2.
Merlin was sat on a wooden chair by a roaring fire. Anharadeth had left to get some food from the pantry and she had taken a round door that opened up into a shadowed corridor. Two small doors fit for children, or hobbits he reminded himself for this dream was of Middle Earth, were placed opposite the door the lore master had used. When they had entered the Brewers’ Mansion the large front door was broken, half hanging off its hinges and Merlin had mentioned that.
“A troll, the first of many enemies before Lord Mordach Na himself entered the fray.” A dread filled Merlin at hearing that name and it must have shown on his face because the lore master again placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, leading him into the main hall and the fire. “Do not fear, he will not harm you here while I draw breath. We thought him destroyed last night, but perhaps a shadow of his former self still exists. Sit and worry no more. I will prepare us a simple meal. I would get a servant to attend to us, but I have sent most of the Brewers away to check that their fellows across Eriador still live. I pray they still do.”
She had said the last words with such sadness that Merlin instinctively placed a hand over the one that was still rested on his shoulder. She smiled at that, squeezed his shoulder briefly and left him.
Now Merlin was getting restless, wishing he had paper and charcoal to keep his hands busy. He saw a large table covered with maps and scrolls and was about to go over to it when he realised that Anharadeth’s staff was leaning against the wall next to the fire place. He went over to that instead and inspected the large sapphire embedded at its top. He did not know how long he had been staring into the blue crystal but he thought he saw a small flame appear in the centre and he touched the gem in wonder.
A sharp crack sounded and the smell of ozone filled his nostrils. He was suddenly half way across the room, the small of his back pressed against the map table. His fore finger throbbed slightly. “What the..?”
“Power calls out to power,” said a gentle voice behind him and when he turned his head his jaw dropped, for in the door way stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her hair was like red gold that spilled passed her shoulders and her skin was milk white and smooth. Her dress was a pale green and she wore no jewellery; she did not need to. Merlin’s gaze was drawn to her ears for they tapered slightly to a point.
“You’re an elf!” He immediately felt stupid and he knew he was blushing.
“Mae govannen, my lord. I am the Lady Myfanwy of the House Caerillion in Lothlorien and you are Merlin of London via Wales.”
Merlin chuckled. “Just Merlin Emrys, Myfanwy. You know, that’s a Welsh name. This really must be a dream.”
She laughed then, the sound of tinkling bells, as she approached to set aside maps. “Or perhaps you are part of mine? Nay, do not protest for I jest. However, Lord Elrond taught me that there were many worlds created in the Song and that each world has many reflections. It may be that you have entered a reflection of your own world, though I must confess that I know of only one land separate from this one; the Uttermost West, where elves go when immortality and the destruction of beauty weighs their hearts down and they must take to the white ships to join the Valar.”
Her look was distant and tired. Merlin was reminded of the sadness he felt when reading about elves in Tolkien’s work and that same sadness made a lump in his throat. He forced it down and spoke quietly. “This isn’t a dream is it?”
Myfanwy looked into his face and smiled sadly. “That, I cannot say, but_.” Her look changed to a concerned one. “You have a shadow in you. You have not been touched by the Shadow, but something lies dormant in you that even surpass my skill of healing.”
He looked down, ashamed. “I…I fooled around when I first came to London. It was all the sudden freedom to be me, be gay, you see. I was stupid.” He looked up then, fearing her reaction but determined not to keep the truth from her. “I’m HIV positive. I tell you but was too much of a coward to tell Arthur. I’m such a knob.”
“You are not as dense as a door, if that is what you mean.” His cheeks reddened again. “I sense great courage in you, Merlin Emrys, and I think you will need that in the days to come.” She smiled brightly then, making him do the same in return. “There now, we have enough space. I would bring three chairs, but my ribs were damaged last night…”
Merlin immediately brought the wooden chairs over and helped her sit in one before doing the same. Then Anharadeth came in carrying a large tray filled with rolls of bread, slices of a pale yellow cheese and a pitcher of water and ate while polite questions were asked of his life in “London via Wales”. He did not know how long had passed, but he did know that he was just finishing a sketch of his lover in his favourite red shirt on the back of a map of Gondor when the door to the hall burst open and in strode a tall, dark haired elf armoured in a black leather jerkin and woollen trousers. Short swords swung at each hip and a long bow was strapped to his back. He carried a body in his arms.
“Arthur!” he shouted standing and running over. “What have you done to him? He’s in chain mail and….stuff.”
The newcomer stared hard at Merlin then ignored him to address Anharadeth. “Madam, your lynx led me to this boy. Brewers died last night, Brewers left in your charge. Is this another of your victims?”
