A/N: Once again, huge thanks to my wonderful beta, sarajm!
Together in Spirit – Chapter 7
The weeks turned into months and soon it was summer again. It had been over a year since Lancelot had embarked on his travels, and much had happened to the man in that time.
As he had told Merlin, the journey was something that he needed to do and, reflecting on his adventures, Lancelot did not regret a single moment. But he was finally back in Britannia and was anxious to get word to Merlin of his return.
The crossing from France had been difficult: three days of endless rain, ferocious winds and waves crashing across the ship's bow ensured that everyone, sailors and travellers alike, pitched in to help ensure they made it safely to land. But no matter; Lancelot may have been tired, battered, bruised and slightly nauseous, but he was elated to be home.
After unloading his horse, Ailen, who had somehow made it through the entire crossing without injury, Lancelot waved good bye to his fellow travellers and set off to find a quiet inn where he could get a clean room, a decent meal and maybe the opportunity to write a short note to Merlin.
As his horse calmly made her way along the well-worn track that led from the wharves to the nearby town of Dover, Lancelot considered what he wanted to tell Merlin about his travels. He'd seen so many exciting things, had spoken with people from countries with religions and practices so different from his own; he had learned new skills from traders, warriors and medicine men. But through it all, he'd felt a yearning for home.
As he travelled along the road, Lancelot cast his thoughts back to one particular evening not long after he'd arrived in France. He had been sitting by his small fire, feeding twigs into the flame and thinking about home, when he suddenly had the sensation of eyes on his back. Looking up, he could see that no one was there. In fact, the birds were still chirping in the trees and he could hear the snuffling of a small mouse in the leaves nearby, so no predators were in the immediate area.
Shrugging his shoulders, he returned to his fire and began spitting the quail that he'd trapped earlier. Yet, the feeling was still there … someone was definitely watching him. Acting very casual, Lancelot placed the spitted bird across the fire and shifted his position so he was now seated closer to his saddlebags and his sword. He reached over towards his bags and just as his hand closed over the soft leather, the feeling was gone. To be sure, Lancelot made a quick reconnaissance of his small camp, but it was just as he thought: no person or animal had come near.
Strange, he thought as he returned to his fire, enjoyed his meal of roasted quail and oatcakes and soon rolled himself in his blanket to sleep. His night was easy and nothing disturbed him until early the next morning when he woke to bird song.
The feeling of being watched recurred several times. It did not happen regularly; rather, it was often several weeks between occurrences, and Lancelot certainly did not feel at all threatened or uneasy because of the sensation. In fact, it did not take him long to realize that it must be Merlin checking up on him and quickly came to appreciate it … it made him feel protected, cared for.
Lancelot quickly pulled himself from his thoughts as the foot traffic heading into town became heavier. He needed to pay more attention to the road ahead of him, and less attention on his thoughts, in order to avoid the people and the oxen carts laden with goods offloaded from the ships in the harbour.
Passing by one such cart being driven by a young man who looked to be about Merlin's age, Lancelot slowed his horse and called over, "Do you know of a good inn or tavern around here? Preferably one where I can hire a room for a night?"
The young man looked over at the dark-haired horseman now riding beside him; both man and horse looked tired, dishevelled and slightly damp. "Just off one of the boats, are you? Looks like you had a rough time of it. If you're looking for good beer, you can try the Swan's Glory Tavern, which is just up ahead. But, if you're looking for someplace a little quieter, you should try the Blackthorn Inn. It's on the other side of town, but their rooms are clean and the food is excellent."
"The Blackthorn Inn it is then," responded Lancelot. "It was a hard crossing and right now, a little calm and quiet is just what I'm looking for. Thank you."
"My pleasure," said the man. "When you get there, tell them Young Tom sent you and you'll get treated well."
Lancelot smiled and said, "Well, thank you Young Tom. You wouldn't by any chance be related to the owners, would you?" he then asked with a knowing look.
Young Tom flushed a bright red and laughed out loud. "It belongs to my Aunt and Uncle. In fact, that's also where I live, so maybe I'll see you later."
