Chapter Nineteen

Hello, everyone!

Once again, I am very, very late in updating. I'm so sorry! But real life has been so blasted hectic lately!

So, without further preamble, let's get on with this chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Enjoy!

"Put it down!"

"No! Why should I?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake…"

"Because I said so!"

"He's got a point, actually…"

"Well, I won't!"

"Oh, wonderful…"

"Why are you being so impossible?"

"Because he wants to?"

"No reason at all. But I still think…"

"Really? I don't believe that you're thinking right now…"

"Put it down, damn it!"

"Good grief…"

"No, I won't!"

"Elwin!" Aldwyn and Everard yelled at the same time.

Merlin winced as he watched Elwin dart through the trees, running from his brothers. The company had just stopped at a stream to water the horses, and Elwin had taken the opportunity to steal Aldwyn's crossbow, which was apparently something no one was allowed to do at any time. Elwin was in as much as a foul mood as anyone else at the moment, and had been pulling pranks on the others every chance he got in an apparent attempt to cheer himself up. It just happened to be his older brother right now.

Merlin accidentally bumped into Cleva as he moved to refill the water flasks in his hands. "Sorry."

"It's alright." Cleva said over the Elwin's shrieks as he was cornered by Aldwyn and Everard. "They are not particularly happy right now." she said with a jerk of the head in their direction.

"Well, no one else is either." Merlin sighed. "Arthur's a hundred times worse when he's grumpy like he's been lately…" He trailed off as he went to fill the water flasks.

Cleva followed him. "He really reacts strongly when someone doesn't give him the whole truth, doesn't he?"

Merlin glanced around to make sure that Arthur wasn't within earshot. "Um…yeah, he does, but I guess he's earned the right to. I mean, first his father lied to him about his half-sister, then his sister lied to him about being an ally against Camelot with her half-sister, then his uncle lied to him about being allied with his half-sister after he found out that she wanted him dead…So you can't really blame him for being all that defensive."

Cleva frowned. "You're right; I can't. Honestly, though," she continued after a moment, "is there anyone in his family who hasn't lied to him?"

Merlin considered that. "Well…I don't think his mother did. Not really." (He recalled the spirit called up by Morgause and decided that it didn't count.) "But she died when he was born."

Cleva grimaced. "I'd behave far more paranoid than Arthur if all that had happened to me."

"Trust me, his father was much, much worse."

"So we 'barbarians' in Bernicia heard." Cleva responded dryly.

Merlin snorted, then was momentarily distracted by the sight of Aldwyn and the twins returning to the stream. Aldwyn had his crossbow back, but all three were coated in leaves and looked disgusted. Merlin hastily looked away lest they catch him staring.

Fastening the lids of the water flasks, he stood up and asked lightly, "Cleva, where are you from? Originally, I mean. Gwaine mentioned that you weren't born in Bernicia…"

Cleva shrugged. "Caerleon. My father was a knight who died in battle. The king took Mother's property away so we…What?"

Merlin was grinning. "Cleva, I think Gwaine stole your life story and told me it was his."

"He told you his father was a knight from Caerleon who…" Cleva couldn't complete her sentence, she was laughing too hard. "Gwaine!" she shouted after she'd finished laughing.

"What?" he called from where he stood on the other side of the brook.

"Caerleon? Seriously?"

The knights of Camelot, Arthur included, looked confused, but Everard let out a loud sigh. "Yes, Cleva, seriously; that's what he told Merlin."

Gwaine glared across the stream. "Merlin!"

Merlin put up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm sorry! I just asked her where she was from!"

Aldwyn finally caught on to what they were talking about. "Gwaine!"

"Yes, it's disgraceful, isn't it?" Everard said with another exaggerated sigh.

"Everard!"

"He just said what Aldwyn was thinking! Right, Aldwyn?"

"Elwin!"

"Now that you've all finished clearing up who's who, perhaps we can get moving again." Arthur said waspishly.

Cleva grinned mischievously at Merlin as they remounted their horses. As they began to cross the shallow stream, she leaned over and whispered, "Usually I don't find my…my past being mentioned lightly very funny. But…it's Gwaine, and it's such a bizarre situation, so…"

Merlin nodded. "And it's easier to smile that to frown, right?"

She readily agreed.

"Try anything with me Elwin and I'll dump you in the next pond we pass by." Gwaine told his younger cousin as the boy brought his mount up behind him.

"Wow, you sound just like Aldwyn does most of the time at home." Elwin commented.

"Somehow I doubt it's ever stopped you before." Gwaine hid a smile.

"Well…no. But usually Aldwyn is very stern about some things…like his precious target practice."

"I daresay that sternness on the training field is why you are such an exceptional knife-thrower." Gwaine pointed out.

"I suppose…" Elwin admitted reluctantly. With a dramatic sigh, he added, "My instructor is a tyrant."

"Hey, you can't call anyone a tyrant unless you've met Uther Pendragon." Gwaine didn't even try to hide his amusement this time.

"But he's dead! So I'll never meet him!"