While Anharadeth bit her lower lip, Myfanwy slowly stood and with a controlled but angry voice she answered him. “My love, Cynan, enough of this! We all face danger in these dark times and I survived last night’s. Enough I say!”
The stranger’s head bowed. “Forgive me,” he whispered.
Her face softened. “Come, let us all retire to my chambers with your burden and see what can be done.”
She led the way down to her rooms, Merlin hovering anxiously near Arthur’s prone form in the newcomer’s arms. Cynan spoke with him gruffly but not unkindly as they walked. “I see that you two are close. Do not worry, for I think that he has had a blow to the head and my lady will mend him soon.”
“Thanks Cynan. I’m Merlin by the way.”
Cynan curtly nodded and carried Arthur into a room that held a small bed, a closet and a large workbench covered with herbs and little bottles. He placed the prone form down and hovered near his fellow elf.
Anharadeth cleared her throat. “Lord Cynan, let us leave Merlin and Myfanwy to tend to the youth, for I would have words with you.” He went to protest but she interrupted him. “Not words of what you think of me but of your brother still locked away in his room and of our visitors.”
The elf ran a hand through his long hair and looked at Merlin. Then he sighed, kissed Myfanwy on the cheek and left with the noblewoman of Gondor.
Merlin knelt at Arthur’s side and tenderly brushed the hair from his forehead. The blond looked so peaceful but Merlin noticed scorch marks on his clothing and bit his lower lip in worry. “Will he live?” he asked, looking up when Myfanwy came over to him carrying a small bottle of clear liquid in her hand.
“That he will and come round soon if my reckoning is correct.” She placed a few drops of the clear liquid on Arthur’s lips and put the bottle aside. “There, he will rest and heal.”
Merlin smiled his thanks and then asked in a small voice, “Cynan’s brother is locked up in this building somewhere?”
Myfanwy sighed. “Celimdol was captured by a southern slaver many years ago, a slaver working for Mordach Na. Recently he escaped and joined with us Brewers, but last night we were betrayed by my fellow elf. The slaver is now dead, killed by Cynan’s own hand, and I believe Celimdol’s mind is now set free and is on the mend. Cynan does not agree with me.”
Merlin nodded, not knowing what else to do. “What have I gotten myself into?” He muttered to himself.
Myfanwy smiled down at him and ruffled his hair. “A complex dream indeed.”
They were interrupted by a groan escaping Arthur’s lips.
“I will leave you two alone.” Merlin did not hear the door close as she left.
“Arthur?”
Arthur’s eyelids flickered open and blue eyes recognised Merlin’s face. “What happened? Did I defeat the Great Dragon? What about the knights? Leon?”
“What the fuck are you on about?” Before Arthur could speak in outrage, Merlin ploughed on. “Anyway, shut up a minute. Look, I know I was stupid and I should have told you about my condition, but I was afraid of how you would react and I only realised when I was knifed by that stupid kid that I really really love you and don’t want to lose you. And I know all this is crazy and we’re in my dream, sort of, but can you get over the fact I’m a knob head? I know we can cope with the HIV thing and I’ll start seeing my doctor again and I know you love me back. It’s only been a month….and what the hell are you dressed like that for? Fucking live role playing in the middle of fucking winter is pretty fucking stupid. And you call me a nerd!” Merlin stopped for breath. “You’re not saying much.”
“You love me?”
Great, thought Merlin, knocked on the head and in my sort of dream and he still acts like an arse. “Doh, like, yeah. We’ve been going out for weeks. Morgana, your half sister set us up. I bet it was her latest boyfriend, that Val, who let slip about my condition wasn’t it? What a bastard. Don’t tell him that. I hate violence, especially when it’s directed against me!”
“Merlin, shut up. And stop your profanity.” Arthur sighed and carefully sat up in the bed. “You said you love me and…I love you back in a brotherly way, but I don’t think your behaviour is appropriate for a man servant_”
“What? I’m all for a bit of kinky shit…er…I mean manure, but…” Merlin trailed off when he noticed the famous glare of death from Arthur.
“We’ll speak about this later and the fact you have weird clothes on,” Merlin looked down at his black polo neck and skinny jeans, insulted, “but we must get back to Camelot and make sure we are ready if the Great Dragon attacks again.”
