A/N: Special thanks to MoonFox, Vaughtronic and Eloeehez who gave me some excellent advice and suggestions. As always, thanks to my excellent beta, sarajm, whose suggestions made the scene between Merlin and Gwen so much better than it was.
Merlin sighed to himself, and then reached out to grab one of the dulled swords. He had work to do, and as Gaius had once told him: hard work is a balm for the soul. Merlin could only hope those words would prove to be true.
Gaius' words unfortunately proved to be only partly true; while performing his daily duties did help keep Merlin's mind focussed to some extent and bring him some much-needed calm, problems still arose when he found himself stuck in a mundane job. Whether it was sharpening swords, polishing Arthur's armour or pounding herbs for Gaius, tasks that only engaged his hands allowed the young warlock's mind to wander down pathways better avoided.
Soon a week had gone by, and while it seemed to Merlin like everyone else had moved on from recent events, he couldn't say the same for himself. He was exhausted and weighed down by his grief and his guilt and though he tried to smile, it was becoming more and more difficult.
Merlin was beginning to withdraw into himself, an act that gravely concerned Gaius. Soon even Arthur noticed that his ever-cheerful servant was much less inclined to talk than usual. Merlin was still polite and kind to everyone he met, but his spontaneous outbursts were few and far between. Arthur found himself missing the other man's cheeky grin and impertinent words, something he had certainly never imagined would happen!
One afternoon, about three weeks after Lancelot's passing, Arthur sent Merlin out on a few errands and quickly made his way to Gaius' chambers to have a few words with the physician.
Arriving at the elderly man's rooms, Arthur saw that the door was ajar and he could hear the gentle clinks of glassware coming from inside. Thank goodness, thought Arthur, Gaius is in. Knocking on the door and pushing it open, Arthur stepped into the sunlit room and let his eyes wander around for a moment. Though he would never admit it, Arthur loved spending time in Gaius' rooms. There was always something interesting bubbling in a flask over the open flame and the rooms usually smelt of crushed herbs and foreign spices. There was a hominess to the place that appealed to the Prince.
"Gaius, are you busy?" asked the blond as he turned his gaze towards the physician.
"Arthur, what brings you here?" asked Gaius as he looked up from the bowl sitting in front of him on the table. The contents of the bowl, from the little Arthur could see, looked like nothing more than green goo, but Arthur had learned very early on never to ask Gaius what he was working on. That simple question often led to a lengthy explanation that usually left Arthur feeling slightly queasy.
"Merlin's running some errands for me and I was hoping that I could speak with you about him," said Arthur, concern was evident in his voice.
"About Merlin? What's wrong? Has something happened?" queried Gaius worriedly as he pushed the bowl to the side and gestured for Arthur to sit.
"No ... well, yes … I don't know," exclaimed Arthur as he ignored Gaius' gesture and instead paced the room rather frantically. "I mean, he seems fine, and he keeps telling me that everything is all right, but there's something … something different about Merlin. I know he was terribly upset at Lancelot's death, but that was weeks ago! Surely he can't still be dwelling on it? I'm getting rather worried about him, Gaius."
Gaius sat at the table with a sad look in his eyes, watching the prince striding back and forth from one end of the table to the next. Arthur looked so young at the moment, with worry evident on his face and in the way he kept running his hands through his hair. Taking pity on the young man, Gaius stood up, poured some water into a goblet and handed it to Arthur saying, "Arthur, please, sit down and drink this. You're working yourself into a state."
"I'm not working myself into a state, Gaius!" snapped Arthur as he sat down at the table and drained the goblet. Glancing down into the now-empty mug, Arthur raised his eyes to meet Gaius' gaze and, with a rueful chuckle, said, "Okay, maybe I am a little upset. But Gaius, I don't know what to do to help Merlin."
"I know, Arthur; I know you're worried. But I don't think there's anything we can do for Merlin right now, except be there for him. Lancelot was Merlin's best and closest friend, and the circumstances of his passing were unimaginable. You know what Merlin's like – he's always the first to step in to help. But this time, there was nothing he could do. Lancelot made his decision to save you, to save all of us, and Merlin was not even given the chance to say good-bye."
"But surely he's lost friends before," said Arthur. "There was that man back in Ealdor … what was his name?"
"You mean Will?" asked Gaius.
Arthur snapped his fingers and said, "Yes, Will. I got the impression they were childhood friends."
"Well, yes," responded Gaius, "they did grow up together. But Lancelot's place in Merlin's life went much deeper than friendship. There was a bond between the two of them; they were more like brothers than friends. Did you know that when Lancelot was not on duty and Merlin was done with his work, the two were always together? So much so, that when I saw one without the other, it always seemed strange to me."
