THE WATER WITCH AND THE BLACK DOGS
By TIPPER

CHAPTER THREE: DOWN IN THE VALLEY

Sometimes it came from a spoken spell, a learned enchantment, part of an intentional design, but, sometimes…

Sometimes, when he needed it the most, he was magic.

Merlin wasn't even sure he'd done anything at all, until he felt the wind blow up from the valley below and catch them, and he laughed.

And then something hard hit his head. Damn it, he'd forgotten the rocks falling with them…

…

…

As they tumbled down the steep slope, hitting sharp and dull objects with a force that felt bone cracking, Gwaine fully expected every heartbeat to be his last. Merlin called out something next to him, possibly a farewell, a "don't die," or a "hang on;" it had been nonsense noise within the wind, chaos and pain. He'd tried to answer, but it seemed to take all his breath just to bang, smack, crack and not die.

Except he didn't die. They didn't die. They had stopped. And Gwaine wasn't entirely sure how that had happened.

He had a vague notion that, somewhere along that way, something had caught them, like a strong wind blowing up to hold them in its hand…just briefly, but long enough to slow them down enough to drop them here, in this shadowed vale, the sound of babbling water nearby. Ridiculous, obviously, but…

Oh hell, whatever had happened, he was just happy to still be here and, as far he could tell, still intact. And, since he'd heard Merlin swear and grouse when he'd attempted to move, he knew his friend was still with him as well. If his lungs and chest didn't hurt so much, he would have whooped for joy.

He tested his limbs one at a time, and they all responded. He closed his eyes and thanked the heavens above for the escape from certain death.

"Gwaine?" Merlin called softly.

He smiled slightly, opening his eyes. "Yeah?"

Merlin sighed again, and Gwaine waited for Merlin to speak again. When he didn't, Gwaine frowned slightly.

"Merlin?" he said. "You called?"

"Huh? Oh. No. Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you were still alive."

Gwaine grinned. "Miraculously, I am. Are you?"

"I think so."

"How are we not dead?"

Merlin was silent for a moment, then, "Guess that drop wasn't as steep as it looked."

Gwaine snorted. He'd seen that drop when they'd set up camp. They shouldn't have survived. But, since he had no better explanation, he just sighed. "Guess so."

Merlin sighed again, and then groaned in pain. Gwaine caught the movement out of the corner of his eye—Merlin pushing himself to his feet, a bit like watching an old dog rousing up from slumber.

Dog. Dog!

"Wait!" he gasped out loud, pushing up onto his elbows. "Be careful! That hound from hell is down here somewhere, he might have survived as well. And there could be others!"

"Yeah," Merlin said, his voice sounding strangled, "I know."

Gwaine turned to look at him, and found Merlin standing very still and staring at something outside of Gwaine's sight, his expression blanched.

With enormous reluctance, Gwaine sat up the rest of the way, grunting in pain as something in his chest twanged. Breathing through it, he pressed a hand to his chest, and looked in the same direction as Merlin. Swallowing heavily, he knew exactly what had driven his friend to silence.

"Well, that's not good," he muttered. Merlin huffed a pained laugh.

They'd landed at the edge of a moonlit clearing that was cut in half by a wide, rushing river about the width of a street in Camelot. On this side were Merlin, Gwaine and a thankfully unconscious black dog lying deathly still on the edge of the bank. Apparently, the creature's fall from the top of the bluff had not been as lucky as theirs. But on the other side of the stream were at least three more dogs, all slightly lighter in appearance—more gray than black—but, frankly, no less small. Gwaine revised the size of the animals in his head from small cow to small horse. Good god, these monsters were huge.

The largest of the three growled and approached the small river, its head down, green eyes glowing with a menace that not even the one they'd fought had managed.

Gwaine reached for his sword…and found empty air. Ah. That might be a problem. He pulled the dagger from his waist and levered himself the rest of the way to his feet, managing only a slight sway upon standing. He was calling that a win.

"Looks like the party continues," he said, moving forward to get in front of Merlin. "Stay behind me; I'll—"

"Wait."

