Chapter XXX: Ealdor

It seemed that Gaius did not need Merlin to clean the leech tank. It seemed that Gaius didn't need Merlin at all, that the physician had been acting as a messenger more than anything else.

"Will?" Arthur repeated, staring at the ordinary-looking young man at Gaius's side. He was Merlin's age or perhaps a bit older, with brown hair and a plain face. His clothing marked him as a peasant, probably a farmer.

"Will, this is my employer Arthur," Merlin said distractedly. "Arthur, this is Will, my best friend from Ealdor."

"Nice to meet you," Will said, still not looking at the prince. "Merlin, we need you back home."

The servant's eyes went wide. "Did something happen to Mother?"

"No, no, Hunith's fine. Your father too." Will's face darkened. "At least, they're fine for now."

"What happened?" Merlin demanded yet again.

"Bandits. You ever heard of a man called Kanen?"

"No."

"He raided the village," Will explained. "He took everything we had left after winter and all our sheep and everything in the inn. He said he'll come back in a fortnight, and if we don't want him to destroy our town, we'll pay him this ridiculously expensive ransom."

"How much?" Merlin asked. "I've got some coin stashed away."

"Ten thousand gold."

The sum Will named made Merlin's jaw drop. His mouth worked silently for several moments. Finally, the manservant recovered enough to choke out, "That's insane."

"It is." Will's fists opened and closed. "Your father's been teaching a lot of the men how to fight, and Sean's making weapons as fast as he can, but we're going to need all the help we can get."

Arthur butted in. "Ealdor is in Essetir, correct?"

Merlin and Will started. Apparently they'd forgotten he was there. "Well, yes," Merlin said, apparently not understanding.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Honestly, Merlin could be so dim at times. "It is King Cenred's duty to defend his subjects. Go to him for aid, and he will be honor-bound to give it. The gods know he'd be more help than Merlin."

The two peasants gawked at Arthur, identical expressions of incredulity marring their faces. Apparently this blatantly obvious solution hadn't occurred to them.

Then Will started laughing. Merlin choked a bit, clearly biting his lip to keep from joining in. "You think Cenred will help?"

"He is Ealdor's king."

Will's laughter had died down. He gave a dismissive snort. "Oh, Cenred's happy enough to lord it over us when it's time for taxes, but the rest of the year, we might as well not exist."

"There was that one year," Merlin reminded him.

Will's brow arched. "Really. When exactly was this?"

"It was the year with all the grasshoppers. Remember? He sent out his tax collector a whole month early so he could assess our wealth before it was destroyed."

"Oh, right." Will tilted his head. "And I suppose there was that one time when we were little and he took half the men away for some pointless war." His jaw tightened.

Merlin flinched. "I suppose so," he agreed, uncharacteristically subdued.

Gaius spoke for the first time. "Merlin is only one man, Will. What exactly did you expect him to do?"

Will looked from Merlin to Gaius before settling his gaze on Arthur. "Whatever he can, I suppose," the youth replied stiffly.

Gaius frowned. "Ah." Something in his gaze made Merlin grimace. "I see."

"I'm pretty sure I've told you that," Merlin muttered.

"You can't possibly need Merlin that much," Arthur interjected. "He's absolutely useless with a sword, and honestly, he's more likely to trip over his own feet and die than he is to drive off bandits."

"That is not true," Merlin huffed. "And anyways, I have tons of other skills."

"Right." Arthur rolled his eyes. "Are you going to grind herbs at them?"

Merlin pulled up short. "Actually," he said slowly, "that's not a bad idea."

"I was being sarcastic!"

"But it might work." Merlin turned back to his country friend. "Will, there's this mixture that causes severe nausea and vomiting. It's really easy to make, and it doesn't have an odor or a taste."

Will's eyes went wide. "If you could get that into the bandits' camp—"

"They wouldn't be incapacitated right away. The potion takes an hour or so to take effect. Sometimes it takes longer, depending on the person."

"So? A downed bandit is a downed bandit."

"I don't suppose Kanen gave you lot a time for his next attack?"

"No, but it'll probably be close to dawn. It was early in the morning that they came the first time."

"So if I could get this into their breakfast…."

"Or someone else could," Arthur pointed out. Really, he was being perfectly reasonable. There was no reason for Will to glare at him like that. "It is supposedly a very easy mixture."