"You see? So therefore you can't call anyone a tyrant, least of all your training instructor."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Elwin protested.

"And since when does everything you say make any sense? I distinctly remember some of the things you said when you were very young…"

"I was practically a baby! I didn't know any better!"

"And you do now?" Gwaine laughed out loud at the look on Elwin's face. "Relax, El, I'm just kidding."

Elwin cocked his head to one side and eyed Gwaine curiously. "You know…" He stopped.

"What?"

Elwin looked down at the leaf-strewn path beneath his horse's hooves, seemingly embarrassed. "You know how Aldwyn's not usually very temperamental, but he's not exactly the…uh, the playful type?"

Well, he used to be pretty mischievous, but…Maybe he grew up. Gwaine reflected on his conversations with his older cousin for a moment. Okay, I'd say he certainly did. "So?" Gwaine asked neutrally.

"I always thought you'd be…exactly like him."

"Thought?"

Elwin was definitely avoiding his gaze. "I didn't remember you at all. Everard did, a little, and Aldwyn talked about you enough so that I could pretend like I remembered you, but…I don't think I ever really did. I just remembered what I'd been told about you. Like the piggyback rides. Everard and Aldwyn have described memories so often that it's almost like they're mine, but not quite. It just…I don't know why, but it makes me feel guilty."

Gwaine shrugged. "It's okay. I don't remember much from when I was that age, either. It's perfectly normal. And besides, " he added, "has it ever occurred to you that some of those memories are actually yours?"

Elwin looked thoughtful, but didn't respond.

Feeling an urge to change the subject, Gwaine asked, "I was wondering if you could tell me something?"

"What?"

He almost chuckled at the trepidation in the boy's voice. "Is Great-Aunt Gytha still telling stories?"

Elwin's face immediately brightened. "Oh, yes, she is! She spends most of her days telling stories to whoever will listen. Which is a lot of people. She knows so many old tales…"

Gwaine smiled reminiscently. "I remember going to her chambers with Aldwyn, Elen, and Haralda. We'd sit and listen to her tell stories for hours. Sometimes we'd demand that she tell our favorite tales over and over again. It didn't matter how many times we'd heard them before."

"I know! Me and Everard used to go and listen to her also…we still do, even though we don't have as much time as we used to…Which is your favorite story of hers?"

Gwaine took a moment to recall its name. "The Vanishing Cliffs." That was what Gytha had always called it, without fail.

"The one about the fishermen chasing the cliffs while trying to get back to shore? And the Kelpies?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Why?"

Gwaine laughed. "Probably because it never ceased to scare the hell out of me. Every single time."

Elwin giggled. Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he said, "It does that to me too."

"But it's not your favorite, is it?"

"No. I like the one about the hawks and the goblins better." Elwin replied readily, referring to a rather humorous old story of a "war" between northern moor hawks and southern goblins.

"Let me guess; you're on the side of the goblins." Gwaine grinned.

"Oh, but of course!" Elwin replied dramatically. "Mischief always!"

They got more than a few stares from the rest of the company as they both burst out laughing. They were still chuckling a while later when they arrived at a meadow where they spent the night.

Cleva was feeling overall relief at the fact that they hadn't gotten terribly lost on the way back to Bernicia. If only the trip from Bernicia had been so smooth (in regards to navigation, that is).

But, of course, this time, everyone was just as grumpy, if not more so. There were certainly more people around to be disgruntled.

Cleva was honestly just plain tired of it. But how do you tell a group of…let's see…eight men to snap out of it? It's hard enough getting them to shut up! And I'm not even counting the twins…

Still, Cleva could find things to enjoy about the remainder of the journey. The weather was lovely. The landscape was lovely. She'd always enjoyed being outdoors; she wasn't the type of lady to spend all day inside doing needlework and whatnot. Though the endless riding did get a bit tiresome after a while. At least she was used to it.

What she was not used to was the tension that hung about the company on this absurdly beautiful morning. She toyed with the idea of bursting into song in order to break the near-silence. Her voice wasn't very good, but it wasn't terrible either. Mediocre, that's the word. But it might loosen the stress a bit.

She didn't get a chance to try.

As they rode through a narrow gully, the surrounding woods seemed to explode with men in mismatching armor swinging maces, battle-axes, and swords. There were a lot of them…and even in Cleva's rather inexperienced eyes, way too many of them for the company to fight off if they stayed put.

Arthur and Aldwyn seemed to come to a similar conclusion at the same moment.

"Scatter!" the southern king and northern prince shouted at the same instant.

As Cleva pulled her horse's head around and galloped back the way she had come, she heard the first sounds of metal crashing onto metal.

They had been drawn into another skirmish.

Something tells me that this one won't turn out as well.

I'm sorry about the cliff-hanger! But at the same time, I'm not, so...

But I am sorry that I have to tell you that there will be no more updates until Thursday at least. :( I'm going to a sort of "summer camp" for pipe organ students this next week, which is really exciting but I won't have access to a computer until it's over.

Before I forget: Thanks again, all of you, for reading/reviewing/favoriting/following!

Have a great day/night!