3.
The silence was unbearable. Merlin could understand it being between Cynan and his younger brother Celimdol, for there was a lot of unsettled history between them. They were in front on white ponies (“Steeds, Merlin, or horses. Not ponies,” Arthur had corrected him with an infuriating roll of his eyes) and not a word had been uttered between them. The younger elf was the spitting image of the older, but he tended to smile shyly where Cynan did not smile at all.
Arthur was not in a smiling or speaking mood either. He rode next to Merlin on a huge black stallion, well huge to Merlin’s eyes, and he tended to worry his lower lip with his adorable, slightly crooked teeth as if he was deep in thought. When they had first started off on their journey, Merlin had excitedly started telling Arthur all he knew about Middle Earth; Bree, Gandalf (his favourite), Rohan, Saruman, Mordor, Sauron and his search for the One Rin_
Cynan had turned sharply in his saddle at that and stared with so much anger that Merlin gulped, cutting off his rambling. “Not on the open road do you speak of that! We will have words, you and I, later.”
Merlin brought his thoughts back to the present and sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that afternoon. The grey, hooded cloak that Anharadeth had given him before they had set off was making him hot and his bottom was saddle sore after a few hours of riding. “This sort of dream sucks!” he muttered to himself. The brown mare he was on snickered and he balefully glared at her ears. After another sigh his thoughts drifted back to second breakfast (he had called it brunch, but everyone had just stared at him). What he had learnt had disturbed him…
* * *
“Cynan will take you to Rivendell, for I believe Lord Elrond will know how to get you back to your own worlds,” said Myfanwy.
Merlin and Arthur looked at each other and both said “Worlds?” in unison.
“It is plain to anyone with eyes that you do not come from the same land,” answered Anharadeth coolly. “However, there is another reason you must consult with Elrond; why does Mordach Na need the power that resides in Merlin. Is it to heal himself or for another nefarious purpo_”
“I knew it!” Arthur shouted in surprise. “You have magic. All those times…the little things that have happened. Why didn’t you tell me earlier Merlin? Why didn’t you trust me?”
There was such a hurt expression in Arthur’s expression that Merlin wanted to hug him and deny anything to do with magic and say sorry over and over again. Cynan, however, stopped him.
The elf slammed his fist on the map table. “Enough! Did you not pay attention to the words of Lady Anharadeth? This Merlin is not the one you love.” At Arthur’s spluttering Cynan held up his hand. “I have lived for two thousand and four hundred years. I can read men like the maps before us.”
Myfanwy placed a hand over his fist. “And yet you still cannot fully control your wrath, my love, for all your years,” she said not unkindly. “They are but babes in our eyes, like your brother who has not yet seen thirty summers.”
The hunter took a deep breath at her words and nodded once. “Forgive me your highness and you Lord Merlin. I speak out of turn.”
They both mumbled acceptance of the apology and the talk turned to the journey to Rivendell. Merlin blocked the voices out, thinking instead on what Cynan had said. This isn’t my Arthur? Is he The Arthur? Fuck! He was brought back to the discussion when he felt Anharadeth’s comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Merlin, Cynan has just said that you cannot take your overcoat, for it will draw too much attention.” He began to protest but she went on. “I know that it is part of who you are, but you will still have your trews and tunic of strange material.”
“My mobile!” He suddenly shouted and jumped up to run over to the coat rack by the door. “It’s here somewhere. I know that kid didn’t mug me, the bast_ er, I mean bar steward.” He frantically searched through the many pockets of his parker, getting more desperate. Tears of frustration leaked from his eyes as he started over again, hoping that he had missed the blackberry the first time. It had been a gift from his Arthur. It was important.
He felt a hand on his shoulder that turned him. It was not Anharadeth’s this time but Arthur’s. His other hand went to Merlin’s other shoulder and they were both squeezed in reassurance. “I can see much distress in you Merlin, but surely you can get another…mobile.”
“You don’t understand,” Merlin wailed. “Bit by bit I’m losing myself in this dream, sort of dream. There won’t be nothing left of me soon.” He furious wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and then hugged himself for Arthur had stepped back, unsure what to do. The ache in Merlin’s heart grew. I need a hug from you Arthur, not for you to step away, he thought, not daring to voice the words.
It was Myfanwy you rushed over and took him in her arms, stroking his head and making soothing noises. “Young one, do not fret so. We will do all things in our power to make things right.” When he had calmed down slightly, she continued. “Come with me, you too Arthur, for I would have words with both of you.”
The lore master led them to a quiet corner and the other three in the room turned to maps and talk of provisions.
“Merlin,” started Myfanwy in a quiet voice. “There is another reason why you must visit Rivendell. This shadow I see in you, this corruption, lies dormant but it will not be so forever. I can see that it will kill you, if_ no, when you get back to your own world.”
“I know,” said Merlin, just as quiet.
“Sooner than you think for I have seen it. But have heart, for the Lord Elrond is the greatest lore master in all of creation and he can and will cure you. Have faith in my words.”
Merlin smiled and a fragile flower of hope started to bloom in his heart. Myfanwy turned her gaze to Arthur.
