One thing I was worried about was chapter titles, but I'm actually quite happy with them so far. This time, as promised, is a mixture of humorous and heartwarming stories, including my first Arwen ficlet, which is my vision of why Gwen started growing her hair out. Also, I forgot to warn you guys about my strange compulsion to write Uther interacting with Merlin. I just love their relationship!

Thank you to the electric phantom, Word Professor, Alia Inverse, sarajm and emotionalpoemgirl for reviews, alerts and favourites! =D

the electric phantom - I'm glad you liked it. I assure you, I will never write suicide fics. I may get a little dark, but I couldn't ever see Merlin just giving up like that.

Word Professor - I really wanted the Knights to apologise. They were really mean to Merlin and Gwen! Did anyone else see how close Gwaine waved that torch to Merlin's face? I dedcided the sevants needed to exact their revenge! XD

Alia Inverse - Thank you! I really hoped someone else wanted to see it besides me! =D

Enjoy!

Merlin didn't hate Uther.

Oh, he wanted to – and by all rights he should – but he still couldn't hate a man who still grieved over his lost wife, or who sobbed so brokenly when his son was mortally wounded …or who shattered so completely when his daughter betrayed him.

So when Merlin helped Gwen clear away plates of untouched food and he saw the now-catatonic King's blanket slip to the floor, he didn't ignore it. He picked it up and covered up the former tyrant carefully, bowing his head respectfully and saying:

"My Lord."

And maybe Uther didn't hear him, and maybe he didn't deserve it, but Merlin did it anyway.

Because he didn't hate him.

Merlin gulped. No matter how many times he got into sword fights, he never got used to them. He nervously adjusted the grip he had on his blade, remembering when Arthur gave it to him.

"Here. It's not much, but I think he'd want you to have it. He was always looking out for you after all."

It was Lancelot's. He clutched it tighter, feeling just a little braver.

Glancing around Merlin's childhood home, Gwaine's gaze landed on Hunith.

"So, you must be Merlin's mother. I can see where he gets his stunning good looks."

Gwaine winked roguishly, Hunith blinked in astonishment, the Knights rolled their eyes and Merlin banged his head against the wall.

Percival was bored. He was stuck on watch with Merlin, the only member of the group he didn't know all that well. He had only been a Knight of Camelot for two weeks, and hadn't had much interaction with the servant up till now. Lancelot seemed to like him though, so Percival knew he soon would.

It was just a matter of breaking the ice.

He was too busy thinking of something to say and didn't hear the whistle of the arrow until it was too late. Luckily by the time the projectile reached him, Merlin had already shoved him out of harm's way – an impressive feat given their difference in build.

Before he could thank him, Merlin was up and giving the alarm and the battle commenced. Percival got stuck in, only to find his saviour from earlier with his back to a bandit, too busy focusing on Arthur to see his imminent demise.

Percival's sword swung, and Merlin's demise wasn't quite so imminent. The two nodded silently at each other before leaping back into the fray.

Consider the ice broken.

As he watched Merlin stitch his wound closed, Arthur wondered at what point he suddenly decided to trust Merlin of all people with sticking something pointy into his flesh.

Gwen was just going about her daily business when she realised Arthur was studying her with a strange pensive intensity. Slightly unnerved, she speedily finished her chores and tried to manoeuvre round the Prince-shaped door block. He instead caught her arm and gently swung her into the corridor before reassuming his assessment. She blushed, ducked her head and fiddled with her skirts.

"My Lord?"

The honorific startled him out of his reverie.

"Hmm?"

"Why are you staring?"

To Gwen's surprise and slight amusement, Arthur blushed. Shifting awkwardly, he muttered something about 'wondering', 'long hair' and 'pretty.'

Smiling gently, she softly brushed a finger over his lips to shush him.

"Do you want me to grow my hair out, Arthur?"

Blushing darker, he resumed muttering.

"Well…only if you're okay with it. I just thought it might look nice. And I was curious, but it's your own hair, so…"

His hand reached up reflexively to brush through her curls. Her hand closed over his affectionately.

"I'll get started right away, sire."

Arthur was annoyed. It was to be Merlin's first time saddling his horse and he had been looking forward to watching his new servant struggle. The Prince's favourite horse was notorious among the stable hands for being incredibly hard to deal with. The only people to escape his bites were the stable master and Arthur himself. The young royal had been certain that Merlin, who had no equine experience, would receive a few good nips for his clumsiness, which would hopefully teach him not to call his employer a prat.

At least, that had been Arthur's plan. But although his steed snorted and stamped at his servant's approach, Merlin didn't flinch away. He kept his hand steady, murmuring softly, and to Arthur's consternation, his mount gently brushed his nose against Merlin's outstretched palm. And even though he fumbled with the riding gear, the horse still didn't bite, but instead guided the stable novice with a few well-placed whinnies.

When the Crown Prince of Camelot mounted his horse, he couldn't help but mutter:

"Traitor."

It had been a week since Hunith's son had arrived in Camelot, and Gaius was finding it hard to adjust. He had been living alone for many years now, and to suddenly be sharing his space with a gangly, clumsy boy with a too-cheerful disposition and a deadly secret was quite trying. However, one glance at that lopsided grin, and Gaius couldn't help but smile in return.

Looks like he'll be stuck with the boy for some time yet.

The young Prince gave his downed kidnappers an imperious glare before raising his eyes to his saviour.

"Took you long enough, Merlin," he drawled.

The warlock tutted affectionately at his charge, picking him up and setting him securely on his shoulders before heading back towards Camelot.

"What has your father told you about following Uncle Gwaine on his 'adventures'?"

"But Father goes on adventures all the time!" the seven-year-old grumbled.

"Yes, but when he does, he takes someone with him. Even the great King Arthur knows he needs someone to watch his back. Only dollopheads get into danger alone," Merlin gently chided.

When he received no reply, he reached up to poke the boy's side, which he knew to be ticklish.

"Eh? What are you?"

"I'm not a dollophead!" the prince protested, batting away his friend's fingers and stifling giggles. There was an amicable silence before the boy had to ask:

"How did you find me?"

"I am an all-powerful sorcerer. I know everything."

"Sure you do, Merlin," the child scoffed, unknowingly echoing his father.

The boy and his almighty Godfather returned to Camelot, adventuring over for the moment.

What did you guys think? I feel really guilty that I've hardly written anything about Gaius. I also feel like the sad and angsty fics don't really match the title 'Clotpole Chronicles.' Ah well, I like the title, so I'm keeping it. Opinions, critcism, requests and prompts always welcome!

Thanks for reading! =D