A/N: I should mention that, by the end of the story, there will be some very light, "blink-and-you'll-miss-it" type of slash.
As per usual, brilliantly beta'ed by sarajm.
Together in Spirit - Chapter 2
It was mid-June when Lancelot found himself once again on the outskirts of the town of Bystoke, in the Kingdom of Caerleon. He had spent a gruelling couple of months on the road, protecting the merchants' caravan from marauders and highwaymen. The days had been long, and the nights spent keeping watch even longer, so the young swordsman was very happy that his contract had been fulfilled and he could now rest. Best of all, he had money in his saddlebags and could purchase such extravagances as a hot bath and a decent meal.
Lancelot rode up to the Inn sitting at the far end of the town and as he leaped from his saddle, a young lad of about nine years old came running out from the small stables at the side of the main building and reached for his horse's reins.
"Will you be staying the night, sir?" the boy asked as he waited for Lancelot to unstrap his bags from the saddle.
"Yes, probably a few nights in fact." He gave his mare, Ailen, a quick scratch between her ears and a pat on her neck before adding, "Take good care of her, lad. She's had a hard couple of months and has carried me safely on a long journey."
"I will, sir, I promise. I'll even give her some warm mash as well as hay," answered the boy before he led Ailen away. Lancelot watched the two for a few short moments before shifting his saddlebag to his shoulder and entering the Inn.
It was early afternoon, so the barroom was deserted save for a few elderly men who were seated around one of the far tables playing a dice game. Lancelot glanced their way; he had become so accustomed to scouting out everything around him over the past months that even now he was giving the room the once-over, unconsciously seeking the exits and ensuring everything was in order.
He approached the bar, which was being tended by a young woman and, placing his bags on the floor beside him, ordered a tankard of ale. After having taken a long swallow, he smiled at the barmaid and said, "Good afternoon. My name is Lancelot. I stayed here in April and made arrangements with the Innkeeper to have my goods stored. Do you know where I can find him?"
The girl put down her drying cloth and giving Lancelot a grin she said, "Hi. I'm Karina. You're looking for my Uncle, Franklin. He's off running errands at the moment, and he left me in charge. But I know who you are; Uncle told me he was storing some of your spare gear. I know where it is, so if you don't mind waiting a couple of moments I'll have Greg fetch it."
"Thank you, Karina, that's very kind of you. But, I was wondering … do you have a spare room that I can hire for a couple of days? I've been traveling for the past few months, and right now I'd like nothing more than the opportunity to sleep in a real bed with a real pillow for a few nights."
Karina laughed and said, "Now that I can certainly understand. We do have a couple of rooms free, so if you want, I'll have Greg take your bags straight to your room."
"One other question: Do you have bathing facilities here?"
"Yes, we do. If you head out towards the stables, there's a small hut with a brazier and a water barrel. You can bathe there."
"That's wonderful. Now, which room will be mine?"
"I'll give you the room at the very end of the hall, upstairs. It's a bit on the small side, but it will be quiet so nothing should disturb your rest."
"That sounds perfect, thank you," answered Lancelot as he picked up his saddlebags and headed towards the stairs at the far end of the barroom.
"Oh," called Karina as Lancelot started to move away, "Just a minute. There's a letter for you. Uncle kept it locked in his chest; he figured it would be safer there than with your belongings." Karina quickly reached under the bar and pulled out a small wooden chest. She unlocked it, flipped up the lid and pulled out a piece of folded parchment, which she handed to Lancelot. "There you are."
Lancelot took the letter with a smile. Though he had only seen Merlin's writing once before, there was no mistaking his distinctive "L"s so Lancelot knew who had sent this missive.
By the time he'd changed out of his dusty clothing and enjoyed a leisurely bath, Lancelot was feeling like a new man. Fortunately, he'd been able to soak away some of the pains that he'd accumulated over the months of his recent work as man-at-arms.
The trip had been successful, but not without some peril. In fact, only two nights ago, they'd been attacked in their camp by a group of about 12 bandits. Lancelot and his fellow guards had very handily protected the caravan, but not without incurring some damage. Nothing major, but he'd still come away with several bruises and a large wound on his ribcage. One of the bandits had been lucky enough to get in under Lancelot's guard and had slashed him with a knife. The wound was not deep, but it was long and quite painful. Fortunately, he'd been able to bandage it immediately and one of the merchants had offered him a salve to help prevent infection. The wound was still quite raw, but it was healing well so Lancelot did not worry too much.
The sun was setting, but his room was still bright enough that he did not need to light any of the candles that had been provided. He pulled the room's only chair over to the window and sat in a beam of the dying sunlight, with Merlin's letter laying in his lap. Lancelot made himself comfortable, and opening the letter, he read:
Dear Lancelot,
It's been about six weeks since I received your letter, so you must be almost finished your contract and should be returning to Bystoke in the next few weeks. You'll have to tell me all about the work. Did it go well? Have your hand-to-hand combat skills improved? Will you sign on with the merchants again, or will you be looking to head some other place?
It has been very busy in Camelot recently. There was a terrible sickness that ran through the Kingdom and despite Gaius' hard work, many died. Lancelot, why is always the very young and the very old who suffer the most? I mean, I know that the oldest and the youngest are the weakest and so when they catch whatever it is that is going around, it hits them the hardest. But, the little babies who died … they'd barely begun to live. It's just not fair.
Anyway, things got so bad that Arthur released me (temporarily of course, because who'd find his socks if not me!) from my duties with him and told me to help Gaius in any manner I could. So, I spend days pounding herbs and making poultices and draughts and trying to get the sick to at least drink some water. There were so many people ill that the King even told us to use the Small Hall as a hospital room.
