Merlin: Witness

by mirwalker

CHAPTER FIVE

"It's just here," the overly happy promise floated in, as the door to Arthur's room finally opened without a knock.

"It's about time, Merlin," Gaius chided almost immediately, as he and Gwen turned toward the returner. "You've just missed the king, who is not especially happy that you're breaking things when you should be looking after his son…"

"I think you remember Gaius," Merlin gestured coolly between his critic, and the stranger to everyone else in the room. "And this is Gwen."

The not-as-old, but much more weathered-looking, man removed his cap, and nodded graciously, "Mister Gaius, it's been a long while. Good to see you well."

"Who is this?" the physician and manservant heard asked from throughout the room.

"Merlin?" Gwen asked independently, eyebrows suggesting introductions might be appropriate given the intrusion on the injured prince's private quarters.

"This is Til," Gaius explained for all, and confirmed for himself, "One of Camelot's best stone masons. You've seen his beautiful handiwork throughout the castle and town." His own eyebrow raised toward his scheming ward, he continued, "Who now seems to have graciously returned on a moment's notice, to clean up behind our too eager young friend."

"It's my pleasure to care for this beautiful building," the craftsman smiled. Gesturing to the handled box he carried, he suggested, "I can begin at once; and I'll be sure to keep the noise down." He nodded toward the heir's bed, a look of sadness passing over him, as he looked to Merlin for where specifically his skill was needed.

Merlin led him to the open window, and pointed out the dislodged piece of frame. As the artisan inspected the damage, Merlin waved Gaius over, and asked a favor of Gwen, "Gaius, would you mind bringing over that candle? And Gwen, while I help fix my mistake, could you make a brazier for Arthur? It is really beginning to get colder out."

Casting an indignant look at one another, over the apparent new supervisor, both his friends nonetheless did as asked, as the tasks were reasonable enough, whoever their assigner.

Showing he could do his part for the effort, Merlin promptly lit the delivered source of light, and held it so the housecall could go more quickly. Avoiding Gaius' glare, he also didn't let the physician slip away. He asked quietly, around their listening stonemason, "How is Arthur doing?"

Gaius sighed, and admitted, "He's no better; but no worse. While you were gone, we changed his bandages, applied my strongest salve, and fed him a little more broth."

"You'll save him, Mister Gaius; you're a top notch healer, you are," smiled the visitor confidently, as he checked how well the loose piece fit its former home.

Looking incredibly uncomfortable with the compliment, especially given his history with its giver, he demurred, "That's kind of you to say, Til; but…"

"But what?" challenged Merlin, with a largely feigned innocence.

"But, we all know my skills are not always enough. Not nearly enough..." The agony of regret settled on him again, as he struggled not to look at the old father or young meddler.

"Merlin," injected Til mildly, "Could you get me some warm water? We're lucky this break was relatively clean; a little pin and mortar, and this ornamental ridge should fit right back into place."

"Of course. Lucky us!" Merlin handed Gaius the candle, and headed to the fireplace.

Til pulled a pouch of powder from his box, and poured a good amount into a deep bowl he'd also brought with him. He then used a sharp blade to begin etching a few grooves into the two stone surfaces to be reunited. Skilled and swift, he was also able to converse as he worked, and so reminded the physician, "You undersell yourself, Mister Gaius. Many of us in Camelot wouldn't still be here, if it weren't for your years of care. Myself. The prince…"

Ever more uncomfortable, Gaius fidgeted visibly, and wiped his brow despite the cool breeze entering past them. "Til, we both know that I am more than limited, and have had a number of failures in my record..." And on my conscience.

Holding a pot and ladle up for the mason to take what he needed for his mortar mix, Merlin continued to play his upbeat fool role. "We all have confidence in you, Gaius; we know you'll have Arthur back on his pretty feet in no time!"

Til nodded thanks to the boy, as he stirred the gritty paste. "He's not being modest, Merlin; he's still beating himself up over an impossible night many years ago." He turned to the surprised physician with a look of irritation, "You still haven't forgiven yourself have you?"

"Merlin?" a formless voice asked urgently again, naming the accusation on both Gwen and Gaius' faces. "What is going on? What have you brought this man here? And what is this old grievance? If you distract Gaius from Arthur's care in the least…"

"Of course I haven't," Gaius insisted, resignation and resentment mixing in his tone. "How could I? You and Twyla needed me; and I remained here until it was too late."

"Where you were obliged to be by king and duty," Til noted flatly as he spread the sticky concoction over the broken wall. "Where you saved the newborn prince, on whom we all hang our hopes for a future of peace and justice."

Gwen's mouth dropped open at this story she'd never heard. And in his peripheral vision, Merlin caught frantic movement in every shiny surface in the room. "What… is… this…?" a hoarse whisper demanded.

Gaius too seemed surprised by the relative nonchalance of Til's recounting. "But, my loyalty here cost you— cost you your son… How can you not be angry still?"

