Hello again! Before you start reading this chapter I just wanted to thank everyone who has reviewed. I love to write more than anything, but sometimes I doubt my skills. So whenever you review saying I should continue or that the story is really good it gives me inspiration to keep going with it. Anyways, enjoy this chapter – until next time! *waves goodbye like a madwoman*

Gwain was sitting, his right arm tucked closely against his stomach as to relieve some of the pain. He was gazing into the dancing flames of the small fire near his feet, its bright glow show even brighter while contrasting against the surrounding darkness. It had been three bloody days since Gwain received that burn to his arm, yet it ached as if it were still on fire. He could use it, if he ignored the pain, and found himself often in charge of collecting wood when he wasn't watching over Merlin. The warlock's head was resting on Gwain's lap right then, his forehead beading with cold sweat and his fever rising.

Arthur was sitting on the other side of the fire watching Merlin's chest slowly rise and fall with each shaky breathe. There wasn't much they could do for the servant, being without supplies and having nowhere to go. After the ambush they found themselves lost – both mentally and physically. So all they could do was hope that Merlin would pull through…

'Lucky me!' Arthur thought sarcastically. He was stuck in the middle of nowhere with a mortally wounded manservant and a knight who could only fight with one arm – if it were necessary to fight, that is. 'This is my entire fault…' The king mentally kicked himself. He couldn't think like that, even if it was him who could have prevented this. Arthur kept wondering if only he hadn't let his guard down, Leon and Percival may still be alive and Elyan might not be off in some cage getting beaten to death. They were his friends – good friends, although he may not admit it – and they were gone because of him.

Gwain often reassured Arthur that there was nothing to be done and no one could have prevented the ambush. However, the king still felt guilty. So as he stared at his servant he could only hope Merlin wouldn't leave him as well, that he would be fine and would soon enough be smiling that goofy smile he always had.

Then suddenly Merlin began to stir, his eyes fluttering open slowly, and past the haze he could just barely make out the face of Gwain who was now gazing at him wide-eyed.

"And he lives!" Gwain let out a quick chuckle, grinning for the first time in days; it was all he could do to lighten the mood.

"W-where…" Merlin had to pause in between each word to painfully gasp for air. The burning sensation from his shoulder engulfed his body in a state of hurt, "A-a-are… W-we…" He asked, confused. Everything since he had gotten injured was a big blur. The last clear memory he had was jumping off his horse to tend to an injured Leon.

"Ah – I'm not so sure myself, mate." Gwain's smile faltered a bit at the reality of his answer. They had no idea where they were.

Arthur was still gaping in awe at the very fact Merlin was awake. Eventually, however, he carefully stepped over to his servant, who was now beginning to shake. Gwain tried to move slightly so Merlin's head was more comfortably rested on his leg, but the warlock only moaned in pain. Arthur crouched down beside them and looked at Merlin carefully.

"How are you feeling?" The king asked sincerely.

"Ju-just… S-sp-splendid… S-sire…" The side of Merlin's mouth lifted just a bit in a failed attempt to smile – but was, indeed, a failed attempt.

"Let me check the wound." Arthur reached for the red cloak that was draped over Merlin as a blanket and began pulling it down. The fabric they found and torn apart to bandage the wound with, was completely soaked through with blood, it was slowly dripping onto the forest floor creating a small pool of red near Gwain's knee. "It could definitely be worse…" Arthur didn't dare try to unravel the messy bandaging, he was already sure it was infected and there was nothing to be done but try and stop the bleeding further now. Yet, he still tried to put on a smile for Merlin's sake, hiding his true emotions as usual.

"It could defiantly be better though." Gwain sighed before realizing Arthur was now glaring at him. 'Yeah… probably shouldn't have said that.' Now it was the knights turn to mentally kick himself. Arthur just sat there trying to push down the rising anger at the fact that Gwain just said such a thing.

Everything was still hazy to Merlin, but he knew if looks could kill, Gwain would have died and come back to life again over twenty times at this point with the evil stare Arthur was giving him. He knew the knight was right though. He didn't need to see the wound to tell how bad it was – he could feel it.