"Ohh," whispered Arthur, a look of self-recrimination on his face. "I knew they were friends, but I didn't realize how close they truly were. Well, that certainly explains Merlin's demeanour. And I've been chivvying him endlessly these past few days to get over it. I feel so stupid!"
"Arthur, you weren't aware. And if I know Merlin as well as I think I do, he isn't angry or upset with you. Right now, the only thing we can do is give him some space, while at the same time letting him know that we understand what he is going through. This is Merlin we're talking about … I'm sure he'll be back to his usual self in no time."
"I hope you're right, Gaius," responded Arthur as he mindlessly twirled the empty goblet between his agile fingers. After a few moments of silence, Arthur stood and said, "Well, I've got things to do and Merlin will be back soon. You won't mention that I've spoken with you about all this," said Arthur in a half-commanding, half-pleading tone.
Gaius smiled at the prince and said, "Our discussion is private, Arthur. No, I won't mention anything to Merlin."
With a parting smile for the elderly man, Arthur made his way to the door; but as soon as he had placed his hand on the latch he heard a quiet, "Thank you, Arthur." Arthur turned back towards Gaius with a quizzical look on his face and Gaius continued, "For caring so much about Merlin."
With a shy smile and a reddening of his cheeks, Arthur nodded to the physician and left his chambers, quietly closing the door behind him. He had a great deal to think about, but right now he needed to find Leon and have a discussion about the next steps in training for the new squires.
The next morning, Arthur was already seated at his desk writing feverishly on a piece of parchment when Merlin arrived with his breakfast.
"Arthur," exclaimed the servant, "you're up! And dressed!" Placing the tray of foodstuffs on the table where it wouldn't get in Arthur's way, he added, "Is it some sort of holiday?"
"Ha, ha, very funny Merlin," responded the prince, though he was secretly pleased at Merlin's response. Arthur the quill and ink pot to the side, pulled the tray towards him and continued, "I've got a list of tasks for you today and knowing you, I figured I'd better write them down or you'd forget to do half of them."
By this time, Merlin was standing at the side of the bed with his back to Arthur. He had straightened the bedclothes and was now trying to smooth the wrinkles out of the coverlet, but he was still capable of shooting a look over his shoulder towards the blond as if to say you are a laugh-riot, my lord!
"Actually, Merlin, could you stop that and come here please?"
Surprised at both the tone and the polite turn of phrase, Merlin straightened up and stepped towards the table, coming to a halt in front of Arthur. Arthur, for his part, had been intently studying his servant, while trying not to let Merlin realize it. There was one task that he had been avoiding assigning for weeks, but it could wait no longer.
"Please, sit down, Merlin. You're making me nervous with your hovering," said Arthur as he gestured towards the low-backed, red-upholstered chair.
"I'm making you nervous," said Merlin with a bit of a squawk. "What about me? You're being polite, Arthur, which generally means nothing good is about to happen. What's wrong? What have I done?"
"Merlin, nothing's wrong and you haven't done anything, so relax! It's just that … well … I know how hard these past weeks have been for you and I'm sorry that you had to go through that but …" Arthur's voice trailed away and he began fiddling with the spoon that sat beside the bowl of oatmeal.
"Arthur, just tell me. What is going on?"
Arthur took a deep breath and began speaking. "Well, it's been more than three weeks now and as much as I hate to say it, Lancelot's rooms are going to have to be reassigned sooner rather than later. Which means that someone is going to have pack up all of his personal belongings. I know it's an awful thing to ask of you, but I was hoping that you would be willing to do it. After all, you were Lancelot's closest friend and I'm sure he would be happy to know that you're the one cleaning up his stuff and hopefully finding a use for some of it."
At Arthur's words, Merlin became very still and the colour drained from his face. Logically, he understood why Arthur was asking this of him, but emotionally the young man wasn't sure he could face walking into Lancelot's rooms and being surrounded by reminders of his friend. In fact, Merlin had taken to avoiding that part of the castle whenever possible because he couldn't face the pain he felt when he walked down the corridor and past the familiar scarred wooden door.
Suddenly, he heard Arthur calling his name and from the anxiety in his voice, the blond had in fact called several times.
Blinking back tears, Merlin looked up at Arthur who was now standing at his side, grasping his forearm in a strong grip.
"There you are," breathed Arthur. "I was starting to worry. I'm sorry, Merlin; I should have thought. Don't worry about it; I'll find someone else to clear out Lancelot's belongings. I shouldn't have asked you."
Merlin shook his head and said, "No, Arthur. I'll do it. I want to do it. I'll be fine, I promise."
Arthur looked down at his servant with a wary eye, but at the pleading look on the other man's face, he couldn't find it in himself to refuse Merlin despite knowing how much heartache the act of clearing out Lancelot's belongings would bring.
"All right, Merlin, and thank you. I trust you will know what do with Lancelot's personal items?"