Having fitted a few metal shards into the gooey grooves in the window frame, Til turned to face Gaius as he repeated the treatment on the stone fragment. Despite the clear pain of the faraway moments they discussed, the craftsman remained calm and gracious as he confessed, "Of course we wished things had been different, that you had come from the castle sooner. And we were angry for a long while, first at you, then at the King for keeping you, and then at the world more largely for the injustice of it all."

He thumbed a fallen tear into the paste as his hands continued their steady work. "But we—my wife and I—we both came to understand that you were the court physician; and the king was just a father trying to protect his wife and child. Our anger changed nothing, and didn't honor the memory of our son, our little prince."

Not breaking from his story, or the long peace it told, he turned and gently aligned the broken stone edges, and slipped the fragment back into the whole. "And though we didn't have another child of our own, and despite a few failed attempts to reassure you through the years, we-," Til looked around the room, as if worried or embarrassed over whom he was baring this secret. "We celebrated Prince Arthur, and his shared birthday, and his accomplishments. We chose to find joy in the son we might have had, and the one will never forget."

He wiped the seeping mortar from around the repair, and closed the window while holding the reinstalled piece in place. Gently wedging a wood brace to immobilize it while the repair dried and set, he continued as he wiped his hands clean. "So, it's all the more important, Mister Gaius, that you take care of this prince. My Twyla died a few years back, still sharing my hope that Arthur will become a man and a king worthy of our son's sacrifice."

There was no sound or movement in the room, save the absolute entreaty in the old father's eyes.

"You still love your son," Merlin understood aloud, glancing over his shoulder to the ornate mirror on the wall.

"And always will," Til affirmed, dabbing his own face as he wrapped up his task and tale.

"Til, I—I don't know what to say to—" Gaius choked. His angst at the father's arrival had left him completely, taking years of guilt and shame with it.

The forgiver simply offered his hand, and suggested quietly, "Just save the boy."

Hearing a quiet sob from several corners of the room, Gaius nodded a few tears from his own eyes, accepting the mercy and mission from this family who had every reason to deny him both.

Til placed his tools back into his kit, and wiped down the sill. "Leave the window closed, and the brace in place for a few days, a week if you can."

Merlin nodded, as Gaius realized there was one final debt to settle. "Gwen, would you please take Til to the kitchens for a well-earned meal, with the royal household's gratitude. And rest assured, Merlin will visit soon to settle up a proper payment for tonight's visit, from his own clumsy wages."

Gwen's sad face turned to a grin at that justice; but Merlin just gaped at the quick forgetting of his orchestrating this relationship renewal.

As Til nodded his goodbye to all, and began to follow the maid out, Merlin remembered a remaining, and in fact central, point still not resolved. "Sir," he called after the father, "One last thing, if you please. So that we can honor him as well, did you and your wife… have a name for your son?"

Pausing at the door, Til smiled with an obvious and fresh pride. "His name is Auden."(1)

At that moment, the hanging mirror nearby shattered out into the room, with a loud, gasping gust of wind that rattled every loose flap and bauble, and flickered every flame in the space.

As the four standing occupants uncovered their faces and took stock of what had just happened, it was Gwen who noticed and called out first, "Arthur!"

For sitting upright in his bed, shocked awake by the sudden sound and fury, the previously unresponsive prince was now breathing deeply and looking about confused.

Much later that night, once the shattered glass had been cleaned up, and the royal family reunited, and the patient showing remarkable improvement, Merlin and Gaius finally shared a quick bite to eat before they turned in for a much needed, and well-earned rest.

"Are you sure he's gone, Merlin?" Gaius asked between small bites.

Sleepy eyes fluttering more fully open, Merlin assured, "As I cleaned up, I looked in every shard and reflection in the room; nothing. So unless you heard some sound or voice I didn't…"

Gaius nodded, agreeing that there seemed to be no more evidence of the mirror prince, once the mirror had broken and their own prince awoken. "That was a risky gamble you took, bringing his father here on just the hope that some random sharing might release the poor boy."

"It wasn't random," Merlin protested. "And his wasn't the only bind I was hoping to release."

Knowing he'd soon sleep without a guilt he'd carried for Arthur's, and Auden's, entire lifetime, Gaius could only smile and offer a heartfelt "Thank you" to his young friend and, it would seem, redeemer.

"In one way, though, I wish he hadn't gone," Merlin confessed.

"What?!" Gaius seemed shocked that the apprentice would consider undoing what he'd worked so hard to make possible. "Whatever for?"

A twinkle accompanied the sly grin that spread over Merlin's face, as he only half-jokingly admitted the precious resource he'd lost. "He'd witnessed Arthur's entire life… He knew all of Arthur's secrets and mistakes!"

THE END

NOTES

1 . The Old English word for "witness" is "æwda," in the accusative case "æwdan."

All Old English taken from or based on translations via oldenglishtranslator dot co dot uk . Not sure if that is the language they actually based the series' spells on; but it fits well.

Hope you've enjoyed this relatively brief fancy; thanks for reading along. Constructive reviews always welcome, and do check out my other complete and in process pieces!