Oookay then. Dream, sort of, and a blow to the head makes Arthur a weirdo. “I’m sorry…sire,” said Merlin, playing along. There had always been a joke between them about their namesakes from myth and Merlin reckoned that Arthur was having some sort of reaction from the head injury. “I’m sorry I spoke out of turn, forsooth your highnessness and other stuff.” He stopped that type of speaking when Arthur’s glare returned. “But we’re not in Camelot anymore. We’re on a world called Middle Earth with elves and orcs, though I haven’t seen one yet, and feathered ones. Although he kinda died last night and maybe he’s in a shadowy form now. It’s all a bit confusing.”
Arthur ignored him and shakily got up, gripping Merlin’s shoulder for support. Inside, the dark haired youth thrilled at the touch but dared not mention that in Arthur’s current state.
“So the Dragon used sorcery to banish us. Very well, I shall reveal my princely status to our hosts and take charge. Someone has to.”
“This I’ve got to see,” muttered Merlin, thinking of the authority that seemed to radiate from Anharadeth.
Without a knock, the door was opened and Cynan stood in the doorway. “You are up. Good.”
“I am Prince Arthur of Camelot and I demand_”
Cynan bowed his head. “I am Cynan of Mirkwood, nephew to King Thranduil, cousin to Legolas and Lord of the Northern Pines. You will come with me. We will eat with my brother and have words of what to do with you.” With out waiting for a response, the elf turned and strode up the passage way.
Forget Anharadeth, thought Merlin. This Cynan will put him in his place. He grinned at Arthur’s pout and led him to the main hall.
* * *
In a cave far to the north sat a large muscled giant of a man hunched over a pool showing Merlin grinning stupidly as he followed a hunter called Cynan. Behind him came a blond, obviously of royal blood. On the creatures back were shattered ruins of a pair of wings and blood dripped from fangs that protruded from his mouth. His raven black hair was unkempt and covering half of his face, but it could not hide the sheer hatred he showed.
“There you are, insect, and with the Buckland Brewers I see. No matter, I will still eat your heart when you leave their safety.”
He summoned a goblin to him and the green skinned creature shivered in terror. It nervously picked at a sore on its chin. “Go and gather thirty of my best orc warriors. They run to the south to get my prize. Tell them they can have elf flesh, but any man flesh is to be left alone. No, I will tell them myself.” He slowly rose to his full height and swat the goblin aside as he went out into the open. He heard the snapping of bone, but took no notice. “Soon, insect, soon. I can taste your power already.”
The vampire of the First Age grinned, his visage a terrible sight to behold.
Merlin was sat on a wooden chair by a roaring fire. Anharadeth had left to get some food from the pantry and she had taken a round door that opened up into a shadowed corridor. Two small doors fit for children, or hobbits he reminded himself for this dream was of Middle Earth, were placed opposite the door the lore master had used. When they had entered the Brewers’ Mansion the large front door was broken, half hanging off its hinges and Merlin had mentioned that.
“A troll, the first of many enemies before Lord Mordach Na himself entered the fray.” A dread filled Merlin at hearing that name and it must have shown on his face because the lore master again placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, leading him into the main hall and the fire. “Do not fear, he will not harm you here while I draw breath. We thought him destroyed last night, but perhaps a shadow of his former self still exists. Sit and worry no more. I will prepare us a simple meal. I would get a servant to attend to us, but I have sent most of the Brewers away to check that their fellows across Eriador still live. I pray they still do.”
She had said the last words with such sadness that Merlin instinctively placed a hand over the one that was still rested on his shoulder. She smiled at that, squeezed his shoulder briefly and left him.
Now Merlin was getting restless, wishing he had paper and charcoal to keep his hands busy. He saw a large table covered with maps and scrolls and was about to go over to it when he realised that Anharadeth’s staff was leaning against the wall next to the fire place. He went over to that instead and inspected the large sapphire embedded at its top. He did not know how long he had been staring into the blue crystal but he thought he saw a small flame appear in the centre and he touched the gem in wonder.
A sharp crack sounded and the smell of ozone filled his nostrils. He was suddenly half way across the room, the small of his back pressed against the map table. His fore finger throbbed slightly. “What the..?”
“Power calls out to power,” said a gentle voice behind him and when he turned his head his jaw dropped, for in the door way stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her hair was like red gold that spilled passed her shoulders and her skin was milk white and smooth. Her dress was a pale green and she wore no jewellery; she did not need to. Merlin’s gaze was drawn to her ears for they tapered slightly to a point.
“You’re an elf!” He immediately felt stupid and he knew he was blushing.
“Mae govannen, my lord. I am the Lady Myfanwy of the House Caerillion in Lothlorien and you are Merlin of London via Wales.”
Merlin chuckled. “Just Merlin Emrys, Myfanwy. You know, that’s a Welsh name. This really must be a dream.”
