The sudden knock at Giaus's door caused him to jump a bit, and spill just the slightest amount of the potion he'd been mixing. With a heavy sigh, he shouted, "Come in!" and stooped slowly to clean the mess.
By the time he'd straightened himself back up, Sir Galahad and Sir Leon were dumping a corpse on the only clear table in his chambers.
"Ah, Sir Leon," Giaus said, slowly raising one striking eyebrow. "You've brought me a body…You do know that's where I eat breakfast?"
"This man came into the Queen's chambers this afternoon and attempted to kill her," Leon explained.
"Very good job he didn't," Gaius replied solemnly. He made his way to the heap of a human lying on his table and began to poke and prod at the thing, taking his time so as not to miss any fine detail. He ran his hand slowly across the dead man's back, noting some soft spots along the spine. Gaius's face contorted in a bizarre expression of focus, his tongue resting awkwardly against his bottom lip as he squinted. He pulled the dead man's tunic up, and took note of the damage to his back.
"It seems he died from being thrown into something. See the beginnings of bruising there?" Gaius pointed to the man's spine.
"Merlin threw him into a bookshelf," Leon muttered, a hint of laughter sneaking into his voice. He had always been fond of the bumbling young Merlin he'd known, and he couldn't help but be amused by the image of that same young Merlin wielding a power greater than the world had ever seen.
"Well that explains it," Gaius said.
"What else can you tell us about him?" Galahad asked quietly.
Gaius's eyes alighted on the tattoo on the man's neck. "I believe I can tell quite a bit."
OIOIOIOIOIO
Merlin gathered stray books and metal vases and the like in his arms, stumbling a little as he did. "Please," Gwen implored, "One of my girls can clean it up later. There's no need, Merlin."
He dropped a metal vase, and the clatter felt like a shock of thunder. He let out a heavy sigh. "Gwen, just let me do what I'm good at."
"This was never what you were good at, Merlin." Gwen said, and her lip turned up into a charming half smile.
Merlin grabbed another book, flipped it right-side up, then upside-down again, and shoved it randomly onto a shelf. "You're starting to sound like Ar—" Merlin stopped and took a long moment to stare at his own boots before silently resuming his haphazard work.
"You can say his name, you know," Gwen said quietly. "I can stand to hear it."
"I can't." Merlin said. "I can't say his name when he's not here." The sorcerer gently unloaded all of the spoils he'd collected back onto the shelf, and gracelessly went after the next object on the floor. He paused when he realized what it was, his hand hoovering in mid-air, as if the thing was too precious to touch.
Seeing Merlin's sudden hesitation, Gwen asked, "What is it?"
There lay the Horn of Cathbhadh, still as flawless as the day Merlin first laid eyes on it. It seemed to gleam with an unnatural shine, the spark of magic that lay within it. He recalled, ever so briefly, the night it had been gifted to Arthur by a dying woman he had saved form the stake – and he saw again the look in her eyes as she faded away, and then remembered how that same look has passed over Arthur's face a few days after Camlan – he pushed these thoughts from his mind, stuttering out only a prolonged, "Uh," in response to Guinevere. Then, "Nothing, it's nothing. It's just something that reminds me of an adventure I had once with…"
Gwen studied her friend's tired face and the spark of hope that was finally dawning upon it. "It means nothing to me," she said. "If you want it, Merlin, you may keep it."
Merlin's lip twitched into the hint of a smile as his fingertips brushed the smooth ivory of the horn. "Are you certain?" he asked.
"On the condition you stop your skulking," Gwen said, "Yes."
Merlin felt a little devious as he took the horn in his hand, for there was a plan growing in his mind – a wild, terrible, fantastic plan that he absolutely could not resist. Gaius, of course, would not approve, but how was he to stop Merlin once his choice was made?
"Thank you Gwen," Merlin said, hoping his voice did not betray him.
"I can see it makes you happy," Guinevere said. "You should be happy, you know…"
Merlin nodded absently. He had stopped listening the moment he felt a lecture coming on. His mind was instead wandering through days of old, to a particular journey he took long ago.
OIOIOIOIOIO
Gaius hardly looked up from his work when Merlin wandered into the room. "I see you saved the Queen today," the old man said.
Merlin glanced at the body which still lay on the table. It had been covered reverently with a grimy bedsheet, and now seemed even more out of place than it had before. "Why's he still here?"
Gaius feigned looking over his shoulder. "I can't very well move him on my own, and the Knights are training.
"They better train really hard," Merlin grumbled, "They nearly let a man kill their Queen."
"Good thing you were there," Gaius said, "Or young George might have had to put on his crown a bit early."
Merlin leaned against the table opposite the corpse and took to examining his boots again. "Gaius, I nearly wasn't there. I should've seen that attack coming. I even passed that man on the stairs."
"I think there was a reason you didn't take note of him, Merlin." Gaius turned toward the sorcerer and held up a rounded blue pendant on a piece of string. "I found this around the man's neck. I believe it to be a charm that confuses the senses and makes one harder to perceive."
"It's magic?" Merlin asked.
"I can't believe after all these years you still need to ask," Gaius grumbled. "Did you notice he was a druid?"
"Yes," Merlin said, "But I thought Guinevere solidified the peace with the druids. Besides, they were never a violent people to begin with, except when Uther drove them to do terrible things."
"They are peaceful, yes. But it appears the symbol on this man's neck is homemade. I believe him to be a self-proclaimed druid, not someone born into the order."
"Does that happen?" Merlin asked.
"I've never heard of it."
"No," Merlin sighed, "Neither have I."
