Swing Life Away
Glastonbury Tor was always a place wrought in myth to the people of England. The stone, set upon a hill that seemed ever green and full of life, was a constant guardian of what was once Avalon. It was viewed as an oddity, a place to visit for those who believed in stories told over campfires: of days of old, daring knights valiantly riding to battle and the spirits wandering the land, waiting for their call home. It attracted many tourists, people who saw the world with wonder and a spark of magic of a different kind. It stayed, ruined but still standing, until the Earth itself was gone; in all that time, the stories never died. They were not forgotten in a thousand years, or a thousand more, they were the heart of this land forever more.
So it was apprehensively that Merlin and Arthur approached the ancient site, unsure how this would play out, so unable to strategise for it. They thought they had figured out the prophecy to some extent; that it was a friend awaiting them at Avalon, but both had seen enough hard times to expect some degree of danger. It is not death people fear, but the unknown. The boys were walking straight into one huge unknown. But this time, Merlin realized, with a slow smile which grew on his face, he was not walking into the unknown alone.
Reaching the stone, after a long but steady walk, they came to a halt at Glastonbury Tor – or Avalon, as they knew it. It rose from the ground, looming over them. Pausing awkwardly at the bottom, neither entirely sure what to do, the two boys waited for something to break the silence. Merlin tentatively held out a hand, meeting the cold stone with his fingertips, brushing them slowly over it with a humbled expression. "If only we had reached this place all those years ago," he mumbled softly. Maybe things would have been different that way. "It matters not now," Arthur said, concerned, "we need to focus on the present. Is there anything here about the prophecy?"
"I'm not sure, we should split up – you go that way, I'll go this – look around the stone. Shout me if you find anything!"Merlin wandered off, round the right of the stone and out of view. Arthur stood for a second, face drawing into a familiar expression of confused aggravation. "Merlin!" He shouted after a few seconds, loud enough for half of England to hear. The boy's head popped back from around the stone, "Yes?"
"I'm the King – I make the decisions" Arthur said, straightening his back and lifting his chin a fraction higher.
"Oh," Merlin sighed, walking back to stand in front of Arthur patiently, a thinly veiled grin itching to crack on his face, "so then my lord – what's the plan?"
The King now too was suppressing a smile, speaking waveringly, "we check the stone for signs, splitting up of course, you go that way," He pointed in the opposite direction Merlin had walked before, just to irritate the warlock, "I'll go this." He was walking off as he called back over his shoulder "call me if you find anything!"
"Will do, sire" Merlin grumbled sarcastically, but he was biting his lip to hold back a chuckle.
Merlin was wandering around the stone's huge base, scanning the grass for anything interesting. His eyes also looked outwards, skimming the horizon for marks, lights – anything to help them. He could hear Arthur nearby, the Kings heavy tread somewhat softer without all the armour to weigh him down, but the boy had keen ears; he knew Arthur was just the other side of the rock. It was as he paused to listen for this, head angled towards the aging stone, when he saw something carved into its base. Forehead creased, Merlin crouched to study it closer. He knew that it could just be some pointless graffiti done by delinquent youths but it seemed to draw him in, like a magnetic pull he couldn't resist.
Closer, he could see now that this was no mere graffiti, but something of more intricate, and ancient, design. He was leaning into the wall, eyes squinted in concentration as the world faded around him, blurring into nothing. The writing was cracked, weathered with age and barely readable but with time and a little patience, Merlin was able to decipher it. It was written in an old language no men's tongues would know now, but he was snapped back to time sitting in his tiny room in Camelot pouring over Gaius' book of magic, eager to learn everything, so in awe; he knew this language well. What he did not know, however, was the mark scribed into the next stone along. It looked to be the same age as the writing, but it was not in any language he knew. It could be completely unrelated, he told himself, but he didn't quite believe it.
The design was relatively simple: a long sword, 'binded' by a set of three interlacing crosses that were cutting over the sword, each ending with either a rose or a leaf. Intrigued, Merlin extended a hand to touch over the rune, but pulled it immediately away: underneath his skin, the stone pulsed, a flash of warmth and energy, like it was alive. "What is it?" Merlin, having missed Arthur's approach, flinched again, sighing with relief when he saw it was only his friend.
