9.
The lake was spread out before them in all of its majesty. The surface of the blue water was whipped into lapping waves by a stiff breeze that came from the north and the west and in the distance the purple haze of tall hills formed a backdrop that took their breaths away.
“Lake Evendim,” said Celimdol in reverence. “Its true name in Sindarin, the tongue of my people, is Nenuial, meaning Lake of Twilight. The Lady Myfanwy, blessed is the day of her return, said that a nature-spirit similar in form to Tom Bombadil of the Old Forest resides in its deeps, though none of my people have heard from her since the days of the kings of Arnor many centuries past.”
The road had come to the water’s edge before it abruptly turned south. They stood in silence, the little group, and had the reins of their mounts in their hands as they drank in the beauty of the vista before them and of the elf’s lilting words.
Into the silence Merlin whispered “The Lady of the Lake.”
Arthur rolled his eyes good naturedly and the lore master without a staff grinned in response.
Then in happened, a voice, a presence in his mind.
Aye, the Lady of the Lake. I have been called that before by kings of, in your reckoning, such a long time ago. Come to me, you mortals of Power, for I would have words with you.
As he sank into darkness, Merlin heard exclamations of “Morgana?”, “Oh my God, Gwen” and “Merlin. NO!”
Merlin stood in a cave and to one side was a curtain of water. Am I behind a waterfall then?
Gwen and Morgana were nearby with a look of awe on their faces.
He turned to what they were staring at and immediately went down on one knee. The other two followed his lead. Before them stood a tall, proud woman dressed in robes of watery blue and with black, long tresses that fell to her slim waist.
“Merlin, is this one of your dreams?” asked Morgana. Gwen kept silent, but he felt her hands slip into his and he squeezed it with reassurance. His response was stopped by the being’s words.
“Many suns and moons have passed over my waters since those of Power have come to the edge of my domain and I would have words with you.” The voice sounded musical, like trickling water over pebbles in a stream. “And like the kings of old you show me the respect that they once offered. Rise, for I am pleased by your actions.”
Merlin did not know why, but he knew that he had did the right thing and slowly stood to face the serene and beautiful being. “My lady, you must be the one that Celimdol spoke of?”
The lady tilted her head slightly to study him and at first he thought she would not answer, but then she spoke. “The immortal is right in what he said. Blessed will be the day indeed when the one called Myfanwy arrives back to your fold. However, time is short and I would speak of much. There is an island on my borders that is recently closed to me. It is wrong, it is evil, and it goes against the very nature of Arda and is against the Song that created all things, even I. It hurts my body and its foulness seeps into my waters. Unlike the mortals that strut on the surface of this land, I am not too proud to seek out allies to further my cause.”
“My…my lady,” said Gwen, her voice faltering and Merlin gave her hand another squeeze. “How can we help you?”
The being smiled gently. “Gwenhyfar of the Smith, you are unsure of your Talent and think yourself of no great worth, but you are wrong. Coupled with the Honourable Knight you are a force for good, for nurture, for love; the last being the most powerful force of mortals. Do not doubt yourself.”
“Thank you my lady,” and Gwen curtseyed.
The Lady turned to Morgana. “Dark is and has been the path of the sisters of your ripples, yet your path is yet undecided. You are like a lily on the water, drifting from one side to another. However, you do not have to drift. Choose wisely, sister of my heart. Your Pattern may be set, but there are enough loose threads for you to form your own weave. Choose wisely, especially when weaving your soul to another.”
“I don’t know what to say. I’m evil then? I don’t feel evil. I don’t want to be evil. I’ve read the Norman French legends and the connection they have to our names. Is my role to be a nasty bitch then?” Merlin heard such despair in Morgana’s voice that, with his other hand, he clasped hers and she looked into his eyes with gratitude and fondness.
“I say again, sister of my heart; of all your ripples, your threads are yours to shape. Choose wisely the heart you knit with. It is beyond my tenure to speak further, for then I become part of your own weave, and that will not profit you. You are not of Arda and my intervention will confuse you more. Silence now, daughter of ripples, for many words need to be spoken and time grows ever short.”
The gaze of the Lady then turned to Merlin and he felt so much heart ache that he let go of his friends to hug himself in futile comfort.
“My heart suffers with yours. Such is the connection that has been wrought and I wish it not. Dark are the times that you and all your ripples find yourself in. Dark now and in the future. I cannot give you succour for you must find it in your own strength and in that of the Warrior of Light.”
Tears then fell from the beautiful woman’s face as she held out her arms to embrace him. He rushed into them to find solace.
“Have courage, mortal,” she whispered in his ear. “I regret bringing you into my domain, for through you the Druid has shown me all of existence. On your world my sisters and brothers are dead or dying and it saddens me much. Enough!” With one hand she cupped his chin and brought his face up to stare at hers. “There is darkness that some mortals call an island that I have no domain over. You have power, my lord. Break it or all that you wish for will be for nothing.”
She pushed him away, not roughly, and smiled at them all. “Your loved ones call you back and I have not the power to keep you longer, though I may wish it otherwise. Sister Morgana, we have a connection now, through the power and wiles of the Druid. We will speak again many moons from now. To you all I say thus, help me and I will help you.” She said her final words while she looked directly at Merlin and he felt that they were uttered for him alone.
“I’ll do what I can, my lady.”
With a final nod from the being, all turned to blackness.