“I say these most private of words in front of you, my lord, for a reason; he is of utmost importance to you.”
Arthur cleared his throat. “I know,” he whispered.
She smiled gently. “For that reason too. But know this, young warrior, if Merlin dies before the spell that binds him to my world is broken, then you will be trapped here, never able to go back to your Camelot. You must be his sword arm and shield. You must protect him.”
“I will lay down my life for him, but not for the reason you give.” Arthur said those words while looking at Merlin. The dark head youth grinned and Arthur rolled his eyes, grinning back.
“Bravely said. I wish I could travel with you but my health does not permit it. Also, my Cynan’s attention will be divided between me and his charge to get you to Rivendell.” She looked back at her lover. “Trust him, for there is no greater hunter this side of the Misty Mountains.”
All further talk was stopped as Cynan stood and took his brother to the stables. He asked the two youths to come with him, though the request was more like a command.
“Arthur?” Merlin asked as they were going through the ruined front door. “I’ve never saddled a pony before.”
The blond barked a laugh. “Idiot!” Arthur playfully punched him in the shoulder.
“Dick face,” Merlin retorted and he thumped him back.
Arthur chased him all the way to the stables.
* * *
That evening they made camp off the road and in a little copse of ash trees. They had passed though the North Gate set in a great hedge barrier called The Hay earlier and Merlin had seen two hobbits guarding it but they were let through with just a nod in Cynan’s direction, (“Hobbits! Cool,” Merlin had said. “Shut up Merlin,” was Arthur’s response).Celimdol quietly and quickly made a fire before going over to the horses and Cynan took his longbow and a quiver of arrows and went off to hunt for game. It was after they had set up two small tents that Merlin and Arthur sat by the fire, neither knowing what to say. In the end Arthur cleared his throat.
“You know when you said you loved me and I said I loved you back?” he started to say, staring into the flames.
“Like a brother,” Merlin taunted.
“Shut up Merlin.” Arthur cleared his throat again. “I meant to say, what I mean to say is…every time you come near me or scrub my back while I bathe or dress me in the morning…I_”
“Oh, fuck this!” Merlin grabbed Arthur’s hair with one hand, turned his head and smashed their lips together. At first the blond stiffened in surprise, but then melted into the kiss and brought his callused hands up to cradle Merlin’s face.
When they came up for air, their foreheads resting against each other, Merlin whispered, “This isn’t right. You’re not my Arthur.”
“And you’re not my Merlin.”
Merlin nodded towards one of the beds (he noticed Celimdol still studiously tending to the horses and silently thanked him for it). “Wanna have some fun?”
Arthur’s cheeks coloured. “I’ve never done it with a man before.”
“I have,” said Merlin as he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Arthur’s laugh was cut off when a hand grabbed Merlin by the scruff of his neck and he was hauled up onto his feet, and then pushed against a tree. “We will now have those words between us, you and I,” said Cynan, a cold anger in his eyes. Quiver, bow and the carcass of a plump rabbit at the elf’s feet.
“Let him go or you answer to me.” Arthur had stood and a naked blade was in his hand.
Without looking at the blond, Cynan continued. “He knows too much and I say he is a spy of the enemy, though a stupid one. I was there at the secret council of Elrond those many months ago, sitting next to my cousin, Legolas. Merlin, how do you know so much about the ring of power and the one who would use it to cover all the land with shadow? You speak of Mordor as if you have visited it yourself. Answer me!”
“I read about it when I was nine. I wanted to escape the bullying and go into a fantasy world so I started reading Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit,” Merlin half shouted back. “This dream, this sort of dream, is based on those books. Honest! Also one of the voices, when I was coming to your world, it said something about it had left Lothlorien and the voice had to leave Angmar and gather his nazgul or something like that. I now think he must have meant the ring.”
Celimdol stepped forward, pushing away Arthur’s sword as he did so. “Brother, I sense he speaks the truth even if you do not. Perhaps he may know of our future and if_”
“Get back from me you treacherous snake!” Cynan spat in his brother’s direction. “No more will you poison my mind with your filth.”
Celimdol’s face crumpled and he looked to the ground in shame, silent tears running down his cheeks.
“Dude, where the fuck do you get off?” It was Merlin’s turn to take a step towards Cynan, who backed away in shock. “He’s just a kid, although a six foot one I admit. Your fucking kid brother. You elves live forever but he is not even thirty, so that makes him, what, ten in my years? And there you go fucking treating him like a shit. So he’s made mistakes, who hasn’t? You’re fucking priceless you are. Come here,” he said the last words to Celimdol and took him in his arms. He turned a venomous look towards the older elf. “And I thought you elves were pure and good, but you just act like knob cheese. Piss off!”
Cynan made to speak, but then closed his mouth. He stiffly gathered up his bow and arrows and stormed off into the night.
While Celimdol sobbed in his arms, making his shoulder wet with tears, Merlin turned to Arthur’s awe stricken face and whispered, “I hate to see someone being bullied. Shit, he is going to be so pissed off with me later.”
Arthur just smiled with such a look of admiration in his face it made Merlin’s heart skip a beat. They put the young elf to sleep in one of the tents and then stood nervously by the fire.
