Elyan wondered, often, if he wouldn't have been better off just staying away from Camelot. Knightship was appealing, as well as being able to reconnect with his sister, but was it worth the insanity that seemed to be normal going-ons in the castle? Honestly, while they had reacted with horror at the Dorocha, nobody had even seemed surprised.

The fact that he hadn't been surprised spoke volumes about how much this blasted city was influencing him.

An off part of him wondered at the dissonance of not being surprised at an army of soul-sucking spirits of death descending upon his home, but being startled by a tiny boy falling into the room.

Elyan looked at Gwaine, who the boy seemed to be addressing. Gwaine looked as blank as the others.

The boy managed to get his feet under him and stand up. Elyan estimated the top of his head, covered by a peculiar cap, would barely reach his waist. The boy seemed to notice what room he was in, and spun around with his mouth open.

Spotting the bed in the corner, he exclaimed, "Another kitchen?"

Elyan blinked.

His sister stepped forward hesitantly. The boy saw her and he smiled "Hello! My name's Bedivere. I was looking for the prince, but now I found the knight." He gestured wildly toward Gwaine, who looked even more perplexed.

Guinevere knelt down in front of Bedivere. His eyes widened to a comical degree. She said, "Bedivere?"

He nodded furiously. "That's me."

Gwen shifted. "Bedivere, am I to understand you want to speak with Sir Gwaine?"

Bedivere nodded again, then looked over to Gwaine. "Oh! That's your name. And you are a knight! I wasn't sure. That's good, because you can help."

"Bedivere," Gwen recaptured the boy's attention, "We have to do something at the moment, but as soon as we're done you may speak to Sir Gwaine, alright?"

"No! No no no no no! I know where the sick man is!"

"Sick man?"

"Yes! The sick man! He went with the woodsman and you have to help him! He's sick!"

Gwen shook her head and glanced at the standing people around her for help. Elyan stepped forward and addressed the boy in what he hoped would be a gentle tone. "Look, we're very busy right now. A friend of ours is missing and we have to find him."

"Yes! You're looking for the sick man and I know where he is!"

In a blur Gwaine and Arthur were crouching on either side of Gwen. "Merlin?" Arthur asked urgently, "You know where he is?"

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Bedivere grew flustered. Suddenly all the grown-ups in the room were crowded around him, and they were looking at him oddly. Nobody had ever paid that much attention to him before. Was this what it was like to be a grown-up?

The man with the hair like straw who had spoken reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Where is Merlin?"

Bedivere shrank back.

The pretty lady, the one who acted like a mother, put a hand on the straw-haired man's shoulder. "Arthur," she said.

The straw-haired man blinked and looked at Bedivere. He frowned slightly and let go of him.

"Mate," said the Knight, Sir Gwaine, "can you tell us where Merlin is?"

"Is that the sick man's name?"

The pretty lady said in a patient voice, "I don't know. Can you tell us what the sick man looked like?"

Oh! That was easy. Then they would know for certain that the sick man was their friend, and they would find him, and he could be taken to a physician before he died. Bedivere smiled. The pretty lady was very smart.

"He's tall," Bedivere said, then thought that that wasn't good enough, so he stretched his hand above his head so they could see that he knew just how tall, "And he has black hair, and a red scarf."

The pretty lady's eyes widened, then she took an obvious effort to give Bedivere shaky smile. "That...that's...good, Bedivere."

She took a deep breath, and her next words were very quiet.

"Can you...do...is Merlin...okay, Bedivere?"

Bedivere frowned. "No. I said, he's sick, and he needs help. That's why I found Sir Gwaine, because he said he was looking for the sick man and only me knows where the sick man is."

"Alright." The Knight sounded tense. "Where is he, then?"

"He's with the woodsman. I don't like the woodsman. He's," Bedivere paused, trying to find the right words to tell them how scary the woodsman was. He couldn't just say scary, because that would sound like he was being a baby. "He's a demon-man."

"Demon man." The straw-haired man muttered. He looked at Bedivere and asked carefully, "Does that mean he's a sorcerer?"

Bedivere blinked. "I don't know. Does it?" Did that mean the kitchen maid thought Bedivere was a sorcerer? Would she accuse him of using magic? But sorcerers were burned, like the rabbit that had fallen into the fire and got turned into a black and crispy thing. He began to panic. "Am I going to be burned up?" He didn't want to be burned up, because he'd heard a sorcerer being burned once when he was just beginning to work in the kitchens and they sounded so scared. Tears began to leak from his eyes.

"No! No, no, Bedivere, you'll be fine," the pretty lady soothed, and she leaned forward to hug him. He clutched his arms around her. "You were very clever to bring this to us, and you won't be hurt, I promise." She stroked his hair.

Sniffling, Bedivere calmed down. This was nice. The pretty lady acted just like he thought a mother might. And she promised he wouldn't get burned up like the rabbit, so he decided to trust her on that one.

The pretty lady asked him softly, "Bedivere, do you know where the woodsman is?"

Bedivere nodded. "Oh, yes. He's my papa."