Merlin: Witness

by mirwalker

CHAPTER THREE

As weary legs carried him too slowly toward the overdue laundry stop, Merlin's mind raced with the past day's unexpected, and perhaps unsettling turns. From Arthur's dangerous fall and near loss of life in the joust arena, to the discovery of a previously unknown, but apparently long-term roommate. From a sleepless night supporting those who also cared for the prince, to a conversation with a man who claimed to have never slept. And now that man who shouldn't be, was singing Arthur a lullaby he couldn't hear—in fact, only Merlin, and perhaps Gaius, could.

He shared a somber glance with the scullery maid, who instantly recognized the contents of the dropped basket—both for their finery, and their stains. The whole staff looked to him for some news, or reassurance; but he could only shrug, shake his head and smile weakly, before heading out again.

Thinking back over the last year in Camelot, Merlin recalled having occasionally heard Arthur talking when the prince was ostensibly alone in his chambers. But he'd either been told it was practice for some upcoming public address, or had marked it up to Arthur's love of hearing the sound of his own voice. While he strongly believed the latter was still true, Merlin now could trust that the conversation might not have been entirely a solo affair after all.

Not long after arriving at Camelot, in fact, he recalled entering Arthur's bed chambers without knocking, arms full. "Who were you talking to?" he'd asked by way of announcing his arrival with the latest batch of laundered shirts, pressed pants and polished boots.

"I was practicing my speech for the banquet," Arthur had explained, straightening that same tapestry in the corner, before running his finger across the top of the hutch beside it, as if confirming the tidiness of his chambers. "I can tell you don't dust; do you ever knock before barging in?"

As was usual, the moment had spiraled into an exchange of insults; and he'd not thought anything more about it. Until today. And unable to ask Arthur about it directly, he went to the only other person implicated in this poorly timed, but nonetheless intriguing mystery.

"Gaius?" he called as he entered quickly.

The physician's workroom and living quarters were a particular mess: books stacked and open on every surface; bags and bottles of assorted contents scattered among them; and, off in rarely used corner, a mix of grumbling and rummaging sounds as the old man searched unsuccessfully, it seemed.

"Gaius?" Merlin called again, not having seen this level of disarray except by ill intent.

The scavenger turned to him, with a look of impatience and quick disdain, "Why aren't you with Arthur? He mustn't be left alone, in case his condition changes!"

"Gwen is sitting with him," Merlin explained calmly, but firmly. "I needed to step away and handle the laundry, grab a bite to eat, and check on you. What are you doing?"

Ignoring the piles of disorganized shelf and box contents surrounding him, Gaius explained the obvious, "Searching through my most obscure recipes, for anything that might help Arthur. I am certainly not focusing on whether I've eaten today."

Exactly, Merlin's look scowled at him. "He's resting as comfortably as he can; and needs us to be at our best, to care best for him." He moved toward the cook fire and larder corner, as if not willing to hear any further protest at his presence or diverted attention.

"I can look after myself quite well," Gaius protested mildly, dragging a box toward, and dropping it and himself on the bench beside, the nearest table.

As if to prove Merlin's point, the grumbling continued but more quietly, as Gaius seemed to pick through the dusty bin with less than full gusto.

Hoping the stew intended as last night's supper hadn't overcooked for sitting on the fire for nearly a day, Merlin slid a bowl and a bit of bread before his mentor, and modeled having a least a little. Pleased when Gaius sighed, dropped his shoulders, and began to pick at the simple meal, Merlin smiled and pushed to his actual agenda. "I also wanted to ask you something… Something a little peculiar; well, a lot peculiar…"

When the silent chewing and picking at the bowl wasn't punctuated with a raised eyebrow or other judgment, Merlin proceeded, "Have you ever heard anything… odd, in Arthur's chambers? Or around Arthur?"

"How do you mean 'odd'?" Gaius asked. The lack of a more animated irritation at the random question suggested he had needed this moment's rest.

"I don't know. Like strange songs or, or voices?"

That got a brief look up. "Merlin, neither of us has time or energy for riddles or other infirmities right now. It's a bad time to start hearing things or giving in to an overactive imagination…"

"I haven't imagined it," Merlin defended himself, or perhaps tried to convince himself again. "It's just… There's a… presence in Arthur's room. I'm certain."

