Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Chapter Twenty Eight

"Are you even listening, Merlin?" Arthur's voice dragged Merlin's attention back to the conversation between the two knights.

"That's exactly what I'm doing. I'm just not listening to you."

"Enjoying the buzz of the bumblebees, are you?" Arthur asked with a snort.

"No. I'm listening for the druids, if you must know."

Arthur looked around, then gave Merlin a skeptical look. "Can you use magic to hear things far away?"

"No," Merlin started, then stopped himself. "I mean, yes, actually. But that's not what I'm doing. I'm listening for them talking in my mind."

"You're listening to them what?" Arthur asked with a blank look.

"The druids can talk silently, just using their minds, and I can hear them," Merlin explained.

Arthur stared for a minute, then shook his head uneasily. "Of course they can," he muttered to himself. "I suppose you can do that too?"

"Only with them." He stopped suddenly, focusing. He'd heard something, just barely. Almost more of a feeling really. But if he really listened…

"Did you have breakfast? I can bring…"

"Best stoke the fire a bit, if you don't mind. It's chilly this…"

"Good morning, my friend…"

"This way," Merlin said, nudging his horse to the right. After a few minutes, he reached out with his mind. "Hello?"

Everything suddenly went quiet, the chatter ceasing. Then a woman's voice tentatively replied.

"Emrys?"

Merlin's mouth tightened. There was always a part of him that wanted to reply by saying 'My name is Merlin,' but he resisted. "It's me. I'd like to come speak with you, if you'll have me."

"Of course," the answer came, and he felt the warmth in it. "It would be an honor."

But Merlin knew he needed to be honest with them. "I have King Arthur with me, along with Sir Lancelot, a knight of Camelot. They are my friends, and I promise they mean you no harm."

He waited through a long silence, and he wondered if the woman was conferring with others or merely thinking. But eventually her reply came.

"It will be an honor to see the king again and meet your friend. If you vouch for them, then they are welcome."

Merlin turned to Arthur, who was staring at him with his eyebrows raised.

"I was just letting them know we're coming," he explained. "I promised them you wouldn't hurt them, and they said you're both welcome as well."

Arthur nodded, but Merlin saw the nervousness in his eyes. "You ready?" he asked, making the king smile.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Merlin blinked, then let out a short laugh. In his concern about Arthur, he'd almost forgotten to be nervous about what he might learn.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

When the druid camp came into view, Arthur wanted nothing more than to turn his horse around and go straight back to Camelot.

How many times had he rode up to a similar scene with a sword in his hand? How many times had he directed troops to surround these people as they went about living their lives, then given a battle cry as they charged, weapons swinging?

"You okay?" Merlin murmured next to him, and Arthur realized he'd pulled to a stop without intending to.

"Just looking," he said.

And he was. He had this strange compulsion to watch, to see the rhythm of these people moving. To see, for the first time, a community of people instead of a hideout of dangerous enemies.

Of course, he wasn't seeing them as they normally were. That was clear. They moved quickly, glancing around nervously, obviously trying to prepare as they awaited the king. He supposed it was possible they were behaving this way because they were anxiously awaiting Emrys, but somehow Arthur didn't think the arrival of Emrys would trigger the jumpiness he saw before him.

"Welcome, Emrys," a voice said to their left as the men dismounted, and Arthur turned to see a familiar woman approaching. "Your Majesty," she added, nodding her head respectfully to him.

Arthur stared, dumbfounded. "It's you," he said, then immediately cursed himself for how stupid he sounded.

"Indeed. It's good to see you again," she replied with a warm smile. "It seems you've found an answer to my question since the last time we met."

Arthur glanced at the man standing beside him. "Merlin helped," he admitted, and the woman laughed.

"I told you Emrys was your friend."

"So you did. I owe you a debt of gratitude. Our meeting helped prepare me for the truth about what he is. Or who he is." Arthur frowned as he fumbled for words, because truthfully, he still didn't know what Merlin was, and he had always known who Merlin was. "Or what he can do, I guess."

The woman watched him thoughtfully, but before she could reply, he gestured to the knight beside him. "You may remember Sir Lancelot. He was one of the knights who came to your defense."

"My lady," Lancelot said with a nod.

"You may call me Arwen. And welcome, all of you." She hesitated, her eyes resting on the sword belted to Arthur's hip. "If you don't mind, I'd like to collect your weapons before you come any closer. I will, of course, return them to you before you leave."

Arthur froze. It was a perfectly reasonable request; he would have asked for the same if the situation were reversed. But walking into a group of potential enemies unarmed?

