5.
God! So much pain. He could feel fire in his shoulder. Snatches of a dream, or was it?
“We cannot stay upon the bridge, my lord. They are but moments away!”
“I can’t carry him any further. We make our stand here.”
“My lord prince?”
“Let us hope you finished off the last of their archers. String your bow, Celimdol. They’re here!”
He sank into a fiery sleep. Pain was everywhere. He then heard a different voice, as if far away.
“Can you hear me? Christ, so much blood. Kid, the ambulance is on it’s way. Stay with me. Please stay with me!”
Sleep, blessed sleep. He dreams of Myfanwy in a crowded common room, standing tall and imposing in front of a fat innkeeper (Butterbur?). “Have rooms readied for me…Stop! I have a vision methinks. Merlin?” The voice is hushed, a whisper in his mind. “You are hurt, I can sense it. Hold on, my little lore master. Hold on. Hold onto this world, for it is too soon for you to return. Hold on for Arthur’s sake!”
The vision washes away and is replaced by one of a worried Anharadeth riding fast on a dwarf road, a spotted lynx in front of her and balanced on the saddle. She is on a white steed (pony?), her staff held before her and a light shining forth from the sapphire, scattering the few Southrons who dare try and bar her way.
Visions swim through his mind. A lidless eye, searching, always searching; a horde of orcs, one shouting “find halfling, find the halfling,”; a tall and proud man peppered with wicked arrows (he cries inside at the bravery) while two hobbits are carried away; an old grey haired man in a grand hall of stone cursing his second son named Faramir for not being the first; a white robed ancient, wondering how he came to the eaves of Fanghorn Forest after defeating the Balrog in the deeps and peaks of the Misty Mountains.
The fire spreads to his mind and consumes him.
“Christ! I won’t lose you. I’m a nurse, we both are, Gwen and me. Stay with me, kid. Please stay with me.”
Sirens in the distance.
Blackness.
* * *
“Though I am young, long did I travel with my mother in her final years, and she taught me much of the healing properties of herbs. I have found athelas and it has many qualities, especially in the hands of a king. Chew on it and place it in his wound. I can only hope that it will cure the poison.” The voice was soft, but certain. It filled his heart with its sing song lilt that reminded him of his home, of Wales.
“But I’m not a king yet,” said the uncertain voice.
Just fucking use it on me you prick, he thought. Then his mind drifted to the winter’s cold, a wickedly curved knife in his belly and a Halloween costumed kid dancing through the snow.
* * *
Merlin opened his eyes. He felt so tired, but also very much alive. A makeshift shelter was above him made out of cut branches and a cloak, but not his own because he was wrapped in that one. A satchel was his pillow. He scrambled up into a sitting position and saw Celimdol and Arthur, both smiling at him and looking relieved.
“Where are we…how long?”
“Four days and we’re in the Trollshaws,” answered Arthur. He came over and, after looking into his eyes, searching, he kissed him. “Don’t do that to me again,” he whispered.
“I won’t. What happened?”
Celimdol came over to Merlin’s side with his flask of water and a handful of walnuts. Merlin’s stomach grumbled and he chewed on them as the elf answered him. “The orcs that were pursuing us will do so no more. An emblem did I find on their leader; a red serpent coiled around an upright staff. Mordach Na.”
Merlin shivered. “I don’t particularly want to meet a troll” he eventually said. “This is the Trollshaws after all.”
Arthur laughed and ruffed up his hair (did all Arthurs have to do that?). “Celimdol says that if we travel by day then we will avoid them. They hate the sunlight. Pity, I would love to hunt one.”
Merlin rolled his eyes and playfully punched the blonde’s shoulder. Arthur was about to do the same back but thought better of it.
“Ha! Got you.”
Arthur ruffled his hair some more instead.
With still another two hours to dawn, Celimdol disappeared into the night to gather more food and water for their journey. Merlin and Arthur rested peacefully in each other’s arms, staring at the stars in companionable silence, waiting for him.
