The rain continued to fall from the sky, but as Merlin's tears ceased he realized that he was extremely thirsty. Taking the small bowl in hand, he stood and took the two steps necessary to cover the distance between where he had been sitting and the entrance to his small shelter. Merlin thrust the bowl under the cascading water, and it was soon filled to the brim with clear, cool rainwater. Draining the bowl in three large gulps, he filled it again and returned to his seat on the ground. This time, though, he scooted over so he could lean against the rock wall.
Drinking a bit more, Merlin placed the now half-empty bowl in the dust at his side and sighed deeply. He was exhausted, but for the first time in weeks he did not feel like the weight of his guilt and sorrow was crushing him. He felt light; almost as if he could float away on a summer breeze.
The feeling of lightness was incredible and as he sat there watching the rain, Merlin finally came to accept that everything he had told Gwen earlier that day was true. Lancelot's death wasn't her fault, nor was it his fault. For his own reasons, the knight had made his choice. Lancelot had made the choice to step through the void. Lancelot had made the choice to pay the Cailleach's price so Merlin would be able to fulfil his own destiny.
Despite the fact that he would have done anything to prevent Lancelot's sacrifice, Merlin at last understood that while he could wish the past undone, it would do him no good to dwell on what had happened. He could rage at the Fates and scream aloud at his Destiny, but all that would get him was a sore throat. It was time to pick himself up and move ahead; it was time to honour Lancelot's actions and stop agonizing over the past.
Merlin glanced down at the bowl that sat at his side and decided that it would be the one thing of Lancelot's he would keep. He knew Arthur would not begrudge him wanting a small remembrance of his friend. Then finally, finally, after many long weeks, a true smile appeared on Merlin's face. This wasn't the small quirk of his lips that constituted his smiles recently. No, this one made his nose wrinkle and his eyes glow.
Looking down at the half-filled bowl, Merlin began to wonder. His studies of magic had recently included scrying and under Gaius' tutelage, he had become quite adept at calling up images in still water.
I wonder, he thought, if it would work the same with people who have di … who aren't … Calling into his mind's eye an image of Lancelot, Merlin picked up the bowl, cradled it in his hands and whispered the incantation. His eyes glowed golden for a moment and an image began to form in the water. It was very faint at first, but soon grew clear and crisp and then Lancelot was looking up at him with his familiar smile on his face.
It wasn't the same as having Lancelot here, beside him, but Merlin was willing to take what he could get. Seeing his friend brought back his feelings of sorrow, but rather than fall into despair, Merlin shook his head and instead gave the image a tremulous smile.
"I know I'm probably being really silly, talking to an image," he said aloud, "but I just wanted to say thank you, Lancelot, for what you did. I know you can't hear me, or see me, but … Anyway, I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to keep this bowl; I promise that every time I look at it, I'll think of you. I miss you, Lancelot. I hope that, wherever you've ended up, you are not suffering or in pain. I vow I will never forget your kindness, your friendship or your sacrifice."
Taking a deep breath, the warlock continued, "The worst is that I don't even know if you are dead or alive. I almost hope you are dead, because I can't bear the thought of you being trapped on the other side of the void, alive and with no way to return. Is that such a terrible thing, to wish you dead?"
Merlin's voice trailed off as he raised his eyes from their contemplation of the image in the water towards the entrance to his small shelter. While he had been sitting in the dimly-lit shelter, the rain had lessened; in fact the storm had almost blown itself out. There was only a bit of drizzle now, and the dark clouds were clearing to reveal patches of bright blue sky.
"It's stopped raining," murmured Merlin as he turned his gaze back to the bowl. But the spell had been broken and now the bowl held nothing more than a few inches of rainwater.
"Ah well," sighed Merlin, "I suppose it was too good to last." Standing up, he brushed the dust from his backside and tipped the last of the water onto the ground. Looking around his little hide-away, Merlin had a feeling that this would not be the last time he came here. The quiet of the woods had worked its magic on him and while he knew that he had to get back to Camelot and his duties, Merlin was reluctant to leave this place and the peace he had found here.
Making a quick tour of the small cave, he found a tiny outcropping of rock at the back of the shelter; it almost looked like a shelf and it was just deep enough to hold his precious bowl. Placing the bowl on the ledge, he ran his forefinger gently around its rim. "Good bye for now, Lancelot," he whispered. "I'll be back soon."