"It's all right," Merlin murmured from beside him. "They mean you no harm, Arthur."

Arthur swallowed, but he unbelted the sword and handed it to her as Lancelot did the same.

After all, Merlin was there. He would protect him, if necessary.

And in that moment, the thought wasn't even funny.

Arthur wasn't sure what he expected. He supposed since he was so uneasy around the druids, and he knew they were equally uneasy around him, he'd assumed they'd just get to the point as quickly as possible and keep the visit brief.

Instead, the druids welcomed them as guests. Arwen led them to a spot near one of the fires and offered them a late breakfast. Arthur ate a watery but surprisingly flavorful porridge as she chatted, talking about the additional fires they'd laid the night before due to the turning weather and inquiring whether they'd had any trouble on the road. It was all idle small talk and Merlin handled most of their side of the conversation, but Arthur appreciated the casual ease with which she filled the silence.

"So it's true. I heard when I came in that we have the honor of hosting Emrys," a voice said behind them after they had finished eating, and Arthur twisted to see a tall, thin man with a beard standing over them. His gaze moved across the three of them, eyeing Merlin curiously before turning a colder look on Arthur and Lancelot.

"May I introduce Bryn," Arwen said, nodding deferentially to the man. "He is the leader of this camp."

"It's nice to meet you," Merlin greeted him, standing, and Arthur and Lancelot quickly followed his lead. "This is Sir Lancelot, knight of Camelot, and King Arthur of Camelot, the Once and Future King."

The skepticism in the man's face bordered on a sneer, but Arthur forced himself to nod the way Arwen had. "I thank you for your hospitality," he said, relieved to find he did not sound as stiff and awkward as he felt. Then he pushed ahead, figuring he might as well face the hostility head-on. "I know my past actions have done nothing to earn it, and for that I apologize. I promise, I mean no harm to you or your people by coming here."

Bryn looked taken aback, and although his skepticism remained, his hostility seemed to fade to wariness.

"The Once and Future King?" he asked, pointedly ignoring Arthur's words as he turned his attention back to Merlin. "A Pendragon?"

"Indeed," Merlin answered, and he not only sounded confident, but proud, prompting an unexpected warmth in Arthur's chest.

"Hmm." The man stared at Merlin for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "Be welcome," he said stiffly. Then he nodded to Arwen and walked away.

"I'm sorry," she said softly once he was out of earshot. "His sister was part of another camp that was…" she trailed off, but Arthur knew how the story ended.

"That was attacked by my knights," he finished, unable to meet her eyes.

"Yes."

"I have much to answer for," he admitted, and for some reason Arwen looked on him with pity instead of anger.

"Your destiny is a heavy one, King Arthur," she said gently, "but already I can see that you have the strength of character to bear it."

"How did you know?" Merlin questioned. "You knew who Arthur was when you first met him on the road, but Bryn didn't seem to know he's the Once and Future King."

"I am the keeper of the prophecies," Arwen said simply. "Or I will be, at least."

Merlin's eyes grew wide. "What does that mean, exactly?" he asked, and Arthur could hear the note of enthusiasm the younger man tried to contain.

"You know different people show affinity for different kinds of magic?" she inquired, and Merlin nodded just a little too quickly to hide his eagerness. "From the time I was young, I showed a certain sensitivity to the prophecies. I could understand not just what they said on the surface, but the currents underneath them. I could read the world around us and see how it connected to the prophecies. So I was chosen when I was little more than a child to be the keeper for this generation. I have been training most of my life, learning the prophecies that have been passed down for hundreds of years. When the current keeper passes from this world – as he may do soon, for he has lived many years – I will become the new keeper."

Arthur hid a grin at the awe on Merlin's face.

"You know all of the prophecies?" he demanded excitedly.

"All of the ones I've been tasked with keeping," she answered, and she smiled at Merlin. "I have been waiting for you, Emrys. I knew you would come to me for answers when the time was right." Her eyes flickered to Arthur and Lancelot for just a moment. "I did not know that you would bring your friends with you, but I am glad you did. Now come." She stood, brushing the dirt from her clothes. "I will show you all where you will be staying."

Staying? Arthur hadn't really planned on staying. But Arwen showed them to a tent and urged them to stow their things.

"I know we have much to talk about," she said, "but I am afraid I do have a few chores that need tending to. Please, make yourselves at home with our people. I know they are curious about you."

Arthur took a deep breath. He had survived battles and dragons and council meetings and passionate fights with his father. He could handle mingling with druids.

And if he felt a little sick at that thought, it was probably just the result of the porridge.