“You know what? When I saw you fall with that arrow in you, part of me inside died.” He swallowed. “I meant it when I said I won’t allow any Merlin, anywhere, die on me.”
Merlin kissed him on his forehead, thinking of snow and a knife in his belly. “When you get back, just love your Merlin. All this will seem like a dream to you back in your own world, but just love him. If I know that, it will make everything worthwhile and bearable.”
Arthur squeezed him gently in his strong arms and stroked his hair.
A huge, tusked face leered over their prone forms.
“Awww that so sweet, that is, but Nobbie is hungry, he is.”
The youths scrambled to their feet and backed off from the monster. It was at least twelve feet in height, pot bellied and thick limbed. His horny, scaled skin was the colour of muddy water and a thread bare black skin of some animal covered his groin. Much like his ears, in place of a nose was instead a slit, dripping mucus onto his tusks and chin. The latter and two hands were resting on a tree trunk that Merlin assumed he used as a weapon, and a stupid and hungry grin was on his round face.
“Well fuck me with a broomstick, side wards! So that’s a troll. Big, isn’t it?” said Merlin, scared but a little awed.
“Merlin…” muttered Arthur and shook his head in disbelief.
Nobbie looked puzzled. With one hand he scratched his head and with the other he picked up his tree trunk, holding it in the middle. Eventually he shrugged his shoulders and grinned at Merlin. “Okey dokey. Better bend over then, innit.”
Great, thought Merlin as Arthur picked up his scabbard and drew out his sword, a chav troll.
“Look, you don’t want to eat us. We’re skinny and too young. I’m only nineteen.”
“Huh?” Nobbie looked at his hand and wriggled his fingers, trying to count. “But I can see just one of you. You trying ta make me look stupid? I’m hungry, not stupid.”
Merlin sighed impatiently and then cleared his throat. “I can make the hunger go away.”
Nobbie grinned again. “Yeah, I know as well, innit like.”
“Merlin, what are you doing?” Arthur urgently whispered.
“Trust me,” he whispered back. He raised his voice for the troll to hear. “Look at this.” He concentrated, trying to remember how he felt at the top of Weathertop when he first saw the troop of orcs. Then it happened a second time. First was the thrumming in his head and a faint haze of golden light in his vision.
“Ooh, like the shiny eyes. Nobbie’s gonna suck on ya eyes first. Ooooooo, pretty!” The last words were uttered as a pale blue light, similar to a will-o-wisp, started to hover a foot from the troll’s face. He tried to grab at it with both hands, sending the tree trunk crashing to the ground, narrowly missing the two youths. Merlin added two more lights, red and yellow, and made them dance around Nobbie’s head. The troll started to stomp around the glade trying to catch them, giggling with glee.
Merlin and Arthur gave him plenty of room.
The black haired youth began to tire and he felt sweat trickle down his face. “I can’t keep this up for long,” he muttered and Arthur half shielded his body with his own, careful not to block Merlin’s sight. Eventually the lights winked out and Merlin grasped onto the blonde’s shoulder for momentary support.
“Pooh, pretty things gone.” Nobbie looked at them with a confused expression, trying hard to think. “Oh yeah, din dins.” With a savage snarl he lunged for the two but suddenly stopped when a ray of sunlight struck the top of his head. With a creaking sound filling the air in the little glade, Nobbie turned to stone.
Merlin grinned triumphantly and turned to Arthur.
“Well, I could have bested him with my awsome skill at arms on my own. If I wanted to.”
“Sure you could.”
“Idiot,” Arthur grinned back.
“Arse crack!”
An arrow whistled through the air and snapped against Nobbie’s stone ear. Moments later an embarrassed looking elf came forward, holding several small fish on a hook in one hand and Cynan’s bow in the other. “I reacted first without thinking. That and I have spent my last arrow.”
