A/N: Once again, ably beta'ed by sarajm. The goats are for you, m'dear!

Together in Spirit – Chapter 6

It had been over two years since their first meeting in Ealdor and Merlin was once again on his way home to visit his mother and meet up with Lancelot. Yet, he thought, the village could not really be considered home; not any more.

The young warlock had been in Camelot going on three years now and he'd recently come to the realization that it was more than just the place where he lay his head. He was learning so much from Gaius, he'd been busy keeping Arthur from harm, he'd made good friends … so, yes, while Ealdor would always hold a special place in his heart, Camelot was Home.

The young man was excited, more so than usual, to make this particular journey to see his Mother. He and Lancelot were still writing to each other, and their friendship was deepening with each missive they exchanged, but for the first time in a long time they would actually get to spend some time together.

The young man had so much to tell his friend, so much that couldn't be written down. There was Freya, the absolutely hysterical event with the Troll and King Uther, the fear of having the Witchfinder in Camelot, and most important of all … Balinor.

Lancelot had moved on from teaching at the training school and up until recently had been travelling through the western kingdoms, searching for … something. A purpose, a meaning; Merlin wasn't quite sure what, but the tone of Lancelot's last two letters was enough to concern him.

Though the dark-haired swordsman did not like to speak of his life before their first meeting trying to escape the Griffin, the servant knew that Lancelot had not had an easy childhood. His worry for his friend was enough to make Merlin determined to find, or make, an opportunity where the two men could sit down in private and actually talk.

Besides wanting to understand his friend better, Merlin was desperate to share the news of him becoming a Dragonlord. He could never tell his mother what had occurred on that fateful day when he met, and then lost, his father; but it was different with Lancelot. He would understand both Merlin's deep despair and soaring joy.

Merlin was soon in Ealdor, sitting at the table in his childhood home enjoying the chance to just talk with his mother. The two chatted through their simple meal of bread, cheese and fruit. Merlin told his mother of the happenings in Camelot and Hunith, in her turn, told him of events in the village.

It seemed that two of Merlin's childhood friends had hand-fasted and were now expecting their first child. There had been a fire in another village nearby and two families who had been burned out had arrived in Ealdor with nothing but the clothes on their backs and their two goats. They were welcomed and quickly fit into the village life in Ealdor. Merlin was saddened to hear that old Janus had died over the winter. He was a kindly old soul and Merlin could remember when he and his friend Will were little and Janus was the one who took them to all the best fishing spots.

It had fallen quiet at the table. Merlin sat turning his now-empty mug around and around in his hands while Hunith watched him, growing concerned at her son's ceaseless fidgeting.

Reaching across, Hunith laid a gentle hand on her son's arm and said, "Merlin, what's wrong?"

Placing the mug to the side, Merlin looked up at his mother, worry evident on his face. "It's not me, Mother. I'm worried about Lancelot. I think there's something wrong, but I'm not sure. His last couple of letters to me were … I don't know … distant somehow. Maybe I'm just being stupid," he said. "After all, Lancelot is perfectly capable of looking after himself."

"Merlin, you've always been a very intuitive person and your feelings are usually right. You and Lancelot have been friends a long time now, so if you think there's something wrong, then I believe you. Talk to me; maybe I can help."

"It's nothing I can put my finger on, Mother. It's just … well … how can I put this? In the beginning Lancelot's letters were so full of joy and excitement; he loved teaching and training with the others at the school. And when he left there, his next few letters were filled with stories about the people he met on his travels and the sights he'd seen. But, his last two letters were short and didn't really say much. And what little he did say seemed to be tinged with sadness."

"I thought maybe that he was tiring of our friendship, but when I mentioned it to Gaius he soon set me straight." He paused a moment, then continued, "I feel like Lancelot is searching for some sort of purpose in his life and I'm afraid that his search will take him so far away that he'll never find his way back," said Merlin sadly.

"Oh, my poor boy. I don't think you will ever need to worry about losing Lancelot's friendship. When he was at the school, the dear man made a point of stopping by every month or so. He always said he was simply 'passing by', but I knew better. He missed you and I think that having contact with me made him feel a little closer to you. He always talked of you and the things you'd told him in your letters. Merlin, that man loves you."

At his mother's words, Merlin paled and his hands twitched where they lay on the table.