Merlin opened his eyes and looked up into the blue ones of his lover. Arthur held him in his arms while he sat on the stony ground and a look of relief swept across his face. “Morgana and Gwen have already come back and told us what happened. Trust you to be the last one back, idiot.”
Merlin mirrored the blonde’s smile. “Fucking prat.” He then braced himself up on his elbows to give him a deep, lingering kiss. The scrawny youth moaned as Arthur cradled his face in his hands and pushed with his tongue. Merlin felt contented. All was right with the world as long as Arthur was by his side.
A not so polite cough from Morgana made them come up for air and they stood. “Let’s rescue this guy for Myfanwy so I can find this heart I’m supposed to knit myself to, whatever that means.”
Merlin laughed as he disentangled himself from his lover, but, looking straight at the black haired beauty, he saw a flicker of uncertainty in her face. “I’ll be there for you,” he mouthed so that only she could see.
She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks,” she whispered. “But start calling me a fag hag and I’ll sack my maid. You know what that means. And I’m thinking of you doing it while naked.”
“Thanks for what?” asked Arthur, an unsure grin on his face.
They both laughed at him. They laughed even more at his annoyed pout.
* * *
Gilladrin reigned in his horse and jumped down to inspect the abandoned fire pit by the side of the road. He delicately picked up a blacked stick and smelled its charged end. He reckoned that no more than a day had passed since the fire had been abandoned. He quickly scanned the area and noticed a patch of withered grass with some dried blood. Even now new shoots were replacing the old and this puzzled him.
The fair haired warrior suddenly stood and drew out his two short swords. “Show yourself. Be warned, I am a champion of Lothlorien. On your life, be warned.”
A dwarf came out from behind rosemary bushes, axe in hand. “Gilladrin? So it was you making that racket galloping down the road.”
The elf relaxed and sheathed his weapons. “Bjalar, you were sent alone to investigate?”
With a look of mock disdain, the dwarf warrior turned and walked away from the road. The elf followed. “The blood?” the champion asked.
“Aye lad, it does not bode well. Let us consult the lady, you and I.”
They walked some minutes to another campsite, a cold one and also abandoned, and Gilladrin smiled when he saw his brother and the Lady Anharadeth. The two were sat on fallen logs and sharing elven way bread, lembas.
“Brother Aneirin, Lady Anharadeth, it is good to cast eyes on my fellow Brewers after many days of hard travel.”
Aneirin stood up abruptly and cleared his throat. “Report my young brother.”
Gilladrin smiled again at his brother’s discomfort and bowed his head. “The rangers of Esteldin were departing when I got there. They have had a call from Lord Elrond to muster at Rivendell before travelling south to meet their lord. But we have more pressing business at hand.”
“Indeed we do.” Anharadeth used her staff to help her stand. She winced slightly.
“My lady, you are hurt?”
She brushed his concern away with a look of annoyance. “Trolls attacked our camp last night. I will live. More importantly, I feel that our new Brewers have come to some mishap, but still travel west and away from the road. The traces of blood at the road side do not bode well and I trust your sister has the matter in hand, as I am sure is the case.”
Gilladrin left unsaid that it might have been his sister’s blood that had been spilt. He flicked a gaze at his brother and knew that Aneirin thought the same. “I can scout ahead and perhaps catch up with our kinship members.”
Anharadeth nodded once. “Aye my lord, of all of us you have the greater wood craft. Rest your horse and do as you say.” The lore master held out her arm and closed her eyes. A dove came from the surrounding trees and landed on her outstretched hand. Within moments it flew off westwards. She opened her eyes, her breath laboured and sat back down again. “Not the best pair of eyes to scout for those we seek, but perhaps the images I eventually get back will help our cause. I must rest some more. I am tired, so very tired.”
Bjalar let slip a look of concern. “We stay until night fall, but a few hours away. Then we can move on.”
The noble of Gondor was about to argue but she relented even before she started to speak. “Between Aneirin and you I am persuaded and yield to your bullying.” She said the last words with a wan smile on her lips. To Gilladrin she said “Your rest, however, will be short.”
Gilladrin bowed his head once more and went to tend to his horse.
* * *
Towards the end of the day, as the shadows became long and the waters reflected an orange hue, they came in sight of a bridge made of large white blocks of stone and with three arches. It connected the land to a small island that was filled with silver birches. The island itself was dominated by a ruin of a tower in its middle. Further along the lake’s edge and in the far distance, they could see great mausoleums. Some were half submerged in water.
“Leave the horses here,” commanded Arthur. “Morrowdim will look after them.” He patted the flank of his mount and whispered in its ear “Take care of them. It’s been an honour to have known you.”
The horse snorted and nudged his shoulder with its head and he laughed. “Come on then,” he said to the others once more as he unwrapped Gilgalad from its blanket sheathe. “Let’s finish this.”
The blonde turned to look at each of his companions in the eye, his smile mirrored in their faces. Lance brought out his sword and adjusted his shield and nodded once. Gwen smiled shyly and placed her hand on her lover’s shoulder. She tipped up on her toes and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. Morgana, Myfanwy’s staff in her hand, tilted her head higher, her countenance proud and defiant.
Celimdol unsheathed his swords and went down on one knee and placed them on the paving stones before him. “My swords are your swords. I place my soul in your hands and gladly.” As the young elf stood there was a small smile on his lips and his eyes were afire with anticipation. “A bold day, a red day, a day of reckoning for those that come across us. I am ready my lord prince.”
When Arthur stared in Merlin’s face, the young artist’s eyes were golden but he did not smile. “Let’s get Cynan from those fucking bastards and go home.”