“Do you still want to…” Arthur nodded towards the last tent.
“Fuck yeah!” Merlin grabbed his arm and pulled him along.
* * *
Merlin woke to the sound of talking outside. It was morning and he was alone on the bedroll. He smiled when remembering the previous night. After their moment of passion they had talked so much of each other’s lives, their fears and goals. Merlin felt like he was falling in love all over again. I’m not cheating on you Arthur Merlin had thought very late into the night as they settled into a contented sleep, thinking of his blond lover back in his own world. I'm getting to know you even better. This is one weird dream, but what a dream!
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and crawled out of the tent into the early spring sunlight. Merlin could smell what he assumed was the rabbit from the night before and he saw the elven brothers and the prince around the fire. Arthur had not put his chain mail and half plate back on and was simply dressed in a russet shirt and black trousers. Merlin drank in the sight of his profile until Arthur notice, turned his head and smiled.
Sheepishly coming over to the three, Merlin looked at Cynan. “I’m sorry I shouted at you.”
“Nay my Lord Merlin, it is I who should apologise to you and thank you. I have made peace with my brother,” Celimdol smiled at that, “and it was you who opened my eyes. Now I know why the Lady Anharadeth had insisted that my brother travel with us. She is wise indeed and deserves to be Second Officer of the Brewers.”
Merlin was about to ask who was First Officer, when Arthur interrupted him. “Cynan was saying that the Buckland Brewers have a hunting lodge near a village called Archet. He thinks you need boots.”
Merlin looked down at his trainers. They were scruffy and squelched every time he walked. “But they’re mine and red. And they’re cute!” he protested.
“Don’t be such a girl, Merlin.”
Merlin poked his tongue out at the other.
Celimdol laughed. “We will find a pair of elven boots for you to wear. They are most comfortable and will make your tread in meadow and wood very silent. You tend to make a noise, more so than any man I have met.”
“Every time I take him on a hunting trip, it’s the same.” Arthur grinned and Merlin poked out his tongue at him a second time.
“We will not stay at the lodge or visit Bree,” said the hunter and Merlin’s heart sank a little, for he was looking forward to visiting the Prancing Pony inn, “but push on all day along the Great East Road until we come to the Forsaken Inn.”
Merlin scratched his head. “I don’t think I’ve heard of that before. The book was a pretty big one to read for a sprog.”
Cynan spoke again, his tone more serious than usual. “That is another point and an important one. You must promise me not to tell of our future or the future of this world, for I am headstrong like my father before me and may do something rash that could jeopardise us all.”
Merlin swallowed. “I promise,” he said in a small voice.
“Good,” the hunter said and they broke their fast and then broke camp.
* * *
The boots were very comfortable and seemed to be made to fit Merlin perfectly. Still, he packed the trainers in a saddle bag, not wanting to leave another piece of himself behind.
They left the hunting lodge and got back on the road, setting a fast pace. They ate a lunch of cold rabbit and hard biscuit that Arthur had called way bread, washed down with a skin of water, in the saddle. The day light was dying and it had started to drizzle when they approached a low lying but large building that, Merlin presumed correctly, was called the Forsaken Inn.
“Keep your wits about you,” murmured Cynan as his brother went to stable the horses around the back. “This place is full of varlets and scavengers.”
They entered through the old looking door and into a smoke filled room. Small round tables were placed haphazardly around and along one wall were a row of four larger tables surrounded on three sides by high backed benches. Cynan led them to a table by the wall and roughly picked up a sleeping drunk and set him on a chair away from them.
A thin man walked up, nervously wringing a dirty cloth in his hands. His moustache was just as greasy as his apron. “I want no trouble here Cynan.”
“Last time the man tried to poison me so I killed him. Remember that when I order the drinks.”
The innkeeper shook slightly but bravely spoke on. “There’s a large group of Southrons here tonight. I want no trouble!”
“Please serve us four ales,” the hunter simply said and the man sighed and went back to his counter.
Celimdol came in from outside as their drinks were being served and, spotting them, came over to the table. He sat next to his brother. “About a hundred tents made in the style of the Haradrim did I see behind the stable. What they are doing this far north I do not know, but I suggest we make camp in the open air and far from here.”
They all agreed and were just about to stand when a large, beer bellied man swaggered over to them. He was tall and swarthy and his head was bald. “Going so soon lads?”
“Cynan!” whispered Celimdol urgently. “When I was being sold in the market of Umbar, this was one of the slavers bidding for me.”
The slaver must have heard because he shouted out in glee. “Here that? We’ve got a runaway here. You I claim for my bed, elf. And you pretty looking thing,” he pointed at Merlin, “can share my bed with him. I need something to keep me warm. It’s bloody cold in this Eriador.”
Merlin would not admit later that he yelped. Arthur actually growled as he stood. “Touch him and you lose a hand. Touch him again and it’ll be something else more personable.”
The slaver leaned forward, the leer on his face replaced with a grimace. “Don’t mess with me boy. I could crush you with one hand.”
Merlin huffed as he brought a mug up to his lips. “I’d like to see you try. Arthur is fit.” He noticed a dead fly in the scummy liquid and wisely put the mug down.