Smiling gently, Hunith reached across the table and cupped her hand on Merlin's cheek and forced him to meet her gaze. "And you love him, don't you?" she asked softly.

Merlin swallowed and nodded slightly. Still caught in his mother's gaze, the warlock said, "But he can never know. Lancelot cannot return to Camelot, and I cannot leave Arthur's side." Tears filled the warlock's eyes, but he refused to let them fall. "It's better this way," he whispered. "I am content with his friendship, for friendship is all we can have."

Brushing her hand across her son's forehead, Hunith simply said, "Oh, my little love, don't despair. I know the situation seems impossible right now, but who knows what the future will bring. I believe you and Lancelot are destined to be together, in one way or another."

After a pause, Hunith said, "It's getting late. Why don't you get some rest? Lancelot is supposed to arrive tomorrow, and it seems to me you two have a great deal to discuss."

"All right, Mother," said Merlin as he stood from the table and went to Hunith's side. Leaning down, he kissed the top of her head and said, "I'm just going to get some fresh air; I'll go to bed soon."

Placing his mug by the wash basin, Merlin walked out of the hut and sat down on the bench just outside the door. Lancelot's bench, he thought to himself with a rueful smile. Leaning back against the wall of the house, Merlin looked up at the night sky. It was beautiful; the sky was varying shades of dark blues and purples peppered with the brilliant light from distant stars. A cloud, high and wispy, drifted by and an owl flew across on silent wings. As he sat there, Merlin felt the calm of the night enter his soul and he felt more at ease than he had for a long while. The young man sat there for another few minutes before rising and heading to his bed.

Despite the intense emotions of the evening, Merlin slept well and rose early the next morning with the calm he finally managed to obtain still filling him, body and mind. He was resolved to carry on as if nothing had changed. What he wanted and what had to be were very different but Merlin was determined to let nothing destroy the deep friendship that had developed between Lancelot and him over the years.

Besides, he thought, I doubt Lancelot feels the same as me, despite what Mother said.

Greeting his mother with a bright "good morning", Merlin grabbed the bucket next to the wash basin and headed out to the well to fill it with water. It was going to be a beautiful day; the sun was just starting to appear over the ridge, the air was warm and everything smelled clean and fresh.

With the bucket now filled with cool, fresh water, Merlin walked the few steps back to the house with a smile on his face. Placing the bucket on the floor, Merlin kissed his mother on the cheek and then went to grab a couple of bowls off the shelf.

"Well, you certainly seem to be in a better mood this morning," said Hunith as she watched he son ladle porridge from the pot suspended over the fire.

The young man smiled at his mother before placing both bowls on the table and sitting down. "I am, actually," said Merlin. "I decided that I shouldn't worry about anything until I've spoken with Lancelot."

Knowing that her son was deflecting his emotions – a typical response from Merlin when he was faced with something upsetting – but also realizing that saying anything would create unnecessary tension, Hunith simply picked up her spoon and responded, "That seems a very wise idea, Merlin," before taking a bite of her breakfast.

"Speaking of Lancelot, did he give you any idea of when he'd be arriving?"

"No, he didn't. All he said was that he'd be here at some point today."

It was just after the noontime meal when the swordsman arrived in the village. He'd made several visits over the years, and so a few of the villagers greeted him by name. Arriving at Hunith's house, Lancelot dismounted and tied his horse to a nearby fencepost.

Hunith, hearing the jingling of the bridle and the creak of the saddle, came to the door and stood watching her son's friend while he loosened his saddle's girth and removed the saddlebags. Looking over Lancelot with a critical eye, Hunith realized that Merlin's intuition was correct – there was a stillness to the dark-haired man that was new.

"Lancelot," called Hunith, "it's so very good to see you again. I hope you are well."

As Lancelot approached, Hunith gestured for him to enter the house and added, "I hope you are able to stay a while; Merlin is looking forward to seeing you. You can place your bags there," she said, pointing to a corner of the room.

Not seeing his friend, Lancelot opened his mouth to ask Hunith where Merlin was when she smiled and said, "Merlin is out back chopping some wood for me. Go on, I know he's the one you've come to see."

Smiling, Lancelot gave Hunith a gentle hug and said, "Hunith, you are a dear friend to me as well, but, yes, I do need to speak with Merlin."

Stepping out of the house, Lancelot could hear the steady thwack, thwack of an axe splitting wood. Rounding the back of the building, and spying his friend now stacking some freshly-split logs, Lancelot called over, "Make sure you do a good job with those, Merlin. You'd hate to have the pile come crashing down on your foot!"

"Lancelot!" cried Merlin, his eyes lighting up on seeing his friend. "You've finally made it!" he added as he rushed over to his friend and pulled him into a tight hug. Releasing Lancelot, he said, "How long can you stay? What have you been doing? How are you?"

Laughing, Lancelot said, "Hold on there a moment; give me a chance to get a word in. I'm fine Merlin; it's been an interesting few months. Here, let me give you a hand with this wood and then we can talk."

Between the two of them, they quickly had all the logs split and piled neatly against the rear of house. It was hot, thirsty work, so once they were finished, they wandered over the well to splash some water on their faces and have a long, satisfying drink.

Looking over at the man he hadn't seen in what felt like forever, Merlin could see many changes in Lancelot. Yes, of course he was older and his hair was a little longer, but he seemed worn, almost faded, and there were new lines around his eyes. Merlin placed a hand on Lancelot's shoulder and said, "I have so much to tell you. Let's go find a quiet spot by the river where we can talk in private."

"That's an excellent idea, Merlin, because I, too, have a great deal to tell you. Lead the way."

A short walk along the river soon led them to a deserted stretch of riverbank with a couple of rocks perfect for sitting on. After they had made themselves comfortable, Merlin grinned at his friend and then proceeded to remove his boots and socks, roll up his trousers and slip his feet into the cool, clear water.

The two sat there for a few moments, quiet and comfortable in each other's presence, before Merlin turned to his friend and said, "Oh, Lancelot, so much has happened to me recently; things that I couldn't write down in a letter. I'm so glad you're here," and he started to tell Lancelot of everything that had gone on in Camelot in the past months.

At the mention of Freya, Merlin's eyes welled with tears and Lancelot simply leaned over and placed his hand on Merlin's shoulder; a wordless gesture that brought great comfort to the young warlock.

Merlin had his friend laughing out loud at the story of King Uther romancing the troll and Lancelot grit his teeth and angry fire flashed in his eyes at the news of the Witchfinder confronting the young man.

Finally, Merlin stopped talking and took a deep breath. "There's one other thing, Lancelot, and it's the hardest of all to speak of. I've had to keep this inside because there is no one else I can talk to about this. It's been so hard."

Merlin's words concerned Lancelot greatly and he said, "Merlin, what's wrong? You're worrying me. Are you all right?"

Smiling sadly at his friend, the young man said, "Yes, I'm fine, Lancelot. It's just ... well … I found my father."

"What?!" responded Lancelot. "But I thought you said that Hunith never told you who your father was. How …"

"Gaius knew my father and then when the Great Dragon was terrorizing Camelot, Arthur had to go find a dragonslayer and …"

Lancelot quickly interjected, "Merlin, wait, I'm confused. The Great Dragon was terrorizing Camelot? Why don't you start at the beginning?"

"Oh, right, of course. Well, it all started when I promised the Great Dragon that I would release him from his prison beneath the castle …"

Lancelot sat, entranced by the story, until its end. "And so," concluded Merlin, "I am now the only Dragonlord left. You can understand why I couldn't tell anyone about this. Really, wasn't it enough that I have magic? Now I apparently have the power to command the dragons as well!"

Lancelot stared at his friend with an expression of awe in his eyes. He'd always known that Merlin was special, but this … this was incredible! "Merlin," he said, "first off, let me say how sorry I am to hear about your father. It must have been so hard to find him and then lose him so soon after. But, trust me, even though he only knew you for a few short hours, I know he would be so proud of the man you are, just as I am. You, my friend, are amazing! A Dragonlord!"

Merlin flushed at Lancelot's kind words and waved them away. "Thank you, Lancelot. But now it's your turn. I'm worried about you; your last letters seemed so … different."

"Ah, Merlin, I should have realized that you'd pick up on that," said the swordsman with a rueful smile. "Yes, well, it's been a difficult few months for me as well."

Gazing at the sunlight dancing off the water, Lancelot realized how late it had become. The two men had spent the entire afternoon sitting by the river, talking, and it would soon be time for dinner.