Arthur stepped forward and chastely kissed him on the lips. “For the Brewers, for Cynan and for home,” he said quietly and turned to lead them to the foot of the bridge.
As they crossed and reached the middle they saw a group of about twenty men forty paces from the island’s edge with bows drawn. Behind them stood a muscled man with Cynan beside him, his hands bound behind his back and his head was bowed. Behind these still were three large bonfires, each tended to by a crouched orc. The creatures swayed to and fro as if in a trance.
The group walked cautiously forward until they were a pace from leaving the bridge and stepping onto the island.
The muscled man took a step forward but was still behind his shield of arrows. “I am Lord Malthidel, descendant of the kings of Numenor and captain of the Black Watch. What rabble dares come against me?”
“Something is wrong,” whispered Gwen.
“Merlin?” asked Arthur, also in a whisper, although he did not turn his face from the enemy.
“Gwen’s right. I can shield us from the arrows, I’m certain of it. But I can’t affect the archers. Something is protecting them. The orc shamans I bet.”
“Well? Are you to stand there like the cowards you are? Who among you will challenge my authority and for what prize?” The slaver smirked and unsheathed a two handed sabre that had been strapped to his back.
Arthur held Gilgalad aloft and shouted out his defiance. “I am Arthur Pendragon, Third Officer, and we are the Buckland Brewers, come to take back our own. I challenge you and for Cynan.”
“Be wary, my lord, for he has no honour,” whispered Celimdol.
Malthidel laughed out loud and knocked Cynan to the ground with the hilt of his weapon. “You call this a prize? I want the elf and the one called Merlin. You can take this used piece of meat if you win.”
Arthur hesitated but Merlin said “Take the bastard.” The blonde grinned and strode a few steps forward. The slaver did the same as he pushed passed his archers.
“This will be too easy,” snarled the man and took a swing. Arthur parried it easily and the sabre was cut in two.
With shock Malthidel gasped “What trickery is this?”
“Do you give up and do I get my prize?”
The slaver threw the hilt at the blonde and, as Arthur ducked, the man lunged and started to wrestle for control of Gilgalad. One hand grasped the sword’s hilt while the other closed around the young man’s throat. “Kill the rest but spare my prizes,” he growled. The two combatants scrabbled to the ground.
A hail of arrows was unleashed, but they fell harmlessly to either side of the group and into the water.
Arthur’s lungs burned for air as he strained to keep hold of his sword. With his free hand he grasped Malthidel’s throat as he shifted his body so he was atop the slaver. The man was strong, but so was the blonde and they both grimaced as they fought to the death.
“I said kill them,” growled Malthidel in anger.
The archers threw aside their bows and unsheathed short swords. They ran with blood curdling yells towards the bridge. Lance and Celimdol met their charge. Morgana used the lore master staff as a club in any opening she found. Scores of men and orcs sprang from behind tree and boulder to join their fellows. They ignored their lord as they passed, fearful of his wrath and so they were loathed to interfere.
Arthur heard Gwen gasp and he stole a glance in her direction. He saw Merlin, his eyes aflame, on his knees as blood trickled from his nose and ears.
“I…I’m gonna break this area of dead magic. Got to help Arthur.”
The blonde turned his attention back to his fight and bore down savagely against the man. He had to finish this. He had to get to his lover.
* * *
“The dove showed me a picture of fighting. The Buckland Brewers are outnumbered!” Anharadeth let the bird fly off into the twilight.
“Not for long, if I have anything to say about it,” grumbled Bjalar, urging his mount forward with impatience.
“You speak truly, friend,” said Gilladrin as he did the same. The elf had come back to them after he had scouted north and found no trace of their quarry.
“Go forward my Brewers,” said the lore master. “I must follow at a slower pace.” Aneirin hesitated. “I command it. Your shield is needed, guardian of Lothlorien.”
In silence the warrior galloped after his brother and the dwarf.
Anharadeth sighed in frustration. Her left side felt as if it was one great bruise from the blow it had suffered from the fist of an irate troll. It slowed her down and she felt useless. “Hold on my Brewers,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “Hold on my little lore master.”
* * *
Merlin was back in the cave behind the waterfall and he looked at his hand. It was faint like a flickering hologram from Star Wars and growing fainter with each beat of his heart. “Am I dead then?” he asked himself.
“You are dying.”
He turned and saw the Lady of the Lake, her face serene.
“Arthur’s in trouble. I need help.”
“And you shall have it. I give you a gift, Merlin of London via Wales. By the grace of the Druid, I give you a gift.”
Beside her a column of water appeared and shimmered into the form of Myfanwy. Merlin smiled and his heart gave a leap of joy at seeing his adopted sister. The fair haired lore master reached out and gently grasped Merlin’s wrist. Her hand closed over the silver bracelet. “Have courage my brother in lore. You are not alone.”
A flash of white light blinded him for but a moment and he found himself once more on his knees on the white bridge. Myfanwy stood next to him.
“Morgana,” she shouted and the woman smiled at the sight of the elf and then lobbed the emerald topped staff. In one fluid movement Myfanwy caught it and placed its tip at Merlin’s brow. “Hebo estel. Be hale, be whole.”
Merlin felt renewed energy course through his veins and he jumped to his feet.
“Finish what you have started, for only you can.” the lore master said and smiled at him.
The youth smiled back and then grimaced as he concentrated on the island before him. His vision turned into a golden haze and he raised his arms. “Yeah,” he said. “Time to fucking finish it.”