Gwaine raised an eyebrow, looking over his shoulder at Merlin. "For what?" he said. "An invitation? Trust me, we're not going to get one."

"No. I mean don't threaten them. They're not attacking us—they're just watching us, like they're waiting to see what we do. I think we may have the wrong of this."

Gwaine smirked. "I highly doubt that. Seems pretty obvious to me-" He stopped talking with a frown, realizing that Merlin looked a little strange, like half his face was in shadow. Except it wasn't. That was blood. "Did you hit your head?"

Merlin blinked, and reached up a hand to touch his forehead near his left temple. He grimaced in pain and then pulled his hand down, frowning at what in the white moonlight looked like black ink on his fingertips.

"Oh," he said. "Yes. But it's fine. And, oh yeah, while we were talking..." He looked straight at Gwaine, and there was an intelligence and certainty in his eyes that Gwaine could only wonder at. "They still didn't attack."

Gwaine frowned. He'd seen his friend like this before a few times, when suddenly Merlin took on a quality that was well beyond his years. Like he operated on an entirely different plane of existence than the rest of them—a place where Merlin was, to put it mildly, scary smart.

He looked back at the dogs—Merlin was right. They'd had plenty of time to attack, but they hadn't moved. "Alright, so maybe it's not so obvious," he conceded. "Then what are they waiting for?"

"Those three creatures," Merlin said, "I think they're females."

"So?"

"They're not attacking, because they're protecting something. Look behind them, into the trees. Really look."

Gwaine frowned, but did as he was told, squinting into the shadows. For a second or two, he couldn't see anything, then movement caught his eye and he focused on it. And, like that, he understood.

Behind the three dogs, partially camouflaged by the trees, brush and shadow, were six or seven more black dogs…except that they were actually the size of real dogs. None of them could have been higher than Gwaine's knee, their eyes were wide and open, almost scared, and they shifted and fidgeted with the energy of children.

"Are those…" Gwaine swallowed. "Puppies?"

"Yeah," Merlin said. "I think so."

"Aw hell. We're never leaving this clearing alive. The dads are one thing, but a mother protecting her young?" He shook his head. "Listen, you run. I'll hold them off as long as I can. And tell the others…tell them I'll miss them. Even Leon. Though…he really does need to lighten up sometimes. Tell him that. And tell the princess….Tell Arthur it was an honor."

Merlin frowned, and then he moved up to Gwaine's side. "Yeah. Not happening."

"Merlin…"

"Let me try something."

Gwaine frowned. "Am I going to hate this 'something'?"

"Probably."

"Merlin—"

"I'll be fine."

"If you die, Arthur is going to kill me."

Merlin offered him a crooked smile, and then stepped forward, his arms out-stretched. When Gwaine stepped forward with him, though, Merlin placed a hand on his chest.

"No. You need to stay back. They know you're the greater threat here."

" But—"

"Please, you have to trust me."

Gwaine frowned.

"Gwaine, please."

"You have a bad head wound. How do I know you're in your right mind enough for me to trust you?"

Merlin smiled. "Nice. But not good enough. Can you go stand at the edge of the clearing, please?"

"I don't—"

"Please."

He sounded almost desperate, and Gwaine searched his face for something to hold onto. Something to believe in, so that he wouldn't think that his friend was about to die a horrible death right in front of him.

Merlin just stared back, earnest and honest. Gwaine did trust Merlin. But, warring with that trust was the simple fact that Merlin could die, and Gwaine would much rather give up his own life if it meant Merlin had any chance in hell to survive this.

"Gwaine," Merlin said, his voice gentle, "listen to me. I am going to save our lives, and possibly everyone back up in the camp. But only if you trust me. Please, do what I tell you."

Gwaine grimaced, never much one for doing what he was told.

"Go to the back of the clearing," Merlin ordered. "Now."

And for some reason he couldn't quite fathom, Gwaine found himself taking a step back. Then another. Almost without conscious thought, he backed up to the edge of the clearing, hand still tight on the dagger.