“Merlin?”
“Shut up?”
“You’re learning.”
Cynan put a calming hand on Arthur’s shoulder and sat him back down. “We seek no trouble, slaver. Let us leave in peace and it will go easy for you.”
The leer was back in place. “I’m itching for a fight, hunter of the Buckland Brewers. Yeah, I’ve heard of you lot. Supposed to be tough aren’t ya? Let’s see.”
Merlin slowly shook his head. “Dude, you are so gonna get fucked.” A hand slapped him in the face so hard that he fell to the floor. He knocked his head and black specks appeared in his vision.
“Speak when spoken to, bitch!” shouted the slaver.
Arthur flew across the table and grabbed the man’s throat with his hands. He head butted him in the nose, breaking it. The slaver dropped like a sack of potatoes. “Anyone else want a go?” Arthur shouted, his face flushed with rage.
The room went up in an uproar, men pulling out knives and cudgels. Cynan appeared at Arthur’s side, drawing his two swords as the blond took out a hunting knife. There was not enough room to use the long sword he preferred.
Celimdol picked Merlin up and backed into a corner. He brought out his own swords, their blades thin and glinting wickedly in the lamp light. His stance dared any to come near them. Those that did were quickly dispatched.
Merlin cringed every time someone was stabbed or had their teeth knocked out and the blood that splattered everywhere was making him feel sick. He suddenly noticed a man slink out of the inn’s door and was about to follow him, but the elf pushed him back.
“Stay here Lord Merlin, for your own protection.”
“I’m not a lord, honest,” murmured Merlin. He could sense the smile on Celimdol’s lips when the answer came.
“You are to me.” He slashed the throat of a man who had charged them.
Within minutes the only sound in the room was the groaning of the injured and Arthur’s heavy breathing. The blond turned to the hunter and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry?”
Cynan shook his head. “No need. Come, we go to the horses before the others come.” He picked up his bow from the bench they had been sitting at and led them from the place. Arthur helped Merlin along, despite the latter’s protest that he was feeling fine.
“Ai!” cried out Celimdol when the reached the empty stables. “The horses have been taken.”
“We run then and lose them in the dark,” said Arthur. “I’ve noticed you elves have good eyesight in the night.”
“You speak truly.” Cynan’s attention was drawn to the shouting of men coming from the tents. “Quickly must you take the road east and do not stop for rest or food. Hunt for game when Merlin can no longer travel. Do not wait for me but keep going until you get to Weathertop, you cannot mistake it. Five days of travelling will have passed. Wait for me there three days and if I do not come, continue.”
“Brother?”
Cynan smiled then, the first time Merlin had seen it. “Celimdol, I place my charge into your care. Get them safely to Rivendell.”
“It shall be done.”
Pride shone in Cynan’s face and he handed his bow and quiver to his brother. “That I do not doubt. My lord Arthur, protect my brother as well as your loved one. It was a pleasure to fight at your side.”
“Until we meet again Lord Cynan,” said Arthur and stuck out his hand.
Cynan laughed and hugged the three. In Celimdol’s ear he whispered “Tell Myfanwy I love her.” Then, turning and drawing out his swords, he ran towards the tents and men shouting curses at the top of his voice.
“Come my lords,” said Celimdol and led them in a wide circle away from the fighting until they came across the road.
Merlin was trying hard not to cry. Arthur would only call him a girl again. “We can’t just leave him.”
They had stopped running and were now walking briskly. Celimdol answered him.
“My brother is a leaf dancer at the court of Thranduil. The blade masters are renowned throughout all the land. If anyone can face down a small army, then it is he.” The young elf’s voice was strained.
“I still don’t like it.” Merlin felt Arthur put his hand in his own and squeeze it affectionately.
“We will never forget his sacrifice,” the blond said quietly.
This sort of dream definitely fucking sucks, Merlin thought. He concentrated on the road ahead, the half moon giving him a little light so that he did not stumble.
* * *
Mordach Na leaned back from the rock pool. “So you go to Rivendell and that fool hunter has abandoned you.” He laughed and looked back at the still water.
The image of Merlin was replaced by that of a fully armoured orc. “Captain.”
The orc stopped running and looked around for the source of the voice.
“You are to take your troops to Weathertop. You will find my prize there.”
“As you command, my lord. You heard him you maggots. Start running.”
Suddenly the image changed again and the face of a fair headed elf maiden was shown. “You will not spy on my lover or his charges again!”
“Elf witch,” he sneered, “your lover is dead.”
Myfanwy cried out in alarm but Anharadeth appeared in front of her. “Keep your lies to yourself, creature of corruption. Your scrying days are over.” With that said, she waved her staff before her and the sapphire flashed once.
The water erupted and fell over a wide area. Mordach Na roared his anger, for he knew that the rock pool would work for him no longer. He strode from the cave, grabbed a guard and ripped the creature’s throat out with his fangs. After he had drained the body and threw it aside, he felt nourished but he knew that only Merlin would make him whole again. A worm of doubt crawled in his stomach and he decided on a course of action.
“It is time to take matters in hand, personally. I will gather all of my orcs and lead them to my prize. Lord Mordach Na goes south!”