The three bonfires grew suddenly in size and engulfed the orcs shamans that were tending them. When the flames subsided and were put out, no trace of the creatures could be seen.
Merlin gasped and his vision went back to normal. He held onto Myfanwy’s shoulder. “We have to help Arthur.”
The lore master looked over at the struggling men. Arthur was on top of the slaver and they were both chocking the life out of each other. “And Cynan,” she said uncertainly.
Merlin followed her gaze and saw that the elf hunter was standing. In one quick movement he snapped the cords that bound his arms and started to walk forward slowly. There was a savage and malicious grin on his face.
This looks like the shit’s gonna hit the fan.
* * *
Arthur knew that his friends were winning their battle. There were cries of defeat amongst the cries of the dying and the sound of heavy footfalls as men ran away passed him. He could also hear new voices; the gruff battle cries of Bjalar and Gilladrin singing.
However, he had to concentrate on his own troubles. Malthidel kneed at the blonde’s groin but the mithril coat protected him. Arthur did the same back and the slaver grunted in pain. The muscled man let go of Arthur’s throat to pry the hold around his own, but the blonde bore down relentlessly. His mind was full of anger and savagery. With a final grunt of effort he heard Malthidel’s neck snap. Arthur rolled away to one side, exhausted. As the adrenalin left his body he started to tremble and he felt sick to the stomach. He had just killed a man.
I’m not a killer. I’m not. His thoughts were interrupted by a harsh laugh and he looked up to see Cynan walk slowly towards him. The hunter snared a fleeing archer by the throat and, with his other hand, punched into the man’s chest and brought out the unfortunate’s beating heart. With savage glee the elf threw both pieces of flesh to either side.
Gilgalad shone brightly with a white light and Arthur picked it and himself up.
“You must be Cynan. What’s happened to you?” Arthur took a step back from the advancing elf. He was reminded of the minstrel that attacked them back in the Brewers’ town house in Bree. The animated corpse had a similar leer and a eerie white light in his eyes. Was Cynan already dead then?
Cynan’s voice was low and barely a whisper and it sent a chill down the blonde’s spine. “Your death with break him and he will be mine.”
Arthur back off another step and stumbled on one of the dead archers. As the elf hunter advanced with his outstretched hand aimed at his chest, a large shield came between them, carried by a tall elf in black armour.
“Get back to the lore masters young Brewer. I will deal with this.”
Arthur heard Myfanwy shout out in despair. “Aneirin, do not harm my lover. He is not himself.”
Before the elf guardian or Arthur could speak, Cynan grasped the shield with one hand and threw it and its bearer aside with surprising strength. Aneirin crumpled against a boulder, momentarily stunned. The hunter advanced another step, within reach of Arthur’s heart and the blonde knew that his end had come.
“NO!” Arthur heard Merlin’s voice but he continued to stare up at Cynan’s, transfixed by the light in his eyes. He would not kill Cynan using Gilgalad, but he was about to be killed by him. He closed his eyes and thought of his lover and the brief few months they had had with each other. Arthur wished he could have had more.
* * *
“NO!” cried out Merlin. He would not lose his Arthur. His vision shone golden and it was as if time had frozen, or slowed. Without thinking, the scrawny youth ran forward and pushed Arthur to one side. He then gingerly reached out towards Cynan and slipped the silver ring off the hunter’s hand before he dropped it into his satchel. In his mind came a wail of outrage.
You will not escape a third time, wretch.
Yeah? You’ll be too busy. Good luck in finding the One Ring, twat face.
With a final scream of rage, the Witchking’s presence in his mind was gone. Merlin looked around and saw that time was back to normal. He knelt beside his lover and kissed him. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, prat,” he whispered.
“I like that, idiot.” Arthur got to his feet and helped Merlin to his. They both turned to Cynan, who was breathing hard and with a look of confusion on his face.
“Prince Arthur, Lord Merlin? I feel as if I have been in a dream, or a nightmare.” He looked passed them and smiled. Myfanwy rushed into his waiting embrace. “I think I may have struck you, my lady. For that I can never forgive myself.”
Myfanwy kissed him then laughed. “Then it will be I who forgives you, my love. Welcome back.”
“Indeed, my Lord Cynan, welcome back.” The four turned and saw Anharadeth on her horse trot over the bridge, the other mounts behind her and led by Morrowdim. “And a welcome to all new Brewers this day.”
Aneirin helped her down and the lore master allowed him with good grace. “Come, let us make a camp in yonder tower and talk of good deeds done and deeds that have yet to pass.”
Amongst the white stones of the tower, Gilladrin lit a fire and Celimdol prepared a stew of beef and dried tubers. When they had washed they sat and ate in silence and Merlin looked about at his friends, both old and new. Morgana was with Myfanwy and the two spoke in low tones. Gwen knelt beside Lance as she patched up a small wound he had taken on his shoulder. Cynan and Celimdol also spoke quietly in their own tongue with each other and off to one side. The elder brother finally hugged the younger and kissed him on his cheek. Celimdol had tears threatening to spill down his face and Merlin knew in his heart that they were saying their goodbyes. Gilladrin looked on at the two elves of Mirkwood and smiled sadly. Anharadeth followed his gaze and, when she turned back to the champion of Lothlorien, she nodded once, understanding what had occurred. Bjalar ate noisily and finished off his second helping.
