~36~ The Healer's Hands

A dull ache prodded him awake two days later. At least, they told him it was two days. Arthur certainly felt refreshed when he finally opened his eyes, if not a little tender.

Gwen was the first thing he saw when he awoke, and he wouldn't have had it any other way. She sighed, smiling in relief as he smiled weakly back.

"They told me you would make it, but I saw that arrow," she gasped, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "I didn't know if I should believe them, but..." She kissed his lips next, lightly dampening his face with her tears.

"Who are 'they?'" Arthur finally managed to ask when she withdrew. He was in a tent, he now saw, with odd scarves and dream-catchers donning the sides. They seemed vaguely familiar.

As if answer to his question, a tall man in ragged robes stepped into view, someone the king didn't recognize the slightest.

"Well met, Arthur Pendragon," he said. "My name is Bowen. You are in the care of the Druids now. Do not be alarmed," he added as the king went to sit up. "I give you my full confidence that you and your men will not be harmed."

"Druids," said Arthur, mouth dry. "But...how...?"

"Merlin," said Gwen, and the king looked to her in question. "After you were shot, Merlin brought you here. He showed the Druids the knights as well. They are all fine."

"Where is here?" he asked, and Bowen answered.

"Mistwood, my home," he replied, nodding his head once. "You and your company are welcome to stay as long as you need." He departed without another word.

Arthur's words kept catching in his throat, his tongue a flab of leather. "I...I don't understand..." He suddenly pulled his blanket off, revealing the lack of wounds on his person. No scars, cuts or bruises from the abuse of the past few weeks. All that remained were two red slashes – the wounds of silver blades – a star-shaped mark on his chest, where the silver arrow had passed through him, and the gruesome scars of the werewolf bite on his side.

"They Healed you," said Gwen softly. "Arthur, they Healed you with magic."

She must have seen the flicker of alarm in his eyes, for she quickly grasped his hand. "You were fading, Arthur. Without them, you would have died. Elyan almost bled to death, and Percival's arm might have been ruined by his wound. The Druids saved you all."

"And...and Merlin brought us to them," the king quietly, staring off into nothing. There was a long pause, then, "Where is he?"

Gwen glanced away. "Gone."

"...Gone, what do you mean, gone...? Gwen?"

She sighed, then looked out the exit of the tent. "After he brought you here and led the Druids to the knights, he left. I haven't seen him for two days."

"He just...left."

Gwen shook her head. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I didn't know that he was going to leave."

The king slowly sat back against the headrest of the cot, blinking and staring off into space. "But...where does he think he can go? He kind of sticks out in a crowd – he's covered in ruddy fur!"

For some obscure reason, he found his own statement funny. He chuckled to himself, but it was dry and hollow, like an old sea shell. But he felt dry and hollow. His servant was gone, probably forever. The inadvertent chuckle quickly faded, and Arthur made to stand up.

"Bowen says you must rest," Gwen protested, holding him down. "And I can't help but agree with him. Stay here. I'll get you some food and drink." She stood, hands wringing before her nervously.

Ever disobedient, Arthur waited a few seconds after she left, then rolled off the cot, using the chair to help him stand. He noticed the Triskelion, the mark of the druids, branded into the canvas of the tent. He felt a flutter of unease in his chest, but took a deep breath and stepped out into the light.

He was in a glade surrounded by pines. Druids, men, women and children, young and old, milled about doing whatever it was Druids do. Some played music. Others tended fires and gathered wood. The young ones played in an amongst the tents, hide-and-seek and chase, no different from the children who played in Camelot's streets.

None of them really paid the king any attention, other than giving a friendly nod should he catch their eye. Perhaps they didn't know who he was. Perhaps they didn't want to be rude and intrusive. Perhaps Druids didn't care about kings, and treated everyone equally.

We condemned them. And we knew nothing about them, Arthur thought flatly. He recalled his vow, given to a restless spirit so it may find peace, of respecting the Druids, allowing them into the borders and settle where they pleased. Suddenly, the respect didn't seem enough.

"Ah, 'tis the great Arthur Pendragon I have heard so much about."

Arthur turned at the voice, finding an olive-skinned, beautiful woman standing near the entrance of his tent. Had he walked by her without seeing her?

"Yes, I suppose I am. Who are you?"

The Druid smiled. "I am Gabriela, and I had the honour of meeting your servant a few days past."

"Merlin?" Arthur remembered Gwen telling him that the servant had brought him right to the Druids, as though he'd known exactly where to find them. "Why is meeting him an honour?"

