Merlin watched his apprentice nervously. She was becoming more reserved, more accomplished at lying to him. He was doing his best to be cheerful and treat her normally, but it was hard when he could no longer see what she was thinking.
Now that he had received confirmation of her ancestry from the records the druids kept, he was doubly certain that Cottia needed to be watched and guided very carefully. Arthur had agreed with him. After all, she had shown great intellectual potential. She could be a useful ally or a dangerous enemy. Arthur had entrusted that task to his, Merlin's, hands. It had suddenly become a lot harder.
Well, perhaps he had drawn away from her a little. But he couldn't afford to be soft with her. She needed to know that he was her superior, and that her station in life was to serve. He was as kind about it as possible, of course, but he tried to discourage her from being quite so friendly with people who were above her in rank. He thought that on the whole, it was working. She had to learn to be humble, to always think of someone else instead of her wants. That would keep her from becoming so full of bitterness and pride. Arthur would be safe.
0000
"I haven't seen you around as often, miss," said a friendly voice. Cottia looked up from brushing burrs out of Goldberry's tail into Percival's face. He was smiling at her, and seemed genuinely glad to see her.
"I've been busy," she answered, smiling back warmly.
"The snow will be gone soon. Then all the green things will start springing up. I always like the spring. I think that's why it's called spring; because everything shoots up from the bare ground."
"I've never seen a real spring. I'm looking forward to it."
"Never? And how old are you? Eighteen?"
"Seventeen."
He nodded. "Ten years younger than me, then. What are you going to do? You don't seem like the kind of person who's cut out to be a servant for the rest of your life."
She shrugged. "I like it here. What else could I do, anyway? I'm not a noble and I don't want to go off and start a farm. That would be too cold and muddy."
"You could always marry a noble. That's one advantage to being a girl."
"Like who? There aren't many nobles looking for servant girls to marry. That kind of thing only happens in books."
"You could marry me."
Cottia put down the brush and stared at Percival. He was looking gravely back at her.
"I mean it," he continued. "I know I'm only a knight, and not a warlord or a prince or something impressive, but I do love you. I wasn't going to say anything so soon, but, well . . ."
"Why?" was the only response she could think of. She'd never even considered that someone would ask her to marry them.
"You are brave and thoughtful, and you stand up for what is right. You're a good person. And you are beautiful."
"Not really. I'm too thin and I've got freckles."
"You are beautiful to me," Percival said simply. "I am serious, Cottia. Would you marry me? I will do my best to make you happy."
She blinked. For some reason, she wanted to cry. "I like you, Percival, but I'm not ready to marry anyone yet. I don't know who I am or what I want."
"I understand." He looked glum. "I did not either, for a very long time."
"I won't forget that you asked me," she said quickly. "But I'm sure you'll find someone else."
He brightened up. "Well, if you ever change your mind, just tell me. I will wait." He nodded and left. She watched him go.
Goldberry shoved her head into Cottia's chest. She stroked the horse's nose distractedly. Percival wants to marry me? Sir Percival, one of the most powerful knights in the kingdom? What on earth for? I would be no help to him at all. It just wouldn't work.
A deep blush spread over her face. Even if she didn't want to marry him, it was oddly exhilarating to know that someone found her attractive. Had she done the right thing in turning him down? She would have been safe with him. But she did not think that she loved him. What was love, anyway? She wasn't sure anymore. Yes, she had done the right thing. And anyway, if she changed her mind, he had left his offer open.
0000
Cottia decided that she liked Faramir. She'd expected that he would be like his brother, but he wasn't. He was thoughtful and perceptive and wise. In some ways, he reminded her a lot of Merlin. Of course, she would never tell him that. She closed the book and got up.
"I just finished the second volume," she announced. Merlin looked up briefly and nodded.
"Shelob is creepy."
"I know. At least she's a spider. Serkets are worse."
"What are they?"
"Giant scorpions. They live in the forest."
"It's going to be spring soon. When are we going to go see the Crystal Cave?"
"I don't know." Merlin did not want to allow her within ten miles of the place. He was sure that she had the ability to use the crystals, but he did not want her to know that. What would she see in them? What would happen if they somehow told her who she really was? It might put everything he had ever worked for in danger.
"You promised," she said hopefully.
And there was the problem. He'd promised to take her, in a moment of weakness. How could he get around that? "Why don't we wait until spring? There are lots of wild strawberries in that part of the valley. You'd like them. Let's go when they're ripe."
"When will that be?"
"Two or three months. Around the middle of April, usually."
"Why is Faramir so different from Boromir?" was her next question. She was in an odd mood.
"What?"
"Faramir is a leader although he does not want to be, but Boromir wants to be a leader so much that he repels people after a while. How does that work?"