"Merlin, listen, it's growing late so why don't we go have dinner and I'll tell you my story afterwards," said Lancelot as he stood up and leapt from the rock to the grass.

"All right," agreed Merlin as he quickly pulled on his boots and joined his friend. "But don't think I'm going to let you avoid telling me what's going on. We are definitely continuing this conversation after we've eaten."

Lancelot laughed and clapped Merlin on the back and the two then made their way back to the village and dinner.

After enjoying a sumptuous meal of rabbit stew and fresh-baked bread flavoured with rosemary, Lancelot and Merlin helped Hunith wash and put away the few dishes and then they repaired to "their" bench outside the hut.

Merlin sat sideways on the bench, with his left leg underneath him and his left shoulder up against the wall of the hut. Lancelot sat and leaned back against the hut and took a moment to look around the village and glance up at the sky. Turning his head, the swordsman looked at his friend, sitting quietly with an expectant look on his face, and he gave a small sigh. He never enjoyed talking about himself, but Merlin deserved to know what was going on.

"You know I left the training school a while ago", began Lancelot as he stared across the village, avoiding looking at his friend. "It was an amazing experience and I learned so much, but eventually it came time for me to move on. Lord Markham was very kind and pointed me in the direction of a friend of his who was looking for a Sword Master to train his young son for a few months before he left home to become a squire. I enjoyed that position very much, even though it only lasted only a short time. The boy was a joy to teach; he'll do well for himself, I know."

"After that, I ended up wandering around the western kingdoms for a while, picking up the odd guard position here and there. I felt restless and couldn't really seem to find any place where I felt I belonged. And while I was travelling, I actually began to look at what was going on around me. The poverty, the fighting … it was becoming too much for me to bear. Ironic, I know, for a swordsman to feel this way, but it all seemed to be so pointless. I had no cause of my own and instead I was being hired on to fight for someone else's; usually one I didn't believe in."

Lancelot swivelled his head to glance over at Merlin; the young man was staring at him intently, with his brow slightly furrowed.

"I've made a decision, Merlin. It's been a difficult one to make because it will mean a huge change in my life, but … I believe it's the right one. I was so glad when you told me you'd be in Ealdor, as it meant I could see you before I leave."

"Leave?" sputtered Merlin. "What do you mean 'leave'? Where are you going?"

"I've decided to travel to the continent and seek my fate there," answered the dark-haired swordsman in a quiet tone.

"But … what … why are you leaving?" asked Merlin, in a tone of voice that confused Lancelot. Merlin sounded angry and upset, which was understandable, but there was something else there as well. Looking at his friend, Lancelot saw a flash of something in Merlin's eyes; was that fear? or possibly sadness?

"Merlin, listen. This is not a decision I've made lightly. You yourself said that my last couple of letters seemed different. Well, to be honest, I feel a little lost at the moment. I have no home, no position; I'm not a noble so my dream of being a Knight of Camelot will never be fulfilled."

The two men sat quiet, each lost in their own thoughts, when Merlin spoke, "Lancelot, you know that Arthur has great respect for your skills. Who knows, maybe, one day …" The young man's voice trailed away.

"I know Merlin, but I can't spend my life waiting for 'one day'. I have to make something of myself now, and I believe the best way to do that is to travel to France, possibly even to Italy or Spain, and see what the fates have in store for me."

Looking over at the young warlock, who was now staring across the village with a stricken look on his face, Lancelot couldn't help but feel a great sadness. "Merlin," he said, "do you want to know what made this such a difficult decision?"

The sad young man returned his gaze to Lancelot and simply shrugged his shoulders, not saying anything.

"It was you, Merlin. The fact that I was making a decision that would take me from my dearest friend made it almost impossible to bear. Your friendship and your wisdom are more important to me than anything, and I know that once I cross the waters it will be extremely difficult, if not impossible, for us to keep in regular contact. But you have to understand … I need to do this."

"I do understand, Lancelot," said Merlin sadly, "but I'll miss you so much."

Lancelot turned towards the warlock and gripped his shoulder tightly. In a forceful tone he said, "Listen to me, Merlin, and remember what I say: I will return. This land is my home and I have no intention of leaving it forever. I will miss you too, my friend, but I will return and when I do, I promise you will be the first person who knows."