The silence was unbearable. Merlin could understand it being between Cynan and his younger brother Celimdol, for there was a lot of unsettled history between them. They were in front on white ponies (“Steeds, Merlin, or horses. Not ponies,” Arthur had corrected him with an infuriating roll of his eyes) and not a word had been uttered between them. The younger elf was the spitting image of the older, but he tended to smile shyly where Cynan did not smile at all.
Arthur was not in a smiling or speaking mood either. He rode next to Merlin on a huge black stallion, well huge to Merlin’s eyes, and he tended to worry his lower lip with his adorable, slightly crooked teeth as if he was deep in thought. When they had first started off on their journey, Merlin had excitedly started telling Arthur all he knew about Middle Earth; Bree, Gandalf (his favourite), Rohan, Saruman, Mordor, Sauron and his search for the One Rin_
Cynan had turned sharply in his saddle at that and stared with so much anger that Merlin gulped, cutting off his rambling. “Not on the open road do you speak of that! We will have words, you and I, later.”
Merlin brought his thoughts back to the present and sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that afternoon. The grey, hooded cloak that Anharadeth had given him before they had set off was making him hot and his bottom was saddle sore after a few hours of riding. “This sort of dream sucks!” he muttered to himself. The brown mare he was on snickered and he balefully glared at her ears. After another sigh his thoughts drifted back to second breakfast (he had called it brunch, but everyone had just stared at him). What he had learnt had disturbed him…
* * *
“Cynan will take you to Rivendell, for I believe Lord Elrond will know how to get you back to your own worlds,” said Myfanwy.
Merlin and Arthur looked at each other and both said “Worlds?” in unison.
“It is plain to anyone with eyes that you do not come from the same land,” answered Anharadeth coolly. “However, there is another reason you must consult with Elrond; why does Mordach Na need the power that resides in Merlin. Is it to heal himself or for another nefarious purpo_”
“I knew it!” Arthur shouted in surprise. “You have magic. All those times…the little things that have happened. Why didn’t you tell me earlier Merlin? Why didn’t you trust me?”
There was such a hurt expression in Arthur’s expression that Merlin wanted to hug him and deny anything to do with magic and say sorry over and over again. Cynan, however, stopped him.
The elf slammed his fist on the map table. “Enough! Did you not pay attention to the words of Lady Anharadeth? This Merlin is not the one you love.” At Arthur’s spluttering Cynan held up his hand. “I have lived for two thousand and four hundred years. I can read men like the maps before us.”
Myfanwy placed a hand over his fist. “And yet you still cannot fully control your wrath, my love, for all your years,” she said not unkindly. “They are but babes in our eyes, like your brother who has not yet seen thirty summers.”
The hunter took a deep breath at her words and nodded once. “Forgive me your highness and you Lord Merlin. I speak out of turn.”
They both mumbled acceptance of the apology and the talk turned to the journey to Rivendell. Merlin blocked the voices out, thinking instead on what Cynan had said. This isn’t my Arthur? Is he The Arthur? Fuck! He was brought back to the discussion when he felt Anharadeth’s comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Merlin, Cynan has just said that you cannot take your overcoat, for it will draw too much attention.” He began to protest but she went on. “I know that it is part of who you are, but you will still have your trews and tunic of strange material.”
“My mobile!” He suddenly shouted and jumped up to run over to the coat rack by the door. “It’s here somewhere. I know that kid didn’t mug me, the bast_ er, I mean bar steward.” He frantically searched through the many pockets of his parker, getting more desperate. Tears of frustration leaked from his eyes as he started over again, hoping that he had missed the blackberry the first time. It had been a gift from his Arthur. It was important.
He felt a hand on his shoulder that turned him. It was not Anharadeth’s this time but Arthur’s. His other hand went to Merlin’s other shoulder and they were both squeezed in reassurance. “I can see much distress in you Merlin, but surely you can get another…mobile.”
“You don’t understand,” Merlin wailed. “Bit by bit I’m losing myself in this dream, sort of dream. There won’t be nothing left of me soon.” He furious wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and then hugged himself for Arthur had stepped back, unsure what to do. The ache in Merlin’s heart grew. I need a hug from you Arthur, not for you to step away, he thought, not daring to voice the words.
It was Myfanwy you rushed over and took him in her arms, stroking his head and making soothing noises. “Young one, do not fret so. We will do all things in our power to make things right.” When he had calmed down slightly, she continued. “Come with me, you too Arthur, for I would have words with both of you.”
The lore master led them to a quiet corner and the other three in the room turned to maps and talk of provisions.
“Merlin,” started Myfanwy in a quiet voice. “There is another reason why you must visit Rivendell. This shadow I see in you, this corruption, lies dormant but it will not be so forever. I can see that it will kill you, if_ no, when you get back to your own world.”
“I know,” said Merlin, just as quiet.
“Sooner than you think for I have seen it. But have heart, for the Lord Elrond is the greatest lore master in all of creation and he can and will cure you. Have faith in my words.”
Merlin smiled and a fragile flower of hope started to bloom in his heart. Myfanwy turned her gaze to Arthur.