Apparently, Merlin could order him around. Who knew?

Body thrumming with fear for his friend (and for himself), he watched Merlin move up next to the unconscious black dog and kneel down. Gwaine bit his lip as Merlin's hands skimmed over the creature, and then stood to face the three dogs on the other side of the stream.

"My name is Merlin," he called, and Gwaine strained a little to hear him over the rushing water. "Can you understand me?"

Gwaine's eyebrows lifted. Merlin was going to save the day by talking to them? Did he not get the part where they weren't people?

"Can you understand me?" Merlin repeated, moving closer to the edge of the stream.

The largest of the three dogs growled, but, amazingly, seemed to incline her head.

Merlin gave a nod in return. "Then, please, listen. We did not come into this valley with the intent to harm you or your children. I am guessing, however, that your…" He paused, as if looking for the right word, before continuing, "…warriors attacked us because you thought we were here to hunt you down. Twenty men in chain mail on the hill, we looked like a hunting party. Am I right? Why else would you have attacked such a dangerous looking group of men?"

The dogs said nothing, they simply continued to growl, low, deep and threatening.

"I swear to you, we had no idea you were even here. We only intended to pass through. We came this way because we were avoiding the road past the castle to the north. In hindsight…" Merlin cocked his head. "That might have been a mistake."

The lead dog lifted her head, baring her teeth and Merlin seemed to hesitate. It was a lot of very sharp teeth. Gwaine gripped his dagger tightly, ready to run forward if any of the dogs even looked like they were about to cross the water.

"Thing is," Merlin said then, his hands open, "as you can see from what happened to him," he pointed to the black dog next to him, "if you do not back off, the men still up on the hill behind me will win. They'll defeat the other two and then, in all likelihood, they will come down here after you."

All three dogs bared their fangs at that, hackles raised, and Gwaine swore softly. What the hell was he doing?

"They will come unless," Merlin pressed on, "you let my friend and I go and you call your other two warriors off before my friends kill them."

Gwaine snorted. Hell of a bluff. But there was no way that these creatures would go for it, not without more.

"And if you do this," Merlin said then, "I promise that we will leave this valley tonight, and that the people of Camelot will never come back armed to either hunt you or fight you or any of your kind."

Gwaine frowned slightly at that promise, one Merlin didn't really have the right to make. From the fact that the three dogs were still bristling, they didn't seem to buy it either.

"And one more thing," Merlin added, and Gwaine saw him draw in a deep breath as if nervous. "If you agree to let us go, and to call back your warriors….I will do what I can to heal this one."

Gwaine almost dropped the dagger. "Merlin," he hissed, "you did hit your head too hard!"

The fact that Merlin didn't turn suggested he hadn't heard him, and Gwaine ground his teeth in frustration. "Merlin!" he hissed again, this time a little louder. Merlin reacted this time, but still didn't turn. What was he playing at?

The lead dog growled darkly, and Merlin shook his head, almost as if the dog had said something intelligible.

"No, he's not dead," Merlin said. "He's unconscious and bleeding heavily both inside and out, but I think I can save him. And though I don't look it, I know something of healing. If I try, and I can get him back on his feet, will you let us go and call the others off?"

Gwaine just stared, open mouthed, convinced now that Merlin was totally and completely crazy.

Enough was enough.

Dagger fitted snugly in his palm, he walked forward. "Merlin, I love you, but you're nuts if—"

"If you heal him, we will do as you ask," the lead dog growled, and Gwaine halted in sheer shock.

"It can speak?" he said dumbly.

"She can speak, yes," Merlin replied, finally looking at him over his shoulder. He smiled slightly. "Didn't you hear her speaking before?"

Gwaine just shook his head.

"Probably a good thing," Merlin said. "She called you a few nasty things. I don't think she likes your hair."

He almost bought it…but then he remembered that all women liked his hair. Woman or hound-from-hell, it didn't matter. He gave Merlin a look, and Merlin actually smiled.

