Merlin awoke shivering. He was shivering in tremors that ebbed and flowed like the tide, and shook him down to the very marrow of his magic. He had been with Freya. He hardly knew where he was, but he could hear muffled voices. Then he began to understand. Blankets. Fire. Voices.

But he had been with Freya. His heart was still singing.

"There", said an unfamiliar voice. "Give him some of this to drink. It will help quickly." Merlin realized someone was holding his head up and a warm liquid was pouring into his mouth. It was sweet and bitter at the same time and it swept through his body like a warming wind, a sensation very close to pain. It made him feel immaterial, as if he might be swept away at any moment. His shivering eased a bit, aching along his bones and he tried, but couldn't open his eyes. He was still dazed, still not sure of what was happening. He had been with Freya.

"Wake up there, mate" said a voice he knew very well, as he felt himself jostled. "Merlin can you hear me?"

Another voice. "Give him some more, Gawaine. He's coming round."

"Percival, we were damn lucky."

"Wasn't luck," said the unfamiliar voice

A warm hand touched his face, and he tried to focus. As the hand left his face he felt a sting of magic. A bite. His eyes snapped open suddenly, fearful, almost panicked. The amber eyes of the Romany tinker smiled down into his own. Gawaine was peering down at him, panic just fading from his eyes and Percival was smiling broadly.

Unable to cope, he closed his eyes, shock and wonder still tearing at him. He felt the inundation of unshed tears in his heart, but everything else within him sang. It sang like like the glowing trail of a comet through the hopeless dark of the heavens and over him it left a blessing. Freya.

Another swallow. More blankets. Between the fierce shivering of his body and the sweet coursing wind that pierced him through, he could no longer bear the pain of his awakening. It gouted from his heart as if a knife had been withdrawn from his chest, and he felt the Romany man reach down, and place his hand on the fountaining agony, just as Merlin began to thrash uncontrollably. He could hear his friends. Calling his name. Telling him to hang on. As if he had a choice. He could feel the man's warm hand like a comforting anchor, and he held on until the hurricane passed. The warmth held him true. He was through it finally. Still true, still holding on. More confused than ever, he opened his eyes again.

"Better now, Merlin," said Gawaine, with undeniable relief in his voice. He realized the knight was holding him, Percival chaffing his arm, as if to revive him. The Romany man helped him sit up, and covered him with more blankets as the shivering eased considerably. He took another swallow of the warm liquid. He leaned against the Gawaine as he came back to himself slowly.

"What happened?" The man's voice was gentle.

"I found your mother..." said Merlin, his eyes unable to meet those of the tinker. He could find no words for what had happened.

"She was kind." There were so many other things he wanted to say to this man, so many questions.

The man shook his head as if that seemed incredible, but his eyes were twinkling the whole time. "As I said, young Merlin. My mother is a romantic. Best we leave it at that!"

The tinker placed the amulet in his hand. His magic shot coldly through him at the contact, but a warmth blossomed from the very spot as well. Another bite of magic. The thought made him wary., but he was beginning to understand. It was still hard to think; he was so cold.

"How did you find me, said Merlin at last, looking at his friends whose relief was so very clear. The Romany man had drifted back to his wagon, looking back every little while, but clearly readying himself to leave on his journey.

"We heard a commotion on our way back from the tavern..." began Gawaine. Percival smiled as he shrugged and looked up a the sun; it was high in the sky. It had been a while then, thought Merlin, with a wry interior grin. "We heard an outcry, there was a dead man in the street, so being Knights of Camelot and all..."

"The short version Gawaine," reminded Percival.

"You scared us half to death. Looked like the Doracha had gotten you again. If it hadn't been for our friend here...

Gawaine turned to thank the tinker who was buckling on a quiver and longbow, as he readied his wagon to head out. He did not drive the team, but guided the pair of horses harnessed to the wagon by the bridle, turning them away from Merlin and his friends. He looked back at them with a grin. He brushed aside their thanks and riveted Merlin one last time, with a merry look.

"You are blessed my friend," he said softly, as if only Merlin could hear him and perhaps that was truly the case. Merlin was never sure afterwards.

"Good luck to you!' cried the tinker with a final wave to the astonished group.

"Can't be too careful around these parts of Camelot," he said with a smile as he patted the baldric that held his quiver in place. "It's a dangerous place, in more ways than one."

Merlin found he could only sigh as the tinker and the Romany wagon trundled out of sight. The amulet was warm in his palm. He needed no more answers. and now he was exhausted. There would be plenty of time to parse out the meaning of all that had happened; ample time for wonderment and doubt. He had been with Freya. The glory of it silenced his tears, the amulet filled him with wonder.

"Semper Amemus," Merlin whispered, reaching out to touch that ephemeral moment that now stood, inviolate, endless, fair as a star, burning in the heart of his magic.

"And over our heads will float the Blue Bird, singing of beautiful and impossible things, of things that are lovely and never happen, of things that are not, but should be. Oscar Wilde

Happy Valentine's Day