Gaius is amazing! He knows so much about treating illness, and even though we both spent long hours treating everyone, he was always kind and cheerful when he was talking to the sick. I learned so much just watching him.
Once everyone was on the mend, I was so tired that I slept for almost 24 hours! What a luxury that was.
Fortunately, though, everyone pitched in to help in whatever manner they could; we even had a few of the Knights helping Gaius move the sick to the Small Hall.
Things have finally returned to normal. I'm back to picking up Arthur's clothes and cleaning his armour, in between studying with Gaius. The weather has been beautiful recently, sunny and warm. The kitchen gardens are my favourite place to be right now – the smell of the earth, the bright green of growing herbs, the fluffy carrot tops poking through – it reminds me of Ealdor. I do miss spring in Ealdor.
Well, that's enough for now; I've just been summoned to Arthur's chambers.
Write to me telling me about your trip and what your plans are.
Your friend,
Merlin
As he re-folded the letter and tucked it into his saddle bag beside the first one he'd received from Merlin, Lancelot considered what he'd just read. It was obvious his young friend was feeling lost and homesick and that concerned Lancelot. In the short time they'd spent in each other's company, Merlin had always been cheerful and full of fun and good humour. It seemed to Lancelot that this was definite departure from his friend's usual manner and it left him a bit worried.
Lancelot was stuck between a rock and hard place: He wanted to help his friend, but he was banned from Camelot for the foreseeable future. What can I do? he wondered. Nothing immediate came to mind, and just then a low rumbling sounded from the vicinity of his stomach. The aromas that had been wafting up the stairwell and through the hallway were certainly enticing and Lancelot recalled with pleasure the last meal he'd had here – roasted rabbit with vegetables and some delicious warm bread. Abandoning his musings, the dark-haired swordsman quickly stowed his gear, closed and barred the door to his room and made his way down the stairs and into the barroom for dinner.
The next morning, Lancelot lay in his comfortable bed and pondered how he could help his young friend. What he really wanted was to be able to speak with Merlin in person, but as he wasn't allowed to return to Camelot maybe he could come up with another solution. Merlin had mentioned to him at one point that Arthur did allow the young warlock to return to his home village of Ealdor on occasion to visit his mother. Maybe, thought Lancelot, we could meet up in Ealdor.
That thought reminded Lancelot of one of the inn's other guests with whom he'd been talking the previous evening. The man, Harold by name, had mentioned to Lancelot that there was a minor Lord in the Kingdom of Essetir who had started up what could best be described as a "training school" for young men who wanted to improve their skills with the sword, the lance and other weapons of war.
According to Harold, Lord Markham was always seeking men who could teach the various skills to the youths who arrived for training, and when Harold had heard of Lancelot's recent adventures with the Merchants' caravan, he'd encouraged the young man to travel to Lord Markham's estate and see for himself what was going on there. Lancelot fully admitted that the idea of a training school was an interesting one … very much a throwback to the Roman times, and he was intrigued. Best of all, Ealdor was in Essetir, so if he was very lucky, Merlin had not yet headed home for a visit and they could possibly meet up in the near future.
Lancelot spent the next couple of days in Bystoke, relaxing, recovering and generally enjoying some peace and quiet before packing up his bags and journeying on to Lord Markham's Estate in Essetir.
The night before he was scheduled to leave, Lancelot sat down at the small table in his room and wrote to Merlin.
My dear friend,
First off, let me say how sorry I am that you (and Camelot) had to go through what you did. While I was traveling with the Merchants, we'd heard rumours of a terrible illness making its way through the Kingdoms. I can only say that I'm so glad you did not end up getting ill, though it sounds like it was a miracle you didn't, considering how busy you must have been.
My contract is done and it went very well. The merchants were very happy with the protection we provided, and I did learn some new skills from my fellow guardsmen. I also learned some new uses for some of the herbs and fungi that are found in the woods around here. One of the merchants had some basic training in medicines, and he was more than happy to pass on his knowledge. In fact, he showed me how to make the most wonderful salve to help keep away infection. Unfortunately, though, I came to know its benefits first hand as I was slightly injured a few days ago when we were overrun by bandits.
There's no need to worry Merlin, I'm fine. One of the bandits managed to mark me with his knife but the wound is healing very well, mostly due to the properties of the salve. I'll be sure to give you the recipe, in case Gaius hasn't already heard of it.
I heard that there's a Lord in Essetir who has started a sort of training school for young men who wish to improve their sword skills or learn how to properly use other weapons. According to a traveller I met, Lord Markham is looking for instructors, so that's where I'm headed next. I'm very interested to see the facilities and the students they have. If it looks interesting, maybe I can get hired on (and learn some new skills as well). Even if that falls through, I do plan on staying in Essetir for a bit.
You had mentioned to me that Arthur allows you time to return home to Ealdor to visit your mother. Ealdor happens to be on the way to Lord Markham's estate, so if you are planning a trip home, let me know and maybe we can arrange to meet somewhere.
You know how to find me, so when you get a spare moment, let me know what your plans are. Hopefully we can get together soon.
Lancelot
Lancelot folded and sealed his letter. He'd already made arrangements with Franklin to have the letter forwarded to Merlin in Camelot. Now, he could only hope that his young friend was not already on the road to Ealdor.
After having dropped off his missive with Franklin, and enjoying a mug of mead, Lancelot returned to his room to get some sleep, as he and Harold were planning on departing very early the next morning. Lancelot's last thought before he drifted off was Good night, Merlin.