“I say these most private of words in front of you, my lord, for a reason; he is of utmost importance to you.”
Arthur cleared his throat. “I know,” he whispered.
She smiled gently. “For that reason too. But know this, young warrior, if Merlin dies before the spell that binds him to my world is broken, then you will be trapped here, never able to go back to your Camelot. You must be his sword arm and shield. You must protect him.”
“I will lay down my life for him, but not for the reason you give.” Arthur said those words while looking at Merlin. The dark head youth grinned and Arthur rolled his eyes, grinning back.
“Bravely said. I wish I could travel with you but my health does not permit it. Also, my Cynan’s attention will be divided between me and his charge to get you to Rivendell.” She looked back at her lover. “Trust him, for there is no greater hunter this side of the Misty Mountains.”
All further talk was stopped as Cynan stood and took his brother to the stables. He asked the two youths to come with him, though the request was more like a command.
“Arthur?” Merlin asked as they were going through the ruined front door. “I’ve never saddled a pony before.”
The blond barked a laugh. “Idiot!” Arthur playfully punched him in the shoulder.
“Dick face,” Merlin retorted and he thumped him back.
Arthur chased him all the way to the stables.
* * *
That evening they made camp off the road and in a little copse of ash trees. They had passed though the North Gate set in a great hedge barrier called The Hay earlier and Merlin had seen two hobbits guarding it but they were let through with just a nod in Cynan’s direction, (“Hobbits! Cool,” Merlin had said. “Shut up Merlin,” was Arthur’s response).Celimdol quietly and quickly made a fire before going over to the horses and Cynan took his longbow and a quiver of arrows and went off to hunt for game. It was after they had set up two small tents that Merlin and Arthur sat by the fire, neither knowing what to say. In the end Arthur cleared his throat.
“You know when you said you loved me and I said I loved you back?” he started to say, staring into the flames.
“Like a brother,” Merlin taunted.
“Shut up Merlin.” Arthur cleared his throat again. “I meant to say, what I mean to say is…every time you come near me or scrub my back while I bathe or dress me in the morning…I_”
“Oh, fuck this!” Merlin grabbed Arthur’s hair with one hand, turned his head and smashed their lips together. At first the blond stiffened in surprise, but then melted into the kiss and brought his callused hands up to cradle Merlin’s face.
When they came up for air, their foreheads resting against each other, Merlin whispered, “This isn’t right. You’re not my Arthur.”
“And you’re not my Merlin.”
Merlin nodded towards one of the beds (he noticed Celimdol still studiously tending to the horses and silently thanked him for it). “Wanna have some fun?”
Arthur’s cheeks coloured. “I’ve never done it with a man before.”
“I have,” said Merlin as he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Arthur’s laugh was cut off when a hand grabbed Merlin by the scruff of his neck and he was hauled up onto his feet, and then pushed against a tree. “We will now have those words between us, you and I,” said Cynan, a cold anger in his eyes. Quiver, bow and the carcass of a plump rabbit at the elf’s feet.
“Let him go or you answer to me.” Arthur had stood and a naked blade was in his hand.
Without looking at the blond, Cynan continued. “He knows too much and I say he is a spy of the enemy, though a stupid one. I was there at the secret council of Elrond those many months ago, sitting next to my cousin, Legolas. Merlin, how do you know so much about the ring of power and the one who would use it to cover all the land with shadow? You speak of Mordor as if you have visited it yourself. Answer me!”
“I read about it when I was nine. I wanted to escape the bullying and go into a fantasy world so I started reading Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit,” Merlin half shouted back. “This dream, this sort of dream, is based on those books. Honest! Also one of the voices, when I was coming to your world, it said something about it had left Lothlorien and the voice had to leave Angmar and gather his nazgul or something like that. I now think he must have meant the ring.”
Celimdol stepped forward, pushing away Arthur’s sword as he did so. “Brother, I sense he speaks the truth even if you do not. Perhaps he may know of our future and if_”
“Get back from me you treacherous snake!” Cynan spat in his brother’s direction. “No more will you poison my mind with your filth.”
Celimdol’s face crumpled and he looked to the ground in shame, silent tears running down his cheeks.
“Dude, where the fuck do you get off?” It was Merlin’s turn to take a step towards Cynan, who backed away in shock. “He’s just a kid, although a six foot one I admit. Your fucking kid brother. You elves live forever but he is not even thirty, so that makes him, what, ten in my years? And there you go fucking treating him like a shit. So he’s made mistakes, who hasn’t? You’re fucking priceless you are. Come here,” he said the last words to Celimdol and took him in his arms. He turned a venomous look towards the older elf. “And I thought you elves were pure and good, but you just act like knob cheese. Piss off!”
Cynan made to speak, but then closed his mouth. He stiffly gathered up his bow and arrows and stormed off into the night.
While Celimdol sobbed in his arms, making his shoulder wet with tears, Merlin turned to Arthur’s awe stricken face and whispered, “I hate to see someone being bullied. Shit, he is going to be so pissed off with me later.”
Arthur just smiled with such a look of admiration in his face it made Merlin’s heart skip a beat. They put the young elf to sleep in one of the tents and then stood nervously by the fire.