After getting directions from Young Tom, Lancelot urged his horse to pick up the pace and soon enough he found himself approaching a large, two-storied building located just off the road heading out of town. An older woman could be seen at the side of the building, hanging sheets on a line spread between two blackthorn trees and there was a young man standing with her holding a basket of wet laundry.
On hearing the sound of an approaching rider, the woman gestured to the young man and quickly made her way towards Lancelot, who by this time had dismounted and was waiting patiently with his horse.
"Good afternoon, Sir," called the woman as she approached. "Can I help you? Are you looking for a room, or can I tempt you with a home-cooked meal?"
"Good afternoon, Ma'am," answered Lancelot. "I would like to hire a room for a few days, if you have any free." Gesturing to himself he added, "As you can see, I've just made the crossing from France and it was a bit of a wild ride. I would dearly love the chance to change my clothing and enjoy a meal without having to hold onto my plate for fear it slide off the table!"
Laughing, the woman signalled to the young man who was just coming around the side of building. "Rafe, take this man's horse to the stables and tell Chris to take good care of her. And you, young sir, you come with me and I'll get you a room and show you where you can bathe. By the way, my name is Liz. My husband, Tom, and I run this Inn, and you are most welcome."
"Thank you, Liz," answered Lancelot as he followed her into the dim, cool building. "My name is Lancelot. I met a kinsman of yours on the road who kindly directed me to this place. I believe he said his name was 'Young Tom'."
Liz laughed and said, "Let me guess, a young red-head driving an ox cart? Yes, that's my husband's sister's son. He's a good lad, and a big help to us. I hope he didn't make you feel obligated to stop here?"
"No," answered Lancelot with a grin of his own, "in fact, he made certain to mention that I'd be passing by a tavern with very good beer, if that was what I was seeking. But his mention of quiet rooms and good food won me over immediately!"
"Well Lancelot, I can definitely guarantee quiet rooms and people from around here are always complimenting my cooking. Come with me, and I'll show you to your room."
Liz led the bedraggled swordsman up a flight of stairs and down a hallway, stopping by a door on the right. "This will be your room. It looks out over the back of the building, so you shouldn't be disturbed by noises from the street, or the tap room in the front. There is a bathing room at the side of the Inn near the stables and if you give me about ten minutes, I can have Rafe heat up some water for you."
Looking in to the room, Lancelot saw that it was furnished with a bed with a blanket box sitting at its foot, a small desk with a chair and there was even a braided rug on the floor beside the bed. There was also an abundance of candles on the table that sat beneath the large, shuttered window. Liz went over and throwing open the shutters said, "You can order a meal at any time in the tap room. Today we have a venison stew with root vegetables."
Looking around the homey room, Lancelot smiled and said, "This is a lovely room, Liz, and a bath sounds wonderful! Thank you."
"You are most welcome. Like I said, give me about ten minutes and the bathing room will be ready for you." Liz then headed out the door, and Lancelot could hear her calling as she made her way down the stairs, "Rafe, go light the brazier in the bathing room and make sure the cauldron is filled with water." A bang pulled Lancelot towards the now-open window and he saw Rafe hurrying towards a small out building with some kindling in his arms.
Before heading for his bath, Lancelot stopped by the stables to see how Ailen was faring. She was in a stall near the front of the building, dozing in the bright sunlight that was streaming in the open door and seeming very content. As Lancelot neared, she opened her eyes and stretched out her neck, looking for a scratching.
Lancelot laughed and said fondly, "Go on, old girl. You're a lazy one, aren't you?" as he patted her neck and then gave her a scratching between her ears. As he was talking to his horse, a young boy approached and said, very earnestly, "Good afternoon, Sir. I hope everything is okay with your horse. I've given her a good brushing and I've made sure she's got food and water. Are you going to be staying overnight?"
"Good afternoon, young sir," responded Lancelot. "You've done a lovely job with Ailen; thank you very much. I will be staying for a couple of nights. And please, call me Lancelot."