"Can you come here," Gwaine said tightly, gesturing quickly with his hand. "Now?"

Merlin bit his lip, glanced at the lead dog, and then turned and walked over to Gwaine.

"Merlin," Gwaine whispered when he was close enough to grab his arm, "I see what you're trying to do here, but, without sounding ungrateful, you have about as much chance of saving that dog's life as I do of becoming a virgin again. So, perhaps this might be a good time to revisit Plan A, wherein I fight them off and you get the hell out of here."

"I can do this, Gwaine," Merlin promised.

"With what? Fairy dust?"

"With your help."

"Come on. Even if Gauis were here, he—"

"Please," Merlin stressed, and his eyes took on that ancient look again. "I swear to you that I can do this. I need some herbs. There have to be some around here. If I tell you what to look for, do you think you can find them?"

Gwaine just sighed.

Merlin took that for a yes, and started describing flowers for Gwaine to find, randomly calling out their purposes as he did so, much like Gaius did when he was working on one of them. He sounded so confident, so much like his mentor, that Gwaine actually started to believe he could do this. And so, a moment later, after they had lit a small brand for light, he was heading into the dark woods in search of tiny white and purple flowers, while Merlin went back to talk to, well, the bitches.

…

…

Merlin sighed heavily as Gwaine disappeared into the trees lining the valley, the fire marking his passage soon lost in the shadows of the bushes and greenery, and he turned back to the black dogs. The lead female, who was clearly the alpha, was still watching him warily.

"I need to set his bones, first," he said. She said nothing, so he looked around on the meadow floor. Moving with a measure pace, he walked to the nearest tree and found a couple of straight, strong sticks that should work for what he needed. Picking them up, he walked back to the injured black dog on the edge of the river bank and knelt down, using his knife to cut them to the right size. Fairly quickly, he had the broken foreleg splinted, using pieces of his shirt to tie the sticks in place.

He then felt along the ribs, slotting them back into place, wincing at the noise and feel of it all. Throughout, the injured creature didn't make a sound except to breathe more and more wetly.

There was also a number of wounds, more visible now that the dog wasn't moving. Some of them were stab wounds—so the swords hadn't been completely useless. But there was one terrible wound at his shoulder which was bleeding heavily—where a bone had poked through the skin.

Grimacing, he washed his hands in the river, then reached up and, praying softly to the heavens above, he pushed the bone back inside until he felt it "set." Then he pressed the skin together. It was only then that he realized he had no idea how he was going to keep it together. Frustrated, he let go and leaned back, sitting on his legs.

There really wasn't anything else he could do now. Except the obvious, of course.

Gwaine wasn't wrong to question his sanity. His record with healing magic was somewhere in the realm of one success to many, many failures. And it didn't help that the one time he had healed someone, it was Morgana. Or that he'd had a dragon's spell in making it happen.

He lowered his head, frowning. Nothing for it now. Gwaine would only take a few more minutes to find all those herbs, so he had to act fast before his friend returned.

Resting his hands gently against the animal's sides, he felt the swelling building beneath the animal's tough skin. He was literally bleeding to death inside, and Merlin had to stop it. The same spell that had saved Morgana's life should work here, and he cleared his mind in order to bring it to the forefront.

Problem was, that spell had awoken a woman who, since then, had rained nothing but devastation down on Camelot, killing hundreds of people, including one of his best friends. He'd saved a murderous villain with this magic, might even have made her worse. And here…here was going to save a creature that, moments ago, had been about to rip his friends to shreds.

His hands shook. Was this the right thing to do? Would Kilgarrah be ashamed to know that the same magic would bring another potential evil back to life?

"What are you doing?" the gray dog snarled, standing still at the edge. Merlin glanced at her. She lowered her head, her bright yellow eyes seeming to stare right through him. "You hesitate," she said, the growl part question, part accusation.

Merlin bit his lip. "Yes," he admitted quietly. "I'm scared."

She studied him for a moment, then cocked her hide to one side. "I cannot do anything about that," she said. "But this is the deal you offered, not me."