“Do you still want to…” Arthur nodded towards the last tent.
“Fuck yeah!” Merlin grabbed his arm and pulled him along.
* * *
Merlin woke to the sound of talking outside. It was morning and he was alone on the bedroll. He smiled when remembering the previous night. After their moment of passion they had talked so much of each other’s lives, their fears and goals. Merlin felt like he was falling in love all over again. I’m not cheating on you Arthur Merlin had thought very late into the night as they settled into a contented sleep, thinking of his blond lover back in his own world. I'm getting to know you even better. This is one weird dream, but what a dream!
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and crawled out of the tent into the early spring sunlight. Merlin could smell what he assumed was the rabbit from the night before and he saw the elven brothers and the prince around the fire. Arthur had not put his chain mail and half plate back on and was simply dressed in a russet shirt and black trousers. Merlin drank in the sight of his profile until Arthur notice, turned his head and smiled.
Sheepishly coming over to the three, Merlin looked at Cynan. “I’m sorry I shouted at you.”
“Nay my Lord Merlin, it is I who should apologise to you and thank you. I have made peace with my brother,” Celimdol smiled at that, “and it was you who opened my eyes. Now I know why the Lady Anharadeth had insisted that my brother travel with us. She is wise indeed and deserves to be Second Officer of the Brewers.”
Merlin was about to ask who was First Officer, when Arthur interrupted him. “Cynan was saying that the Buckland Brewers have a hunting lodge near a village called Archet. He thinks you need boots.”
Merlin looked down at his trainers. They were scruffy and squelched every time he walked. “But they’re mine and red. And they’re cute!” he protested.
“Don’t be such a girl, Merlin.”
Merlin poked his tongue out at the other.
Celimdol laughed. “We will find a pair of elven boots for you to wear. They are most comfortable and will make your tread in meadow and wood very silent. You tend to make a noise, more so than any man I have met.”
“Every time I take him on a hunting trip, it’s the same.” Arthur grinned and Merlin poked out his tongue at him a second time.
“We will not stay at the lodge or visit Bree,” said the hunter and Merlin’s heart sank a little, for he was looking forward to visiting the Prancing Pony inn, “but push on all day along the Great East Road until we come to the Forsaken Inn.”
Merlin scratched his head. “I don’t think I’ve heard of that before. The book was a pretty big one to read for a sprog.”
Cynan spoke again, his tone more serious than usual. “That is another point and an important one. You must promise me not to tell of our future or the future of this world, for I am headstrong like my father before me and may do something rash that could jeopardise us all.”
Merlin swallowed. “I promise,” he said in a small voice.
“Good,” the hunter said and they broke their fast and then broke camp.
* * *
The boots were very comfortable and seemed to be made to fit Merlin perfectly. Still, he packed the trainers in a saddle bag, not wanting to leave another piece of himself behind.
They left the hunting lodge and got back on the road, setting a fast pace. They ate a lunch of cold rabbit and hard biscuit that Arthur had called way bread, washed down with a skin of water, in the saddle. The day light was dying and it had started to drizzle when they approached a low lying but large building that, Merlin presumed correctly, was called the Forsaken Inn.
“Keep your wits about you,” murmured Cynan as his brother went to stable the horses around the back. “This place is full of varlets and scavengers.”
They entered through the old looking door and into a smoke filled room. Small round tables were placed haphazardly around and along one wall were a row of four larger tables surrounded on three sides by high backed benches. Cynan led them to a table by the wall and roughly picked up a sleeping drunk and set him on a chair away from them.
A thin man walked up, nervously wringing a dirty cloth in his hands. His moustache was just as greasy as his apron. “I want no trouble here Cynan.”
“Last time the man tried to poison me so I killed him. Remember that when I order the drinks.”
The innkeeper shook slightly but bravely spoke on. “There’s a large group of Southrons here tonight. I want no trouble!”
“Please serve us four ales,” the hunter simply said and the man sighed and went back to his counter.
Celimdol came in from outside as their drinks were being served and, spotting them, came over to the table. He sat next to his brother. “About a hundred tents made in the style of the Haradrim did I see behind the stable. What they are doing this far north I do not know, but I suggest we make camp in the open air and far from here.”
They all agreed and were just about to stand when a large, beer bellied man swaggered over to them. He was tall and swarthy and his head was bald. “Going so soon lads?”
“Cynan!” whispered Celimdol urgently. “When I was being sold in the market of Umbar, this was one of the slavers bidding for me.”
The slaver must have heard because he shouted out in glee. “Here that? We’ve got a runaway here. You I claim for my bed, elf. And you pretty looking thing,” he pointed at Merlin, “can share my bed with him. I need something to keep me warm. It’s bloody cold in this Eriador.”
Merlin would not admit later that he yelped. Arthur actually growled as he stood. “Touch him and you lose a hand. Touch him again and it’ll be something else more personable.”
The slaver leaned forward, the leer on his face replaced with a grimace. “Don’t mess with me boy. I could crush you with one hand.”
Merlin huffed as he brought a mug up to his lips. “I’d like to see you try. Arthur is fit.” He noticed a dead fly in the scummy liquid and wisely put the mug down.