“Did little Celimdol get fwightened of the big nasty stone troll?”
Celimdol rolled his eyes and smiled shyly. “Dick face!”
Arthur looked shocked and faced his lover. “You’re teaching the kid bad manners.”
Merlin just laughed hard, stopped only by his hiccupping.
They had breakfast nearer the road and away from the troll statue, lighting a small fire to cook the fish.
“How far is it now?” asked Merlin as they stood, ready to push on.
Celimdol peered along the road and into the distance. Merlin followed his gaze and marvelled at the sight of lightly wooded hills that gently sloped away from them, the dwarf road weaving like a grey ribbon until it could be seen no more. The sun was out and birds sang; Merlin felt a great peace fall over him.
“About four days, my lord.”
“Well, there’s no need to rush it,” Merlin said with a shrug.
With a sad smile Celimdol said, “I understand.”
Arthur placed his arm protectively around Merlin’s shoulders and they started to walk towards Rivendell.
* * *
They walked and ate during the day for the rest of their journey, staying extra quiet at night so as not to draw attention to themselves. They came across no more trolls, but sometimes in the silence of the night they heard far off stomping and fighting, but none of it came near them.
After eight days of their slow travelling, talking and (in Celimdol’s case) singing along the way, they eventually heard the sound of water rushing over stones.
“The Ford of Bruinen,” said the elf as he grinned happily. Suddenly he cocked his head and turned north.
“What do you hear and what do your elven eyes see?” asked Arthur, drawing his sword.
“Orch! A horde of two hundred_ no, three hundred, and they bear the banner of the red serpent and staff. They will be here in less than twenty minutes.”
“We could use some magic here,” said Arthur.
Merlin scratched his head and blew out a breath. “I haven’t enough power to defeat that many!”
The three were rooted to the spot in uncertainty, but within seconds Arthur took charge. “We run for the ford and find a defensive position.”
Celimdol looked back along the road they had walked and gave a cry of joy. “Anharadeth rides to join us and….and…it is my brother! Cynan lives my lords.” The two youths cheered at that and hugged each other, but the elf cut off their joy. “They will not reach in time. They are too far away, too far.”
“We’ll hold them off at the ford and buy time,” said Arthur with confidence, but Merlin knew that he did not hold it in his heart.
They ran.
The noise of the stomping of many, iron shod boots came closer every minute that passed. “We’re going to be overtaken,” gasped Merlin.
Celimdol stopped in his tracks while drawing out his swords and the other two turned to stare at him in shock. Orcs poured from around a bend in the road.
“Now is the time for heroics, my prince.” He saluted them with his right sword. “I buy you time. Cross the ford and quickly.”
Arthur cried out for him to stop, but Celimdol ignored him. Instead he turned and shouted; “Mae govannen, slaves of corruption. I am Prince Celimdol of Mirkwood. Brother in arms to these two behind me, whom I love,” he shouted in a loud voice. “You shall not pass me.”
The elf charged and spritely swerved arrows or knocked them aside with his blades until he was amongst the lead troops. Gracefully he fought a dance of death.
Merlin tugged at Arthur’s shirt sleeve as he blinked back tears. “Come on. Run!”
“Use your magic. Now!” The elf still lived, but orcs were trying to surround him. “Now, Merlin.”
“I can’t, I can’t. I don’t know what to do.” There was such a sound of despair in his voice that Arthur turned and tenderly touched his cheek.
“We run, hard. Let not his sacrifice be in vain.” His voice was hoarse and he grabbed Merlin’s shoulder and started to drag him along.
They ran so hard and for so long that Merlin thought his lungs would burst in his chest. The sound of battle gradually lessoned while the rushing water grew louder. Soon, through the branches of the beech trees that overhang the road, they saw and came across a large clearing. A wide and shallow river was beyond it; The Ford of Bruinen.
