A/N: Sir Robert is my own OC, meant to replace Sir Leon. If you think there's any way Sir Leon survived season 2, feel free to swap him in your mind instead.

And many more thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed, alerted, and favorited. (My computer says "favorited" isn't a word. I don't care; you know what I mean and who you are!) You keep me going.

Chapter 5

Dear Gaius,

Thank you for sending me the parcel of clothes and other things I left behind. It is good to have everything back again, especially my book and my spare neckerchiefs. But please do not send me any more news about Arthur. I don't think I can bear it right now.

I can't tell you how much I miss you and everyone else in Camelot. I'm doing all right here, at least for now. I still do odd jobs for people when they need help, but most often I work in the fields. Once a week the women and I get together to mend socks and gossip – my idea! Sometimes I go herb collecting. It's amazing how much I learned from you, Gaius, when I wasn't even trying. Now I wish I'd paid better attention. I have helped a few of my neighbors with some of the herbal remedies I do remember, mostly for headaches and stomachaches and such.

My mother sends her love also, and says you are welcome to visit us any time. Of course I would like that as well. Give a big hug from me to Gwen and Mary from the kitchens, and of course, yourself.

Love, Merlin

Dear Merlin,

I am glad you are doing so well. It pleases my heart that you are using your herbal knowledge to help your village. I am sending you a book that may help you with a few other simple remedies.

Nothing much has changed here at court. We all miss you, of course. There is a tournament planned for next week, so you can imagine all the fuss and preparation going on. Everyone is overworked and on edge, but it will all work out in the end. It always does.

Of course I would love to visit you and your mother, but even if King Uther would grant me leave for a vacation of such length, I fear my old bones are no longer up to such a journey. We will have to make do with our correspondence. I do treasure your letters, my boy, and keep them in a safe place where I can read them over again whenever I find myself missing you, which is often. Enjoy the book, keep yourself safe, and of course give my love to your dear mother.

Love, Gaius

Merlin refolded the letter and leafed through the slim volume. Yes, this would definitely be useful. It was written for novices, like him, but seemed to cover a lot of remedies. He flipped through it to see what it said about headaches. He was getting a terrible one right now, sharp stabbing pains, worsening very quickly. It suddenly became too painful to read, even to keep his eyes open, and Merlin got up from the table and staggered to his bed.

"Merlin! Are you ill?" asked his mother in alarm, wiping her hands on a towel. She had just finished cleaning up after dinner, and the sight of her son stumbling and collapsing on his bed had Hunith racing across the room in seconds.

"Headache," Merlin mumbled, "Bad. Sleep now." He pulled his blanket over his head to shut out as much light as possible, and was asleep within minutes. Hunith felt his wrists, took off his boots to try to make him more comfortable, and then, feeling rather helpless, picked up the herb book Gaius had sent. She glanced through it while keeping an eye on her son, just in case he needed her. But Merlin slept very deeply, not moving a muscle. After a time, Hunith blew out the remaining candles and went to bed herself.

Merlin opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a forest, behind a tree. There was some moonlight, but it didn't help much; the dark was oppressive. He could hear yelling and the clash of swords nearby. Merlin crept toward the sounds, determined to stay hidden for as long as possible. Reaching a small clearing, he realized that he was watching several of Camelot's knights fighting a small group of what appeared to be bandits. He quickly identified which knight was Arthur, fighting off two bandits simultaneously (no surprise there). But then something went wrong, and Merlin was horrified to see the prince go down. Several of the bandits were also down, and the rest were starting to flee. Most of the knights gave chase. Sir Robert dropped down next to Arthur.

"Sire, let me help," Robert was saying. But Arthur was shaking his head, holding his hands to his wounded left side. His breathing was ragged.

"Help the others finish off the rest of the bandits," Arthur ordered. "Take no prisoners."

Sir Robert looked as if he wanted to protest, but then saluted his prince and quickly followed his comrades.

Merlin stepped out from behind his tree and ran over to Arthur. He reached for Arthur's hands and tried to move them, to see the wound. Arthur opened his eyes. "Merlin?" he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"Arthur, let me help you," Merlin begged, keeping his voice down. "Let me see where you're hurt."

"There's nothing you can do," Arthur said resignedly. "It's a mortal wound."