Merlin swallowed, and he looked at the black dog under his hands. She was right. He had. And he had promised to try.

Closing his eyes, he rested his hands on the dying animal's sides and the guttural dragon speech rolled off his tongue into the cool night air, the spell still as much a part of him now as it had been the day the dragon had gifted him with it. He felt the powerful surge of magic rise in him, filling his chest and running down his arms into the black dog's body.

He opened his eyes as the black dog jerked under his hands, whimpered slightly, and then settled, this time breathing far easier than he had been before. Swallowing, Merlin felt the beast's side and had a tiny burst of ego when he felt smooth skin. No swelling. Looking up at his shoulder, he could see the skin knitting together. He smiled brightly, and looked across the river.

The gray wolf had backed up a step, as had the others. Her wariness was far more pronounced now, eyes more wide than menacing.

"What are you?" she hissed. "That was not human magic."

His smile fell, not sure how to take that, but before he could say anything, Gwaine called his name. He twisted around, saw Gwaine jogging towards him with fistfuls of flowers and plants pressed to his chest. He turned to the gray female.

"He doesn't know," he whispered, begging her to understand. "Please."

She said nothing, just lowered her head again.

"I found these pretty quickly," Gwaine said, almost cheerfully. "This valley is verdant—probably because no people can come here." He flashed a wry grin and looked down at the black dog. "That a splint?"

"Yeah," Merlin said, reaching over to wash the blood off before reaching up for the herbs. Gwaine dumped them into his hands and stepped back, pressing a hand to his ribs. Merlin hadn't missed that—he wondered if any of Gwaine's ribs were broken. Presumably, if Gwaine could jog, then they weren't. Then again, his friend did have an insanely high threshold for pain.

Trying not to worry about it too much, he picked up the knife he'd used for the splint and pressed the herbs on a rock, using the butt of the knife to smash them.

"How's your head?" Gwaine asked, dropping his voice a little. "It looks like it's still bleeding."

Merlin grimaced. It hurt. A lot. He wanted nothing more than to drink a bucketful of willowbark tea, curl up into a ball on his bed under Gaius' watchful eye, and cry himself to sleep until it went away.

"It's fine," he told Gwaine, not looking up. The knight had to know it was a lie, but he didn't say anything. Well, fair's fair. Gwaine hadn't said anything about his ribs.

In moments, Merlin had an almost paste formed. It would help the wound on the black dog's neck to heal more cleanly.

As if hearing his thoughts, the injured dog huffed, and Merlin looked up, a little startled. Morgana had slept a whole night through after being healed. What if…what if this dog woke up more quickly than that? If the male woke up while they were still here, he may not abide by the agreement he'd made with the female. Best thing to do would be to put the animal into a deeper sleep with magic, before that could happen.

Which meant he had to get rid of Gwaine again. He looked down at the herbs…and spat out a curse.

"What?" Gwaine said. "What's the matter?"

"I need one more. Hemlock, to ease his pain. Can you see if you can find me some?"

Gwaine frowned, but nodded, pulling the dagger out of his belt. "I'll be quick. I saw one just a little ways back. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

"Thank you," Merlin said, trying to give him a confident looking smile.

Gwaine turned and jogged back the way he'd come, still holding a hand over his ribs as he moved.

Merlin blew out a breath, and reached out a hand to press to the black dog's head.

…

…

Gwaine smiled, spotting the little white flowers almost glowing in the bright moonlight.

"Easy," he muttered. He didn't like leaving Merlin with those creatures by himself for too long.

He was roughly ripping some flowers free when he heard a percussive growl and Merlin yell out in terror.

"Merlin!" he shouted, throwing the Hemlock to the ground. He ran back to the clearing to find Merlin on his back, the black dog pressing down on him, splint and all, fangs inches from Merlin's face.

"You gave me your word!" Merlin shouted, hands up. Gwaine bellowed a war cry, raising the dagger over his head, but, before he could even get close, a gray-black blur had knocked the black dog off Merlin and now stood between it and his friend on the ground. Gwaine staggered to a stop, not sure what to do as the larger black dog faced off against the slightly smaller gray dog.