Aneirin broke the silence as he finished the meal from his bowl and stood. “Prince Arthur. I have a gift for you.” The elf warrior went to his horse and came back with his sheathed two handed sword. He took out the grey blade in one fluid movement and handed the scabbard to the blonde. “Blades such as Gilgalad shoud have a suitable home. I hope that this will suffice.”
Arthur stammered his thanks and Merlin looked on in admiration as his lover sheathed the famous sword and strapped it to his back.
“I wish that all our new Brewers could have such gifts, but perhaps those of friendship and love will be enough for now.” Anharadeth stood and turned to Myfanwy as she and Morgana came back to the fire. “It is time to say our farewells, sister in lore.”
“Heavy though my heart is at the prospect, my Lady Anharadeth, I fear that you speak truly.” Myfanwy turned to Merlin. “Your book of drawings, if you please.”
Merlin pulled out his sketchbook and handed it to the elf maiden. She gracefully flicked the pages until she smiled and placed the book on the ground before her. The elf had opened it onto a page of a sleeping Arthur, a sheet half covered his naked form. She gently placed the foot of her staff on the centre of the picture and the emerald began to glow softly. The elf maiden began to sing a mournful tune. Anharadeth joined her, her voice slightly lower and Gilladrin added with his tenor. When they stopped, an arched doorway of silvery light was etched onto a wall and through it they could see swirling grey mists. In the distance was a hooded figure, robed in green and carrying an oak staff.
“I suppose this is goodbye then,” said Merlin, his throat thick with emotion. Anharadeth hugged him, as did Myfanwy.
Cynan bowed low and when he straightened he took both Arthur’s and Merlin’s hands in his own. “I owe you my life and such a debt will not be forgotten. Until such a time, I beg you, look after my brother.”
“We will, I promise,” said Arthur and Cynan gave one of his rare smiles and let them go. He bowed again before he hugged his brother one last time.
The little group finished off their goodbyes and entered the grey mists. Within one step they were beside the hooded old man. Merlin turned back, but the silver doorway was gone and he felt an ache in his heart. He slipped his hand into Arthur’s and felt a reassuring squeeze from his lover.
Oakhaven chuckled. “Time to go home, kids. I think I’ll travel all the way with you. It will be quicker, for one thing, and you might need me.”
“Erm, when do we get our own clothes back?” The answer Merlin got was another chuckle. Shit.
“Merlin, that was my favourite rugby shirt, idiot!”
“And I’ve lost a suitcase of very expensive clothes,” said Morgana in mock anger. Gwen and Lance just laughed.
“Erm, yeah, well, I’ve lost my favourite skinny jeans, so we’re even?”
Celimdol interrupted them. “The mists are thinning.”
Oakhaven chuckled again and it grated on Merlin’s nerves. “This one’s a sharp boy. We are nearly there. Which reminds me.” The old man grasped Merlin’s injured shoulder. His hand, the silver bracelet and the staff all shone brightly with a green light for a brief moment and Merlin felt that his shoulder was healthy once more.
“Thanks, I mean it.”
The old Staffwielder shrugged. “Whatever. Look, we have arrived.”
The mists disappeared and before them stood the three standing stones. The sky was clear and a full moon bathed the field in an otherworldly light. Two men stood in surprise. One was big and had long shaggy hair and a scruffy beard. The other also had long dark hair to his shoulders, but only had a few days growth on his chin.
“King Arthur?” said the taller of the two.
Oakhaven stepped in front of Arthur and Merlin. “This is not the one you knew, vampire.”
At the last word Merlin tried to make his vision turn into a golden haze. In frustration he inwardly swore when it did not come.
“You laid in wait at Grey Hill for Merlin’s arrival, to kill him. Nothing much escapes my attention near stones of power. I and my kind put them there in the first place!”
The younger stranger took a step forward. “He’s not evil, although I never thought I’d see the day that I said that of a leech, er, I mean vampire. “I…” the man stuttered and his cheeks turned red when he spotted Celimdol. “My_my name’s Gawain and this is Bedwyr.”
The elf gave a short bow. “Mae govannen, Lord Gawain.”
Gawain blushed even further and clumsily bowed back. Merlin laughed inside. He’s got it bad, he thought.
“Kara?” asked Morgana and Merlin turned to see a beautiful woman in a black dress step from behind the middle standing stone.
“Not any more, you stupid child, thanks to the boy and his dreams taking you away from me. Let me introduce myself; Nimueh, high priestess of my order and a tough life witch to boot. I would ask you to say ‘hi’ to Gaius for me, but you’ll all be dead in a few minutes.”
Gawain in a blink of an eye changed form into a hulking wolf man and most of his clothes were ripped and fell to the ground. He rushed at the woman. Bedwyr grew fangs and with blinding speed joined in. The woman laughed as they bounced back a few feet from an invisible barrier. She calmly brought out her mobile from her bag and spoke into it. “You can kill them all now, captain.”
Merlin could not hear the response but he figured that it was not a very cheerful one, because Nimueh’s face turned angry.
Oakhaven yawned loudly. “Their weapons have wood and the wood was warped minutes ago. I suppose you could say they’re useless now.” He chuckled and, for once, Merlin did not find it irritating. “Life witch? I wrote the book, so you listen good, missy. Harm any of these here, or their friends and family, and I will visit you and your perverse little druid friends and give you all a damn good spanking. A very hard spanking. I’m sure an intelligent girl like you understands me. Now I’m getting bored with your presence. Piss off!”
