Ch. 2

The problem with going to face an unknown threat while dragging along an army of men plus an army of servants and supplies was that it forced a rather slow pace. Horses pulling wagons and men in armor could only go so fast, and Arthur felt their methodical journey like an itch that couldn't be scratched.

But hurrying wouldn't have made a difference even if it were possible. There would be no crossing the border until the courier arrived bearing either Lot's permission or denial, and waiting for that permission was less like an itch and more like an ache growing at the base of Arthur's skull. A giant could show up at Elador's doorstep at any moment, and while Lot had so far proven to be mostly Cenred's opposite (at least where his deference to Arthur was concerned) Arthur didn't know the man well enough to know if he would be the type to ride to the aid of a tiny, outlying village or leave it to the wolves.

They finally reached Essetir's border with just enough light to set up camp. Arthur hardly slept that night, lying on his bed roll, staring up at a clear sky awash with stars. There was every chance that he would never see Merlin, and that Merlin would avoid him like a plague. Arthur was as prepared for that eventuality as one could get, he supposed – in that he hated the thought of Merlin there but avoiding him, but would respect Gaius' request to leave Merlin be.

But what if he did run into him? What then? Say he was sorry? Pretend he hadn't seen Merlin? It also begged the question of how Merlin would react, whether he would be formal out of respect to Arthur's station…

Or if he would run, screaming, as if Arthur were a monster in the dark.

The latter, if nothing else, had become good motivation for Arthur to keep his promise to Gaius. He wouldn't be able to deal with it, especially knowing he had brought it on himself. But the what-ifs filled his mind and flooded out all other thoughts, and it was with great irritation that he realized he was nervous. Nervous! About potentially running into Merlin, his idiot sorcerer of a manservant; so idiotic he had resigned himself to a month of hell in an oubliette just to prove himself to Arthur rather than doing the sensible thing that was saying to hell with it all and blasting his way free, before he had gone mad.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. No, he wasn't going to do that. He wasn't going to pin this on Merlin no matter how much his brain wanted to just for some peace of mind. Maybe Merlin should have said to hell with it and blasted his way free, but it was Arthur who hadn't gone into the dungeons to ensure his orders had been followed. It was Arthur who hadn't wanted to go down, in case his orders had been followed and he saw Merlin in one of the cells, or heard him call out.

It had been Arthur who had wanted to pretend, just for a moment, that Merlin didn't exist. A moment that had lasted for over a month. He had wanted to pretend that he hadn't been lied to and deceived and betrayed, again, by someone close to him.

Except that was the rub, because the definition of a betrayal was someone who turned against you, who wanted to harm you, who lied and deceived to achieve the end that was your downfall. And Merlin was and always had been the complete opposite of that. So what did one call it when someone lied and hid who they were in order to save your life day in and day out? What was that? Because it certainly wasn't a betrayal.

Arthur hadn't realized that his train of thought had led to sleep and dreams in which Arthur searched the castle for his wayward manservant, only to never find him, until he was shaken awake. Arthur blinked blearily up into the face of Leon.

"The courier has arrived," he said.

Arthur practically flung himself from his bed roll and onto his feet.

He nearly laughed in relief when Lot's message not only granted permission to enter his lands, but invited him, asking Arthur to meet with Lot just outside of Ealdor where a blockade of men was being established.

Arthur felt an odd mixture of relief and disappointment that their path was to take them beyond Ealdor. He wondered if that made him a coward.

They crossed the border, following the directions provided by Lot that took them within sight of the village, skimming just close enough for them to see the thatch-roofed huts and hear the laughter of children. Arthur frowned at that. The village should be emptied, evacuated should the giant break through the blockade.

Lot's directions took them across a shallow stream and to the peak of a wide hill. What met Arthur was a scene only ever witnessed on the eve of battle – tents of various size lined where the hill crested, men in armor practicing fighting techniques, and blacksmiths repairing and sharpening swords. The area rang with shouted orders, metal clanging against metal and the laughter of men currently at ease. As Arthur and his knights entered the camp, he was met with casually curious but brief looks, as though the arrival of an army of the neighboring kingdom were an everyday event.

And maybe it was, because it wasn't just Lot's banners that were flapping in the wind. There were banners from Nemeth, Annis' realm, Bayard's, and others besides, some Arthur had never even seen before. They weren't as many as Lot's banners, but enough to know how far spread word was of this giant.

Arthur saw Lot and several of his entourage heading his way, a sour-faced man with flaxen hair striding alongside him and eying Arthur in immediate disapproval. Arthur dismounted to meet Lot halfway, and the two clasped hands.

"It's a strange thing to say about an army from a neighboring realm within my borders, but you're a damn sight for sore eyes, Arthur," Lot said.

"Has the giant made an appearance, yet?" Arthur asked.

"Not yet, but scouts have been sent to track him. Their last message gave an estimate of his arrival being sometime in the early hours of the following day."

Arthur nodded. "It gives my men enough time to rest from their travels." A wisp of smoke pulled Arthur's attention toward Ealdor, where the cooking fires could be seen and smelled.

"Forgive me for asking such a blunt question, but why has the village not been evacuated?" Arthur asked, and somehow managed to keep his tone curiously civil.

"They are aware of the situation but are apparently a stubborn group," Lot said soberly. "They wish to stay and fight if need be. Something about having saved their village once and being damned if they nearly lose it again."

Arthur's lips twitched toward a smile.

"But should things look dire I have men standing by to escort those unable or unwilling to fight to safety."

Arthur nodded, and couldn't help wondering if Merlin would be among the ones unable to fight, or among those willing to fight. Knowing Merlin, Arthur highly doubted he would be among the unwilling, no matter his state of mind.

