"Emrys. . . "

Merlin pulled Altair to a halt, a broad grin spreading across his face. It did not surprise him that the Druid had found him first. He had no idea how Iseldir managed the trick, but manage it he did. Merlin had gone to find him, and he had found Merlin instead. "I'm right here," he called out to the night as he swung out of the saddle, bouncing lightly on his toes on the loamy ground, "You don't have to make a secret of it anymore."

"Old habits die hard, Emrys. The days are better, but we are still not free," Iseldir said as he appeared out of the darkness on the side of the narrow trail. "Although I hear you have returned to Camelot, and that Arthur knows of your powers."

"I'd like to know where you get your news. No one in our little circle is supposed to speak of it." He tugged at Altair's reins, urging the horse to follow along as they moved off the trail toward the hilltop where Merlin sensed more than heard or saw the celebration going on. "And your news is old, anyway. It's been a month and more since I went back."

"I heard it in the wind, Emrys. It spoke of little else."

Merlin chuckled, "Do you know how to speak in anything but riddles?"

"On a night like this, on Lughnasadh itself? Such nights are made for riddles. Have you come to celebrate with us, then?" Iseldir held a low-hanging branch aside for Merlin to pass, ushering him into a little campsite where half a dozen cook fires burned low. A few women tended to them, talking quietly as they worked. One hummed a strangely familiar lullaby as she held a sleeping baby to her breast. She offered the men a smile as they walked past, then turned back to her task. A young woman skittered into the firelight, her dark eyes widening when she saw who had arrived. A shy smile tugged at her lips when she caught Merlin's gaze. Two other girls appeared behind her in a flurry of giggles and whispers hidden behind their hands. They watched him for a moment, eyes shining, before fluttering away like moon-washed butterflies. Somewhere, lost in the woods, a nightingale trilled.

"Beware, Emrys," Iseldir did nothing to hide the amusement in his voice, "Lest the girls think you've come for a handfasting. This is the night for it."

"Not for me. Not tonight." Merlin was glad for the dim light that hid the blush he felt rising in his cheeks. 'Maybe someday, but not now.' He kept the thought to himself, though. "Tonight is for celebrating, but not for marriages. Not for me, anyway. I have to be back to Camelot by midday. Arthur gives me more leeway these days, but I don't want to push my luck. It's where I'm meant to be, anyway."

"This newfound freedom suits you, Emrys. I don't think I have ever seen you so happy."

"Given that every time you've seen me until now, it was to give me some dire warning, I can see why. Unless there's something you haven't told me?" He tied the reins off and patted Altair on the shoulder, following Iseldir up the path toward the bare hilltop. He heard the others now, their voices raised in chatter and quiet songs as they celebrated the golden summer and the coming harvest. It had taken a few days to talk Arthur into giving him the day and a half off, but the effort had been worth it. The prince did not fully understand the reasoning for this particular festival, Merlin knew, but Arthur had come to realize what it meant to his servant to have the time away on this, one of the very few sacred days Merlin had ever had the chance to celebrate with those of like beliefs.

"Not this time, no. Unless the wind and the stars have passed me over in favor of you, I've seen no portents of disaster." Iseldir paused, his gaze traveling upwards and fixing on the stars above.

Merlin looked up, too. Despite his years in Ealdor and the two months spent living in Camelot's forests with the night sky spread above, the stars never failed to dazzle him with their beauty and immensity. "I think fewer battles would be fought if men looked toward the stars more often."

"Why do you say that?"

"Have you ever looked up there and felt anything but small and insignificant?" he spared a brief glance at the older man before looking back up. "Men struggle and fight over land and treaties and ideas- just as their fathers did, and their fathers before them. Just as their sons will, and on and on and on. We're just little markers in the grand scale of history, Iseldir, and all the while the stars keep shining. In time, we will be forgotten. Our deeds may outlive us, but the stars will survive us all"

"You will be remembered, Emrys," Iseldir rested a hand on the warlock's shoulder, "Long after the rest of us are dust, your story will live on."

"Arthur's story," Merlin corrected him, "Arthur's legend. He will live on until the end of stories. I will be a shadow trailing behind, if any remember me at all." He traced the shapes of the constellations with his eyes- the plow, the hunter as it disappeared behind the dark branches of the trees, and the milky brightness of Lugh's Chain arching across the sky. "If I'm a light in this story, it's a lesser light."

"The moon is not a lesser light for trailing behind the sun. Its light reveals a different world from that of the day, and the wheel of the year would turn strangely without it. You are important, too, not just Arthur," Iseldir tightened his grip on Merlin's shoulder as though to emphasize the truth of his words, despite the warlock's scoffing. He dropped his hand back to his side, and the two men stood quietly for a time, simply staring up at the glittering sky. "We will go north this winter. To Helva. Two of our young women are meant to study with the healers there. You are welcome to join us for any length of time."

Merlin smiled at the invitation, though they both knew he could not accept, "Thank you, but I can't leave Arthur, even in the winter. Not with Morgana and Morgause still out there, plotting to overthrow him. Gaius's teachings will have to do."

"You would be hard-pressed to find a finer physician in all the realms. It was polite to extend the invitation, though," Iseldir's eyes unfocused for a moment, "And if you are ever in need of our aid, Emrys, simply call to us, and we will find you."

"Do you foresee a need?" Merlin studied the Druid as he blinked his eyes back into focus. Though he did not have the gift of Foresight as Morgana- and apparently Iseldir- did, he knew better than to dismiss such warnings out of hand.

Iseldir's brow furrowed. "No. Not clearly. Visions never are," Merlin nodded in understanding, "One day you will, however. It may be tomorrow, or ten years from now. I know nothing more."

"Visions," the warlock's smile was grim as he remembered his own encounters with the futures that, once seen, he could not change.

"Visions," Iseldir agreed. He shook his head to clear them away and looked up the hill, where the shadows and shapes of people gathered. "But no more dread-mongering tonight, Emrys. Our bard has promised us a song of the Silver Hand, if you would care to join us?"

Merlin's faint smile turned to a broad grin. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."