Gabriela smiled wider. "You must be hungry, and we have much to discuss..."


Arthur regarded the platter of goat cheese garnished with mint leaves before him, not really seeing it. He was aware of Gwen beside him, who had long since forgiven him for leaving the tent against her insistence that he rest, and of Gabriela, sitting across the table from him.

"So...Merlin came here looking for a cure," he said slowly, still staring at the cheese. "You took him to an old shrine where a priestess of the Ancient Kingdom removed his curse and gave him the means to lift mine."

"That is correct," said the Druid shaman impassively.

Arthur was still puzzled. "But...that was him last night, I was sure of it. Don't tell me there's another werewolf out there!"

He felt Gwen shift beside him, and immediately glanced over at her. A horrible suspicion was already dawning on him, but he wished with all his heart that it wasn't true.

"Arthur," she began slowly. "Four days ago, you turned again."

The king nodded. "I could tell as much...What happened?"

She shifted again, looking down at her wringing hands. The spreading vines of anxiety and despair were now strangling Arthur, and he turned his upper body towards her, pressing his impatience and undivided attention on her. "What happened, Gwenevere?"

She glanced once up at him, but quickly looked back down. She was too late to hide the tears in her eyes. Mumbling softly, her reply was short and inaudible.

Arthur took one of her hands. "Gwen. Tell me."

She sobbed once. "You bit him."

The king blanched, hand tightening around hers. "What?"

"You bit Merlin, Arthur. You gave back the curse before he could rid it of you. I didn't want to tell you, but..." She shook her head, sniffling. "I'm so sorry."

Arthur's stomach turned into a block of ice. His throat closed, but he forced out, "I...I bit him." He recalled seeing his servant favouring his left shoulder and arm when he was rescuing the king from the waggon prison two days past. Arthur had barely given it a second thought. Now, though...

"What have I done?"

Gabriela shook her head. "No, you have done nothing. It was the beast. You were not in your right mind—"

"Spare me. Merlin is my servant, my responsibility." Arthur stood, all business. "It's my obligation to find him. Will you help me?"

Gwen rose to her feet, taking his hand in hers. "I will not abandon him. Not when he needs us most."

Arthur heard leaves rustling behind him, and turned, guarding his expression when he saw his knights standing there, looking well-rested. He was so relieved to see them that he didn't have the heart to feel annoyed by their eavesdropping.

"We remain by your side, as always, sire," said Leon, with a slight inclination of his head. "Of that you can be sure."

The others also bowed their heads, and Arthur returned the gesture. "I'll be glad to have you with me."

"And you'll be wanting this, as well."

Arthur faced Gabriela, noticing the wolf figurine in her hands. Gwen stiffened.

"The Silver Heart."

The shaman nodded. "It was found in a chest in the woods the other day. It still bears Larentia's gift."

"Larentia's gift?" asked Arthur, puzzled.

"It's the cure, Arthur," said Gwen softly. "Merlin says you only need to touch it, and the werewolf will be gone." The queen herself looked ready to snatch it from Gabriela's grasp and shove it into the king's.

But Arthur was not to be fooled. "Which means it could cure Merlin as well."

There was an awkward silence. Gabriela was the only indifferent one. "Yes, it can, Arthur Pendragon. But tell me this: Would Merlin have wanted you to shrug off what he sacrificed so much to try and present to you?"

"But—"

"He did it all for you, my lord," she continued over him. "He had his chance. We all mourn his failure, but do not insult his attempts to save you." She held out the Silver Heart. "To save you, not as a king, not as a master, but as a friend."

Arthur stared at the animal figurine dully, watching it gleam in the afternoon sun. This was his salvation. This was Merlin's doom.

"I...I cannot take it."

"Arthur." Leon stepped forward. "What the Druid says is true. You are a king. You cannot be replaced like a..." He swallowed and cut himself off, but his intended message was clear. The king's expression grew dark.

"Like a what, Leon? Like a servant? I'm sorry, but as I recall, this servant willingly joined us to face and drive away the Great Dragon when it besieged Camelot. This servant sacrificed himself to save me from the Dorocha. This servant has been with us through hell and faced all its demons, and if he was any less lucky, he would have died fifty times over." Arthur crossed his arms. "And I, for one, am not ready to let some beast take away a brave man because we were too damn cowardly to go after him and stop it."

Gwaine shuffled his feet. "But that's just it, isn't it? How are we going to stop him? And before that, how are we going to find him?"