Nimueh screamed in outrage but knew she could not do anything. With as much dignity as possible, she turned and walked across the field to the road and a waiting car.
Arthur breathed out a sigh of relief. Merlin noticed that his lover had drawn his sword, as had Lance, and that the blade was glowing slightly in the presence of Bedwyr. “Thanks, from all of us,” said the blonde, sheathing Gilgalad.
The druid laughed. “It was all a bluff. I cannot stay too long on this world or the old gods will wake up. Indeed, there is a forgotten shrine of Nodens just south of here and he already stirs from his slumber. It would be cruel for him to see your world as it is now, so I better be off.” Oakhaven looked at Merlin and he smiled kindly. “See you at The Sanctuary Inn maybe. Look after yourself and Blondie here and don’t forget to take the bloody thing off when you are humping like rabbits.” With a last irritating chuckle the old man faded from view.
“Let’s get back to London,” said Gwen. “I need a shower.” Lance kissed her on her cheek and then wrinkled his nose. She punched him in the stomach.
“Alas, I will not go to that city for I have many enemies there. Merlin, know that I was to have killed you at the behest of the life witch, but I am glad to have thwarted her plans. Know also that, for the love I hold for you and Arthur, I will protect your mother with my very existence. Gawain here will go with you. He is a good warrior and will serve you well.”
“Erm, thanks,” said Merlin. They all turned their attention to the lupine. He stood naked and he covered his embarrassment with his hands.
Celimdol took off his grey cloak and wrapped it around the man’s shoulders. “I do not know what kind of being you are, my Lord Gawain, but we thank you for your help this night. It will be an honour to have you with us.”
Gawain blushed furiously again. “I_I have a change of clothes in my van. Won’t be long.” He quickly left the group.
Celimdol turned back to Merlin, a puzzled expression on his face. “Was it something I said?”
Merlin laughed and kissed Arthur’s cheek. “Celimdol, you are going to have a busy time fighting off men and women.” At the elf’s confused smile, Merlin joined in with everyone’s chuckles.
It was good to be home.
The lake was spread out before them in all of its majesty. The surface of the blue water was whipped into lapping waves by a stiff breeze that came from the north and the west and in the distance the purple haze of tall hills formed a backdrop that took their breaths away.
“Lake Evendim,” said Celimdol in reverence. “Its true name in Sindarin, the tongue of my people, is Nenuial, meaning Lake of Twilight. The Lady Myfanwy, blessed is the day of her return, said that a nature-spirit similar in form to Tom Bombadil of the Old Forest resides in its deeps, though none of my people have heard from her since the days of the kings of Arnor many centuries past.”
The road had come to the water’s edge before it abruptly turned south. They stood in silence, the little group, and had the reins of their mounts in their hands as they drank in the beauty of the vista before them and of the elf’s lilting words.
Into the silence Merlin whispered “The Lady of the Lake.”
Arthur rolled his eyes good naturedly and the lore master without a staff grinned in response.
Then in happened, a voice, a presence in his mind.
Aye, the Lady of the Lake. I have been called that before by kings of, in your reckoning, such a long time ago. Come to me, you mortals of Power, for I would have words with you.
As he sank into darkness, Merlin heard exclamations of “Morgana?”, “Oh my God, Gwen” and “Merlin. NO!”
Merlin stood in a cave and to one side was a curtain of water. Am I behind a waterfall then?
Gwen and Morgana were nearby with a look of awe on their faces.
He turned to what they were staring at and immediately went down on one knee. The other two followed his lead. Before them stood a tall, proud woman dressed in robes of watery blue and with black, long tresses that fell to her slim waist.
“Merlin, is this one of your dreams?” asked Morgana. Gwen kept silent, but he felt her hands slip into his and he squeezed it with reassurance. His response was stopped by the being’s words.
“Many suns and moons have passed over my waters since those of Power have come to the edge of my domain and I would have words with you.” The voice sounded musical, like trickling water over pebbles in a stream. “And like the kings of old you show me the respect that they once offered. Rise, for I am pleased by your actions.”
Merlin did not know why, but he knew that he had did the right thing and slowly stood to face the serene and beautiful being. “My lady, you must be the one that Celimdol spoke of?”
The lady tilted her head slightly to study him and at first he thought she would not answer, but then she spoke. “The immortal is right in what he said. Blessed will be the day indeed when the one called Myfanwy arrives back to your fold. However, time is short and I would speak of much. There is an island on my borders that is recently closed to me. It is wrong, it is evil, and it goes against the very nature of Arda and is against the Song that created all things, even I. It hurts my body and its foulness seeps into my waters. Unlike the mortals that strut on the surface of this land, I am not too proud to seek out allies to further my cause.”
“My…my lady,” said Gwen, her voice faltering and Merlin gave her hand another squeeze. “How can we help you?”
The being smiled gently. “Gwenhyfar of the Smith, you are unsure of your Talent and think yourself of no great worth, but you are wrong. Coupled with the Honourable Knight you are a force for good, for nurture, for love; the last being the most powerful force of mortals. Do not doubt yourself.”
“Thank you my lady,” and Gwen curtseyed.
The Lady turned to Morgana. “Dark is and has been the path of the sisters of your ripples, yet your path is yet undecided. You are like a lily on the water, drifting from one side to another. However, you do not have to drift. Choose wisely, sister of my heart. Your Pattern may be set, but there are enough loose threads for you to form your own weave. Choose wisely, especially when weaving your soul to another.”
