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ArWen the Eternally Surprised
Author: Ria Time: 2007/11/22
Arwen encounters a strange monk and gains a little extra time.
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Merlin's Dream
Submitter: Date: 2011/4/24 Views: 475
Summary: No summary provided.
Keywords: lotro shire slash


Snow drifted lazily down and had been for over an hour. The flakes were feathery and tickled Merlin’s cheeks as they landed. He loved the look of snow, but it was trudging through it that made him tread carefully. Arthur always said that if there was one patch of ice in London, then Merlin would slip on it.


His thoughts turned bitter as he carefully crossed the road and took a short cut down a narrow lane; the street lamps and reflected light off the built up snow easing Merlin’s usual fear of dark alleyways. They had argued over a week ago when the blond had found out about the illness, a shouting match that caused pain on both sides.

Merlin sighed. Deep down he admitted to himself that it was his fault for being so secretive, a fault developed over the past year due to the rejection and fear that he saw in peoples’ eyes when they found out about him. He had been extra careful with Arthur in the few moments of pleasure over the month they had been together. He would not hurt Arthur for the world. “I love you, you fucking prick,” he said vehemently. Merlin only now believed in love at first sight and his heart ached at being away from the source of that love.

He stopped in his tracks, holding onto a black wrought iron gate of someone’s garden to steady himself, when he saw a child barring his way a few yards in front. Wrapped in a cloak and covered in a dirty grey tunic that came to his knees, the child just came up to his waist. He had a green mask on, though Halloween had come and gone over four months ago. Pointy ears that stuck out horizontally from his head, bald scalp showing pimples and puss oozing sores made the costume look very realistic.

“Pretty good mask kid, but shouldn’t you be in bed at this time of night?”

The kid giggled in a high pitched squeal, showing sharp teeth as he did so. Pretty good mask indeed. It was when he produced a wicked looking knife from the folds of his dirty clothes that Merlin stumbled back and promptly fell on his backside.

“What the fuck!”

The kid jumped onto his stomach and pushed down on his chest. Thankfully his head met snow and not the usual cobble stones.

Fuck the cobble stones, the little shit has a knife! his mind screamed. This close up, Merlin noticed the blade was curved and had black writing on it that squirmed when he tried to read it.

“Ha! Man thing has no power at all. Manc ain’t afraid of it anymore. Ooo, the feathered one is gonna be pleased with Manc. Time for you to travel and die, man thing.” And the blade was plunged into Merlin’s stomach.

The pain equalled the ache in his heart and more so; the bastard actually twisted the knife while giggling gleefully.

“Please,” Merlin whimpered.

He was ignored. The kid jumped back and licked his lips, leaving the blade in Merlin’s flesh. “I want food, but you are off limits. He said so.” The kid then took out his cock, also covered in pimples and running sores, and started to pee all over the youth. “Contempt for the so powerful man thing.” Then, laughing manically, the boy jumped over Merlin and ran down the lane, not slipping on the snow at all.

Merlin started to tremble, the pain centred on his stomach pinning him to the ground. He needed to get to hospital.

“Help, someone, please,” he shouted, but his words were feeble and the sound was muffled by the snowy silence. Blackness started to cover his vision and he cried silent tears.

“Arthur,” he finally said softly. “Arthur. Shit, I love you so much.”

The blackness took him.

* * *


Merlin floated and blackness was his only companion. At first he thought he was still alive. Well, he was thinking. Then the cold came, however, and what he thought was a grey light appeared in the distance, very slowly getting nearer. Am I going to heaven then?

Snatches of a conversation came to him. One voice was deep and full of terror, an ancient evil, yet strained as if its owner struggled against an unseen power. The other was like a shadow, impatient and stern and full of authority.

“This one comes with another, their destinies entwined. Perhaps he is of power as well. A prize indeed.” The voice gasped. “My lord, another is pulling against him, but I will prevail, do not fear,” said the first voice.

“I never fear, Mordach Na. I must leave Angmar for my master calls and my nazgul awaits me. It has left Lothlorien and He commands me. Do not fail me again, for your wrath is nothing against mine.”

Silence then.

“Insect, come to me and your power will be mine. My blade and you are joined. I command it, come to me! Bring the other with you.”

Merlin felt a cold shadow sweep over him and the fear of darkness entered his very marrow. He tried to move his limbs to struggle against the pull towards the greyness, but he merely floated towards his doom.

Then a sliver light like hope struck him from the left and he felt himself floating in that direction. New voices came to him, female ones.

“My sister in lore, the feathered one was not vanquished by our hands last night. He lives and…and...he is drawing one with much power to himself. I…I struggle.” Merlin wept new tears, but of joy when hearing the beautiful voice, its sing song lilt reminded him of his homeland, of Wales.

