A/N: And so, right after posting that I may not have any more chapters this week, I publish this.
At least I can be fairly certain that no one will be upset by that ;)

This is the second time I've ended a chapter this way (not within this fic, just overall)- should I be ashamed? But then I'd probably have to feel bad about how many chapters end with various forms of unconsciousness...

Daegal groaned, his head feeling as if there were a hedgehog trying to escape from his skull.
Maybe he would just stay in bed today, perhaps have the healer stop by and see him.

He opened his eyes, intending to ask someone to bring him some water when he noticed the distinct lack of fabric walls around and above him.

Where am I? What happened?

Fighting down panic, he turned on his side and saw the body beside him.

"Emrys!"

He couldn't quite seem to gather the strength necessary to stand, so he crawled over to the warlock instead.
"Emrys, Emrys!"

Shaking the man produced no results, but Daegal couldn't think of anything else to do in his frantic state. Head injury forgotten, he called out with his mind. "Emrys!"
He searched the man for any sign of reaction but found none.

Breathing deeply, the druid attempted to calm himself, managing to succeed to an extent.

Hands shaking slightly, Daegal examined his companion more thoroughly, noting the signs of sickness, the cut on the pale brow, and the gash on his leg.

"Okay, you may not be a healer, but you do know some herb-lore. Come on, Daegal, think!"

Composing a list of plants to look out for, the druid pulled himself up using the cliff-side and stumbled toward the wood.

Spotting a bright pink flower with yellow center, he pulled it up and pocketed the tuberous root.
If he could find some water and a way to boil it a decoction of wood spider root would serve as a pain reliever and help keep the wounds from becoming inflamed.

Continuing his ungainly progress, he came upon a cluster of yarrow and gratefully snatched up several stalks of the beneficial plant along with some nearby comfrey.

Worried about spending too much time away from his injured companion, Daegal rushed back, picking some rue on his return trip and popping a leaf into his mouth to help relieve the headache that had been quick to return after his initial surge of adrenaline had passed.

Settling down next to his patient, the boy called out to him once more, face falling in disappointment at the man's continued stillness.

"It'll be alright. I'll take care of your wounds, and then we'll go to my camp and the healer will fix you right up. It'll all be fine, you'll see."

Daegal wasn't sure if he was reassuring himself or his companion as he carried on murmuring while his hands prepared poultices and bandages.

Arthur had sent Leon to scout ahead as the rest of the patrol gathered, Gaius being the last to appear with his travel kit.

"Alright men, we'll be tracking my servant Merlin and his traveling companion- a young boy who requested Merlin's help with his ailing sister. The horse I sent him off on has returned with the supplies and without its rider- I fear they may have run afoul of bandits or some other trouble in the forest. We will need to ride in haste to return before the feast tonight, but be on your guard."

The king surveyed the resolved expression on his men's faces- most of whom were friends with Merlin- and nodded. "Let's ride!"

The small group thundered out of the city, meeting Leon just before they reached the treeline.

"Sire!"

"Have you found their trail?"

"Yes, Sire! It appears they're headed for the Valley of the Fallen Kings."

Arthur closed his eyes and took a calming breath.
Wasn't Merlin the one who always told him nothing good happened in the Valley of the Fallen Kings?

"Sir Girflet."

"Yes, Sire?"

"You will ride back and inform the Queen that I may be absent this evening. Remain there and provide support should she need it."

"Of course, my lord." The knight promptly turned and rode back to the city.

"There's no time to waste. Yah!"
Lightly kicking his horse's flanks, the king led his knights into the forest.

Several hours later found the group dismounted and searching the ground as evening fell.
It was clear this was where the horse had turned back, but neither boy was in sight.

"Merlin!" The knights began to shout as they searched.

Arthur flung up a hand. "Quiet! I heard something..."

The men settled and soon they all heard it; a faint, nervous voice calling for help.

"Where is it coming from?" The king asked softly.

"Here!" Gwaine shouted, not even waiting for the rest of the group to approach before he began sliding over the edge.

Arthur dashed over and peered down into the vale, drawing in a sharp breath as he saw his friend below looking faintly blue and unnaturally still; knee slightly bent and one arm partially suspended in the air as if he had been frozen in the midst of some action.

He barely even registered the young boy sobbing beside the body, instead turning his attention to the long-haired knight kneeling next to the pair.

"Is he alive?" Arthur choked out, afraid of the answer.

Gwaine looked up, a stricken expression on his face.
"He isn't breathing."