"I-I'm… go-going to… d-die… I kn-know i-it…" Another jolt of pain from his shoulder echoed throughout Merlin's body and he pushed his head back into Gwain's leg trying to relieve some of the pressure he was feeling.

"No. No, don't say that. You. Aren't. Going. To. Die." Arthur's voice was as shaky as Merlin's breathing as he said this. He was on the other side of the fire again tearing apart another stray piece of cloth to wrap around Merlin's shoulder some more.

Neither Arthur nor Gwain could bare the thought of Merlin dying. It wasn't right. Merlin always got out alive and well, a big toothy smile plastered onto his face. The very idea of Merlin taking his last breath was unnatural. It was wrong.

Their thoughts were interrupted when Merlin suddenly spoke up again, voice more raspy then before, "W-what… H-hap-happened…?" He asked.

Gwain looked to Merlin then up at Arthur with a sad glint in his eyes before they began to tell the hurt warlock of the happenings since he was injured. It was a tale both the king and knight wanted to forget, but it would surely be remember for the rest of their days. It wasn't pleasant – not in the slightest.

Yesterday after the ambush…

When out into the light they made their way toward a large rock that could hide them for the time being. Arthur looked down at his servant to see crimson blood already soaking through Merlin's clothes. The warlocks breathes were shallow and he was deathly pale. The king truly worried for his friend. So as he laid him down by the rock he quickly shook the still figure that was his manservant. "You are not going to die on me, Merlin. You hear?"

"They're waking up, princess." Gwain was peeking over a bush to see the bandits slowly make their way to their feet. "What happened back there anyway? One minute, we were dead-men, the next they're being thrown into the air."

Arthur barely made out what his knight was saying, he was so focused on trying to stop the blood that was gushing from Merlin's wound. It was deep gash into Merlin's shoulder, and if it had been over a bit more, his servant would be missing an arm. Arthur was surprised Merlin hadn't died yet, especially at the rate of blood his the warlock was losing.

"We need to get out of here – now! I think they saw me!" Gwain ducked behind the rock next to Merlin. The knight was having trouble resisting the urge to run out into the field and begin cutting off the heads of as many bandits he could for what they had done. Percival and Leon – his fellow knights and his friends were lying dead and Elyan was being dragged away to be slaughtered or tortured for information. However, Gwain kept his head on and knew that he couldn't fight with only one good arm. "Get Merlin, we need to go!" Now Gwain new they saw him, for they were advancing towards the large boulder that they were hiding behind.

Arthur un-clipped his red cloak and wrapped in around Merlin before gently picking him up. The manservant still moaned from the pain but the king had no choice. They started running as fast as they could, the bandits now following them. They dodged their way through trees and debris as well as various rocks; however, they still weren't quick enough. The bandits were gaining on them, and fast.

In the end it didn't matter though, because soon enough Gwain came to quick stop and held his hand up as a sign for Arthur to halt as well. They were at a dead end – a cliff to be precise, fifty feet high at the least, and a raging river at the bottom – they had now where to go.

"Do not let go of him, princess, or you'll have me to answer to!" Gwain said bluntly. Arthur didn't understand the remark at first but then he caught on. Gwain wanted them to jump.

"Are you insane?! The fall could kill us!" The king shouted.

"The key word there is 'could'. The fall 'could' kill us. However, those bandits definitely will." Gwain was staring back at the approaching bandits then back at the murky water below. "It's our only option. Don't let him go," Gwain stated while pointing to the limp Merlin in Arthur's arms.

Arthur nodded in agreement, "on the count of three…" the king looked down, "one…" then suddenly Gwain grabbed hold of his shoulder and pushed them forward while shouting,

"THREE!" and they plummeted down.

The cold water soon consumed them and pushed them along with the current. Gwain was quick to grab hold of a branch with his good arm and slowly start pulling himself to shore. However, Arthur was having a bit more trouble.