"It is," Merlin confirmed, but he was frowning. "Has Moira gotten any faster?"

Will snorted. Merlin winced. "That's what I thought." Turning to his employer, he said, "I think I'm going to need a few days off for this, Arthur. Moira is a good healer, but she's old and really, really slow and I don't know how many injuries there are going to be. I mean, we're fighting back, right?" He looked back at Will, who nodded. "That's what I assumed when you mentioned Father giving lessons. Do you think we'll need to bring back weapons?"

"Probably. Like I said, Sean is doing his best, but he's more used to hoes and horseshoes than swords."

Merlin nodded. "I have a friend whose father is a blacksmith. She'll know where to get everything."

"She?" Will grinned. "Is she pretty?"

"Gwen's lovely," Merlin replied, "but we're really just friends."

"Right." Will hadn't stopped grinning.

"It's true. I've written about Lancelot, right?"

"Oh." Comprehension lit Will's face. "She's that Gwen."

Merlin nodded. "Yeah. Guinevere isn't a very common name. How many Gwens did you think I know?"

"I don't know. How many Gwens do you know?"

As Arthur watched the two friends interacting, a strange emotion began to well up in his chest. Will hadn't done anything wrong or rude, but his presence grated on the prince's nerves. He didn't like him.

"Arthur? Arthur!"

The prince snapped out of his uncharacteristic introspection only when Merlin waved a hand in his face. "You all right, Arthur? You were being awfully quiet."

"I'm fine," he muttered, not wanting to admit to his bizarre grudge against Will. "When did you say we were leaving?"

Merlin blinked. "I'm sorry. We?"

"Yes, Merlin. We." Arthur hadn't planned it, hadn't even thought about it, but now that he'd said it out loud, he found himself determined to go with Merlin (and Will) to Ealdor. "I'm going with you. If everyone in Ealdor fights like you do, Merlin, then they'd be doomed without me."

"…But didn't your father have other plans?" Now Merlin just sounded confused.

"Well, yes," Arthur admitted, "but plans can be changed. Besides, I'm certain that the scouts will need time to locate the druid camps. We don't know any exact locations, and druids are good at hiding."

Merlin stiffened. "Right," he mumbled, looking almost sad.

Honestly, Arthur wasn't looking forward to the raids. He still sometimes had nightmares about that one awful time just a couple years ago. Yet he didn't think that was the sole reason he wanted to visit Ealdor, nor could he imagine what that other reason could be.

Perhaps he just wanted to get away from it all, to have time to think. Perhaps he wanted to see for himself that Cenred wouldn't help. Perhaps he wanted to do this as a gesture of goodwill to Essetir. It certainly wasn't a desire to keep his idiot bumbling oaf of a manservant safe.

Though, now that he thought of it, Merlin really would need protecting….

"Plans can be changed," he repeated.

"Okay," said Merlin. He still looked a bit confused, but that wasn't unusual for him.

"Spend the rest of the day gathering supplies," Arthur ordered him. "I'll explain to my father. We leave tomorrow at dawn."

Merlin groaned.

Ealdor was… quaint.

Arthur had spent most of his life in the main citadel of his father's kingdom, and he'd been fostered in a good-sized town. Sir Ector's home was roughly ten times bigger than Merlin's little village.

At a guess, he would say that the population was about three hundred men, women, and children. They were all clad in rough homespun clothing (no neckerchiefs though. That was apparently just Merlin's idea of fashion) in reds and blues and grays and browns. Most carried crude weapons, obviously hastily assembled.

That was the first thing they needed to fix.

"Right," said Guinevere. She had evidently come to the same conclusion. "Merlin, where's the best place to distribute Dad's weapons?"

"Sean's smithy is that way. Come on, I'll bring you there."

"I'll do it," Will volunteered. "Go to your parents, Merlin."

"Right."

"Give my regards to Mordred," Arthur instructed.

Merlin froze. For some reason, he suddenly looked very very guilty.

"Who's Mordred?" Will asked.

Arthur frowned, his brow furrowing. "Merlin's brother?"

"What?" Will stared at the prince as though he'd gone mad. "Merlin doesn't have a brother."

Merlin began to back away.