"You can't be sure of that!" cried Merlin, panic-stricken. "Maybe I can use my magic to heal you. At least let me try! What can it hurt?"

Arthur was too weak to argue, enough so that Merlin could push his hands away easily, and he was horrified to see that the wound was indeed as bad as Arthur had said it was. The prince lost consciousness as Merlin put both hands on the deep gash in Arthur's side and drew all his magic to him. He centered it into a warm, healing, fluid sensation, and visualized the damage closing up, cleanly knitting itself together. All too soon, though, Merlin heard the other knights returning. His time had run out. Merlin reached out and shook his prince's shoulder. "Arthur," he said, "I couldn't heal it all, but I did a lot. I think you're out of danger now. Gaius will be able to do the rest." Arthur's eyes opened and held his own. "I have to go, your knights are returning. I'm sorry I couldn't do more." And Merlin bolted for the trees, getting safely hidden just in time. He watched the knights checking their prince's wounds, binding them, getting ready to go home. And all the while, their voices became less distinct, and their bodies seemed to turn somewhat transparent. What had been so vivid was now completely surreal, and yet…

Merlin jerked awake and sat up in his bed, breathing hard. Had it really happened? Or just been a bad dream? Maybe a prophecy he should warn Arthur about? (Although Merlin had never had prophetic dreams before.) One thing was certain: his headache was completely gone.

Quietly, so as not to wake his mother, Merlin made himself some tea and began to write a letter to Gaius. Gauis would know from the description of the event and the wound if the dream had been real. If so, then it appeared Merlin could still fulfill his destiny, even from far away. That would be an interesting twist, considering all the Great Dragon had put Merlin through to keep him close to Arthur's side for so long.

If, on the other hand, Arthur had not fought bandits and been injured, perhaps the dream might be a prophecy like Morgana's dreams, and there might still be time to warn Arthur and prevent the fatal wound. Of course, it might just be pure rubbish, Merlin simply feeling guilty because he was no longer there to protect his prince, and his guilt was coming out in his dreams. But somehow he couldn't believe that. It was only the most vivid dream he had ever had in his entire life. Merlin refused to believe it was rubbish. He finished his letter, drank the last of his tea, and went back to bed.

Dear Merlin,

I received your letter about the dream you had. Coincidentally, Arthur was injured by bandits in a similar way around the same time. He is recuperating, and will be back to his usual self in very short order. He has not mentioned anything unusual about how he received his injury, although I must say, he seemed to have lost more blood than I would have expected. Your letter explained a lot. I have not asked him about the circumstances of his wound, nor do I intend to. But I believe that you did somehow save his life. I do not understand how this is possible, but perhaps we should just be grateful that it is and not ask too many questions about it.

You have urged me to burn your letters rather than keep them, Merlin, but it gives me great comfort to reread them when I am missing you, which, I must admit, is quite often. I haven't been able to bring myself to destroy them. Trust me when I say I am keeping them in a very safe place.

I hope the herb book is serving you well. I am pleased that your village has finally begun to feel like a home to you again. Everyone needs a place he can call home, Merlin. I hope that someday you can return to this home as well.

Be well, my dear boy,

Gaius

Merlin tucked the most recent letter from Gaius in with the rest. He had a lot to think about. Apparently, his dream had somehow been real, and he had managed to get to Arthur when he was needed most. It was both a comforting and terrifying thought. Comforting, because maybe Merlin could still fulfill his destiny and keep Arthur safe. Even more comforting, because he now knew he had actually been there with Arthur, at his side where he belonged, and had eased his pain. But terrifying, because how on earth did his body DO that? How did he know when Arthur needed him, and where to go? How had he gotten there? Did he actually physically go? Or was part of him still in his bed here in Ealdor? Just trying to work out the problem made him a little queasy, so he firmly pushed the thoughts out of his mind for a time and made a pot of tea. It was mending day, after all, and it was Merlin's turn to host. The women and teenage girls (and a few men now, too) would be along soon. Merlin had thought up some new court stories to share, one of them involving Prince Arthur, the Lady Morgana, a state dinner, a thoroughly confused piglet wearing a lace bonnet, and a not-at-all amused King Uther. Oh, yes, and time in the stocks for Merlin, though it really hadn't been his fault at all!

xxxxx

concrit welcome