At the waters edge and facing them stood a terrifying creature. Twice the height of Arthur, it stood on powerful, goat-like legs. Its naked upper body was rippling with muscle and its huge biceps bulged as it wielded a two handed sword of black iron. Skin of pale gold matched the colour of the feathers, but the wings fell useless to the ground, nearly touching the stones. Raven-black hair framed its beautiful face; beautiful except for large canines that dripped black blood. The lips were curved upwards.
“Ah, insect. You have come to me and with one of royal blood. How sweet.” Such was the wave of power and pure evil that Merlin cried out in horror and cowered on his belly. Arthur stood in front of him, his sword held in a two handed grip.
“You will not lay a finger on him, Mordach Na.”
The creature of the First Age chuckled as he stepped closer. “You are no match for me, worm.” He swung with his great sword, but Arthur easily ducked aside and lunged, cutting deep in the creature’s forearm.
The wound quickly closed up and it laughed. Dropping the sword and moving lightning quick, Mordach Na grabbed the prince by the throat and hauled him up to his face. “I could snap your neck like a twig but I want to feel you squirm against my fangs.”
Arthur struggled, striking against the arm that held him, but it did no good. He slowly came closer to the vampire’s grinning mouth.
“Oi, knob head! Pick on someone who can give you a proper challenge.”
The creatures grin grew into a triumphant smile. “You, little prince, I shall feast on later.” Arthur was hurled aside and he struck his head on a boulder, stunned.
“Come, my insect. Come join your power to mine,” said Mordach Na as he opened his arms as if to embrace Merlin, whose eyes were glowing gold.
“I don’t think so, fucker.” Merlin shot out his hand and a powerful blast of air knocked the vampire in the chest and sent him into the water. Merlin curled his hand into a fist and a freak wave washed over the vampire Suddenly it froze into ice, trapping it. Its head was still free.
“This will not imprison me for long, fool,” and a few cracks appeared in the ice.
“It doesn’t have to, dick face. You are no match for me.” Merlin pointed his fist at the sky and storm clouds appeared instantly. He brought his fist down, a look of anger and determination on his face. Powerful lightning bolts struck three times on the writhing figure. With one last cry of fear, solid ice and putrid flesh exploded in all directions. The flesh turned to wisps of smoke and the smoke was blown away on a breeze.
Arthur groggily came up on one knee and Merlin ran over to him, his eyes now a deep blue. “You did it! You did it Merlin,” he cried out in triumph. Then his face turned fearful. “My love, you’re hurt.”
Merlin looked down and saw a dark red stain spread over his polo neck, centred on his belly. He fell backwards and landed heavily. “It begins then,” he gasped as the pain pinned him to the ground. Arthur held his hand, tears running down his cheeks. “Don’t die, Merlin. Please stay with me.”
Merlin brought the hand to his lips and gently kissed his knuckles. “The spell’s broken, Arthur. We’re going back to our own worlds. Promise me one thing. When all this seems like a dream, take it easy with your manservant.”
“Idiot,” Arthur said and wiped the tears away with his sleeve.
“Prat!”
“And a royal one.” The prince bent down and brushed his lips against his lover’s. He jerked up and felt the back of his head. “Ow!”
Merlin smiled softly. “Time for you to go,” he said as the blonde lay alongside him, still holding his hand. “I love you so much. Good bye.”
Arthur did not answer and Merlin’s hand felt empty. He cried silent tears and the ache returned to his heart.
Another hand clasped his and Anharadeth’s face came into view. A small scratch was on her cheek and her hair was a mess, but she still looked stern and beautiful.
“Celimdol?”
“Cynan tends to his brother’s wounds, my lord. He will live.”
Merlin sighed in relief and closed his eyes. “Tell Myfanwy I was close. I nearly got there, nearly got cured.” He felt sleepy, even though the pain in his stomach got worse.
“I will, young lord of London via Wales. My most brave little lore master.”
He sighed again, contented.
The blackness took him.
He did not float this time.
