A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC
I'm not sure I'm going to be able to post a chapter for the rest of today or tomorrow (damn exams) but I'll try.
Chapter 4
Elyan was someone who needed to move; needed to do. It was just who he was. His father had often chided him for wandering off outside whilst he was trying to teach him the difference in tools for when Elyan himself became a blacksmith. His sister had not forgotten her brother's trait when he had returned to Camelot, and she made sure to inform all those who were to serve the knight of his frustrations should he ever be made to sit still for more than five minutes, god forbid he should ever injure himself, but Gwen knew it came with the territory of being a knight. She had also informed Arthur and the other knights of this fact, should Elyan ever wander off during a pause in training.
'Do you ever take a break? You always seem to be doing something.' The boy pondered incredulously.
'I could say the same of you. No rest for the wicked.' The knight retorted mirthfully.
Those were the last words he spoke to his jokester friend. The king's manservant could cheer up even the dreariest of patrols. Whether it be his indignant banter with the king or through his general clumsiness, the boy always managed to put the biggest smile on Elyan's face. There was just something instantly likable about him, perhaps it was the way he made everyone feel welcomed no matter who they were. Elyan had felt excluded from some of his fellow knights when he'd first become 'Sir Elyan', they had ignored and sneered at him because he was merely a blacksmith's son; a nobody. The clueless servant had no idea how much his accepting smile or joyful words had eased Elyan's self-pity. He had lost his sense of humour that day. He should never have had to lose that heart-warming smile or that joyous laugh, not the one that brought cheer to the entire castle. Never.
Elyan was someone who needed to move; needed to do, but for the first time in his life he felt his muscles stiffen and his body unresponsive to any command of movement as the flames snarled at his jester's knees.