"There is one thing I have not yet told you." It was Gabriela. "Before she vanished into the wood, Hecate the priestess told Merlin that she has old friends in old places."

Arthur grimaced. "What's that suppose to mean? Are there more priestesses out there?"

Gabriela shrugged. "Not that I know of. But there are so many old places in Albion. I suppose Hecate meant the oldest of the old. The ancient."

The knights looked thoughtful.

"Daobeth?"

"Isle of the Blessed?"

Gabriela shook her head. "Older."

"Older," Arthur repeated, fingering his chin. "What could be older than the Isle of the Blessed? It's been there since the time of the Old Religion."

"And there are places that have been around since before the Old Religion. Surely, my lord, you don't think the Old Religion was there when time itself was born?"

Arthur frowned. Of course not. But this wasn't helping him at all.

"Which way did he go?" he asked, and Gabriela nodded with her head.

"Northwest. I suspect he makes for the Forest of Agmar."

The Forest of Agmar. A cynical wood that lay just south of Camelot's border. Arthur used to hunt there as a prince, but after an incident with a unicorn...

"He told me one thing before he left," Gabriela continued impassively. "And that was, 'I'm going to find the Wild.'"

Arthur looked puzzled. "The wild? The wilderness is all around us! What does he mean?"

Gabriela shook her head. "The wild is not the Wild, yet the Wild is wild."

The king's expression must have been quite comical to see, wrinkled with confusion and exasperation, but the knights were wise enough to hold their silence.

"Whatever. I will find him," he said, leaving no room for deterrence.

"But he's got a two day head start, and there's no way you're getting anywhere fast without a horse," said Gwaine. "You can't get near them without them panicking. You're going to have to—"

"That, we can help you with," said Gabriela, soft but still cutting the knight clean off. "We shall help you prepare for your quest."


The ruffian knight did have a point when he said Arthur couldn't go near a horse without it bucking and rearing in terror. He wasn't about to let the others go without him, however.

"There must be some way of convincing them that you're not about to maul them," said Gwaine thoughtfully, running a hand through his hair.

The king shifted impatiently; they did not know how much time was left before his third and final turn. The suggestion was offered that he learn to control the werewolf like Merlin did, but they were advised against it.

"It is a risky task," Gabriela had warned. "Merlin was fortunate, and had the aura of Larentia to help guide him. Your best bet would be to take the Silver Heart into your hands."

Arthur had refused it, and would continue to refuse until he saw Merlin face to face. He wasn't exactly sure why, he just felt that it would be the right thing.

"If I do turn, however," he told the knights. "Do not hesitate to kill me. I would be lost anyway." The knights glanced at each other anxiously, but said nothing. Having an endless argument wasn't going to help them find Merlin any faster, so Arthur said nothing else.

The Druids came forward and enchanted the horses, enchanted them to keep calm so Arthur could be near them. They said that the spell wouldn't last forever, but it might hold long enough for them to reach the Forests of Agmar and find Merlin.

If anything, Arthur trusted the horse even less when the enchantment was placed upon it and it grew docile in his presence. When he mounted, he half-expected it to immediately buck and twist and throw him clear. It shifted under his weight, but otherwise remained calm.

"If it throws me..."

"Come on, we still have five hours of sunlight," called Leon. "We can cover a substantial amount of ground in that time."

Arthur glanced at the map Gabriela had given him, a map with the trail to the Forests of Agmar. She'd told him that Merlin hadn't taken a horse, and so, despite his two day head start, the knights might be able to overcome him quickly, before...

Before...what? Arthur asked himself, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of trotting hooves. He turned to see the Silverblood woman, Sophia, ride up next to him. He didn't know much about her, save what the knights had told him, but she looked vaguely familiar...

"You're going out to find the werew—to find Merlin. I'm coming with you." Sophia sounded so sure and matter-of-fact, Arthur didn't disagree. The knights seemed to trust her, in any case, and that was often enough for him.


For those suffering from PMD (post-Merlin depression) I found this remarkable video on youtube that you just may want to look at. Gave me a funny feeling in my chest watching it...

It's called "Merlin Cast – Goodbye and Thank You" by MP26Pro. Anyone who hasn't yet watched/completed season 5, be assured that there are no spoilers.

Go on. Sometimes a good, healthy cry is all you need :)

"When the night has come, and the land is dark, and the moon is the only light we'll see...No, I won't be afraid, no, I won't be afraid...Just as long as you stand, stand by me." ~ 'Stand by Me'