God! So much pain. He could feel fire in his shoulder. Snatches of a dream, or was it?
“We cannot stay upon the bridge, my lord. They are but moments away!”
“I can’t carry him any further. We make our stand here.”
“My lord prince?”
“Let us hope you finished off the last of their archers. String your bow, Celimdol. They’re here!”
He sank into a fiery sleep. Pain was everywhere. He then heard a different voice, as if far away.
“Can you hear me? Christ, so much blood. Kid, the ambulance is on it’s way. Stay with me. Please stay with me!”
Sleep, blessed sleep. He dreams of Myfanwy in a crowded common room, standing tall and imposing in front of a fat innkeeper (Butterbur?). “Have rooms readied for me…Stop! I have a vision methinks. Merlin?” The voice is hushed, a whisper in his mind. “You are hurt, I can sense it. Hold on, my little lore master. Hold on. Hold onto this world, for it is too soon for you to return. Hold on for Arthur’s sake!”
The vision washes away and is replaced by one of a worried Anharadeth riding fast on a dwarf road, a spotted lynx in front of her and balanced on the saddle. She is on a white steed (pony?), her staff held before her and a light shining forth from the sapphire, scattering the few Southrons who dare try and bar her way.
Visions swim through his mind. A lidless eye, searching, always searching; a horde of orcs, one shouting “find halfling, find the halfling,”; a tall and proud man peppered with wicked arrows (he cries inside at the bravery) while two hobbits are carried away; an old grey haired man in a grand hall of stone cursing his second son named Faramir for not being the first; a white robed ancient, wondering how he came to the eaves of Fanghorn Forest after defeating the Balrog in the deeps and peaks of the Misty Mountains.
The fire spreads to his mind and consumes him.
“Christ! I won’t lose you. I’m a nurse, we both are, Gwen and me. Stay with me, kid. Please stay with me.”
Sirens in the distance.
Blackness.
* * *
“Though I am young, long did I travel with my mother in her final years, and she taught me much of the healing properties of herbs. I have found athelas and it has many qualities, especially in the hands of a king. Chew on it and place it in his wound. I can only hope that it will cure the poison.” The voice was soft, but certain. It filled his heart with its sing song lilt that reminded him of his home, of Wales.
“But I’m not a king yet,” said the uncertain voice.
Just fucking use it on me you prick, he thought. Then his mind drifted to the winter’s cold, a wickedly curved knife in his belly and a Halloween costumed kid dancing through the snow.
* * *
Merlin opened his eyes. He felt so tired, but also very much alive. A makeshift shelter was above him made out of cut branches and a cloak, but not his own because he was wrapped in that one. A satchel was his pillow. He scrambled up into a sitting position and saw Celimdol and Arthur, both smiling at him and looking relieved.
“Where are we…how long?”
“Four days and we’re in the Trollshaws,” answered Arthur. He came over and, after looking into his eyes, searching, he kissed him. “Don’t do that to me again,” he whispered.
“I won’t. What happened?”
Celimdol came over to Merlin’s side with his flask of water and a handful of walnuts. Merlin’s stomach grumbled and he chewed on them as the elf answered him. “The orcs that were pursuing us will do so no more. An emblem did I find on their leader; a red serpent coiled around an upright staff. Mordach Na.”
Merlin shivered. “I don’t particularly want to meet a troll” he eventually said. “This is the Trollshaws after all.”
Arthur laughed and ruffed up his hair (did all Arthurs have to do that?). “Celimdol says that if we travel by day then we will avoid them. They hate the sunlight. Pity, I would love to hunt one.”
Merlin rolled his eyes and playfully punched the blonde’s shoulder. Arthur was about to do the same back but thought better of it.
“Ha! Got you.”
Arthur ruffled his hair some more instead.
With still another two hours to dawn, Celimdol disappeared into the night to gather more food and water for their journey. Merlin and Arthur rested peacefully in each other’s arms, staring at the stars in companionable silence, waiting for him.
