.

It's another crisp autumn day, and Merlin and Gwaine are on the villager's horses, loaded with gear and snacks. It's time to go home.

-Fin-