Twenty," Balthazar mumbled as he stacked books, "How the hell did that boy reach twenty?"
He glanced at the Grimhold with the image of Veronica on it. Sometimes he worried that he was going a little mad. It could only be expected after all of the things that he had been through in his life. If he was then he felt that there were worse ways for his madness to manifest itself than imagining he was talking to Veronica.
However; he didn't think he was going mad. Instead he felt irritated at his brain for suggesting that as a possibility. Balthazar was old and as such he deserved his little quirks. If he wanted to pretend that he was talking to his long-lost love then he damn well would.
"We didn't grow up this fast," he groused, "We took our time. We didn't go around reaching twenty like that."
He snapped his fingers.
"And we didn't run off to college either," he said, "Not that they had college back then but you know what I mean. If he wasn't anti-social then I'd swear he'd be out partying every night. He hasn't even called me about that ogre he was supposed to hunt down. That's the first thing he's supposed to do."
Clicking his tongue he continued.
"And I know that the reason he hasn't called isn't because he got himself hurt or killed," said Balthazar, "It's just an ogre. I might have sent him out chasing gnomes. The only thing about them that's dangerous is their mucus and that's only the smell. They're nasty, disgusting things. And they eat people. I wonder if they're more mucusy inside or out."
With a grimace Balthazar finished stacking the books. He turned away from them, picking up the Grimhold and taking it with him as he went into his room.
"At least he took the dog with him. Damned thing would probably go around all day whining and moping after him if he hadn't."
Balthazar glared balefully at the ceiling.
"When I met him he was ten," said Balthazar, "Ten. He was as delicate as one of those china dolls, thought he'd trip and shatter. I think your genes might have rubbed off on him; you always were fragile."
His mind flickered to when he'd held Veronica's tortured form after she'd escaped from Morgana. Bruises and cuts had speckled her fair skin. In that moment all he'd wanted to do was go out and try to get revenge no matter what the consequences. Merlin could keep his stupid plans to himself. Then she had clung to the front of his tunic and he'd known that he'd never be able to leave her, not even for revenge.
When he spoke again his voice caught a little.
"Back then Dave came up to my waist. Short even for his age."
One of his arms gestured wildly.
"And his head was too big," Balthazar said his voice resuming its irritated tone, "It was downright unproportional. Then again it had to be big to hold those huge Bambi eyes. How many kids need a bigger head to hold their eyes?"
Balthazar could almost imagine her part in the conversation.
"So what if my head was a little big when I was ten?" he snapped, "It was never as big as his was then. You'd agree with me if you could have seen it. And for the record I never had Bambi eyes. There's a lot that can be said about me, but you can't say that I had or have Bambi eyes."
Sighing he flopped into a chair and leaned his head back. The movie Bambi had, of course, not even been thought of when Veronica last walked the earth. Still, he thought she might understand the point he was getting at. Very few people could understand him like she could. That was probably why she had started making tentative overtures to him when he still thought he wasn't good enough for her.
No, not even in a moment of childish teasing had she said that his eyes had been too big. She had said other things about his eyes. Whenever she mentioned them her comments about their intensity and how she would drown in them if she wasn't careful. Some of those words were light and teasing while others were whispered in the night.
Oh yes. If he concentrated then he could remember many things; the way her skin felt beneath his fingers, how he'd fumbled their first kiss, and how her head fit perfectly into the crook of his neck. He could even remember how he had imagined circling the necklace he had bought for her around her delicate white neck.
Feeling lost in the tide he breathed out. Sometimes it felt like she had been there only yesterday. All of the memories were been fresh in his mind, perhaps as a gift from Merlin. And at other times he felt every painful and broken second of those thirteen hundred years.
Reaching out he picked up the Grimhold and held it delicately.
"You'll see what I mean when you meet him," Balthazar said, "And you're going to meet him, I can promise you that."
Smiling he tilted his head speculatively.
"I suppose that he's grown into his eyes by now, but he still lookslike a kicked puppy," he said, "And he's tall now. As tall as I am. They say when the teacher has no more to teach then the student has overcome them. But lessons really end when the student has become taller than the teacher. Remember how awkward things got when I got taller than Merlin? Hard to be commanding to someone who's taller than you."
He sighed.
"I can't believe I haven't told him who he really is before now," said Balthazar, "Dave needs to know that he's the Prime Merlinian. I should have told him when he was eighteen but things got so busy with the graduation and college and…"
His voice trailed off.
"No, there's not really any excuse for putting it off for so long," he said, "Dave needs to know and, no matter what, I'm going to tell him tonight. He's twenty years old and it's high time that he knows who he is."
Balthazar clutched the Grimhold tightly.
"Perhaps the earlier he learns about his destiny the earlier he can fulfill it," he murmured softly.