She laughed then, the sound of tinkling bells, as she approached to set aside maps. “Or perhaps you are part of mine? Nay, do not protest for I jest. However, Lord Elrond taught me that there were many worlds created in the Song and that each world has many reflections. It may be that you have entered a reflection of your own world, though I must confess that I know of only one land separate from this one; the Uttermost West, where elves go when immortality and the destruction of beauty weighs their hearts down and they must take to the white ships to join the Valar.”
Her look was distant and tired. Merlin was reminded of the sadness he felt when reading about elves in Tolkien’s work and that same sadness made a lump in his throat. He forced it down and spoke quietly. “This isn’t a dream is it?”
Myfanwy looked into his face and smiled sadly. “That, I cannot say, but_.” Her look changed to a concerned one. “You have a shadow in you. You have not been touched by the Shadow, but something lies dormant in you that even surpass my skill of healing.”
He looked down, ashamed. “I…I fooled around when I first came to London. It was all the sudden freedom to be me, be gay, you see. I was stupid.” He looked up then, fearing her reaction but determined not to keep the truth from her. “I’m HIV positive. I tell you but was too much of a coward to tell Arthur. I’m such a knob.”
“You are not as dense as a door, if that is what you mean.” His cheeks reddened again. “I sense great courage in you, Merlin Emrys, and I think you will need that in the days to come.” She smiled brightly then, making him do the same in return. “There now, we have enough space. I would bring three chairs, but my ribs were damaged last night…”
Merlin immediately brought the wooden chairs over and helped her sit in one before doing the same. Then Anharadeth came in carrying a large tray filled with rolls of bread, slices of a pale yellow cheese and a pitcher of water and ate while polite questions were asked of his life in “London via Wales”. He did not know how long had passed, but he did know that he was just finishing a sketch of his lover in his favourite red shirt on the back of a map of Gondor when the door to the hall burst open and in strode a tall, dark haired elf armoured in a black leather jerkin and woollen trousers. Short swords swung at each hip and a long bow was strapped to his back. He carried a body in his arms.
“Arthur!” he shouted standing and running over. “What have you done to him? He’s in chain mail and….stuff.”
The newcomer stared hard at Merlin then ignored him to address Anharadeth. “Madam, your lynx led me to this boy. Brewers died last night, Brewers left in your charge. Is this another of your victims?”
While Anharadeth bit her lower lip, Myfanwy slowly stood and with a controlled but angry voice she answered him. “My love, Cynan, enough of this! We all face danger in these dark times and I survived last night’s. Enough I say!”
The stranger’s head bowed. “Forgive me,” he whispered.
Her face softened. “Come, let us all retire to my chambers with your burden and see what can be done.”
She led the way down to her rooms, Merlin hovering anxiously near Arthur’s prone form in the newcomer’s arms. Cynan spoke with him gruffly but not unkindly as they walked. “I see that you two are close. Do not worry, for I think that he has had a blow to the head and my lady will mend him soon.”
“Thanks Cynan. I’m Merlin by the way.”
Cynan curtly nodded and carried Arthur into a room that held a small bed, a closet and a large workbench covered with herbs and little bottles. He placed the prone form down and hovered near his fellow elf.
Anharadeth cleared her throat. “Lord Cynan, let us leave Merlin and Myfanwy to tend to the youth, for I would have words with you.” He went to protest but she interrupted him. “Not words of what you think of me but of your brother still locked away in his room and of our visitors.”
The elf ran a hand through his long hair and looked at Merlin. Then he sighed, kissed Myfanwy on the cheek and left with the noblewoman of Gondor.
Merlin knelt at Arthur’s side and tenderly brushed the hair from his forehead. The blond looked so peaceful but Merlin noticed scorch marks on his clothing and bit his lower lip in worry. “Will he live?” he asked, looking up when Myfanwy came over to him carrying a small bottle of clear liquid in her hand.
“That he will and come round soon if my reckoning is correct.” She placed a few drops of the clear liquid on Arthur’s lips and put the bottle aside. “There, he will rest and heal.”
Merlin smiled his thanks and then asked in a small voice, “Cynan’s brother is locked up in this building somewhere?”
Myfanwy sighed. “Celimdol was captured by a southern slaver many years ago, a slaver working for Mordach Na. Recently he escaped and joined with us Brewers, but last night we were betrayed by my fellow elf. The slaver is now dead, killed by Cynan’s own hand, and I believe Celimdol’s mind is now set free and is on the mend. Cynan does not agree with me.”
Merlin nodded, not knowing what else to do. “What have I gotten myself into?” He muttered to himself.