"There is . . . something powerful here" the Warlock mused slowly, "something alive" he finished. Arthur looked troubled.
"Is it dangerous?"
"No, I don't think so" Merlin leaned back on his heels, "But I could be wrong."
"What are those marks?" the King asked, gesturing towards the words scrawled into the stone.
"It is the language of the old religion" Merlin answered, "but I don't know what this is" he pointed at the sword.
"Can you read it?" the King asked.
"Of course," Merlin replied, "this language is written into my bones."
"What does it say?"
"It's a spell. I don't know what it will do"
"Tell me" Arthur pleaded, simply. If they were going to defeat this prophecy, it seemed this was the only way forward.
"In the common tongue, it says: 'to go forward, you must think back. Speak your name and enter.'" Merlin made a confused face as he read it out, mirrored by Arthur. "Why does everyone speak in riddles?" the King shrugged, "I'll try it then."
"No," Merlin interrupted, springing lightly to his feet to hold his friend back, "It could be dangerous, let me do it."
"Well if its danger, you're not going to be much use" Arthur sneered out of habit.
"I can protect myself better than you can, Arthur. You are out of practice – you haven't used a sword in a thousand years!" Merlin protested, and the King, choosing to trust in Merlin's 'gifts', stood back. "Besides," the Warlock continued in a quieter tone, "I couldn't bear to lose you again now."
That silenced Arthur, who sharply glanced at his friend, eyes full of affection. The young boy kept his eyes averted. "Okay then: let's see what you got" Merlin said, facing the stone. He spoke the spell to begin the process, the one above the riddle, calmly. "I am Merlin, son of Balinor. May I enter?"
They waited, but nothing except an eerie silence met them. Shaking his head, Merlin tried again, this time raising a hand as he spoke; pushing it forward as he spoke his name. Again, nothing changed. "Maybe this door is not for you, my friend" Arthur said, casually approaching the stone himself, "Can I try?"
"How? You can't read the inscription to speak the spell."
"Then you say it – I'll just speak my name"
"Arthur, I don't think-"
"Just try it" The King snapped, regretting the harsh tone immediately. Knowing it would not work, but obeying his orders anyway, Merlin spoke the spell. "Arthur Pendragon." When nothing happened, Merlin had just opened his mouth to make the obligatory 'I-told-you-so' comment when Arthur interrupted "don't. Just don't."
Smirking, Merlin started to pace in front of the rock in frustration. This was the place, they could be sure of that now – but how on earth did they get in? To go forward, you must think back – think back. Merlin grinned. "I've got it" he proclaimed, once again kneeling at the stone's foot. Placing a hand over the rune; feeling its gentle humming beneath his finger tips, he spoke the spell again with eyes tightly shut in concentration. "Emrys" he concluded, sure of himself this time. As his eyes were orbed with light, identical light shone from the lines of the rune. He stood back as it glowed for a minute, before sinking back into the stone. A whole section of rock went with it, leaving an open door into the stone itself. "Anything to do with magic – they would have known me as Emrys," the Warlock explained, "I had to 'think back' to my old name."
Arthur looked at his old friend strangely as Merlin headed through the door, a slow smile spreading across his lips aimed at the boy's retreating back, "you prat" he said, so Merlin couldn't hear.
Standing in a passageway so dark they could not even see each other, despite being only a few feet apart, Merlin and Arthur wondered what to do. The stone had replaced itself once they had entered, leaving them with no idea what lay ahead, and no way back. "Arthur," Merlin whispered, "are you there?"
"Of course I am!" The reply came from closer than he was expecting, causing Merlin to jump almost out of his skin, knocking into the King as he did. "Merlin!" Arthur roared, grabbing Merlin by the arm so they didn't get separated, "I knew you were an idiot, but after a thousand years I had hoped you might not be such a girl - stay still!" Arthur kept a firm grip on his friends arm, catching him as he tripped.
"Sorry!" whispered back the boy. Arthur rolled his eyes, although no one could see.
"We need some light in here" the King said, "Is there anything you can do?" At this, Merlin's breath caught in his throat: Arthur, asking him to do magic? In Camelot, it had been a moment he'd thought would never happen.