"Not so fast," Arthur growled, grabbing his manservant's arm before the boy could complete his escape. "If you blatantly lied to my face and Mordred is not your brother, who the hell is he?"

"…my cousin?"

"Was that a question or an answer?"

"My cousin," Merlin said quickly. "Yep, definitely my cousin. No idea how you got the impression he was my brother. Nope. None whatsoever."

"I got that idea because you told me he was."

Merlin's gaze darted here and there. Sweat beaded on his brow. "Memory is a funny thing," he babbled. "Maybe you only thought that I told you he was my brother because we look alike. We really do, you know. We're mistaken for brothers all the time. That's probably what happened."

"The druid boy," Morgana breathed.

Merlin blanched. "…or maybe I didn't want a young boy to die just because he was being raised by the druids, so I maybe might have just pretended he was my brother in order to keep me safe, but we're in Essetir now, so you can't legally prosecute me about it."

Arthur was horrified. "The druid—Merlin, do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

"Danger is a relative thing," Merlin declared. "By saying that Mordred was my brother, I increased my danger but greatly decreased his, so overall, there was a net loss of danger. You have to look at the bigger picture here."

"If my father had found out," Arthur stated, low and clear and with more calm than he actually felt, "he would have killed you."

Merlin's babbling halted. Something dark entered his eyes. "I know," he said quietly. "Believe you me, Arthur, I know."

"Then why the hell did you—"

"What, was I supposed to let him die? He had just turned ten, Arthur. Ten!"

"Couldn't you have done something less likely to kill you?"

"No, actually."

"That's the wrong answer!"

"It's the only answer!"

"No, it's not!"

"So I should have let him—"

"Merlin!"

At the sound of the woman's voice, Merlin stopped in mid-tirade. He spun, his expression changing from furious to delighted. "Mother!"

A small, slender woman, her dark hair mostly covered by a headscarf, raced up to him, wrapped him in her arms. Merlin hugged her back, squeezing tight. The woman disengaged herself, stood on her tiptoes to give Merlin a kiss on his forehead. "I missed you," she said.

"I missed you too, Mother," Merlin replied. He was smiling now, his anger apparently completely forgotten, because he was an easily distracted idiot who didn't realize how much danger he'd been in when he decided to blatantly break the law in a fashion punishable by DEATH.

"I didn't think you would come," his mother said.

"Of course I came! This is where I'm from, and you're my family." He glanced up, his smile widening. "Both of you are."

Arthur followed Merlin's gaze to a dark-haired, dark-bearded man some years younger than Uther. He looked rather like Merlin, though without the younger man's unfortunate ears. Arthur could only assume that this was his father.

Sure enough, Merlin was moving to embrace him. "It's good to see you, Father."

"And you, Merlin. I trust that you haven't driven Gaius completely mad?"

"Not yet."

"'Yet' being the key word," Merlin's mother murmured.

"Your parents, I assume?" Arthur said. For now, he would follow Merlin's lead and not talk about his idiot habit of idiotically endangering himself like the idiot he was. They would talk later—and by talk, he meant that he would yell some, Merlin would yell back, and Arthur would out-yell him until he agreed to never risk his life again. It was foolproof.

"Yes." Merlin grinned, all animosity forgotten. "My mother, Hunith, and my father, Bael." His grin was even dopier than usual. "Mother, Father, the ladies are Morgana le Fey and Guinevere, or Gwen for short. The other one is Arthur. He followed me home, so can I keep him?"

"No," said Arthur flatly.

Bael, though, was looking him over with a very familiar look in his eyes. It seemed that Merlin had inherited his sense of humor from his father. "I don't know," the man answered. "Keeping a prince is a lot of responsibility."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I know. But if you let me keep him, I will feed him and water him and walk him at least four times a day—"

At this point, Morgana lost the battle against the laughter she'd been trying so hard to contain. Merlin and his parents joined her. Even Guinevere giggled a bit, though she at least had the decency to try to disguise it as a cough.

Hunith was the first to recover. "Welcome," she said, smiling broadly at them. "Merlin's told us all about you through his letters. It's good to finally meet you." Without further ado, she embraced the startled visitors in a series of warm hugs, like she'd known them for years instead of just minutes—not that Arthur was complaining. Hunith's husband was more reserved, shaking Arthur's hand and kissing the girls' hands.