“I don’t know what to say. I’m evil then? I don’t feel evil. I don’t want to be evil. I’ve read the Norman French legends and the connection they have to our names. Is my role to be a nasty bitch then?” Merlin heard such despair in Morgana’s voice that, with his other hand, he clasped hers and she looked into his eyes with gratitude and fondness.
“I say again, sister of my heart; of all your ripples, your threads are yours to shape. Choose wisely the heart you knit with. It is beyond my tenure to speak further, for then I become part of your own weave, and that will not profit you. You are not of Arda and my intervention will confuse you more. Silence now, daughter of ripples, for many words need to be spoken and time grows ever short.”
The gaze of the Lady then turned to Merlin and he felt so much heart ache that he let go of his friends to hug himself in futile comfort.
“My heart suffers with yours. Such is the connection that has been wrought and I wish it not. Dark are the times that you and all your ripples find yourself in. Dark now and in the future. I cannot give you succour for you must find it in your own strength and in that of the Warrior of Light.”
Tears then fell from the beautiful woman’s face as she held out her arms to embrace him. He rushed into them to find solace.
“Have courage, mortal,” she whispered in his ear. “I regret bringing you into my domain, for through you the Druid has shown me all of existence. On your world my sisters and brothers are dead or dying and it saddens me much. Enough!” With one hand she cupped his chin and brought his face up to stare at hers. “There is darkness that some mortals call an island that I have no domain over. You have power, my lord. Break it or all that you wish for will be for nothing.”
She pushed him away, not roughly, and smiled at them all. “Your loved ones call you back and I have not the power to keep you longer, though I may wish it otherwise. Sister Morgana, we have a connection now, through the power and wiles of the Druid. We will speak again many moons from now. To you all I say thus, help me and I will help you.” She said her final words while she looked directly at Merlin and he felt that they were uttered for him alone.
“I’ll do what I can, my lady.”
With a final nod from the being, all turned to blackness.
Merlin opened his eyes and looked up into the blue ones of his lover. Arthur held him in his arms while he sat on the stony ground and a look of relief swept across his face. “Morgana and Gwen have already come back and told us what happened. Trust you to be the last one back, idiot.”
Merlin mirrored the blonde’s smile. “Fucking prat.” He then braced himself up on his elbows to give him a deep, lingering kiss. The scrawny youth moaned as Arthur cradled his face in his hands and pushed with his tongue. Merlin felt contented. All was right with the world as long as Arthur was by his side.
A not so polite cough from Morgana made them come up for air and they stood. “Let’s rescue this guy for Myfanwy so I can find this heart I’m supposed to knit myself to, whatever that means.”
Merlin laughed as he disentangled himself from his lover, but, looking straight at the black haired beauty, he saw a flicker of uncertainty in her face. “I’ll be there for you,” he mouthed so that only she could see.
She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks,” she whispered. “But start calling me a fag hag and I’ll sack my maid. You know what that means. And I’m thinking of you doing it while naked.”
“Thanks for what?” asked Arthur, an unsure grin on his face.
They both laughed at him. They laughed even more at his annoyed pout.
* * *
Gilladrin reigned in his horse and jumped down to inspect the abandoned fire pit by the side of the road. He delicately picked up a blacked stick and smelled its charged end. He reckoned that no more than a day had passed since the fire had been abandoned. He quickly scanned the area and noticed a patch of withered grass with some dried blood. Even now new shoots were replacing the old and this puzzled him.
The fair haired warrior suddenly stood and drew out his two short swords. “Show yourself. Be warned, I am a champion of Lothlorien. On your life, be warned.”
A dwarf came out from behind rosemary bushes, axe in hand. “Gilladrin? So it was you making that racket galloping down the road.”
The elf relaxed and sheathed his weapons. “Bjalar, you were sent alone to investigate?”
With a look of mock disdain, the dwarf warrior turned and walked away from the road. The elf followed. “The blood?” the champion asked.
“Aye lad, it does not bode well. Let us consult the lady, you and I.”
They walked some minutes to another campsite, a cold one and also abandoned, and Gilladrin smiled when he saw his brother and the Lady Anharadeth. The two were sat on fallen logs and sharing elven way bread, lembas.
“Brother Aneirin, Lady Anharadeth, it is good to cast eyes on my fellow Brewers after many days of hard travel.”
Aneirin stood up abruptly and cleared his throat. “Report my young brother.”
Gilladrin smiled again at his brother’s discomfort and bowed his head. “The rangers of Esteldin were departing when I got there. They have had a call from Lord Elrond to muster at Rivendell before travelling south to meet their lord. But we have more pressing business at hand.”
“Indeed we do.” Anharadeth used her staff to help her stand. She winced slightly.
“My lady, you are hurt?”
She brushed his concern away with a look of annoyance. “Trolls attacked our camp last night. I will live. More importantly, I feel that our new Brewers have come to some mishap, but still travel west and away from the road. The traces of blood at the road side do not bode well and I trust your sister has the matter in hand, as I am sure is the case.”
Gilladrin left unsaid that it might have been his sister’s blood that had been spilt. He flicked a gaze at his brother and knew that Aneirin thought the same. “I can scout ahead and perhaps catch up with our kinship members.”
Anharadeth nodded once. “Aye my lord, of all of us you have the greater wood craft. Rest your horse and do as you say.” The lore master held out her arm and closed her eyes. A dove came from the surrounding trees and landed on her outstretched hand. Within moments it flew off westwards. She opened her eyes, her breath laboured and sat back down again. “Not the best pair of eyes to scout for those we seek, but perhaps the images I eventually get back will help our cause. I must rest some more. I am tired, so very tired.”