"Leoht" he commanded, careful to mask his expression before he cast the spell. A sphere of light was conjured in his palm, casting away the shadows and giving them a glimpse of their surroundings. "Thank you" Arthur said, eyeing the orb with respect.
Merlin shrugged, "It's nothing."
In front of them stretched a long, grey corridor, a biting breeze flowing through. Glad of his 'hoodie' to protect him from the cold, Arthur nodded "you better go first, so we can see." Merlin started forwards down the tunnel, hand held in front of him, wondering what awaited them at the end. After maybe ten minutes walking down a steadily sloping path, which seemed impossible since the stone could not have been so wide, a glow could be seen at the end of the path, faintly at first but growing brighter with every step. As they reached an archway, Arthur moved in front of Merlin, shielding his friend and drawing his sword out of habit. Hesitantly, they entered the room. It was circular, held up by a series of pillars, richly decorated with tapestries of vibrant colour. Looking closer, Arthur could see that these tapestries showed scenes familiar to him: moments from his life; Camelot; even Merlin, who stood taller than he did now; he looked so powerful.
Arthur had never seen Merlin look this way, so turned to his friend now to see him in a new light but he was distracted by the look on the boy's face. Merlin had come to an abrupt halt just inside the archway, mouth open in shock and tears glistening in his eyes. He did not look at his King, but to the far end of the room. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost" Arthur said, standing back next to his friend. When he followed the Warlocks eye line to see what he thought was an empty room, he started when he noticed a girl standing before them: she wore a simple grey dress that blended in to the walls, her long dark hair loose around her shoulders, looking so pale in the low light. "You," The King began, facing her, "You visited me." The girl paid him no attention. Never once blinking, her eyes were solely on Merlin: but they were soft, loving, the way one might look at a very old friend. Merlin still had not acknowledged the King's words either, staring at her; taking in every part of her, drinking her with his eyes that swam with tears and memories, entranced somehow.
Eventually, after a few moments lost silence, Merlin managed to choke out the name rising up in his throat like an uncontainable song, "Freya" he breathed. The girl nodded, hands nervously entwined, "It's been such a long time, Merlin."
"Is it – is it really you?" the Warlock asked, striding forward into the room's light but stopping, as if physically restrained, just in from of Freya with a hand outstretched, like he was scared to touch her and find she was just a mirage: an illusion. He stopped himself because he could not bear to have his heart broken again. Voice cracked with emotion, "Are you really there?"
"I'm here" she replied, taking his outward hand and holding it to her face, against her cheek. His thumb clumsily brushed her jaw, her face cold, but solid. Really there. "It's me."
"Freya," he repeated, bringing his other hand to cup her face, "I've missed you so much." He was speaking directly to her now, close to her face as he held it between his hands, as she held her own hand over his, the other one holding his wrist. Tears flowed freely from his eyes, bittersweet and beautiful. "And I you" with this, she pulled him forwards into a tight embrace, a hug a thousand years in the making. Merlin wrapped his arms tightly around her small frame, pressing her closer to him; her chin rested on his collarbone as he gently stroked her hair. "I was worried I'd never see you again" he whispered in her ear. The truth was a terrible thing sometimes; by admitting one of his darkest fears Merlin was slowly coming back to life. He had been living half-alive for so long.
Freya pulled back with a small smile, "I'm glad you did." Merlin grinned, a teeth showing, ecstatically joyous, grin.
"Me too" he told her. Keeping a hold on her elbow, as if to constantly reassure himself that she was there, Merlin turned back to Arthur.
"Yes, we have met before" Freya answered Arthur's original question to her, "the first time we met you were a Prince and I a monster" Merlin made to interrupt her here, to tell her she was never a monster, but she shook her head at him, so he let it go. "The second time, you were a King, and we were both spirits. Now, on this third meeting, you are once again a mortal man, and I am Freya: the guardian of Avalon." She said the last part a little louder, unable to keep the pride from her voice. To go from a beast to a guardian was a huge step; finally gave her a meaning, a reason to wait.
"King Arthur" he bowed slightly, causing both Merlin and Freya to giggle.