Merlin pushed himself up on his elbows and crawled away on his arms from them towards the stream.

"Merlin?" Gwaine said, jogging up the rest of the way and kneeling by his side, pulling him closer to him. "What happened?"

"I…um…" Merlin swallowed, and Gwaine could see he was trembling hard. He drew Merlin closer, putting an arm protectively around his chest. "I guess I didn't need the hemlock," Merlin finished weakly.

The two dogs growled, baring their teeth, keeping each other at bay. When the black dog made to go around the gray one, the gray snapped and went for his throat. The black dog leapt back, out of the way, and snarled. The gray dog planted herself between Merlin and the black dog again.

"I think they're arguing," Merlin said.

"Ya think?" Gwaine asked. He found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the stand-off. "I thought you could understand them?"

"She spoke English to me before. Now…now I don't know what they're doing or saying."

Gwaine just shook his head and held his dagger as tight as he could. If the female lost….

And then, suddenly, the black dog backed off. It gave Gwaine and Merlin a baleful look, but it turned and, head down, slinked away into the forest, barely limping on the splinted leg. The gray dog turned, glanced at Merlin, and then threw her head back, howling into the wind. It was almost piercing, and Gwaine found himself wincing a little at how loud it was. Merlin groaned, pressing a hand to his head, curling in on himself slightly.

"Merlin?"

"I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth, repeating the same lie from earlier. "That howl isn't helping the headache."

The gray dog stopped howling, and turned to face then, sitting down. "That howl, as you call it, may not have helped your head, human, but it served the purpose we promised." She looked up at the hill over their heads. "The other two—should they still live—will retreat from the fight with your soldiers."

Gwaine swallowed, still finding it strange to hear words from the creature's mouth.

"Now you fulfill your promise," the gray dog said, her yellow eyes once more focused on Merlin. "And leave our valley."

Merlin gave a nod and, with Gwaine's help, got back up to his feet. Halfway up, he swayed badly, pressing a hand to his head, and Gwaine grabbed his elbow to steady him. Merlin pulled his arm free, and, standing up the rest of the way, he gave a slight bow to the gray dog.

"Thank you for keeping your word," he said.

She just inclined her head.

Merlin flashed a crooked smile, and looked at Gwaine. "Ready to go?"

"My friend," Gwaine said, shaking his head in disbelief, "after this? I will follow you anywhere you lead."

…

…

Merlin was fading fast with every step, and Gwaine found his own aches and pains beginning to blur his vision, the world spinning a little as they struggled up the ruined cliff face. Every breath was a struggle, and his chest was on fire—he had definitely broken at least one rib.

Leaning heavily on each other, they were halfway up the only obvious path up the hillside when they found themselves accosted by Arthur, Percival and a half-dozen more knights charging down from the other direction. Arthur stopped dead when he saw them, eyes wide, and then he laughed and lunged forward, quickly embracing Merlin and grabbing Gwaine's arm warmly.

"How are you not dead from that fall?" Arthur exclaimed, wrapping a hand around Merlin's arm, as if afraid he might slip away again. "We thought we were going down to retrieve your bodies."

"No faith," Merlin muttered.

"Takes more than a minor plummet from a cliff to stop us," Gwaine answered with a grin. "Oh…and catch him before he falls, will you?"

Arthur's grip switched almost instantly from Merlin's arm to under his shoulders, pulling Merlin up as the servant's knees buckled slightly. Merlin's head was down, as if it were too heavy to hold up.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked, using his free hand to turn Merlin's head towards him, checking out the blood-covered face. The fact that Merlin suffered the indignity of it without back-talk was pretty telling.

"Honestly? No. He hit his head hard on the way down," Gwaine replied on Merlin's behalf. "He needs rest."

Arthur nodded solemnly, looking over at Gwaine. "And you? Are you well?"

"Nothing I can't handle." Just my ribs feeling like they're floating around like driftwood in my chest.