The boy smiled and answered, "My name is Chris. Well, actually, it's Christopher, but everyone calls me Chris. Your bags are over there in the corner. I'd be happy to bring your bags to your room if you like; consider it part of the service," he added with a cheeky grin.
Chris' dark hair, slight build and the grin he now wore reminded Lancelot of Merlin and he suddenly remembered his promise to let his friend know when he was back in Britannia. "Well, Chris, I'd be most obliged if you would take care of the bags. But I have a question for you … do you know where I can purchase some writing materials? I have a letter to write and I've neither quill nor parchment."
Picking up Lancelot's bags, Chris said, "Oh, I'm pretty sure my uncle has some parchment and stuff in the tap room. I'll see if I can find any and leave them for you in your room, if you'd like."
"Once again, Chris, I'd be most obliged if you would. Thank you."
Lancelot watched young Chris scurry out of the stables and towards the Inn calling "Uncle Thomas, Uncle Thomas" before he disappeared into the building through a side door.
Quite the family business, he thought as he gave Ailen one last pat and then headed towards the bathing room and a well-earned bath.
It was early evening when Lancelot finally sat down at the small desk in his room, a lit candle at his side and a sheet of clean parchment in front of him. Gathering his thoughts, he began to write:
Dear Merlin
I can't tell you how happy I am to be able to tell you that I am finally home!
The past thirteen months have been absolutely amazing: the things I learned, the people and places and I saw … I don't think I will ever be able to find the words to say how much I enjoyed my travels. I have so much to tell you, but I'd need reams of parchment to do so!
So, first off though, let me say that I missed you and thought of you often during my time on the Continent. Numerous times I would see something and think "if only Merlin could see this". I hope things are well with you and you've been keeping out of trouble (or as best you can!) while I was away.
The crossing from France was rather arduous – very stormy weather and high seas made for a difficult sailing – but both Ailen and I made it through; a little battered and bruised on my part, but still in one piece! I think both of us need some time to recover, so I believe I will be staying here in Dover for at least a few days.
While I cannot go into great depth in a letter describing all I saw during my travels (I promise to give you the whole story over a mug or two of mead when we next meet), I can say that I spent several months travelling around France before heading to Spain.
Spain is a different world, Merlin. The colours are brighter, the buildings so different from what we see here, the people and religions so varied. And the horses! They have a breed of horse there called an Andalusian and it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Large, strong and with great stamina, they make the Spanish riders a force to be reckoned with. Yet, for their great size, they are surprisingly gentle and very easy to train. And, let me tell you, they are expensive (don't tell Ailen, but they are worth any amount from what I saw).
I spent a number of months travelling through Spain, hiring myself out as guard to several Merchants caravans and once as bodyguard to a travelling nobleman. I visited the cities of Pamplona, Toledo and Barcelona and even made a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.
I think my time away, while difficult, has proven to be of great benefit to me. After meeting so many different people from different cultures and experiencing strange new ways of living, I believe I now know what I want to do with my life. I want to make a difference, Merlin. I've seen how things can be and I believe some of these ideals can be made into reality here, and I want to be a part of that.
From what I've seen of him, Arthur believes as I do and I look forward to the day when his dreams for the future come to fruition. Until then, I'll keep on honing my skills and hopefully I will be able to part of that grand dream, at some point.
But what about you, Merlin? How have you been these past months? And how is Hunith? I trust you are well and becoming the great man I know you are.
Would it be at all possible for you to get some free time when we can meet? I would truly like nothing better than to see you and find out everything that you've been up to recently.
As I mentioned, I will be staying here in Dover for a while and then I will begin to make my way towards Camelot's border. As long as the weather holds, I should be at the border of Mercia and Camelot about two weeks from now. I will let you know once I've arrived in Riverend and hopefully you can meet me there.
Merlin, I must go now, but I send you my best wishes and my hopes that I will see you soon.