“Merlin?”
“Shut up?”
“You’re learning.”
Cynan put a calming hand on Arthur’s shoulder and sat him back down. “We seek no trouble, slaver. Let us leave in peace and it will go easy for you.”
The leer was back in place. “I’m itching for a fight, hunter of the Buckland Brewers. Yeah, I’ve heard of you lot. Supposed to be tough aren’t ya? Let’s see.”
Merlin slowly shook his head. “Dude, you are so gonna get fucked.” A hand slapped him in the face so hard that he fell to the floor. He knocked his head and black specks appeared in his vision.
“Speak when spoken to, bitch!” shouted the slaver.
Arthur flew across the table and grabbed the man’s throat with his hands. He head butted him in the nose, breaking it. The slaver dropped like a sack of potatoes. “Anyone else want a go?” Arthur shouted, his face flushed with rage.
The room went up in an uproar, men pulling out knives and cudgels. Cynan appeared at Arthur’s side, drawing his two swords as the blond took out a hunting knife. There was not enough room to use the long sword he preferred.
Celimdol picked Merlin up and backed into a corner. He brought out his own swords, their blades thin and glinting wickedly in the lamp light. His stance dared any to come near them. Those that did were quickly dispatched.
Merlin cringed every time someone was stabbed or had their teeth knocked out and the blood that splattered everywhere was making him feel sick. He suddenly noticed a man slink out of the inn’s door and was about to follow him, but the elf pushed him back.
“Stay here Lord Merlin, for your own protection.”
“I’m not a lord, honest,” murmured Merlin. He could sense the smile on Celimdol’s lips when the answer came.
“You are to me.” He slashed the throat of a man who had charged them.
Within minutes the only sound in the room was the groaning of the injured and Arthur’s heavy breathing. The blond turned to the hunter and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry?”
Cynan shook his head. “No need. Come, we go to the horses before the others come.” He picked up his bow from the bench they had been sitting at and led them from the place. Arthur helped Merlin along, despite the latter’s protest that he was feeling fine.
“Ai!” cried out Celimdol when the reached the empty stables. “The horses have been taken.”
“We run then and lose them in the dark,” said Arthur. “I’ve noticed you elves have good eyesight in the night.”
“You speak truly.” Cynan’s attention was drawn to the shouting of men coming from the tents. “Quickly must you take the road east and do not stop for rest or food. Hunt for game when Merlin can no longer travel. Do not wait for me but keep going until you get to Weathertop, you cannot mistake it. Five days of travelling will have passed. Wait for me there three days and if I do not come, continue.”
“Brother?”
Cynan smiled then, the first time Merlin had seen it. “Celimdol, I place my charge into your care. Get them safely to Rivendell.”
“It shall be done.”
Pride shone in Cynan’s face and he handed his bow and quiver to his brother. “That I do not doubt. My lord Arthur, protect my brother as well as your loved one. It was a pleasure to fight at your side.”
“Until we meet again Lord Cynan,” said Arthur and stuck out his hand.
Cynan laughed and hugged the three. In Celimdol’s ear he whispered “Tell Myfanwy I love her.” Then, turning and drawing out his swords, he ran towards the tents and men shouting curses at the top of his voice.
“Come my lords,” said Celimdol and led them in a wide circle away from the fighting until they came across the road.
Merlin was trying hard not to cry. Arthur would only call him a girl again. “We can’t just leave him.”
They had stopped running and were now walking briskly. Celimdol answered him.
“My brother is a leaf dancer at the court of Thranduil. The blade masters are renowned throughout all the land. If anyone can face down a small army, then it is he.” The young elf’s voice was strained.
“I still don’t like it.” Merlin felt Arthur put his hand in his own and squeeze it affectionately.
“We will never forget his sacrifice,” the blond said quietly.
This sort of dream definitely fucking sucks, Merlin thought. He concentrated on the road ahead, the half moon giving him a little light so that he did not stumble.
* * *
Mordach Na leaned back from the rock pool. “So you go to Rivendell and that fool hunter has abandoned you.” He laughed and looked back at the still water.
The image of Merlin was replaced by that of a fully armoured orc. “Captain.”
The orc stopped running and looked around for the source of the voice.
“You are to take your troops to Weathertop. You will find my prize there.”
“As you command, my lord. You heard him you maggots. Start running.”
Suddenly the image changed again and the face of a fair headed elf maiden was shown. “You will not spy on my lover or his charges again!”
“Elf witch,” he sneered, “your lover is dead.”
Myfanwy cried out in alarm but Anharadeth appeared in front of her. “Keep your lies to yourself, creature of corruption. Your scrying days are over.” With that said, she waved her staff before her and the sapphire flashed once.
The water erupted and fell over a wide area. Mordach Na roared his anger, for he knew that the rock pool would work for him no longer. He strode from the cave, grabbed a guard and ripped the creature’s throat out with his fangs. After he had drained the body and threw it aside, he felt nourished but he knew that only Merlin would make him whole again. A worm of doubt crawled in his stomach and he decided on a course of action.
“It is time to take matters in hand, personally. I will gather all of my orcs and lead them to my prize. Lord Mordach Na goes south!”