“You know what? When I saw you fall with that arrow in you, part of me inside died.” He swallowed. “I meant it when I said I won’t allow any Merlin, anywhere, die on me.”
Merlin kissed him on his forehead, thinking of snow and a knife in his belly. “When you get back, just love your Merlin. All this will seem like a dream to you back in your own world, but just love him. If I know that, it will make everything worthwhile and bearable.”
Arthur squeezed him gently in his strong arms and stroked his hair.
A huge, tusked face leered over their prone forms.
“Awww that so sweet, that is, but Nobbie is hungry, he is.”
The youths scrambled to their feet and backed off from the monster. It was at least twelve feet in height, pot bellied and thick limbed. His horny, scaled skin was the colour of muddy water and a thread bare black skin of some animal covered his groin. Much like his ears, in place of a nose was instead a slit, dripping mucus onto his tusks and chin. The latter and two hands were resting on a tree trunk that Merlin assumed he used as a weapon, and a stupid and hungry grin was on his round face.
“Well fuck me with a broomstick, side wards! So that’s a troll. Big, isn’t it?” said Merlin, scared but a little awed.
“Merlin…” muttered Arthur and shook his head in disbelief.
Nobbie looked puzzled. With one hand he scratched his head and with the other he picked up his tree trunk, holding it in the middle. Eventually he shrugged his shoulders and grinned at Merlin. “Okey dokey. Better bend over then, innit.”
Great, thought Merlin as Arthur picked up his scabbard and drew out his sword, a chav troll.
“Look, you don’t want to eat us. We’re skinny and too young. I’m only nineteen.”
“Huh?” Nobbie looked at his hand and wriggled his fingers, trying to count. “But I can see just one of you. You trying ta make me look stupid? I’m hungry, not stupid.”
Merlin sighed impatiently and then cleared his throat. “I can make the hunger go away.”
Nobbie grinned again. “Yeah, I know as well, innit like.”
“Merlin, what are you doing?” Arthur urgently whispered.
“Trust me,” he whispered back. He raised his voice for the troll to hear. “Look at this.” He concentrated, trying to remember how he felt at the top of Weathertop when he first saw the troop of orcs. Then it happened a second time. First was the thrumming in his head and a faint haze of golden light in his vision.
“Ooh, like the shiny eyes. Nobbie’s gonna suck on ya eyes first. Ooooooo, pretty!” The last words were uttered as a pale blue light, similar to a will-o-wisp, started to hover a foot from the troll’s face. He tried to grab at it with both hands, sending the tree trunk crashing to the ground, narrowly missing the two youths. Merlin added two more lights, red and yellow, and made them dance around Nobbie’s head. The troll started to stomp around the glade trying to catch them, giggling with glee.
Merlin and Arthur gave him plenty of room.
The black haired youth began to tire and he felt sweat trickle down his face. “I can’t keep this up for long,” he muttered and Arthur half shielded his body with his own, careful not to block Merlin’s sight. Eventually the lights winked out and Merlin grasped onto the blonde’s shoulder for momentary support.
“Pooh, pretty things gone.” Nobbie looked at them with a confused expression, trying hard to think. “Oh yeah, din dins.” With a savage snarl he lunged for the two but suddenly stopped when a ray of sunlight struck the top of his head. With a creaking sound filling the air in the little glade, Nobbie turned to stone.
Merlin grinned triumphantly and turned to Arthur.
“Well, I could have bested him with my awsome skill at arms on my own. If I wanted to.”
“Sure you could.”
“Idiot,” Arthur grinned back.
“Arse crack!”
An arrow whistled through the air and snapped against Nobbie’s stone ear. Moments later an embarrassed looking elf came forward, holding several small fish on a hook in one hand and Cynan’s bow in the other. “I reacted first without thinking. That and I have spent my last arrow.”