"Never thought I'd see that" she commented. "Now, the reason you both came here – the prophecy." Freya, stepping out of Merlin's touch, approached a structure: a basin, in the centre of the room. Carved from the stone, it rose from the ground like a tree, with a perfectly rounded basin rested atop the trunk. Merlin followed her to it; eventually all three of them stood facing each other, their faces reflected in the still water filling it. "It is water from deep within the crystal cave" she explained.
"It still stands?" asked Merlin.
"There is no power on this earth that could destroy such magic as the cave is made of."
"What's the crystal cave?" Arthur interrupted, the only one in the room with no knowledge of the monuments of the old religion.
"The source of all magic," Merlin answered, "when I left you before the battle of Camlaan that is where I went."
"And it is where you will soon return," Freya told him, "but for now your path lies another way. The prophecy, I assume you have figured some part of it out by now?"
"Yes, we know the first person we must find is Sir Gwaine" Arthur answered.
"But it is not here that you will find him. Here you will only find the path," Freya walked to the side of the room, producing two silver goblets from an alcove, "If you drink from the water, it will show you visions of where you must go." She set a goblet before each of them. "But such things – they come at a price. You may see things you do not wish to." Arthur and Merlin stood on opposite sides of the stand, with goblets before them and a decision that chose the fate of Albion before them: as they had done once before in the labyrinth of Gedref. "We've been here before" Arthur commented with a wry grin.
"Will you drink the water from the crystal cave?" asked Freya, standing between them. Merlin and Arthur looked only at each other now; searching for the other man's answer in their gaze. "We must," answered Merlin, "I will not fail another prophecy."
"Then I will, too" Arthur nodded. Thoughtfully, Freya filled both goblets carefully before setting them back on the basin.
"Be careful not to be deceived" was all the advice she offered. With a shrug, Arthur picked up his goblet, as did Merlin across the water. Lifting his glass in a mock toast, the King drained the cup of its contents. He didn't know what to expect, but surprisingly, the water tasted of, well, water. From the look on his face, Merlin was having similar thoughts. It was therefore all the more shocking when the visions started in a wave: images blazing in front of his eyes in brilliant flashes. Places he knew well – the forest, the abandoned castle where he founded the round table, the Fisher King's kingdom. Then came small snatches of conversation: Morgana screaming some spell in a language he could not comprehend; Gwaine obviously intoxicated, slurring out "my lord – come to join the reunion!"; Mordred looking downcast and uttering "I'm sorry"; then finally, and most hauntingly, Merlin standing in front of him, speaking clearly the words "I am going to die".
Snapped back to the present with a jolt, Arthur found himself staring at Merlin, who looked unaffected. "Did you see the same things as me?" he asked, but it seemed clear the answer was no. Merlin would not have just seen the prediction of his own death then looked so calm. "The ruins of Camelot? The cave where we hid when Morgana took over?" the boy quickly listed the places he'd seen.
Arthur shook his head, "no, it seems we have different information. Our journey shall be long; we'll have to go to many places" And it will not end well.
"But Gwaine – did you see him?"
"Yes!" Arthur said, happy of some good news, "he was drunk, but that's to be expected. The first place I saw was the forest – he must be there!"
"Then we have a place to begin," Merlin smiled, turning and grabbing Freya by the hands, "come with us" he begged.
"I cannot," she answered, "when there were no priestesses' of the old religion left, I was made guardian of Avalon – I can't leave this place." She said sadly, the pain evident on her face. "But I don't want to leave you again" Merlin breathed, still holding her hands desperately, not noticing the chilled expression that had not left the King's face. "You must" she replied, "but you will see me again, twice." He stared at her imploringly for a second, wishing something could be done to change her fate, not wanting to let her go. She tilted her head, tears brimming in her eyes, before forcefully pushing past him, walking towards Arthur. After she had left him, Merlin did not turn to watch her, but stood dazed and desolate.
Arthur, who had been waiting for an opportunity to do so, spoke openly to Freya when she approached. "I've wanted to say, ever since you said it earlier – you said you were a monster, and I wanted to say that if I ever made you feel that way then I am sorry. You are no monster, please believe me." He fumbled his words, embarrassed, guilt passing over his features.
Freya's kind face creased into a smile, "No, my lord. I was, but when you killed me-"
"-I killed you?!"