"There is one more thing. We both know that it will be nigh on impossible to exchange letters as we have been doing the past years, but I don't want you to be left wondering what's going on with me, so I have a suggestion."

Lowering his voice, Lancelot continued, "I know you have ways of finding me and I am giving you permission to use whatever methods you have at your disposal to watch over me and see that I am fine. In fact, it would ease my own fears to know that you are keeping an eye on me. Will you do that?"

"Really, Lancelot? You wouldn't mind if I 'peeked in' on you on occasion?"

"Merlin, I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't comfortable with it."

Merlin sat and thought about Lancelot's request for a moment and then his face split in a wide grin … the first real smile that Lancelot had seen since his arrival.

"Well, since you don't mind, that is exactly what I'll do. I promise that I won't do it all the time and I'll only check up on you in the evenings, but you have to promise that the minute you set foot back on Britannia you'll get a message to me."

With an answering smile, Lancelot placed his right hand over his heart and said, "I give you my solemn promise."

Knowing that Lancelot had to leave Ealdor in two days' time, the two men spent every possible moment together, almost as though they were amassing enough memories to carry them through the foreseeable future.

Unbeknownst to them, Hunith spent the same days watching her son and the gentle swordsman with great sadness in her heart. It was obvious that Merlin had not spoken of his feelings to Lancelot and Hunith worried about what would happen to her son during his friend's absence. She also worried for Lancelot and what the future held for him. All she could do was pray to the gods that they would keep both her boys safe until they were together again.

Finally, the day came when Lancelot would start out on his new adventure. Having risen early, Lancelot was sitting on the bench outside the hut when a shadow fell across him and looking over, he saw Merlin standing by, with a look of worry and sadness on his face.

"Don't worry so, Merlin," said Lancelot as he shifted over to make space for his friend on the bench. "I said I'd be back, and that is my solemn vow."

"I know," whispered the young man, "but I just wish it didn't have to be so. But, think of all the adventures you'll experience and all the stories you'll have to tell on your return! I'll just keep looking forward to that and everything will be fine."

All too soon, breakfast was done, Lancelot's horse was saddled and he was ready to make himself a new future. After embracing Hunith and thanking her for every kindness she had shown him over the years, Lancelot took his horse's reins in hand and said, "Merlin, would you walk with me for a moment?"

Hunith stood in the doorway of her home, watching the two men slowly make their way through the village. At the beginning of the treeline, Lancelot halted his horse and turned to face Merlin.

"I have something for you, if you'd like it," he said.

"You got me something?"

"Think of it as a remembrance. Remember last fall you sent me a letter and enclosed a drawing that Cook's niece had done of you? It's a wonderful likeness and I always have it close by me. So … I thought … well, here," and after rummaging through his saddlebag, he handed Merlin a small roll of parchment, tied with a piece of string.

Untying the string and unrolling the parchment, Merlin was amazed to see it was a sketch of Lancelot, and it was a very fine likeness of the young swordsman.

Smiling, Merlin looked up at his friend and said, "Thank you, Lancelot. Thank you so much. I'll treasure it." He then carefully re-rolled the drawing and tied it back up with the string.

"Well, I guess this is good-bye," said Merlin as he watched Lancelot re-buckle the saddlebag and ensure that everything was tied on tight. "I wish you all the best of luck, my friend. I hope you find what you're looking for, and that you return soon."

Lancelot smiled at his young friend and reaching over, pulled him in for a tight hug. "Take care of yourself, and Arthur too," he said. "And I promise to let you know the minute I return."

Lancelot then mounted his horse and with a final wave, turned her towards the east and new adventures.

Merlin stood silently at the edge of the trees, long after he lost sight of his friend, when a hand on his arm surprised him. Pulled from his thoughts, he turned to see his mother standing at his side.

"Are you all right, my little love?" she asked as she slipped her arm through his.

"I'll be fine, Mother. Really. I'm happy for Lancelot and I hope he finds whatever it is he's looking for …"

"But?"

"But I'll miss him."

"Of course you will; you wouldn't be friends if you didn't miss him. But he'll be back, I can feel it. I'm heading back, Merlin. Will you come?"

Not getting any response, Hunith turned and began to head towards to the village. She hadn't gone more than a few steps when she heard a whispered, "Take care, Lancelot, and come home soon," and then Merlin was at her side. Linking arms, they slowly made their way home.