"I suppose it's because Faramir has a good heart," said Merlin after some intense thought. "He is motivated by love. The Ring couldn't turn that against him."
"It could have. Boromir loved Gondor, and that's why he tried to take it from Frodo."
"But he was afraid that it would fall and no longer be proud. Faramir didn't see the war with Sauron like that. He wasn't a proud person. He didn't care that Minas Tirith would no longer be looked up to as a mighty city. He cared for the soldiers and the civilians that would die when it fell."
"Faramir could see how the war would affect everyone in Middle-earth," Cottia said slowly. "Boromir only saw how it would affect Gondor?"
"Exactly. He wanted to save his city at any cost, so he thought of the Ring as the quickest and easiest way to achieve that end. It would have created a billion other problems, and Sauron still would not have been totally defeated, but it would have worked. It just would have turned Boromir into another Dark Lord. Faramir wanted to save Gondor - all of Gondor, her history as well as her present. He'd taken the time to learn about the old days, and he knew that there was no hope of defeating the Enemy with his own weapons. He understood that the Ring would try to corrupt him, and he was prepared."
"Is it actually possible to make a ring like the ones Sauron made?"
Merlin frowned. "Theoretically, yes. But you must understand that Sauron was a different species. He was one of the Maiar, a shapechanger and a being of energy. He could create whatever body he wanted, and he could literally put pieces of himself into other objects. That's why the Ring was so powerful. It was a little piece of him. Humans can't do that."
"It would be fun," Cottia said wistfully. "Not so much the lava pits and domination over lesser creatures, but being able to turn into animals and stuff."
"I imagine that it would feel very strange."
"I didn't like Boromir at first, but now I just feel sorry for him. He was in way over his head."
"He forgot that love should be stronger than the lure of power. Most villains who began as heroes make that mistake."
"Love for what?"
"The forgotten people. The ones who never get a say in anything. Someone has to stand up for them."
A distant memory stirred. "That's what Tiffany said."
"Who?"
"A girl in a story I read a long time ago. She became a witch to look after the people who had no voices."
"What happened to her afterwards?"
"I don't know. I only had one book about her. I think there were more, but I never got the chance to read them."
"I knew a girl who cared very much about those less fortunate than her. She was a kind person until she discovered how powerful she was. Then she became one of the cruelest tyrants the world has ever known. No one is immune from pride."
"I know," said Cottia.
0000
The pieces of cloth fluttered in the wind, making shadows dance on the ground beneath them. The trees rustled their new leaves. Someone was standing beside the old well, wrapped in a dark green cloak. It was so long that it nearly brushed the ground. She took a cautious step forward.
The person held out a hand. Now she could see the gleam of their eyes beneath the deep cowl of their hood.
"Hello, Freya."
Cottia opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She was having that dream almost every night now. The person had never spoken to her before, though. She sat up. Wet spring rain was pelting against the windows. It was earlier than she usually woke up, but she could hear Merlin moving around in the next room and singing quietly to himself. She'd heard the tune before, but never the words.
" 'Night is now falling, so is this day.
'The road is now calling, and I must away
'Over hill, and under tree,
'Through lands where never light has shone,
'By silver streams that run down to the sea
'To these memories I will hold
'With your blessing I will go
'To turn at last to paths that lead home.
'And oh where the road then takes me
'I cannot tell.
'We came all this way, but now comes the day
'To bid you farewell.
'I bid you all a very fond farewell.' "
Cottia frowned. She recognized the last line. The floor squeaked under her feet. Merlin looked up.
"You're up early."
"Where is that song from?"
"Actually, it's from Arda. Pippin wrote it to say goodbye after Frodo was done with his quest. I think I have a recording of it somewhere. It's a favorite among the Elves."
"What's it called?"
"The Last Goodbye." He looked closely at her. "Are you all right? You look tired."
"It's just that stupid dream again. He spoke this time and it startled me."
"What dream?" Merlin's voice was sharp. Cottia blinked at him in sleepy surprise.
"A sort of nightmare about that creepy place we saw on the first patrol. The place with the rags tied all over on the trees."
"You dream about the druid camp?"
"Yeah."
"Who spoke? What did they say?"
"I don't know who it is. He wears a long cloak and a hood, and he just stands there next to the well. I only know he's a he now that he spoke."
"What did he say?"
"I can't remember," she lied. For some reason, she was unsettled by the expression in Merlin's eyes. It made her uneasy. He was looking at her like he was seeing someone else.
"It's probably not important," he said after a pause that was just too long. "Sometimes important events cast shadows in front of them, and people with magic notice them subconsciously and they come out in dreams. Your dream doesn't sound important, though."
"I think it's just because that camp was spooky," she said. She didn't tell him that she had first had the dream before seeing the camp in real life. So meeting the mysterious person by the well was important?
The quoted song is from the soundtrack to The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies.