As he watched the last rays of the setting sun glowing against the darkening sky, Arthur leaned wearily on the edge of the balcony overlooking the courtyard. His crown felt unbearably heavy today, and he wished more than anything that his father and mentor was there to advise him. But King Uther was lying in his sickbed, as if bewitched, the life draining out of him not from any mortal wound, but from the unhealable hole in his heart. Morgana. The light of his life had taken his heart and squeezed it until it burst, leaving nothing behind but a broken carcass with no will to live.
And there he lay. Not even Arthur himself could pull him out of his trance.
But Arthur took no offence from this. Had it been he that betrayed his father instead of his half-sister, Uther would have shown anger, or sought revenge, but this was a betrayal the king never saw coming, and thusly had no defence prepared.
Torn between his grief and concern for his father and his duties, the interment ruler took a deep breath, ending the moment he had allowed himself for self-pity and reflection, and stood tall, ready to be a shining example for his people.
The courtyard stirred. His guest had arrived. The gates swung open and amidst the rhythmical sound of multiple hooves, a single rider made his grand entrance on a handsome black steed, followed by four caravans covered in rich tapestries, with two armed guards on each end, crossbows at the ready. It was the merchant Holun, bearing silks and spices, and other rare treasures from the East.
Arthur turned to Merlin, who had appeared by his side, prompted by the commotion below. "Is everything ready?" He inquired of his manservant. Merlin had been tasked with the unenviable duty of overseeing the festivities of the evening. Holun was to be received like a king, if they were to get the best prices on his wares. All the kingdoms were vying for his merchandise, especially the legendary black powder rumoured to be the weapon to surpass all weapons.
Merlin nodded, and disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared. Hopefully to finalize the preparations, Arthur thought, as he dutifully made his way down the wide stone steps to greet his honoured guest.
Holun raised his hand to signify for the caravans to halt in the middle of the courtyard. A teenage boy scrambled out from behind one of the wagons with a huge black dog as he dismounted from his horse to grab the reigns and take his riding crop. He then said something into the boy's ear and he raced off to unload a large trunk from one of the wagons, almost too big for him to manage, setting it carefully on the ground.
The burly Mongol made his way over to Arthur, who had taken his place in front of the castle, Merlin again by his side, and nodded his respect. "Prince Arthur, I assume. I had hoped to do business with your father."
"Unfortunately he is not available." Was all Arthur was wiling to divulge. "Rest assured I will give you all the consideration you need."
Holun paused for a moment, contemplating his options. "Very well," he conceded.
"You must be hungry and tired from your journey," Arthur offered, "the porters will place your trunk in your quarters, and my servant will show your boy where to maintain your horses while we have some refreshments." He nodded to Merlin, who immediately beckoned to the lad to follow him into the stables.
"Come this way." Merlin told him gently. The boy looked over at his Master, unsure, but Holun had already begun to mount the stairs with his dog, eager to imbibe.
Once they arrived at the stables, Merlin, anxious to get back to his duties, quickly showed the boy where to put away the tack and gear. "Your Master is in the main dining room, if you need to join him," he stated hurriedly, "on the second floor of the castle, to the right." He pointed vaguely with his arm. "Alright?"
The lad hesitated for a moment, and nodded. "Da." Was all he said, and began to undo the straps to remove the horse's saddle.
Merlin rushed off, confidant that he had done his job. There was so many things to do, food to oversee, wine to ensure, entertainers to mollify, and he had spent too much time away already.
(...)
The banquet was going well. They had almost finished the main meal when the lad appeared, looking flushed and breathing heavily as he took his place beside his Master. Holun said some words to him that they couldn't understand, and cuffed the boy on the back of the head.
Alarmed, Arthur crooked his finger to Merlin. "Did... you tell him where we were?" He inquired.
"Yes... but I was in such a rush," Merlin shook his head regretfully, "I didn't entertain the possibility that he may not have understood English." They had so few visitors from faraway.