Exiting the cave, Merlin looked back and laid a simple "keep away" spell over the entrance. He didn't want to have to hide the cave, partly because he wasn't exactly sure where he was and he wanted to be able to find his way back. Rather, he simply wanted it to seem uninviting to any foxes or badgers or other animals (including humans), that might be searching for shelter.
Once the spell was laid, the young man rolled his shoulders and took a good look around. It had felt like he had run for hours, but he knew that he was probably no more than a half-hour walk from the castle. He just had to figure out in which direction lay home.
Merlin easily clambered up the small outcropping of stone that housed his little hide-away and when he reached the top, to his amazement he could see the turrets of the castle quite close by.
"Ha!" he exclaimed. "I must have run in a circle. I'll be home in no time." Merlin quickly made his way along the narrow worn path and not fifteen minutes later found himself once again passing through the main gates, only this time he was in a much better frame of mind.
Merlin made his way across the courtyard and up the Griffin staircase before one of the palace guards called out to him.
"Merlin! There you are! Prince Arthur has been looking for you. I believe he's in the Great Hall right now."
"Right. Thanks," called Merlin as he picked up his feet and sped along the hallways to find Arthur. Skidding to a halt at the doors to the Great Hall, Merlin pulled on the hem of his tunic and surreptitiously brushed his hands down his backside; it wouldn't do to show up covered in dirt and twigs. "How late am I?" he asked the guards worriedly.
One of the guards, smiling at the servant's attempts to make himself presentable, said, "I wouldn't worry, Merlin. Arthur only called for you about five minutes ago, and he seemed to be in a good mood, so I think you're safe … this time!"
"Thank goodness," said the servant fervently. With a nod to the guards, he pushed open the doors and stepped in to the room to find Arthur seated at the head of the table and Gwen standing at his side.
The two were conversing in a low tone, but on hearing the sound of Merlin's boots on the flagstaff floor, they broke apart. Gwen sent a smile towards Merlin, curtseyed to Arthur and slipped out of the room through the side entrance.
"Ah, Merlin," said Arthur. "Come here and sit down."
"Really? You want me to sit?" asked Merlin in surprise.
"Well, you can stand if you want, but if it were my choice, I'd take advantage of the kind offer and plant myself," said Arthur with a grin.
Merlin shrugged slightly, pulled one of the heavy chairs out from the table and sat down on the edge of the seat. He wasn't sure what Arthur was up to and that made him a little nervous.
"So," said Arthur, "Gwen mentioned that you were cleaning out Lancelot's rooms. How did that go?"
Merlin nodded and said, "Yes; after I returned your breakfast tray to the kitchens I went to Lancelot's rooms to begin clearing out and organizing his stuff. Gwen was there already, so the two of us got right to work. I'm not quite finished yet, but I should be done by tomorrow. Is that alright?"
"That's fine, Merlin. Like I said this morning, there's no rush to finish. When you've got everything in order let me know and I'll arrange to have Lancelot's belongings distributed amongst the poor. As long as you agree, Merlin."
"I think Lancelot would like that," answered the dark-haired servant in a low voice.
The two men sat in their chairs, quiet, until Merlin cleared his throat and said, "Arthur? Ummm …"
"What is it Merlin?"
"Well … um … Lancelot didn't have very many personal items. But there was this one thing … it was important to him … and I was wondering … well, I was hoping …"
"Merlin," said Arthur with the slightest hint of impatience, "just say what you want to say."
Taking a deep breath, Merlin said in a quavering voice, "Lancelot had a bowl that had been given to him by a holy man. It's quite old and has some beautiful carvings around the rim. I'd like to keep it, in memory of Lancelot, if that's okay?"
"Oh, Merlin, of course. Lancelot was your friend, and it's only right that you have something tangible to remember him by. But a bowl doesn't seem like much. Are you sure there's nothing else you'd like to keep?"
"No Arthur, the bowl is perfect. There's something else, though, that I think Lancelot would like you to have. He has a carving of a hawk that he got in France and I know he'd be happy knowing that it was safe in your care. Assuming you want it, of course."
Arthur stared at his servant, a look of surprise on his face. Merlin was the most inept servant he'd ever known, but every once in a while the lad did something that touched Arthur deeply.
"I'd be honoured to have it, to have something to remind me of Lancelot. Thank you, Merlin."
Merlin gave Arthur a shy smile and said, "I'll finish up with Lancelot's chambers tomorrow and I'll be sure to bring you the carving." Standing up from his seat, he added, "Is there anything else you need me for, Arthur? Otherwise, I've got some duties to attend before dinner."