Your friend,
Lancelot
After speaking with Thomas about arranging delivery of his letter, Lancelot entered the tap room and ordered a mug of beer. Sitting at a small table in the corner of the room with his drink, Lancelot began watching the people seated around him. It was the typical collection of travellers, merchants and locals, all of whom appeared to be enjoying their evening. There was one person, though, who seemed oblivious to all that was going on around him. A large, muscled blond was sitting, like Lancelot, alone at a small table, staring into his mug.
There was an air of sadness about the man and it made Lancelot wonder. When one of the serving girls passed close by he signalled to her.
Making her way to Lancelot's side, she said, "Can I get you another?"
"Please," he responded. "And maybe you can answer a question. Who is that man over there?" he asked as he gestured to the tall, silent man.
Looking over, the girl responded, "Oh, his name is Percival. He showed up here about two weeks ago, looking like his last friend had been taken from him. Thomas took pity on him and offered him a place to stay if he was willing to help out with some of the heavier chores. He doesn't say much and, you know, I think this is the first time I've seen him in here. He usually spends evenings in his room."
Watching the man from the corner of his eye while the girl was talking, Lancelot said, "Hmm. Would you also please bring me a mug of whatever he is drinking."
The girl looked at Percival and then at Lancelot and said, "Of course. You know, for all that he is so big and so silent, he seems a really nice man. Maybe you'll have more luck getting to know him than any of us has." She wove her way back to the bar and soon returned, placing two mugs on the table in front of Lancelot. "Good luck," she said quietly as she headed towards another table of men looking for refills.
Lancelot picked up the two mugs and made his way across the room. Stopping in front of the large man, he placed a mug in front of him and said, "Do you mind if I join you? My name is Lancelot."
The man looked up, surprised at first, and then gestured to the empty chair across from him. "Please, have a seat," he said. Once Lancelot was seated, the man picked up his mug, took a sip and then added, "Thank you for this. I'm Percival."
And that was how the friendship between Lancelot and Percival started – over several mugs of beer, conversation, and a mutual recognition that the other was a good man who had also experienced difficult times.
Percival and Lancelot had been sitting and talking for close to two hours when Lancelot yawned. "Oh, excuse me," he said. "I've had a full day and I think I'm for bed. It was a pleasure to meet you Percival. Maybe we can do this again tomorrow night."
"I'd like that," said the big man as he stood from the table. "Good night, Lancelot. I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow at some point."
The next day Lancelot spent wandering around Dover, purchasing those essentials that he would need on his trip to Riverend. He'd also dropped off his saddle at the saddlers; after a year of travelling it was badly in need of some repairs and stitching. Thomas had confirmed to him that morning that his letter to Merlin was presently in the hands of a group of tinkers who were headed in the direction of Camelot and who were more than willing to deliver the letter for a few coins, so it didn't worry Lancelot that it would take about a week for the repairs to his saddle to be completed. He had plenty of time to relax and enjoy the sights and sounds of Dover.
A quick stop by the stables that afternoon to check up on Ailen showed what a day's rest and good food could do. The mare was looking sleek and well-fed and was feeling frisky. Lancelot knew his horse's moods as well as he knew his own and it was obvious she was ready to continue their journeying. "Enjoy the quiet time," he told his horse as he patted her neck. "I've got to wait for my saddle, and then we'll be on our way again."
As he left the stables heading towards the Inn, Lancelot literally ran into Percival, who was coming from around the side of the building, his arms laden with wood. Fortunately, neither man was moving quick enough to cause damage to the other, but still Lancelot reached out his hand to ensure Percival stayed on his feet.
"Percival, I was wondering where you'd got to; I haven't seen you all day. Are you almost done? I was thinking of ordering dinner shortly and would appreciate some company."
Percival smiled at the shorter man and said, "I was just thinking the same thing. Give me about twenty minutes to get cleaned up and I'll meet you in the tap room. Will that be all right?"
"That's perfect! I'll see you shortly," responded Lancelot, as he headed towards the Inn while Percival continued on towards the wood pile to drop off the load in his arms.