Gaius set down his spoon, sighed, and reminded his ward, "Since long before Arthur and Uther, this castle has hosted and been visited by many peoples and things; most good. But especially given the King's persecution of magic, they have not all left, or left as friends. If you've uncovered something, Merlin, you must be very careful. If so, and whether or not it's involved in Arthur's injury, you cannot be sure of its intentions without knowing more."

"That's it?" Merlin asked, surprised at the lack of a bigger reaction.

"What were you expecting?" Gaius asked, his energy level clearly dropping for having paused his activity for the chat and snack. "You're hearing things in an old castle, when neither of us has slept for more than a day for work and worry…"

Drooping eyes confirmed for Merlin that he'd gotten all he would from Gaius at this point. And, he didn't expect sharing more details of his introduction would do more than add to the older man's burden. He could save more troubles for when he had more details to share…

"Right then," Merlin said, standing and moving around the low table. "I think we both could benefit from a little rest, and so better benefit his highness in the end..." With no further explanation, and with little resistance from his mentor, he guided Gaius to the low bed nearby and tucked him in.

"Just a few minutes rest, Merlin," Gaius instructed weakly. "I'll not have your fondness for sleep get us both in trouble."

"I'll argue that point with you after our quick nap," Merlin smiled, as the snoring began almost before the blanket had settled across the physician. Sleep well… for the both of us, as I still need some answers.

Stifling his own yawn, he headed for his only other source of insights on magical matters in Camelot. One that seemed never to sleep.

Winding his way deep below the castle, avoiding guards and other eyes, Merlin swallowed deeply as he finally stepped out onto the small ledge in the large cavern. While "friendly" was never a word he would apply to his interactions with this unwilling Camelot resident, their exchanges had been extra rocky of late, since Merlin had rashly told off the subterranean advisor, only to seek him out again when his next great need arose—as they often seemed to. He hoped that the giant lizard continued to be forgiving, not that one wanted ever wished for especially "warm" relations with a dragon…

Looking around the dim space, he breathed in to call out, when a husky voice interrupted him. "And yet again, the great Emrys comes to me for council; but will you listen this time, young warlock? Or will you yet again waste my breath?" Fiery eyes opened slowly, as a great form uncoiled from a nearby outcropping.

"I always listen, when what you tell is true," Merlin shot back defensively, if nervously.

"Ha!" scoffed the dragon, "Well I have lived a long time now, to take such lip from one with so little hair on his… Hear this, little magician, I always speak the truth. Having the truth is rarely man's problem; rather, it is whether he believes it and how he uses it."

Little prepared to, or interested in debating philosophy, Merlin spoke to a tangible issue he knew to be of interest to the ancient thinker. "Arthur is injured, perhaps gravely so in what seemed an accident in the tournament. And on nearly the same day, I've suddenly encountered an… apparition in his room, who claims to have always been with him. The reflected man doesn't seem ill-intended, but…"

"Ah, so you've met the scéawere æðeling,"(1) the dragon nodded, seemingly unsurprised.

"The what?" Merlin asked, slightly disappointed he hadn't managed to know more than a creature locked underground for years, but relieved that forced recluse might have answers nonetheless.

"He too is bunden,"(2) Kilgarragh continued his lecture, "a being or spirit who is 'bound.' Shut away in the shadows for the inconvenience of his truth. Until he is needed…," the dragon slowed as he spoke, perhaps waiting for Merlin to make sense of deeper meanings.

"Is that how you feel?" Merlin acknowledged catching the double reference.

"It is simply the truth; is it not?"

"If I'm to save Arthur, as you insist is so critical, then I need to better understand this 'Fleck' person. Perhaps that will help me better understand, and help, you?"

"Sweet of tongue and slow to act on offers—such qualities simply make you …tasty," suggested the unblinking stare.

Swallowing even more uncomfortably, Merlin tried to return their focus to his mystery, not his flavor. "You're avoiding my question. Who is this fellow? Why is he 'bound' to Arthur? And why am I only the one who can see and hear someone so closely connected to Arthur?"