When they jumped the king lost his grip on Merlin and lost him under the dark surface of the river, he dived down to quickly meet the sight of red water – 'so much blood' Arthur thought before finding Merlin floating down into the depths.

Arthur grabbed hold of his manservant whom was still wrapped tightly in his red cloak and brought them both to the surface. Gwain saw them and still holding tightly to the branch reached out his bad arm to pull them in. Arthur took hold of his wrist and was being pulled in by his knight whose teeth were clenched in pain caused from the burn.

Finally they were on shore and gazed back up at the bandits whom were not stupid enough – like Arthur and Gwain were, apparently – to jump down. There wasn't a safe way down for another few miles so the knight sighed in relief that they would be safe momentarily. However when Gwain turned to look at his friends he saw Arthur over Merlin's body shaking him and mumbling useless words.

"Come on! Breathe you idiot!" Arthur shouted. The dark crimson liquid had already stained through half of Merlin's tunic and was still pouring out into a puddle on the ground. The warlocks brown jacket had fallen off somewhere in the river – which was surprising considering the red cloak had managed to stay wrapped around him. He was pale, and completely drenched in freezing water. Not that they thought he could even last that long with a wound like that, but they still didn't want to believe he was dead. Arthur threw his fist down on Merlin's chest and was doing all he could to keep his tears at bay. He couldn't cry – he was the king of Camelot – but his servant, no, his best friend, was lying on the ground before him not moving nor breathing.

Suddenly, when Gwain was just about to fall to his knees and begin to sob in grief of the loss of his friend, Merlin took a deep, painful gasp of air and his chest slowly but surely began to rise and fall.

"He… He's alive!" Arthur couldn't believe his eyes. Even with the new found happiness he still needed to find a way to stop the bleeding.

"We can celebrate later, my friend, but we have to get moving, we can't stay here." Unlike most other times, Gwain was right, so Arthur carefully scooped Merlin up into his arms and they headed into the woods.

To their luck they soon found an abandoned cart full of apples and fabric. Gwain took what seemed to be a large blanket and put as many pieces of different fabric and other smaller blankets as well as apples, into the middle of it, before lifting up the sides and tying it at the top to make a make-shift bag/pouch. Eventually they stopped at a small little opening in the trees that was surrounded by large rocks. The sun was setting so they collected wood and started a fire before tearing some of the cloth they collected earlier and trying their best to wrap Merlin's wound. Their clothes were mostly dry by now and so was the cloak, so they covered the servant with it and just lay him to rest by the fire. Gwain let Merlin's head rest on his lap and constantly place his hand on the warlocks head to check for fever.

It was all they could do for now. They were lost and had no way of knowing how to get back to Camelot or where the nearest village may be. So they simply hoped for the best and kept a close eye on their dying friend whom didn't wake until the next night (which leads us to the present.)

Merlin listened to them taking turns on telling the story. He looked at them and wondered why they didn't suspect anything. He was dealt a mortal blow to the shoulder yet was still alive – work of his magic, no doubt – yet they just figured it were the cause of pure luck. However, Merlin could feel his strength deplenishing and knew if they didn't find actual help soon, his magic wouldn't be able to sustain his life force any longer. He would die.

Abruptly after Arthur finished explaining how they had been resting there all day and decided not to travel any further due to Merlin's wound, the servant began coughing, rattling his whole body and causing pain to erupt again. Blood slowly poured out of his mouth and slid down his cheek. Gwain was quick to wipe it away – he was starting to lose it; seeing so much of Merlin's blood.

Arthur took hold of Merlin's arm and tried to help him steady his movements but soon found his manservant grabbing hold of his hand and squeezing in with all his might as his eyes slowly closed.

Merlin drifted off into darkness once again.

Haha a cliffie! This is definately my longest chapter so far. Oh – one more thing – I wanted to say how awesome it is that this story has received over 2,000 views in a little over one week. You can't imagine how happy that makes me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I was really happy with it myself – I'll upload chapter nine as soon as possible! XD