"There is plenty of room to set up camp on the edge of where part of the woodland has crested the hills. It should offer an excellent vantage point to see when this giant bugger is coming."

"Yes, thank you," Arthur said. He turned, about to lead his men to the location for their camp.

"Oh," Lot said as an afterthought. Arthur turned to him to see an amused smile on his face. "And ignore any rumors you hear of a wild man in the woods. He's harmless; mostly just runs if he's spotted."

Arthur's chest tightened. He forced a smile on his face, swallowed back the bile in his throat, and went to ready the camp.

~oOo~

Setting up camp took the better part of the day, and in between were consultations with Lot on what he knew of the situation and what he had planned. Lot had no intentions of meeting the giant head on, but instead planned to save his troops for the final confrontation should all those who challenge the giant fail.

"I have… called on the aid of sorcerers," Lot said, eying Arthur askance as he said it.

"A wise move," Arthur said, much to Lot's surprise, but then Arthur was well aware of the rumors of Camelot's changing laws being a ploy to lure sorcerers out into the open. Never mind that Arthur had been meeting with the druids and those few sorcerers willing to hear Arthur out.

Night came before Arthur had a chance to go down into the village and alert Hunith to his presence. Not that he needed to, Gaius having gone down already. Arthur doubted Hunith would want to see him, anyway. Not after what he had put her son through.

But he wandered the village that was near silent save for the grunt of a pig when Arthur passed its pen, and the bark of a dog somewhere in the distance. Doors and shutters were closed, and only a few of the tiny huts had candles lit, their meager light visible through the chinks of old wood.

Hunith's hut, at first, seemed to be dark. But as Arthur wandered by, he saw the faint glow of candle light seeping through the bottom of the house's little wooden shutter. It wasn't a bright light, not to read by, and the hut wasn't exactly large enough or cluttered enough to need a light to get around. Perhaps it was some peasant superstition – light a candle in the night for good luck or something. Arthur continued on.

The snap of a twig made him freeze.

Perhaps it was nothing – some fox coming in to harass the chickens, or a pig or cow shifting in their stall. But the sound had come from outside, and the crack of the twig too loud to be caused by something as small as a fox. Arthur slipped around the side of the barn and watched, concealed, in the direction the noise had come.

The night was clear and cool, the moon full and high in the sky, casting everything in blue-silver and black.

A shape detached from the shadows of a house and crept skittishly along the edge of the muddy little road. It was hunched and tense, like a dog that had recently been kicked, but very much a human – a skinny, ragged, barefoot human. A beggar, no doubt, come to steal scraps or maybe a chicken egg or two.

Except it wasn't the barn they were creeping toward, it was Hunith's house.

Arthur stiffened, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. The figure slowed as it approached, coming in close enough for Arthur to see more details. The figure straightened and glanced nervously around.

Arthur's hand dropped to his side. His heart stuttered. His ribs closed in on his lungs until he could barely breathe.

"Merlin," he whispered in alarm.

Merlin's thin, pale face seemed to glow in the darkness, smudged with dirt and shadowed with stubble. His eyes darted everywhere like a spooked animal uncertain if the danger had passed. When the way seemed clear, he hurried on, a thin and tattered thing, as if only just released from the oubliette, breathing fast and trembling.

Merlin slipped quickly inside the hut as if his life depended on it.

Horror and curiosity moved Arthur as if his limbs had a mind of their own, bringing him to the house and peering through a gap in the shutters like some bloody thief. He heard Merlin and Hunith before seeing them, then after a bit of maneuvering, spotted them on the floor before the fire – Merlin facing the tiny hearth and Hunith on his other side, wiping the dirt from his face with a wet cloth.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said miserably. "I didn't want to wake you. I tried—"

Hunith clucked her tongue. "Oh, Merlin, it's fine. You know this. I had only just gone to bed. I wasn't even asleep."

This, apparently, didn't help to make Merlin feel any better. He sat there in dejected silence until Hunith had finished. When finished, she set aside the clay bowl of water and cloth, then rose and fetched a blanket from out of a small chest at the foot of her wooden cot. She shook it out before tucking it around Merlin's bony shoulders.

"I saw…" Merlin began. Hunith stopped her fussing and went still.

"Yes?" she prompted.

"I think… I might have seen Camelot's banners. But I might have been dreaming." He looked at Hunith, half hoping, half afraid, and suddenly Arthur wanted to look away and not know which it was – hope, or fear.

Hunith brushed his hair from his temples. "Camelot has come to fight the giant," she said. "That is all."

"Oh," Merlin said, neither happy nor disappointed.

"Giaus is here," Hunith went on as if hoping to elicit a better response. "He came by this afternoon."

"Oh," Merlin said in that same flat voice.

"He's doing research. I invited him to use my house to keep his books so they don't get damaged in the weather. So he'll be here if you wish to visit him."

"Okay," Merlin said, still flat.

Hunith kissed his forehead. "Try to get some sleep."

She returned to her bed, while Merlin curled up on the floor. The small fire and the candle were the only light, the candle on the hearth near Merlin's head, both lights surrounding him in a soft glow, as though they were the only light left in the world.

Arthur pulled away from the shutter's gap and the sight of Merlin curled up and impossibly small on the floor, keeping every part of him well away from the darkness beyond the border of the light.

Gaius had been wrong.

Merlin was not 'doing better.'

It hardened Arthur's resolve to leave Merlin alone.

TBC...

A/N: Mmmm, angst, with more helpings of angst and a side order of angst to come. And I would like to thank everyone who's been reviewing. It always brings a huge smile to my face when I see one of my stories being enjoyed :D