"You set me free!" Freya passionately said, placing a hand on the King's shoulder to pacify his shocked anger, "You are a good man, Arthur; a good King. You were protecting your kingdom and I don't blame you." She spoke more quietly now, so Merlin would not hear, "Just - look after him, please?" Arthur nodded firmly, even more sure that he would go to any length to protect his friend after the vision, "I promise." Glancing back to where Merlin stood, still unmoved and waiting for a chance to talk alone with Freya, Arthur called "I'll wait outside." Bowing to Freya, he made his way through the dark passage, back towards Avalon, head bursting with a thousand thoughts all concerning one thing: Merlin dying.
Once they were alone in the round room, Freya faced Merlin's turned back and spoke softly, "Merlin - Speak to me." The Warlock, with tears steadily coating his face, did not turn, or even speak, for fear of breaking. "You know, all these years in here I've been watching you," Freya said, half-smiling behind his back, "every day you walked past, for a thousand years – every day. I saw you change, Merlin. You started off so sad, and it killed me not to be able to help you. Then there were days when you looked happy, when things had gone right and you had hope – you still had good days. You grew, so much, you grew up and changed. All this time I was with you, seeing you change, I got to watch you walk by, every day, and those few minutes were the best parts of the day." Freya had grown louder, bitterly smiling, and laughed here, "but recently you were different – like you'd given up. You walked slower; smiled less." She sounded sad now, pity in her voice as in front of her, Merlin tried to hold himself together, but already his legs were shaking. "It was as if you were empty. There was always something missing, you knew that the whole time, but for the last few hundred years, you let it show. You were half-alive."
"But then today, finally, you came back to me – just like he'd come back to you." Freya was not angry as she said this, but strangely calm, "and I saw you and it was like the last few centuries never happened – you were so alive!" she was elated, loud, but a tear rolled down her cheek. "It was like you had come back to life – to see you smiling again, the joy and wonder of which you once saw the world back in your eyes. And I was so proud of you" she finished, stepping forward to be close to him once again, "don't be sad again, Merlin. I want you to always be happy – it was what I loved best about you."
"Then don't make me leave you here!" he suddenly cried, whirling round to face her, wanting to touch her; hold her again, but knowing that if he did, he may never let go. She wept openly now, as did he, head hanging limply. "You have waited all this time for him – not me" she told him, eyes shining, "so you can't abandon him now. This prophecy, all of it – they could all come back. The people you missed the most; I know you want to see them again."
"I wanted to see you again too"
"You have!" she smiled, reaching out to touch his face now, "and it was worth the world. You'll see me again, but for now you must go fulfill your destiny." Freya cupped his face, bringing it down and kissing him lightly on the forehead, "I believe in you."
Merlin stared at her, knowing in his head that she was right, no matter how much his heart yearned to stay. "I will see you again?" he asked, not sure if she was lying to satisfy him. "I promise you will" she replied.
"Then it will be the day I treasure the most, my lady" he said, dropping into a mock bow and laying a kiss on her hand.
"I'm no lady, Merlin. We both know that" but Freya still laughed anyway.
"You are the Lady of the Lake," Merlin protested, smiling so brightly now, "that's good enough for me." She laughed, and her smile was enough for the Warlock to know to keep going. Holding her hand for a second longer, he squeezed it, and then begrudgingly let it go. It fell to her side as she nodded her consent; Merlin took a final gaze at her lovely face, wanting it to be the last thing he saw of her, before sprinting off into the dark tunnel beyond, salted tears drying on his face.
All throughout the following few hours, Merlin was waiting for Arthur to make some comment about his drawn out, tear stained face or his affection towards Freya, but the biting comment never came. Knowing there it was far to travel to the forest, and that horses weren't exactly common travel anymore, the Warlock took them to a car rental shop. To do this, of course, he needed money. So a quick trip to the nearest ATM, a glide of the fingers and quiet spell later, they had a couple of hundred pounds and a rented car. Merlin hated to have to steal the money, but after a thousand years servitude to the country, surely he was owed that much? He was careful to 'borrow' from multiple accounts, never taking more than £10 from each one so it wouldn't be missed.