The two men sat at the same table as the previous evening and enjoyed their dinner and some excellent beer. Percival had not told Lancelot exactly why he was working odd jobs at the inn, but it was obvious the man was simply biding his time. The one thing Lancelot could tell was that something terrible had happened recently to Percival; it was apparent from the look of pain and loss that sometimes appeared across his face.
Though they had only met the previous day, Lancelot realized that he liked the large, quiet man. He also recognized the pain that seemed to engulf Percival; Lancelot had experienced something very similar when he lost his family and he began to wonder if Percival had a comparable story to tell. Watching the other man stare into his beer, Lancelot made a decision.
"Percival," he began, "I don't mean to pry, but is everything all right? You seem almost … lost. Can I help you in any way?"
Percival looked up with such a look of sadness in his eyes that it made Lancelot's breath catch. "Actually, Lancelot, everything is not all right, but I can't speak of it right now. Maybe at some point, but it's all still too new. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize, my friend. I'm sorry if I've upset you." After taking another sip from his mug, the swordsman said, "May I ask you something?"
At Percival's slight nod, Lancelot continued, "It's obvious to me that you're just filling time by working here. Are you heading somewhere in particular? Do you have a plan for your future? I can't believe you'll be content spending the rest of your life chopping wood."
Percival looked over at his new-found friend and said, "You're right. I've been working here mainly because the physical labour I do during the day ensures that I'm so tired by nightfall that I can sleep for a few hours without the nightmares. But, I do have a plan. I'm actually heading to Haldor, in Mercia, where I have some distant family. I don't intend to stay there, but I've been feeling the need to visit. I'll probably head off in the next few days."
"Mercia?" asked Lancelot. "Really? Well, that's quite a coincidence. I'm on my way to Riverend, on the border with Camelot. I'm hoping to meet up with a friend there. I was planning on leaving in about a week's time as the repairs to my saddle will take that much time. If you don't mind waiting, we could travel together at least to Riverend. It will be safer and to be honest, I'd appreciate the company."
"You know, Lancelot, I think I'd like that very much. I, too, would rather travel with company than alone. I can be ready to depart at any time that suits; I'll just have to let Thomas and Liz know when our plans are settled. They've been more than kind to me the past weeks and I would like to give them at least a day's warning."
"So it's settled; we'll leave for Riverend in a week's time."
About a week after Lancelot had handed over his letter for delivery, Merlin was in the Lower Town making a few deliveries for Gaius. He was just exiting the last house when he heard a commotion coming from outside The Rising Sun. Looking over, he could see a group of about 15 people, three horse-drawn carts, and a goat, all milling about creating havoc in the street.
The tavern keeper was talking with two of the newcomers, obviously showing them where they could store their belongings. Merlin was smiling at the hubbub as he walked by, when he suddenly heard his name.
"Merlin," called the tavern keeper. Gesturing to a young boy standing beside him, he added, "Someone's looking for you."
Merlin turned back towards the tavern as the young lad ran up and said, "You're Merlin? I've got a letter for you." Reaching into the bag hanging at his side, the boy pulled out a folder piece of parchment and handed it over.
"Thank you," said Merlin, as he accepted the letter. His duty completed, the boy turned back towards the group of newcomers when Merlin called, "Hold on a minute. Here, in thanks," and he handed over a small piece of peppermint candy wrapped in a scrap of waxed linen that he'd had in his pocket.
"Oooh, thanks!" said the boy as he quickly stuffed the candy into his mouth and hurried away with a smile.
Looking down at the travel-stained parchment in his hand, a grin began to bloom across the warlock's face. Even after a year's time, he could recognize Lancelot's hand. Holding the letter tight in his hand, Merlin ran up towards the castle, through the courtyard, and straight to his chambers.
Merlin burst through the door and skidded to a stop, gasping for breath. His sudden entry surprised Gaius, so much so that he dropped the vial in his hand and a bright orange liquid began to flow across the table and drip onto the floor.
"Merlin!" snapped the physician, as he grabbed a nearby cloth and began wiping up the mess. "What's gotten into you, boy? You nearly took ten years off my life, running in like that. Is everything all right?"
