A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.

What's this? A new chapter of OSAW, in the same month, let alone week?

I've been busy writing, hooray!

Disclaimer: I have no proper medical knowledge, and I don't speak Old English. That should do me, shouldn't it?

It was nightfall outside the castle, pitch black save for the flickering, dwindling candlelight in Drin's torturous cell. There was no time to ponder or reflect on their ordeal, their immediate aim to get as far away as they possibly could in the darkness, and then begin to treat Merlin, who was still limply slumped over Arthur and Gwaine. He was wheezing quite badly, although worryingly so, it was a signal to the men that he was still alive whilst they moved.

The group trekked through the woods that surrounded the castle for about forty-five minutes, forty-five minutes filled with an uncomfortable, unwanted silence now they were minus the usual banal chatter of Merlin. Arthur never thought he'd see the day when he was wishing for Merlin to complain, as he continued to hold him upright. It was no arduous task, Merlin weighed far too little, he wasn't quite sure he needed Gwaine to help him, but he knew he wouldn't get the knight to leave him, no matter what.

Eventually they found a small clearing, just large enough to create a decent sized camp. Percival and Elyan assigned themselves task of fetching firewood, claiming that they had the best eyesight to amble through the woods in the dark. However Arthur thought it was just an excuse to get away from the awkwardness in which they'd travelled. Almost immediately after they had left, Leon proclaimed that he would keep the first watch, even though in the dark in was more like first 'listen out for disturbances', which left Arthur and Gwaine to the task of setting Merlin down so he'd be somewhat comfortable.

Once the knights had returned with a reasonable offering of twigs and kindling, surprising to even themselves that they'd been able to find flammable wood in the dimness, and they'd even managed to find a small stream close by with which they'd filled their flasks, Elyan began assembling the fire. Before he had the chance to light it there was an almost inaudible murmur from Merlin, and the fire sparked and began to oddly spit flames, spluttering and dying, again and again, as Merlin's weakened spell attempted to take hold.

Sooner or later the fire settled into a natural flicker, and Arthur and Gwaine were immediately by Merlin's side, Elyan and Percival watching from close by. Merlin was stirring but only just, his eyes, now fading back to blue, were unfocused, and he was mumbling something incoherently, groans intermittently escaping from his mouth.

"Merlin, you're safe, no one's going to hurt you anymore." Arthur reassured him.

"Arthur. Used magic, lit fire." Merlin slurred with a sense of panic. His head was foggy at best, and he had no idea how Arthur would react to such a blatant use of magic directly in front of him.

"Don't do it again Merlin," Arthur's worry was met by a cold stare of Gwaine's, "I don't want you pushing yourself when you're already so hurt." Arthur pointed the words at Gwaine, whose expression relaxed slightly. He knew that Merlin was injured, and badly. He wasn't sure if exerting that much power had made things worse with the warlock's body, but then again, he hadn't been in the best of shape before that.

"Sore." Merlin croaked, his eyes screwed shut, clearly trying to hide how much pain he was actually in from the knights and Arthur.

"I know." Arthur hushed him, having no idea how he was feeling, Merlin had clearly suffered much more than Arthur ever had in his life. As he spoke, Merlin blacked out again, and for a heart-wrenching moment Arthur worried that the unspeakable had happened, until he caught the slight shudder of Merlin's chest and the sound of his laboured breath. Laboured, but there. "Gwaine we need to help him." He looked up at the knight.

"You're telling me." Gwaine breathed, not knowing where to start. "I don't know what to do though, Merlin's the physician's assistant, how much medical knowledge have we got?"

"Enough to help him," Arthur stressed, "Percival, can I have your flask?" Percival nodded and handed his now full flask to Arthur, who set it down on the ground next to him. "Even I know we need to clean the blood off him." Arthur began to tear strips from his shirt, hoping they were clean enough from however long they'd spent in the tower to cleanse Merlin wounds.