“Did little Celimdol get fwightened of the big nasty stone troll?”
Celimdol rolled his eyes and smiled shyly. “Dick face!”
Arthur looked shocked and faced his lover. “You’re teaching the kid bad manners.”
Merlin just laughed hard, stopped only by his hiccupping.
They had breakfast nearer the road and away from the troll statue, lighting a small fire to cook the fish.
“How far is it now?” asked Merlin as they stood, ready to push on.
Celimdol peered along the road and into the distance. Merlin followed his gaze and marvelled at the sight of lightly wooded hills that gently sloped away from them, the dwarf road weaving like a grey ribbon until it could be seen no more. The sun was out and birds sang; Merlin felt a great peace fall over him.
“About four days, my lord.”
“Well, there’s no need to rush it,” Merlin said with a shrug.
With a sad smile Celimdol said, “I understand.”
Arthur placed his arm protectively around Merlin’s shoulders and they started to walk towards Rivendell.
* * *
They walked and ate during the day for the rest of their journey, staying extra quiet at night so as not to draw attention to themselves. They came across no more trolls, but sometimes in the silence of the night they heard far off stomping and fighting, but none of it came near them.
After eight days of their slow travelling, talking and (in Celimdol’s case) singing along the way, they eventually heard the sound of water rushing over stones.
“The Ford of Bruinen,” said the elf as he grinned happily. Suddenly he cocked his head and turned north.
“What do you hear and what do your elven eyes see?” asked Arthur, drawing his sword.
“Orch! A horde of two hundred_ no, three hundred, and they bear the banner of the red serpent and staff. They will be here in less than twenty minutes.”
“We could use some magic here,” said Arthur.
Merlin scratched his head and blew out a breath. “I haven’t enough power to defeat that many!”
The three were rooted to the spot in uncertainty, but within seconds Arthur took charge. “We run for the ford and find a defensive position.”
Celimdol looked back along the road they had walked and gave a cry of joy. “Anharadeth rides to join us and….and…it is my brother! Cynan lives my lords.” The two youths cheered at that and hugged each other, but the elf cut off their joy. “They will not reach in time. They are too far away, too far.”
“We’ll hold them off at the ford and buy time,” said Arthur with confidence, but Merlin knew that he did not hold it in his heart.
They ran.
The noise of the stomping of many, iron shod boots came closer every minute that passed. “We’re going to be overtaken,” gasped Merlin.
Celimdol stopped in his tracks while drawing out his swords and the other two turned to stare at him in shock. Orcs poured from around a bend in the road.
“Now is the time for heroics, my prince.” He saluted them with his right sword. “I buy you time. Cross the ford and quickly.”
Arthur cried out for him to stop, but Celimdol ignored him. Instead he turned and shouted; “Mae govannen, slaves of corruption. I am Prince Celimdol of Mirkwood. Brother in arms to these two behind me, whom I love,” he shouted in a loud voice. “You shall not pass me.”
The elf charged and spritely swerved arrows or knocked them aside with his blades until he was amongst the lead troops. Gracefully he fought a dance of death.
Merlin tugged at Arthur’s shirt sleeve as he blinked back tears. “Come on. Run!”
“Use your magic. Now!” The elf still lived, but orcs were trying to surround him. “Now, Merlin.”
“I can’t, I can’t. I don’t know what to do.” There was such a sound of despair in his voice that Arthur turned and tenderly touched his cheek.
“We run, hard. Let not his sacrifice be in vain.” His voice was hoarse and he grabbed Merlin’s shoulder and started to drag him along.
They ran so hard and for so long that Merlin thought his lungs would burst in his chest. The sound of battle gradually lessoned while the rushing water grew louder. Soon, through the branches of the beech trees that overhang the road, they saw and came across a large clearing. A wide and shallow river was beyond it; The Ford of Bruinen.