Arthur waved his servant away, but as Merlin neared the main doors to the room, he called out to his servant.
"Merlin, wait a moment." Arthur made his way to Merlin's side and grasped the younger man's forearm. "I just wanted to say thank you."
"For what? The carving?" asked a confused Merlin.
"No, well, yes. But also for helping Gwen earlier. She told me what happened while the two of you were working in Lancelot's rooms. I know she's been beating herself up over Lancelot's death and whatever you told her seems to have taken root. She is much happier now than she has been since his passing. So … thank you," said Arthur again as he squeezed Merlin's arm and then let him go.
Of course, the prince couldn't appear soft so he followed up with a brisk "Now get back to work, Merlin. I'll see you at dinner."
Merlin simply snorted lightly, bowed rather sarcastically and exited the room.
And so the weeks passed and life in Camelot carried on as usual. There were new intrigues to be dealt with, new knights to be put through their paces before being elevated to the title of Knight of Camelot, kings and princes coming to discuss treaties and trade agreements, and it seemed that no one spent much time thinking about Lancelot.
No one but Merlin, that is.
The young man was still struggling with his feelings of guilt and anguish. Most days he was able to go about his duties in his normal manner, but then someone would say something, or something would happen and Lancelot would once again become foremost in his thoughts. On those days, Merlin made a point of escaping to his small hide-away in the woods. Once there, he could cry or yell or simply sit and remember without worrying about anyone seeing him and asking in that particular tone of voice, "How are you?"
It soon became a habit for Merlin to call water into the small bowl, conjure up an image of Lancelot and then talk to his friend. It was this one small act - talking to Lancelot - that Merlin found he missed most. Other than Gaius, Lancelot was the only person in Camelot who knew that Merlin had magic. Whenever he had been with Lancelot, the young warlock had never felt the need to hide his talents, or censor his words … he could just be himself.
Gaius was truly wonderful and was always willing to listen to whatever Merlin had to say, but he took his duties as mentor very seriously and he never hesitated to tell Merlin when he thought the younger man had crossed the line regarding the use of his magic.
Merlin often felt that Gaius was judging every little action he took; not necessarily in a bad way, but more as a teaching opportunity. Yet sometimes the young man just wanted someone who would simply listen while he talked; someone who wouldn't judge or comment. He needed a friend.
And so, Merlin continued to speak to Lancelot as though the man were still alive. It might not have been the best way to deal with the situation, but it felt like the only option available to him. Merlin couldn't tell anyone else about his magic, so he struggled through as best he could while still confiding in his absent friend.
To everyone else, it seemed that their young companion had finally laid his demons to rest and was carrying on normally. Even Gwen, who was usually so quick to notice when something was amiss with Merlin, presumed that he was doing fine.
The only ones who remained concerned about Merlin's welfare were Arthur and Gwaine.
Arthur could see that Merlin was building up a wall between himself and everyone around him. Oh, he was still the kind, gentle, clumsy person he had always been, but there was a sense of isolation about him. Merlin was still quick with a retort and he still joked with Arthur, but there was a dampening of his enthusiasm.
Arthur tried everything he could think of to get through to his friend, but nothing seemed to work. He bullied, he cajoled, he joked and he teased; one day he even cornered the servant and baldly asked how he was doing, but Merlin's answer was always the same.
"I'm fine, Arthur," became the three words that the prince hated the most. He knew Merlin needed help, but he didn't know what to do.
Gwaine, for his part, was also keeping a close eye on his young friend. Theirs was a friendship built on fun and light-heartedness. They had never really gone in for deep and meaningful conversations, but that didn't mean that Gwaine was not genuinely concerned. He could see that Merlin was closing himself off and was determined not to let that happen.
It was purely by chance that one afternoon Gwaine discovered Merlin's secret.
It had not been a good day for Merlin. It seemed that everywhere he turned there were reminders of Lancelot. With his thoughts scattered, he became inattentive and more clumsy than usual. After he had broken several vials of medicines, tripped going up the stairs and had managed to drop a pile of parchment into the only puddle in the courtyard, he'd had enough. Once he'd cleaned up his latest mess, he raced back to his rooms to grab his satchel. He needed to get away and the bag would offer a plausible excuse. After all, Gaius was always looking to replenish his supply of medicinal herbs.