"I'll take care of it all," responded Merlin as he stood up from the chair. "Thank you for letting me do this; I don't think I could handle someone else sorting through Lancelot's stuff. If you don't need me for the next little while, I think I'll get started."
Arthur gave his servant an encouraging nod and watched the other man closely as he retrieved the tray from the desk and then headed out the door, closing it carefully behind him.
I hope I haven't made a mistake by asking Merlin to do this thought Arthur as he pulled on his boots and got ready to start his day.
After having returned Arthur's breakfast tray to the kitchens, Merlin proceeded along the softly-lit halls towards Lancelot's rooms. It was a trip he had made so many times in the past that his feet seemed to take him there without thought. As he slowly traversed the corridors, he couldn't help but bring to mind other times when he had walked at Lancelot's side, both men laughing about something – be it Gwaine's latest prank, or something amusing that had occurred on the training grounds, or just a silly story one of them told of something that had happened in their younger days.
It didn't take long before Merlin found himself at the intersection of two corridors; a turn to the left and he would soon find himself at Lancelot's rooms. While tempted to continue straight, Merlin knew that the longer he put off this task, the more difficult it would become.
Taking a deep breath, Merlin turned the corner and stared down the short hallway towards the dark wooden door near the end. Lancelot's rooms. Nearing the door, Merlin noticed with surprise that the door was ajar. Was someone taking advantage of the situation and rifling through Lancelot's belongings? A heat rose in Merlin, a combination of anger and disappointment. Surely Lancelot's sacrifice was worth more than thievery!
Merlin stalked down the hall and threw the door open with more force than elegance; he was hoping to catch the thief in action. A small shriek met his forceful entry into the room.
"Gwen?" gasped Merlin in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"Merlin! You frightened me," said the dark-haired girl as she lowered her hand from where it had flown to her chest at the sound of the door bouncing off the wall.
"I'm sorry, Gwen; I didn't mean to scare you. Arthur asked if I'd clear out Lancelot's belongings, and I saw the door was open as I came down the hallway. I thought someone was … never mind. Arthur didn't tell me you'd be here."
"That's because Arthur doesn't know I'm here. I wanted … I needed …oh Merlin," whispered Gwen as tears began to fill her dark brown eyes. "I don't know what I want other than for Lancelot to walk through that door with a smile on his face."
The two friends stood there for a few seconds, each lost in their thoughts, when Gwen cleared her throat, sniffed and said, "Merlin, I'd like to stay and help you, if you don't mind."
Looking over to his friend, Merlin gave her a small quirk of his lips – it really couldn't be considered a smile – and much as he would have preferred doing this alone, he couldn't refuse Gwen her request. Instead, he simply said, "Of course I don't mind."
"I'll start over here, with the wardrobe, if that's all right with you," said Gwen as she moved across the room to the bed and the tall armoire that was positioned nearby.
Merlin nodded his assent and crossed to the other side of the room where a small set of shelves lined the wall beside a table that sat under the room's single window. Everything was covered with a thin film of dust, a testament to the owner's absence. Merlin sat down in the chair placed at the table, pulled the various pieces of parchment closer and starting reading their contents. The majority of them were nothing more than notes or instructions that could safely be destroyed. The impersonal nature of the writings meant that Merlin could skim through them quite quickly, without feeling.
Once the desktop was in order, Merlin shifted himself to stand in front of the shelves. Here was another matter altogether. These shelves held the bulk of Lancelot's personal possessions and brought home to Merlin once again the feelings of sadness and guilt that he was trying so hard to work past. On one shelf was a small dagger that Merlin knew had been gifted to Lancelot by his mother many years before. Sitting beside it was beautifully-rendered carving of a hawk that he had picked up in France, not long after the events with the griffin. Merlin had a similar carving, though his was of an owl, a gift from his friend.
A few pieces of ribbon were curled up around each other – tokens from ladies, no doubt - and there was a snipping of blond hair tied with a blue thread sitting there as well. Finally, there was a wooden bowl, small enough to fit in his palm, with intricate designs worked around its rim. It was old and had been handled so often that the wood was burnished smooth by countless hands.
Merlin was just reaching out to pick up the bowl when he heard muffled sobs coming from the other side of the room. While Merlin had been shuffling papers on the desk, Gwen had been quietly folding the various pieces of clothing hanging in the wardrobe and placing them in two piles.
On hearing Gwen's crying, Merlin quickly made his way across the room to her side and pulled her into a tight embrace. That small act was all it took, and soon she was sobbing in Merlin's arms while clutching an old, threadbare shirt to her face.
Merlin gently rocked from side to side, running his hand down Gwen's long hair and murmuring. "Hush, Gwen," he soothed, "you'll make yourself sick. Everything is all right. Just keep breathing. Shhhh, you're okay."