"Come inside," Hunith instructed, leading the travelers to one of the many tiny hovels bordering the woodlands.

Was this really where Merlin had grown up? It was so… tiny. And dark. Musty too, and the floor was made of dirt. That couldn't be normal, could it? It was one thing to sleep on the ground while hunting, but surely most peasants installed some form of flooring, right?

"Are any of you hungry?" Hunith asked. "There's pottage on the fire, and bowls are over there." She pointed to a rough wooden cabinet, which her son was already rummaging through.

Arthur glanced at the pottage, wondering what exactly it was supposed to be. It looked like some sort of vegetable slop. Yet Merlin was happily filling the first of several bowls, which he offered to Morgana. She accepted it with a smile and a murmur of thanks. The next bowl went to Guinevere, who did the same. Arthur was next, and he forced himself to smile when Merlin tried to hand him the bowl. "I'm not hungry," he lied.

Merlin frowned slightly, but dismissed his misgivings with a shrug. "More for me then."

"Right."

If that was really what Merlin had grown up on, then no wonder he was so skinny.

When everybody was seated at the table, Morgana went right to the point. "We're here to help with Kanen," she said bluntly. "We've brought weapons. They're mostly swords, but there are a few spear points and arrowheads too. Since we didn't know what you already had planned, we thought it was better to be safe than sorry."

Bael grinned. "That's wonderful. The bow is the only weapon most villagers know how to use, but it's obviously not much use in close quarters. Our basic plan was to herd them with our arrows, then attack with close-range weapons when we couldn't keep shooting."

Arthur frowned. "A bit basic, don't you think?"

"If it works, it doesn't have to be complicated."

"I suppose you have a point," Arthur had to admit.

"We have a plan ourselves," Merlin said. "I guess it's a supplementary plan. I know how to make this mixture that induces vomiting. If we can get it into their stewpots—"

"—then we just might have the advantage we need to win this thing."

"Exactly!" Merlin pulled up short. "Um, assuming you know where the camp is, I suppose."

"We can find it," Hunith assured him. "But, Merlin, why do you even know about that potion?"

"In case someone swallows poison or something," her son explained. "It wouldn't be much use against fast-acting poisons, as it takes a little while to take effect, but it's very thorough about evacuating the stomach."

"Let's not go into details while we're eating," Guinevere suggested.

They continued to discuss strategy for the rest of the meal, going into detail, tweaking minutiae until everything was about as perfect as they could make it. Then it was off to the smithy, which apparently doubled as a temporary town hall (much to the smith's displeasure) to convince the people of Ealdor to go along with it. Much to Arthur's surprise, they agreed almost immediately. He'd expected Merlin's fellow villagers to be as stubborn as the fool boy himself.

Speaking of the fool boy, he had some yelling to do. Once everything was settled and Arthur returned to Hunith and Bael's hut (their small, tiny hut with a dirt floor), he fully intended to do that yelling. Unfortunately, it was sooner said than done.

"Guinevere?"

The young woman looked up, apparently surprised at being addressed. "Yes?"

"Do you know where my idiot manservant is?"

Something flickered in her dark eyes, but her voice remained smooth as she answered, "No, I don't."

"Of course not," Arthur muttered under his breath, because that would just be too convenient. Really, he ought to know better by now.

Guinevere stiffened. "That really wasn't necessary, Highness," she informed him.

"I didn't mean it that way," Arthur quickly assured her. "It's just that nothing involving Merlin is ever simple, and he's probably hiding from me, too."

Guinevere inclined her head. "Perhaps," she said, still stiff.

Arthur frowned at her, not understanding her reticence. "I'm not going to yell at him too much," he assured her. "And it's not like I'm going to hurt him."

"I think you already have." As soon as the words escaped her mouth, Guinevere's eyes went wide. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth.

"What do you mean?" Arthur demanded, his brow crinkling.

Guinevere hesitated, but something—whether an innate respect for the truth a desire to defend her friend, Arthur didn't know—made her answer. "His parents have welcomed you into their home. They don't have much, they're obviously poor people, but they're offering everything they do have to you, and you're throwing it back into their faces like it's not good enough, like Merlin and his family and his home aren't good enough. He isn't going to say anything, but you've hurt his feelings. Hunith's too. And Bael is angry with you. That's what I meant, Arthur Pendragon."