Myfanwy smiled down at him and ruffled his hair. “A complex dream indeed.”
They were interrupted by a groan escaping Arthur’s lips.
“I will leave you two alone.” Merlin did not hear the door close as she left.
“Arthur?”
Arthur’s eyelids flickered open and blue eyes recognised Merlin’s face. “What happened? Did I defeat the Great Dragon? What about the knights? Leon?”
“What the fuck are you on about?” Before Arthur could speak in outrage, Merlin ploughed on. “Anyway, shut up a minute. Look, I know I was stupid and I should have told you about my condition, but I was afraid of how you would react and I only realised when I was knifed by that stupid kid that I really really love you and don’t want to lose you. And I know all this is crazy and we’re in my dream, sort of, but can you get over the fact I’m a knob head? I know we can cope with the HIV thing and I’ll start seeing my doctor again and I know you love me back. It’s only been a month….and what the hell are you dressed like that for? Fucking live role playing in the middle of fucking winter is pretty fucking stupid. And you call me a nerd!” Merlin stopped for breath. “You’re not saying much.”
“You love me?”
Great, thought Merlin, knocked on the head and in my sort of dream and he still acts like an arse. “Doh, like, yeah. We’ve been going out for weeks. Morgana, your half sister set us up. I bet it was her latest boyfriend, that Val, who let slip about my condition wasn’t it? What a bastard. Don’t tell him that. I hate violence, especially when it’s directed against me!”
“Merlin, shut up. And stop your profanity.” Arthur sighed and carefully sat up in the bed. “You said you love me and…I love you back in a brotherly way, but I don’t think your behaviour is appropriate for a man servant_”
“What? I’m all for a bit of kinky shit…er…I mean manure, but…” Merlin trailed off when he noticed the famous glare of death from Arthur.
“We’ll speak about this later and the fact you have weird clothes on,” Merlin looked down at his black polo neck and skinny jeans, insulted, “but we must get back to Camelot and make sure we are ready if the Great Dragon attacks again.”
Oookay then. Dream, sort of, and a blow to the head makes Arthur a weirdo. “I’m sorry…sire,” said Merlin, playing along. There had always been a joke between them about their namesakes from myth and Merlin reckoned that Arthur was having some sort of reaction from the head injury. “I’m sorry I spoke out of turn, forsooth your highnessness and other stuff.” He stopped that type of speaking when Arthur’s glare returned. “But we’re not in Camelot anymore. We’re on a world called Middle Earth with elves and orcs, though I haven’t seen one yet, and feathered ones. Although he kinda died last night and maybe he’s in a shadowy form now. It’s all a bit confusing.”
Arthur ignored him and shakily got up, gripping Merlin’s shoulder for support. Inside, the dark haired youth thrilled at the touch but dared not mention that in Arthur’s current state.
“So the Dragon used sorcery to banish us. Very well, I shall reveal my princely status to our hosts and take charge. Someone has to.”
“This I’ve got to see,” muttered Merlin, thinking of the authority that seemed to radiate from Anharadeth.
Without a knock, the door was opened and Cynan stood in the doorway. “You are up. Good.”
“I am Prince Arthur of Camelot and I demand_”
Cynan bowed his head. “I am Cynan of Mirkwood, nephew to King Thranduil, cousin to Legolas and Lord of the Northern Pines. You will come with me. We will eat with my brother and have words of what to do with you.” With out waiting for a response, the elf turned and strode up the passage way.
Forget Anharadeth, thought Merlin. This Cynan will put him in his place. He grinned at Arthur’s pout and led him to the main hall.
* * *
In a cave far to the north sat a large muscled giant of a man hunched over a pool showing Merlin grinning stupidly as he followed a hunter called Cynan. Behind him came a blond, obviously of royal blood. On the creatures back were shattered ruins of a pair of wings and blood dripped from fangs that protruded from his mouth. His raven black hair was unkempt and covering half of his face, but it could not hide the sheer hatred he showed.
“There you are, insect, and with the Buckland Brewers I see. No matter, I will still eat your heart when you leave their safety.”
He summoned a goblin to him and the green skinned creature shivered in terror. It nervously picked at a sore on its chin. “Go and gather thirty of my best orc warriors. They run to the south to get my prize. Tell them they can have elf flesh, but any man flesh is to be left alone. No, I will tell them myself.” He slowly rose to his full height and swat the goblin aside as he went out into the open. He heard the snapping of bone, but took no notice. “Soon, insect, soon. I can taste your power already.”
The vampire of the First Age grinned, his visage a terrible sight to behold.