"Good, good," Arthur levered Merlin up a little higher and looked to the rest of his men. "Continue following those creatures. I want to know where their den is. When we come back, we'll need to—"

"No," Merlin said, putting enough force into it to interrupt Arthur. The king frowned.

"What?"

"We're leaving." Merlin had finally lifted his head, and, even with his eyelids at half-mast, there was determination in that voice. "And we're not coming back."

Arthur's frown deepened. "I'm going to assume you are saying that out of some sort of concern for our welfare, but those black dogs are a danger to—"

"No, he's not," Gwaine inserted, stepping forward. "He's saying it because that's the deal he made them."

"Deal?" Arthur repeated, his gaze locked on Gwaine now. "What do you mean, deal?"

"There were more black dogs in the valley," Gwaine said. "To save our lives…and yours…Merlin made a promise that, if they let us go and called the dogs off that were attacking you, we'd leave the valley and never return. Apparently, the dogs only attacked us because they thought we were here to hunt them."

Arthur cocked his head. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Merlin made a deal with—"

"No, I heard that part. I'm trying to understand…the dogs? How do you make a deal with a dog?" He looked at Merlin for the answer, but Merlin's head was down again and his eyes were closed.

"Well, they're not exactly dogs," Gwaine said, shrugging (and wincing as it tugged on his hurt ribs). "They're magical creatures."

"I know that. The fact they were the size of a pony and nearly impossible to kill sort of gave it away. But that doesn't mean anything. Griffins and basilisks are magical creatures, but I've never known any of them to actually speak. They are just mindless creatures, whose only purpose is to kill."

"Well, these aren't," Gwaine replied. "And Merlin talked to them and saved all our lives. You'd still be fighting up there if he hadn't. Assuming that you weren't able to kill them."

Arthur stared at him for a moment, before frowning. "No. We were losing, to be honest. The one you tricked was the only one we managed to kill."

Almost kill, Gwaine revised in his head. But he wisely kept his mouth shut on that one.

Percival asked, "Is that why the two we were fighting suddenly retreated? That howl…?"

Gwaine inclined his head. "Merlin gave his word." He lifted his chin, his tone even as he met Arthur's gaze. "And we're going to honor it."

The young king's eyes narrowed—he'd heard the implied threat in Gwaine's voice—but, thankfully, he didn't remark on it. "And if these creatures attack others?" he asked softly. "What if they attack a caravan, one with women and children? What then? How do I live with that? I made an oath to protect the people of this land."

"Not this land. We're in Mercia, remember? You can tell Bayard about it, or the lord in that castle over yonder, if they don't already know. Let Mercia deal with them."

Arthur's gaze darkened. Gwaine knew that look—heroes like Arthur didn't like backing down from a fight, especially one where the other side could come back meaner and more brutal. He couldn't say that those dogs wouldn't attack others—they probably would, and it could be women and children. They probably already had. But…

"Merlin gave his word," he said again, his only real argument against what Arthur was saying. He looked at Merlin, who wasn't so much standing now as being held up by Arthur. "And," Gwaine continued, his voice softer, "he needs a healer."

"He's not the only one, Sire," Percival noted, just as soft. "We've nearly a dozen men injured up there, and at least two dead."

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them again, Gwaine knew the battle had been won. Arthur always put his men first.

"We'll discuss this again in the morning," the king said finally. "For now, you're both right. Our men need shelter and help." He took a step back from Merlin's side and bent over, catching the falling servant over his shoulder as he tipped over. When he straightened with Merlin settled in place, he looked over at the youngest of the knights with them. "Sir John, run back up to camp and tell the men to get ready to move out immediately. We're going to seek the hospitality of that castle."

Gwaine relaxed…and swayed slightly, everything that had happened catching up to him. When Percival placed a hand under his arm for support as they started the walk up the rest of hill, he offered a grateful smile to his friend.

…

…

TBC…

And we all know nothing interesting is going to happen in that castle, right? Nothing at all... :) Hope you're enjoying it so far!