Arthur shot him the disgruntled look he always gave, and turned back to Holun, who angrily pushed his platter over to the side for the lad to take away. "I trust you enjoyed your meal?" He asked, feigning congeniality. Showing his distaste for the man was not an option.
"Yes, but it would have been better, had this idiot..." the platter crashed to the ground as he gestured toward his servant, knocking it out of his hands. In one swift move, he grabbed the boy's arm and twisted it.
"Togo! Togo!" The boy cried out as he knelt down beside his Master trying to relieve the painful iron grip. With a growl, Holun let go and kicked the lad as he fell to the ground, grasping his injured shoulder.
"Here, here," Sir Gwaine jumped up and strode over to the fallen teenager, "that is no way to treat a servant."
"The boy is not a SERVANT," Holun said with contempt, "he is a SLAVE, and not worthy of your concern." Merlin quickly picked up the platter to help the lad, who was clearly favouring his left arm, scoop the remnants of the meal back onto it.
A quick shake of Arthur's head, and Sir Gwaine backed off. "Regardless, we don't treat fellow human beings like that here." He grumbled as he reluctantly went back to his seat.
Feeling badly about his oversight, Merlin watched with pity as the lad scuttled into the kitchen, the platter balanced carefully under his right arm, and followed him. He found the teenager underneath a table, gnawing at the gristle on a leftover pork leg. Merlin sat down, under the table, facing him. The boy watched him warily, but kept kept eating, picking up a handful of the potato that had been scooped off the ground, and shovelling it into his mouth, spitting out bits of grit, more concerned about quelling the hunger burning in his belly than trying to figure out what the stranger wanted from him.
Merlin pointed to himself. "Mer-Lin." He said slowly.
"Mer-Lin," he repeated, with his mouth full. Merlin pointed at the boy, raising his eyebrows. A flash of understanding passed across his face. He swallowed the remnants of food in his mouth and said, quietly, "Raag."
Merlin smiled as he produced an apple. "Raag." He said as he handed it to him. Raag glanced toward the banquet room nervously before he took it from his hand. "Da." He said gratefully, as he bit into the treat. Closing his eyes with contentment as the sweet juice filled his mouth, the boy lost himself in the moment. He was cruelly brought back to reality when he heard his Master's roar, and in a heartbeat stuffed the apple in his pocket, agilely leaping out from under the table, racing back into the dining room.
(...)
Gaius entered his quarters. It was late, and his body was aching for his warm, soft bed. My, that Holun could talk. About himself. He thought. Telling endless yarns about his travels. And not in an entertaining way. The light was still on. "Merlin, what are you doing?" He asked, slightly annoyed that his desire for sleep was to be delayed.
Merlin looked up from the spell book. "I'm looking for an incantation for language." He said, matter-of-factly.
"An incantation for language?" Gaius inquired, only half-interested, as he looked longingly at his bed on the other side of the room. "Why do you need an 'incantation for language'?"
"The boy that came with Holun." Merlin explained, "I want to be able to talk to him, and I think I found a spell that will allow him to understand what I am saying, and he for me." He showed Gaius a page in the middle of the book, "the Spell of a Thousand Tongues."
"Won't it be suspicious if the lad starts to spout out a different language from his Master?"
"That's the beauty of it." Merlin insisted. "To us, he will be speaking English, but in reality he will be speaking in his own language, which of course, is what his Master will hear." He elaborated, "It doesn't seem like he speaks unless he is spoken to, so that will keep his conversations to a minimum." He gave the book one more look, memorizing the spell before closing it. "He seems to only say 'Da', which depending on the intonation, could either mean 'thank you' or 'yes'." Showing Gaius the pot of ointment he had prepared earlier, he continued. "I want him to see that I have medicine that will help relieve the pain in his shoulder." His voice became quieter as he reflected, "Besides, I'm certain it's dislocated, so I'll have to reset it, which, if he doesn't understand what I'm doing, could seem like an attack."
"Are you sure of this?"