Then, in a content quiet, they drove towards the forest. Merlin had used his phone to Google it, and check it was still there, first – causing much interest from Arthur as to what the 'magic glowing box' was. The Warlock, despite still feeling quite dazed from the morning, had done his best to laugh. The King had also begged to be allowed to drive the 'metal horse' which Merlin had instantly rejected, picturing his friend sitting on the roof and kicking the doors, wondering why they weren't moving. He had learned to drive many years before, thinking it would be useful someday, but had never felt the need to own his own car. The closest he had got was a bashed up blue motorbike back in the 70's, when he had been young and, at the time, reckless. It had reminded him in fact, that the motorbike laid gathering dust in a storage unit. Making a mental note to collect it soon, in case he needed it, Merlin shifted the gearstick into drive, taking the nearest B road west.
Three hours they drove this way, down vast motorways, which flustered Arthur to see so much technology: then lonelier country tracks. It would've took them days by horse, a concept that made the King's head hurt even more than it already did, for he had been unable to shake a headache since the morning. He had mentioned this, and had been given small capsules called 'aspirin' to take by Merlin. But it was no ordinary headache: fuelled by terrible thoughts from the visions, and the King felt his head would soon explode; knowledge was the most powerful weapon of all. Merlin couldn't die, could he? He had lived for a thousand years without expiration. Besides, he was immortal, which meant he couldn't die. Reassuring himself as best he could with this thought, Arthur stole a sideways glance at his friend. Merlin was focused ahead, at a particularly rough back road. The King noticed that when they had stopped to get 'petrol' earlier, his friend had disappeared for five minutes, and when he returned the tears were washed from his face. Arthur had said that morning that Merlin looked like he had seen a ghost, not knowing how true the statement was, but it looked to have affected the boy more than he let on. Uncharacteristically quiet, Arthur didn't think he had ever seen Merlin as serious as he had been that morning, when he had emerged into the sunlight a while after Arthur with a shattered expression. The King, knowing his friend well, had let it slide. Still, it didn't stop him from worrying. It was clear that Merlin had feelings for that girl, a side Arthur didn't even know he had. Frowning, Arthur returned his gaze ahead, to the horizon. What lay ahead was as big a mystery as ever, and now it seemed even the past was a puzzle that needed solving. He was going to need some more painkillers.
The forest stood ahead of them, a sight they had seen many times before, though not in this age. It was one of the few things the same as it was before: untouched by developers, it remained a simple forest, open to the public; the only adaptation being the paved road leading to it. By the time they got there, the light was beginning to drain from the sky, a hazy orange burning the scene: a golden filter spilled across the lens of their vision.
"So what now?" Arthur asked while standing and stretching in the empty car park, "we wander around aimlessly in a forest until we bump into him?" Merlin was more irritated than he should be at Arthur's snark. "Looks like it! - Unless you have any better ideas," Merlin snapped, adding under his breath, "Which I severely doubt." He started briskly towards the green tree line, eager to clear his head with a peaceful walk. Arthur followed him, sighing as he did - his friend really wasn't okay. Still, they kept walking on.
After what may have been an hour, but could easily have been a lot more, since neither wore watches and the sun appeared to freeze in the sky to illuminate the forest, they came to a clearing at the heart of the forest. Merlin felt it immediately: the change in the atmosphere around him. The air seemed to crackle with electricity, the wind to sing, the trees themselves looked like sentinels guarding a post. "This place, it is frozen in time" he commented, smiling genuinely at Arthur, regretful of his earlier annoyance, "I think this is it."
"It's what?" came an all too familiar voice; from behind a weathered tree sprang a man, who gracefully leapt into the clearing, theatrical as ever, same boyish grin plastered all over his face. Merlin felt his own features re-arrange themselves in a heartbeat, as a grin of his own shone out, "Gwaine!" he cried. Two steps and he grabbed his friend in a fierce hug, which the knight reciprocated, swinging them. "Merlin," he laughed, "it's good to see you, too." Gwaine cheerfully clapped his old friend on the back, unbelieving.
"Here's trouble" the dry remark came from behind, as Arthur came forward, although he was smirking as he said it. The Knight laughed good-naturedly, embracing his King also in high spirits. The three men watched one another, revelling in the joy of the moment marked by golden light.
"So," asked Gwaine, straightening in a more serious manner, well, as serious as Gwaine got, at least. "What the hell is going on?"