Everyone else began to do the same, and soon they had a pile of cloth strips, which Arthur then began to wet and tentatively wash away the blood and grime from Merlin's torso. The sight beneath was no better than the before, his chest and stomach covered with red inflamed marks, a stark contrast to the yellowy green bruises adorning his abdomen. Once he'd quelled the horror he was feeling, he laid fresh cloth over the wounds, hoping that now they'd been treated, albeit primitively, they'd begin their healing process.

He did the same on Merlin's wrists, though the wounds appeared slightly differently. They had gashes in them from where the manacles had rubbed his skin raw, but there also appeared to be burns on them.

"Did the cuffs do this to him?" Gwaine asked.

"I think so, they were magic suppressing and he broke them off. I can't think of any other reason they'd look like this." Arthur ran his hand through his hair, adding one more injury to the ever growing list he was going to inflict on Drin when they caught him. And they would catch him, Arthur would make sure of it.

Remembering the stab wound, he rolled Merlin carefully onto his least bruised side, so he could gain access to his shoulder. It looked much the same as the others, only larger and clearly deeper. Once that was as clean and dressed as it could be, they carefully laid him on his back.

"Gwaine, can you put a couple of those on his forehead?" Arthur had had to steel his resolve when he'd felt the heat coming off Merlin's feverish skin. He'd seen numerous patients with damp cloths on their foreheads, probably to cool them, who'd been treated by Gaius.

Gwaine laid the damp cloths on his forehead, then leapt almost a foot in the air when Merlin opened his eyes. They were unfocussed and rapidly moving, like that of a sleepwalker's, but what was most alarming was that they were glowing gold.

"Æledfýr ád… bate… ádl ályne… blódseten…" Merlin was mumbling incoherently, his words having little effect on anything. The most he managed was for the fire to flicker a little, as if a small gust of wind had blown through it and warped the flames.

"What do you think he's trying to do?" Arthur peered at the warlock, whose eyes had closed once more but his mouth was still moving, mouthing words unknown to their ears.

"I don't know, maybe he's trying to heal himself." Gwaine guessed, as nothing but the fire had been disturbed in any way.

"He's probably causing more damage than good, the state he's in." Arthur sighed, him and Gwaine sitting down next to the fire, finally allowing themselves a moment of rest. It felt good to move their focus onto the fire instead of constantly watching Merlin sleep and mumble.

"How did we end up here, barely a scratch on us, and Merlin's like this?" Gwaine bemoaned, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stop himself running back to that castle and running Drin through with his sword – after torturing him exactly as he'd tortured Merlin. Arthur would have to join the queue of people who wanted to hurt Drin

"He did more than could ever be expected of him." Arthur breathed, the shock hitting him all over again now he'd had time to digest what had happened to Merlin, and the ordeal he'd suffered. Arthur had been lamenting the fact that they had nothing to protect Merlin's exposed, wounded torso from the elements, settling for keeping him close to the fire.

He wasn't quite sure what to do, he knew that he needed to keep Merlin cool to fight off the fever gripping his body, but they also needed to prevent him from catching a chill. That was one, amongst others, that Arthur wasn't sure of. Namely Merlin's rib, which was clearly in need of some kind of treatment, but as to what neither of the men had a clue.

Gaius would know what to do. Gaius could give him something to ease the pain as well. Gaius would have clean bandages, and herbs to prevent further infection. Damn, they really needed Gaius right now. Though one uneasy thought did keet popping up in his head:

'Taking him to Gaius means bringing him back to Camelot.'

Ooh.

Anyway, 14 is half-done and 15 has got one of two scenes written, and I'm not sure after that.

I'm reconsidering the plot (again). I don't know whether to run it to about 20 like I sort of planned (this was supposed to be a six chapter story to ease me into multi-chapter stories. Yeah, I know), or to build a new story arc into it. Another option I'm considering is a sequel.

I don't know.

*Facepalm*

P.S: At the moment I post this, we are 578 views off 25,000. Extremely big thank you!