"Very sure. I watched him all night. He doesn't seem to be able move it at all."
"Alright, then," Gaius sighed, "but be careful."
"Am I not always?" Merlin grinned as he left the room.
(...)
Holun had asked Merlin earlier that evening for directions to the nearest tavern, so the servant knew the Master would be away from his room all night. He was about to knock on the door, when he was distracted by soft cries from within. Abandoning the formality of knocking, he let himself in. "Raag?" He said as the beam from the lamp he held in his hand shot across the room, lighting the way to the bed.
A low, menacing growl answered him. "Kendo." A soft voice whispered, sharply. The growl stopped, and with the help of the lantern, Merlin saw a lump move on the wooden floor at the foot of the bed, and the unmistakeable sound of a chain.
Merlin waved his hand, "Astro Endis Moro Erebus." He chanted.
"I don't understand you." The soft voice said from the shadows.
"I'm sorry," Merlin smiled to himself, pleased that his spell had worked. "I just wanted to know if you were alright."
Raag raised his head from his dog/pillow and regarded him with wonder, "You speak Mongol!" He exclaimed.
Merlin cautiously approached the teenager and crouched down slowly, acutely aware that Kendo, even though he had stopped growling, was watching his every move. "Ummm, yes, I learnt from a merchant that passed through Camelot two years ago." Was the reply. He heard the sound of the chain again, as Raag sat up from the floor and Merlin noticed with surprise that the chain was not on the dog, but around the boy's ankle.
The lad scowled for a moment. As far as he knew, Holun was the first merchant to venture this far way from their homeland, but clearly he was wrong, being that this man was standing in front of him, speaking his language with fluency.
"How are you feeling?" Merlin hurriedly asked before the lad could study his lie too thoroughly.
Raag was still clutching his left shoulder, and as he straightened up, Merlin observed with some consternation that the boy and the huge dog were about the same height.
"I hurt." He replied honestly as he wiped a tear away with the palm of his good hand.
"Can you move your arm?" Merlin inquired.
"A little." The boy pulled at his elbow and moved the arm that hung limply at his side. "See?"
Merlin heaved a heavy sigh. There was no way to tell him gently. "Your arm is dislocated." He began. "I have to snap it back in place, and this will hurt. A lot." He eyed the dog, who watched him guardedly, his ears folded back, ready to protect his best friend at all cost. "But then you'll feel better. I promise."
Raag wasn't convinced. "How do you know?"
"Because I am a healer." He reached into his pocket. "Look, this is a salve I made that will relieve some of the pain you're feeling right now." He opened the small jar and showed it to him. "Rub this on your shoulder." He advised.
Raag winced as he took the ointment and did as he was told. A look of relief crossed his face as he asked, "What was that?"
"Herbs and primrose, a mixture that numbs the pain." He offered, "Shall I tend to your arm, now?"
The boy gave a stuttered breath and nodded bravely.
"The dog..."
"Kendo, stay." He ordered the dog as he moved closer to Merlin.
He could see the fear in Raag's face as he braced himself against his shoulder and grabbed his wrist. He felt incredibly bad about what he was about to do, but it was for the boy's good, he told himself. Somehow this was far worse than readjusting a knight's arm after his being unhorsed during a tournament, something that he had to administer with alarming regularity.
The lad's scream resonated through the room as he felt his shoulder pushed back against the bed and his arm pulled forward simultaneously when his shoulder locked back into place.
The dog leapt up and attacked.
Merlin's eyes glowed. "Arretis!" He commanded, and the dog crouched back down. Raag heard none of this. Consumed with pain, the boy had passed out, cradled in Merlin's arms.
Merlin stayed with Ragg until he regained consciousness, carefully wrapping his arm with a scarf, and laying him down again to rest. Kendo seemed to understand, and stretched out, becoming once again Raag's dog/pillow. The boy murmured his thanks and with a sigh, fell asleep immediately, exhausted from the pain and all the days' events.