As he determinedly made his way across the courtyard and out the main gates, Merlin didn't realize that he was being carefully watched. Gwaine had seen Merlin picking up the dripping parchment and had been making his way towards the despondent young man when he suddenly scurried up the stairs and into the castle. Figuring that everything was fine, Gwaine turned to continue on his way to the Royal Stables when he heard the loud thump, thump, thump of heels hitting cobblestones.
Turning to find the source out the noise, Gwaine saw that it was Merlin rushing across the courtyard, seemingly indifferent to everyone around him. Gwaine called to his friend, but got no response. The dark-haired knight halted in his tracks and watched as Merlin made his way along the entryway and through the main gates. Then, to his surprise, he saw the other man break into a run and quickly disappear down the road.
That was odd, thought Gwaine as he continued on his way to the stables. He had his bag with him, but I can't imagine that Gaius is in such short supply of herbs that Merlin felt he had to run to get whatever Gaius needs. Stopping short in front of the large double doors of the stable, Gwaine ran his fingers through his hair. Something was definitely wrong. He was sure of it and he was not going to let things continue on in this manner. No, he was going to find Merlin and get to the bottom of whatever was going on.
Gwaine rapidly made his way out the castle gates and headed along the road, his eyes scanning the brush and grass to either side of the track. Considering the speed at which Merlin had been traveling, there should be some evidence of his passing. Sure enough, Gwaine quickly came across a narrow track that showed signs of recent use. There were boot tracks in the dirt and a couple of branches from the nearby bushes had been brushed to the side or snapped off completely.
Glancing around to make sure he wasn't being watched, as he had a feeling that Merlin had been looking for some privacy, Gwaine stepped off the road and traversed the narrow track. He had only been walking for about five or six minutes when he could see that the underbrush was thinning and the trees were set further apart. He soon came upon a small clearing. As he stood at the edge of the treeline trying to determine which way Merlin had gone, Gwaine heard a low sound over the hum of the crickets. It only took a few seconds for him to recognize Merlin's voice. He was obviously talking to someone, but where was he? The clearing was empty.
As his eyes darted around, and with head cocked slightly to the left in order to hear better, Gwaine suddenly had a terrible thought. Well, actually, not a terrible thought, but more an embarrassing one. What if Merlin was meeting up with someone? What if Merlin was meeting a girl and here he was, ready to barge in where he wasn't wanted? Grinning to himself, Gwaine thought "Way to go, Merls!"
He was turning away, intent on leaving his friend to his tryst when Merlin's voice rose in volume and Gwaine heard him call "Why Lancelot? It's not fair!"
At the pain in his young friend's voice, Gwaine realized that he couldn't just walk away. He seemed to have hit upon what was bothering Merlin: He was obviously still mourning his friend. If nothing else, Merlin's cry had allowed Gwaine to pinpoint the servant's location. Just off to his right there was a rock face and from the way the sun was hitting it, he could see a small opening.
Gwaine was just about to step into the clearing when he saw Merlin step out of the darkness and seat himself in the entrance of his shelter. The younger man was bent over something in his hands and he was speaking again, but quieter now so that Gwaine could not hear what Merlin was saying.
The knight would never be able to explain why, but for some reason he held back from announcing himself; maybe he didn't want to startle his friend, or maybe he didn't want to risk Merlin's anger at discovering he had been followed. Whatever the impulse, it changed Gwaine's life forever.
As he stood, hidden by some low-lying branches and a large gorse bush, he could see Merlin raise his head and place the bowl he had been grasping on the ground beside him. Then, to Gwaine's utter shock and horror, Merlin began drawing pictures in the sand in front of him.
Only, he wasn't using a stick or his fingers. No; Merlin waved his hands and without touching anything, the sand began to writhe and shift before him. And then, without warning, the sand rose to hover in the air and as it continued to move, it began to form an image. He recognized that face; it was Lancelot! A sand picture of Lancelot and Merlin was speaking to it!
Gwaine felt his blood turn to ice and shivers run up and down his spine. His kind and gentle friend was much more than he seemed. Merlin had magic!
Not too proud to admit he was afraid, Gwaine quietly eased away from the clearing. He didn't want to make any noise; he didn't want to attract Merlin's attention. He had to get back to Camelot. He had to tell someone. He needed to find Arthur!
As he hurried along the dark, narrow path, one thought kept spinning and spinning through Gwaine's mind: Merlin is a sorcerer!