"Gaius, I'm so sorry," said Merlin as he hurried over to the table. "Here, let me clean that up … um … it's not dangerous is it?" he asked as he removed the damp cloth from Gaius' hand.
"No, Merlin, it's not dangerous. But you should be more careful, because the next time it just might be. Now, what's gotten you in such a tizzy that you ran in here like the Hounds of Hell were after you?"
Now on his hands and knees on the floor, wiping up the last of the spill, Merlin answered from under the table, "Everything's fine, Gaius. In fact, things couldn't be better! I got a letter … from Lancelot! A tinker's lad just gave it to me and I desperately wanted to read it so I came here on a run. I am sorry I ruined your potion; I wasn't thinking I was so excited."
Gaius chuckled at the young man's earnestness. "Well, Merlin, that certainly explains your enthusiastic entrance! If you're done down there, give me the cloth and you can go read your letter."
A sudden bang caused the heavy table to shift slightly on its legs and then Gaius heard a low "Owwww". Merlin soon emerged, rubbing his head and with a rueful look on his face.
Laughing, Gaius said, "Merlin, you're supposed to back out from under the table before you stand up! Go read your letter before you do yourself any more damage," he added fondly.
Merlin smiled, handed Gaius the now-dirty cloth, picked up his letter from where he'd dropped it on a bench and bounded up the five stairs to his room. Setting himself comfortably on his bed, Merlin slid a finger under the seal and cracked it open.
Opening the letter and seeing his friend's familiar handwriting brought back to Merlin once again how much he had missed Lancelot. Oh, he had not been idle during the past thirteen months; in fact, he had been busier than he'd ever expected. But even so, he had often thought of his friend and wondered how he was doing. Merlin had even, on a few occasions when he particularly missed Lancelot, used a spell to look in on Lancelot and make sure his friend was doing well.
The first time he'd done so was only a couple of days after the dark-haired man had left Ealdor, and though he had felt a bit guilty about spying on his friend, Merlin consoled himself with the knowledge that he had Lancelot's express permission to do so.
It wasn't difficult magic, and gazing into the shallow bowl of water he'd placed on the table, Merlin could see Lancelot sitting beside a small fire, feeding in some twigs, a bird of some type resting on the ground beside him, ready for the flame. Lancelot looked calm and relaxed and Merlin watched him place his dinner on the fire and then shift over and reach for his saddlebag. Content in the knowledge that Lancelot had safely made the crossing to France, he backed away from the bowl ending the spell and headed down the short flight of stairs from his room to his own dinner waiting on the table.
After that first time, Merlin used the spell on several occasions when he felt the need to check up on his friend and each time, he was reassured that Lancelot was thriving in his adventures. While it didn't help make up for the separation, at least Merlin could carry on knowing his friend was well.
Shaking his head slightly, Merlin leaned back and began to read Lancelot's news. The first sentence was enough to make him call down to Gaius, "He's home, Gaius. Lancelot is home!"
Settling his small pillow at his back, Merlin read the rest of the letter with a huge smile on his face. He laughed at Lancelot's description of the Spanish horses. Only Lancelot, he thought, would spend so much time telling me about horses of all things! By the time he reached the end of the missive, Merlin was delighted to read Lancelot's suggestion that they try to meet up in Riverend.
Reading Lancelot's letter brought all of Merlin's feelings for his friend flooding back. Time and distance had not changed his feelings for Lancelot; in fact, they had been come even stronger.
While Lancelot was on the continent, it had been easy for Merlin to pretend that what he felt for the man was nothing more than friendship. But now, holding confirmation in his hand that the swordsman was back and wanted to see him, Merlin was a little panicked. At least I'll have a week to get my emotions under control, he thought. I couldn't bear it if I let my true feelings show and Lancelot ignores or rejects them. At least I know I have his friendship. That will have to do.
Folding the letter and secreting it with the others he'd saved over the years, Merlin headed down the five steps to the main room and Gaius, wanting to share with his mentor the contents of Lancelot's letter and the plan to meet up in Riverend.