At the waters edge and facing them stood a terrifying creature. Twice the height of Arthur, it stood on powerful, goat-like legs. Its naked upper body was rippling with muscle and its huge biceps bulged as it wielded a two handed sword of black iron. Skin of pale gold matched the colour of the feathers, but the wings fell useless to the ground, nearly touching the stones. Raven-black hair framed its beautiful face; beautiful except for large canines that dripped black blood. The lips were curved upwards.
“Ah, insect. You have come to me and with one of royal blood. How sweet.” Such was the wave of power and pure evil that Merlin cried out in horror and cowered on his belly. Arthur stood in front of him, his sword held in a two handed grip.
“You will not lay a finger on him, Mordach Na.”
The creature of the First Age chuckled as he stepped closer. “You are no match for me, worm.” He swung with his great sword, but Arthur easily ducked aside and lunged, cutting deep in the creature’s forearm.
The wound quickly closed up and it laughed. Dropping the sword and moving lightning quick, Mordach Na grabbed the prince by the throat and hauled him up to his face. “I could snap your neck like a twig but I want to feel you squirm against my fangs.”
Arthur struggled, striking against the arm that held him, but it did no good. He slowly came closer to the vampire’s grinning mouth.
“Oi, knob head! Pick on someone who can give you a proper challenge.”
The creatures grin grew into a triumphant smile. “You, little prince, I shall feast on later.” Arthur was hurled aside and he struck his head on a boulder, stunned.
“Come, my insect. Come join your power to mine,” said Mordach Na as he opened his arms as if to embrace Merlin, whose eyes were glowing gold.
“I don’t think so, fucker.” Merlin shot out his hand and a powerful blast of air knocked the vampire in the chest and sent him into the water. Merlin curled his hand into a fist and a freak wave washed over the vampire Suddenly it froze into ice, trapping it. Its head was still free.
“This will not imprison me for long, fool,” and a few cracks appeared in the ice.
“It doesn’t have to, dick face. You are no match for me.” Merlin pointed his fist at the sky and storm clouds appeared instantly. He brought his fist down, a look of anger and determination on his face. Powerful lightning bolts struck three times on the writhing figure. With one last cry of fear, solid ice and putrid flesh exploded in all directions. The flesh turned to wisps of smoke and the smoke was blown away on a breeze.
Arthur groggily came up on one knee and Merlin ran over to him, his eyes now a deep blue. “You did it! You did it Merlin,” he cried out in triumph. Then his face turned fearful. “My love, you’re hurt.”
Merlin looked down and saw a dark red stain spread over his polo neck, centred on his belly. He fell backwards and landed heavily. “It begins then,” he gasped as the pain pinned him to the ground. Arthur held his hand, tears running down his cheeks. “Don’t die, Merlin. Please stay with me.”
Merlin brought the hand to his lips and gently kissed his knuckles. “The spell’s broken, Arthur. We’re going back to our own worlds. Promise me one thing. When all this seems like a dream, take it easy with your manservant.”
“Idiot,” Arthur said and wiped the tears away with his sleeve.
“Prat!”
“And a royal one.” The prince bent down and brushed his lips against his lover’s. He jerked up and felt the back of his head. “Ow!”
Merlin smiled softly. “Time for you to go,” he said as the blonde lay alongside him, still holding his hand. “I love you so much. Good bye.”
Arthur did not answer and Merlin’s hand felt empty. He cried silent tears and the ache returned to his heart.
Another hand clasped his and Anharadeth’s face came into view. A small scratch was on her cheek and her hair was a mess, but she still looked stern and beautiful.
“Celimdol?”
“Cynan tends to his brother’s wounds, my lord. He will live.”
Merlin sighed in relief and closed his eyes. “Tell Myfanwy I was close. I nearly got there, nearly got cured.” He felt sleepy, even though the pain in his stomach got worse.
“I will, young lord of London via Wales. My most brave little lore master.”
He sighed again, contented.
The blackness took him.
He did not float this time.