After what seemed like hours, but was really only a few minutes, Gwen sniffed and pulled away from Merlin. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were swollen. "I'm sorry, Merlin," she said as she scrubbed at her eyes. "But it I can't take it! It's all my fault that Lancelot's dead."
"What? Gwen, no … it's no one's fault," said Merlin as he placed his hands on her shoulders.
"If I hadn't made him promise to watch over Arthur, he would still be here. I sent him to his death!" she wailed, as tears began flowing down her cheeks again.
"Gwen, stop this! It's not your fault; you did nothing wrong. If there is blame to be laid, lay it at the feet of the Cailleach. She is the one who demanded a sacrifice."
"Yes, but …"
"But nothing," interrupted Merlin. "Lancelot made his decision of his own free will. He wasn't forced or coerced into it. Listen, Gaius said something to me a while ago. He pointed out that maybe it was Lancelot's destiny to give up his life for Arthur and for Camelot … for all of us. We may never know for sure, but what I do know is that Lancelot did not look afraid as he walked into the darkness. He seemed almost ... calm. So, please, you must stop blaming yourself for what happened and take Lancelot's actions for what they were: a gift."
While Merlin had been speaking, Gwen's breathing had evened out and she even seemed to stand straighter. "Merlin, when did you become so wise?" she asked with a shaky grin.
"Ah, you know me," Merlin responded with an attempt at light-heartedness, "I've always been wise, just no one ever realized."
Gwen laughed and then rising up on her toes, she leaned in to give Merlin a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Here, give me that," he said as he pulled the now-wrinkled and slightly damp shirt from Gwen's hands. "I'll finish up here; it won't take long. You go and get some rest."
"Are you sure?" asked Gwen.
Shooing her towards the door, Merlin said, "Of course I'm sure. I'll see you later, yeah?"
Gwen smiled at her friend and made her way out the door, closing it gently behind her. Staring blankly down at the fabric in his hands, Merlin barely registered the click of the latch as the door closed. After a few moments, he rolled his shoulders, put the shirt down on the bed and walked across the room.
Standing once again in front of the shelves, Merlin picked up the small wooden bowl with shaking hands. He remembered Lancelot telling him that it had been a gift from a holy man, a thank you for having rescued him from some bandits on the road.
Merlin stood with the bowl in his hand, his fingers tracing the carvings around the rim when suddenly everything got to be too much. He felt like the walls were closing in on him, he could hardly see for the tears in his eyes and he couldn't seem to catch his breath. He needed to get out of there, immediately.
Heedless of what he was doing, Merlin clutched the bowl close to his chest and quickly exited the room, barely remembering to close the door behind him. He sped along the halls towards the Grand Staircase and the outdoors. By the time he reached the marble steps, the young warlock was practically running. He raced across the paving stones and out the main gate of the castle.
He had no destination in mind but 'away', so he simply ran and soon veered off the track and into the woods. He leapt over fallen trees and forced his way through the underbrush until he fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Looking around, Merlin couldn't remember how he got there. I must have looked a right idiot he thought as he pushed his bangs out of his eyes and pulled out a couple of twigs that had gotten stuck in his hair.
Shifting from his knees, Merlin sat there gathering his breath and his thoughts. It was quiet and calm, and Merlin felt the stillness enter his soul. Sitting there, listening to the birdsong and the breeze rustling through the leaves, Merlin finally felt at peace. The first peace he had felt since that fateful day weeks earlier.
The young man moved to lean back against a fallen tree. He stretched his legs out in front of him and wriggled his shoulders until he was comfortably seated. It was only then that he realized that he was still holding Lancelot's bowl.
Merlin sat there for many minutes, absorbing the calm of the woods, when a rumbling sounded from overhead. Looking up, he was surprised to see that the once-sunny day had become overcast and it looked like a storm was brewing. Not knowing where he was exactly, Merlin moaned aloud, "Guess I'll be getting wet."
The thunder got louder and then there was a flash of lightening. Quickly standing up, Merlin scanned the area, looking for some sort of shelter. The rain was starting; large drops were bouncing off the leaves and while he was still dry, he wouldn't be for long. Another flash of lightening showed Merlin a small opening in some rocks about 200 paces way.
Hoping it would be uninhabited, he quickly ran towards the cave, making it to cover just before the heavens opened. While it couldn't really be called a cave – it was too small for that grand title – the opening had enough of an overhang to protect him from the weather. A cursory glance around showed that it was uninhabited and had been for quite a while.
While the cave was small, it was clear and dry, so Merlin settled himself down to wait out the weather. It was raining so hard that the entryway soon was covered by a curtain of falling water.
Watching the rain fall, Merlin could not help but think that it was almost as if the sky was crying. He didn't notice his own tears slipping down his face to drip onto the dusty ground beneath him.