"I can answer that" the voice sounded from the forest behind them, causing the whole group to flinch. It sounded familiar, like an echo, but none could place it exactly. "Who's there?" demanded Arthur, drawing his sword. Gwaine, upon finding no sword at his belt, looked annoyed, but this was stopped short by Merlin producing the knight's old sword from his belt and handing it to him. "Cheers" the knight said, flashing a smile, "knew I could count on you, Merlin."
Now, with two suspicious knights holding swords aloft, a figure emerged from the shadows, arms up to show he held no weapons. "I mean you no harm, young friends," it said, "I wish only to see my trio reformed."
"You!" cried Gwaine, standing ahead of the pack now, after recognizing the figure immediately. It was the dwarf from the bridge to the fisher kings kingdom, which all three had once crossed. "At least one of you remembers me," the man said, sounding disappointed, "but look at you! My trio – reunited at last!" He sounded cheery enough, and they saw him as no threat, so the knights slowly lowered their swords. "Once before you passed my bridge, and I gave each of you a title. I am Grettir, guardian of the bridge of the Fisher King's kingdom." The stranger, or 'Grettir' as he called himself, said.
"What do you mean 'your trio'?" Arthur inquired finally.
"Courage!" the short man announced, pointing at Arthur, "Strength!" he waved at Gwaine, "and finally – Magic!" the last gesture was at Merlin. "The three things you will need to succeed on this quest – the trio of Albion." A silence fell among them.
It was Gwaine who finally went on, "you said you knew why we were here."
"That I do: you must find each of the others who make up your league to protect this land, but the three of you needed to be together to find them. The King and the Warlock know where to go, and from here you must go out into this world to find your friends – and enemies." The Grettir explained, "But Courage and Strength will be dominant at this time, for Magic is weak." Merlin made a face at this, mirrored by Arthur. He opened his mouth to speak, but the King beat him to it. "Sir Merlin," he exaggerated, "Is the bravest among us. He is in no way 'weak'." Arthur was angry at Merlin being torn down like this, even though he knew it was usually him to talk to the boy that way. The Grettir smirked, speaking now directly to Merlin, "The most powerful are the most lonely: you of all people know that, Emrys. After a thousand years, the loneliness has taken control; it is breaking you." His voice turned cold, "but if you wish to defeat this prophecy, you need to let the past go-"
"It is the past that keeps me fighting!" Merlin exclaimed, feeling the rush of anger that came in flashes rise. It was burning even more after the Grettir laughed, "You are wise, but you are wrong. You need to be fixed by the two parts of my trio before you can win." Above, the sky had grown dark, a brooding purple now melted into the clouds, like the onset of a storm. "Until then, you will remain weaker than ever and so very empty inside" mocked the little man. The knights began to protest, but it was Merlin who stood up for himself, yelling "ENOUGH! Hleap on bæc" he cast the spell with a splay of fingers pushing through the air; the dwarf was sent flying through the air, landing on the grass and not moving again. A shocked silence came from his two friends. "Come on" the Warlock bitterly commanded, heading towards the trees without waiting for a response. He was almost at the edge of the forest when they caught up with him, a bubbling rage settled in his gut.
"I knew it!" Gwaine said, running up behind him and placing a hand on Merlin's shoulder, "I knew you were a sorcerer the last time we met." The boy looked up at him, but Gwaine did not look angry or scared. To the knight it was simple: Merlin was the same person as before, and that was all that mattered to him. "I'm sorry that I never told you" he offered.
Gwaine shook his head, "you don't need to be."
"Really? You don't hate me for having magic?" the knight shook his head. "Or lying?" Another head shake, served with a smile, and all was fine between them.
The three men, the King being quiet as the grave, as he had been for most of the day, reached the car. With a quick explanation of the score, featuring many amusing facial expressions from Gwaine; they set out to their next stop, which they guessed to be the cave where they had hidden when Morgana had built an immortal army to conquer Camelot. "I tell you what, though" Gwaine's voice drifted from the backseat, "If you're still feeling guilty you can make up for it by getting me some food." Anger dissolved, Merlin couldn't help but laugh; even the King cracked a smile. Some things really would never change, and Gwaine's constant hunger was one of them. "I'm absolutely starving!"