"That is multiple questions."

Merlin grunted in frustration, before recomposing his expression and question. "You called him Bunden; is that also his name?

"He has no name; 'bound' is his fate."

And…? Merlin leaned in, eyes and mouth wide, expectantly…

"Must everything be spelled out for you? Powerful, you are; but worryingly dim," the dragon looked up in exasperation, before turning back. "Think, Merlin! You have all the pieces, not of this specific circumstance perhaps; but you understand how Magic works in its most fundamental, constant ways…"

"But he isn't a magical being himself, at least not that he knows or shows…"

The Dragon sighed, resigned to pulling this lesson from his student slowly. "If he is not magic himself…"

"He's been acted upon by magic?"

"Which makes him…?"

"Possessed? No, he's not alive to be taken over. Conjured? No, he doesn't seem summoned from anywhere or for any purpose." He knocked his fist against his forehead as the Dragon smirked. "Oh, a spirit? A ghost!"

"Good. And such spirits are…?"

"Ghosts are often troubled souls, unable to find peace after an unjust death.(3) But this one doesn't seem vengeful or angry, just resigned, as if he knows no other life."

"And who can die before they've lived?"

Merlin slapped his hands on his legs. "Always your riddles! I don't know- You can't die if you're not alive to begin with; but how can you be alive without living? Who doesn't have a life?" He spun in place, muttering "childish games," before jumping and grinning, "That's it: babies!"

Finally, a perhaps proud nod from the teacher. "So, you have a baby who died before he could live. What else do you know of death and life in the world?"

"The balance demanded by the Old Magic! Outside the natural cycles, it costs a life to offset a death. Are you saying that this baby died so that someone else could live? Who?"

"Not just anyone, Merlin. Someone he would be bound to, in whose fate and affairs he would be 'wrapped up'…"

"Bound to? Wrapped up in? But this man claimed to always be where Arthur was… Arthur!" Merlin's head swam, trying to make sense of the unfolding story. "But Nimueh said it was Queen Ygraine whose life was taken for Arthur…"(4)

"And when have we ever agreed that Arthur's is an ordinary life…?"

Blank stare, or perhaps, overwhelmed.

"The firstborn of Uther Pendragon is both a son and a prince. And, as royalty can be quick to remind us, they are more valuable than common folk. Especially so the Once and Future King…"

"And so the price for Arthur's life was actually higher?" Merlin dropped to his knees as the understanding overtook him. "It cost both a royal death, and that of another."

"Another first-born son… Do you still doubt the importance of Arthur's life and destiny, you who holds its key?"

Merlin looked up aghast, "Some other family lost their child, so that Uther could have his? How is that fair or just?"

"Little this king has ever done was motivated by fairness or justice for any beyond himself. Surely you have seen that for yourself?" The great lizard rattled his own chains as evidence of the Pendragon generosity.

Merlin couldn't argue that point. But he didn't have to accept it. "So what can we do?"

"We?!" The cave resounded with laughter. "As promised, I have spoken the truth when asked. Whether you believe and what you do with it, is a concern for your power and wisdom."

Merlin opened his mouth to argue, but the dragon's look at his own bonds made it clear that he would offer no more unless Merlin was willing to return the favor.

Eyes closing as he curled himself back onto his perch, the old serpent hissed, "The Old Ways are absolute, not to be undone. Both were born; one becomes the great man, the other bears silent witness. Such roles in history as would make any parent proud…"

The audience thus ended, Merlin sat a moment as the darkness seemed to close, not lift, as he adjusted to it. Resigned, he trod back up to his own life, with much more information for his pilgrimage, but still feeling none the wiser for what next to do.

tbc...

NOTES

1. Old English for "mirror prince."

2. A literal translation from the Old English, which I've applied here as if an Old Magic term for those in that lasting predicament.

3. As in the various apparitions who will appear to Uther (The Tears of Uther Pendragon 1 & 2, 3.1 & .2), and to Sir Elyan (A Herald of the New Age, 4.10)

4. Nimeuh revealed this transaction, and in fact the law of balance, when Merlin came again to barter for Arthur's life in Le Morte d'Arthur (1.13).