“It is too much for you in your state Myfanwy. Let go.” This voice was stern yet concerned and had an undertone of kindness. Yes, he thought, this way must be heaven.

“Of wind and earth and trees and life, the feathered one is no match against an elf. And this elf will deny him his prize!” The first voice then started to sing in a language that that made Merlin laugh out in joy and his heart was filled with happiness at the sound of it. The singing suddenly stopped. “It is done. He will soon appear at the stone. Go my friend; bring the poor wretch to us for I am tired, so very tired.”

“Rest then, but my first thought is for the Brewers and of all Eriador. I will assuage the danger this newcomer brings.”

The blackness was banished in the light and a great sleep enveloped Merlin, but he was not afraid. He was going to heaven.

* * *

He woke up on a small hill next to a standing stone and it was just after dawn. Gone was the snow and in its place was wet grass, sodden by a long passed storm. His hands immediately went to his belly, but found only a rip in his polo neck and parka, his skin unmarked.

Merlin gingerly stood and surveyed his surroundings. He saw farmland with low lying cottages dotted here and there. Dominating the landscape and but a few hundred yards away was a single story building with round doors and windows. He could see a few out houses behind it and a carefully tended garden to one side.

“Am I dreaming or is this heaven,” he asked himself in wonder. He felt more alive than he ever did in the past and he knew, he knew with all his heart that he had no illness running though his veins.

“The heavens are for the stars only and this is definitely not a dream young one.” The voice made him turn sharply and he saw a stern looking woman sitting on a boulder, a large, spotted cat in her lap. A staff made of oak was at her side in the grass and Merlin could see a sapphire fixed to the top. The cat jumped to the ground hissed at him and ran off to the large building below. The woman, using the staff, stood. She was tall, taller than him by at least another four inches, and her long dress was patterned in blue and white. Her black hair was piled high with streaks of grey at the temples. Merlin guessed her to be about forty, but her face had no lines at all. “Cathbach is unsure of you, which makes me wary.”

“S-sorry?” Merlin stammered. Perhaps this was not heaven after all and was a dream.

“My lynx, though she often says that she owns me and not the other way round.” A wry smile played on the woman’s lips, but then grew stern again. “I am remiss it seems. Forgive my manners. I am the Lady Anharadeth of Gondor. Second in command and chief lore master of the Buckland Brewers, stalwarts and guardians of Eriador as charged by the grey pilgrim himself! Know this; if you bring harm to this fair land or its peoples, then I will deal with you myself.”

Merlin gulped, unsure of what to say. Eventually he introduced himself. “I’m Merlin of, er, London via Wales.” That seemed a bit inadequate compared to her introduction so he continued. “Erm, I’m also an art student. I like drawing.”

Anharadeth relaxed at his last words. “Young one, do not fear, for I doubt servants of the shadow are artists and I sense that you mean no harm.” Merlin did relax then and grinned. Arthur would say he was grinning like an idiot and with that thought the bitterness and sadness washed over him. “I heard voices. A voice said someone else was coming along with me. I think it might be my boyfriend. Erm, I mean my ex boyfriend.”

She raised one perfect eyebrow at that, but in an instant she was smiling at his discomfort. “Love does not choose the sex of its devotion. It is rare amongst the race of Man, but I believe the elves are not restricted by the short sightedness of others.”

Merlin was about to ask about elves but she cut him off.

“Again I show ill manners today, though last night was a trial to try the patience of the Steward himself! Forgive me a second time, for you must be weary and famished. Come, the Buckland Mansion waits below us with a warm fire, a soft bed and food to fill you.”

It then hit him, the realisation. Buckland and Eriador, two names he had heard before. “This isn’t heaven, it’s Middle Earth!”

Anharadeth laughed. “Indeed. Come, I will break my fast with you and I have already sent Cathbach to look for your friend, if he indeed travelled here with you.”

“How can I be here? I was dying, knifed by a kid. Now all this Middle Earth stuff. I’m in hospital aren’t I, pumped full of drugs?”

She walked towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Be at ease and let us eat. I will try and answer your questions, but I fear it will be the Lady Myfanwy that will be answering you. I am a lore master of fire and earth and action, but she is one of air and of water and of the deep ethereal knowledge. She sat at the feet of Lord Elrond himself and was taught by him for nearly two hundred years.” At his puzzled look she gently laughed again and led him down the hill.

Merlin felt safe in her presence and the reality of the attack that killed him (he was so certain of that) seemed like a faded dream. In comfortable silence they descended the hill, but he was determined to never forget that this was just a realistic dream about Tolkien’s world as his life was ebbing away in the cold, on a blanket of snow.

A/N: Well, I must say that all copy write belongs to Shine, BBC, Turbine and the Tolkien Estate (and a nod to Stephen Donaldson's work concerning Thomas Covenant). Guys, please don't sue me, I'm only playing
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