"…Oh."

The maid winced. "Oh, I shouldn't have said that," she muttered. "I'm so—"

"No. I'm glad you did."

Guinevere met his eyes, confusion writ clear across her face.

"You're right," Arthur told her.

"I suppose I am," she murmured, still nonplussed.

Arthur laughed. After a moment, Guinevere joined him; her laugh was low and clear and blended rather nicely with his. "I suppose you are."

"The pond is that way," Merlin said, gesturing into the woods. "We shouldn't go out there now because we need our rest for tomorrow and especially for the day after, when the bandits come, but maybe I can show you tomorrow if we have some spare time."

"Is it far away?"

"Not really. I'd say about ten minutes, if that."

"Then we could make it there and back by sunset," Morgana said. "Will you show me, Merlin?"

"But there are bandits out there."

Morgana touched the sword at her hip. "This isn't just for decoration, you know." Her grin became devilish. "Not like yours is."

Merlin grinned back. His hand drifted to the hilt of his own blade. "I'll have you know that I'm not completely hopeless with this. Leon said so. Even Arthur says that I'm only ninety percent hopeless."

"Really? I thought you were at eighty-five."

"Nope, ninety. But are you sure you want to go tonight? I probably can't protect you by myself."

Morgana refrained from mentioning that she was more likely to protect him. "No, I'd like to go tonight. Show me?"

"As my lady commands," Merlin replied, bowing with a flourish.

Morgana rolled her eyes but didn't comment. She spent the short walk to the pond listening to Merlin's cheery chatter, only occasionally responding. Once they reached the pond, though, her demeanor changed. It was time to tell him why she'd gotten him alone. "I'm glad you saved the druid boy."

"Huh?" The change of subject made Merlin blink owlishly at her. "You mean Mordred?"

Morgana nodded. "I mean Mordred. I'm glad you saved him, Merlin. He was just a child. He didn't deserve to die."

There was sadness in those blue eyes, sadness and something like exhaustion. "No. He didn't."

"I take it that you don't approve of Uther's laws either?"

Merlin became very still.

Gwen had tried to tell her, Morgana now knew, had tried to tell her that Merlin could be on her side if the truth of her dreams ever came out. She couldn't tell her friend Mordred's real origins, for she'd been bound by a promise, but how many times had she suggested that Merlin could help, should the worst happen? Looking back, she actually felt rather silly for missing all those hints.

"That's dangerous talk," Merlin finally said.

"Who's going to hear it?"

A slight smile. "True, I suppose." He hesitated, stared at her sideways. When he spoke, his voice was very quiet. "If Arthur learns the truth about magic, he'll change the laws."

"And you're trying to help him learn," Morgana breathed.

"I think I've made some progress," Merlin whispered.

On impulse, Morgana grabbed his hand. Huge blue eyes met her own determined green orbs. "I'll help."

"But if Uther finds out—"

"—then no matter how much he loves me, I won't be safe. I know." Morgana squeezed his hand tight. Her free hand curled into a fist. "But sometimes you have to do what's right and damn the consequences."

Alternate chapter title: "Wherein Merlin et al Increase Their Danger Levels While Simultaneously Greatly Reducing the Danger to Ealdor, So Overall, There was a Net Loss of Danger (You Have to Look at the Bigger Picture Here)"

So Merlin's in trouble, but at least he has Morgana to back him up. Sort of. But look, Arthur/Gwen interaction! I have never written romance before, but I'm pretty sure that the characters involved ought to talk to each other once in awhile. Hopefully I can figure out a good way to keep them in contact.

But... yeah. About the update. My only excuse is that grad school hit me like a frying pan to the face, one of those huge heavy cast-iron ones. I very much underestimated my workload, and then, when I FINALLY found time to get this chapter done, I had trouble uploading it. I'm still not entirely happy with the characterization here, but I'm way overdue and wanted to get this up. HOPEFULLY I can return to my three-week update schedule now that I know what I'm in for, and I will do my level best to get chapter 31 up by October 22, but I can't guarantee it. I'm sorry, everyone, but schoolwork comes first. *sighs* But I really will do my best. So check back here on October 22, and hopefully you won't be disappointed.

-Antares