Bjalar let slip a look of concern. “We stay until night fall, but a few hours away. Then we can move on.”
The noble of Gondor was about to argue but she relented even before she started to speak. “Between Aneirin and you I am persuaded and yield to your bullying.” She said the last words with a wan smile on her lips. To Gilladrin she said “Your rest, however, will be short.”
Gilladrin bowed his head once more and went to tend to his horse.
* * *
Towards the end of the day, as the shadows became long and the waters reflected an orange hue, they came in sight of a bridge made of large white blocks of stone and with three arches. It connected the land to a small island that was filled with silver birches. The island itself was dominated by a ruin of a tower in its middle. Further along the lake’s edge and in the far distance, they could see great mausoleums. Some were half submerged in water.
“Leave the horses here,” commanded Arthur. “Morrowdim will look after them.” He patted the flank of his mount and whispered in its ear “Take care of them. It’s been an honour to have known you.”
The horse snorted and nudged his shoulder with its head and he laughed. “Come on then,” he said to the others once more as he unwrapped Gilgalad from its blanket sheathe. “Let’s finish this.”
The blonde turned to look at each of his companions in the eye, his smile mirrored in their faces. Lance brought out his sword and adjusted his shield and nodded once. Gwen smiled shyly and placed her hand on her lover’s shoulder. She tipped up on her toes and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. Morgana, Myfanwy’s staff in her hand, tilted her head higher, her countenance proud and defiant.
Celimdol unsheathed his swords and went down on one knee and placed them on the paving stones before him. “My swords are your swords. I place my soul in your hands and gladly.” As the young elf stood there was a small smile on his lips and his eyes were afire with anticipation. “A bold day, a red day, a day of reckoning for those that come across us. I am ready my lord prince.”
When Arthur stared in Merlin’s face, the young artist’s eyes were golden but he did not smile. “Let’s get Cynan from those fucking bastards and go home.”
Arthur stepped forward and chastely kissed him on the lips. “For the Brewers, for Cynan and for home,” he said quietly and turned to lead them to the foot of the bridge.
As they crossed and reached the middle they saw a group of about twenty men forty paces from the island’s edge with bows drawn. Behind them stood a muscled man with Cynan beside him, his hands bound behind his back and his head was bowed. Behind these still were three large bonfires, each tended to by a crouched orc. The creatures swayed to and fro as if in a trance.
The group walked cautiously forward until they were a pace from leaving the bridge and stepping onto the island.
The muscled man took a step forward but was still behind his shield of arrows. “I am Lord Malthidel, descendant of the kings of Numenor and captain of the Black Watch. What rabble dares come against me?”
“Something is wrong,” whispered Gwen.
“Merlin?” asked Arthur, also in a whisper, although he did not turn his face from the enemy.
“Gwen’s right. I can shield us from the arrows, I’m certain of it. But I can’t affect the archers. Something is protecting them. The orc shamans I bet.”
“Well? Are you to stand there like the cowards you are? Who among you will challenge my authority and for what prize?” The slaver smirked and unsheathed a two handed sabre that had been strapped to his back.
Arthur held Gilgalad aloft and shouted out his defiance. “I am Arthur Pendragon, Third Officer, and we are the Buckland Brewers, come to take back our own. I challenge you and for Cynan.”
“Be wary, my lord, for he has no honour,” whispered Celimdol.
Malthidel laughed out loud and knocked Cynan to the ground with the hilt of his weapon. “You call this a prize? I want the elf and the one called Merlin. You can take this used piece of meat if you win.”
Arthur hesitated but Merlin said “Take the bastard.” The blonde grinned and strode a few steps forward. The slaver did the same as he pushed passed his archers.
“This will be too easy,” snarled the man and took a swing. Arthur parried it easily and the sabre was cut in two.
With shock Malthidel gasped “What trickery is this?”
“Do you give up and do I get my prize?”
The slaver threw the hilt at the blonde and, as Arthur ducked, the man lunged and started to wrestle for control of Gilgalad. One hand grasped the sword’s hilt while the other closed around the young man’s throat. “Kill the rest but spare my prizes,” he growled. The two combatants scrabbled to the ground.
A hail of arrows was unleashed, but they fell harmlessly to either side of the group and into the water.
Arthur’s lungs burned for air as he strained to keep hold of his sword. With his free hand he grasped Malthidel’s throat as he shifted his body so he was atop the slaver. The man was strong, but so was the blonde and they both grimaced as they fought to the death.
“I said kill them,” growled Malthidel in anger.
The archers threw aside their bows and unsheathed short swords. They ran with blood curdling yells towards the bridge. Lance and Celimdol met their charge. Morgana used the lore master staff as a club in any opening she found. Scores of men and orcs sprang from behind tree and boulder to join their fellows. They ignored their lord as they passed, fearful of his wrath and so they were loathed to interfere.
Arthur heard Gwen gasp and he stole a glance in her direction. He saw Merlin, his eyes aflame, on his knees as blood trickled from his nose and ears.
“I…I’m gonna break this area of dead magic. Got to help Arthur.”
The blonde turned his attention back to his fight and bore down savagely against the man. He had to finish this. He had to get to his lover.
* * *
“The dove showed me a picture of fighting. The Buckland Brewers are outnumbered!” Anharadeth let the bird fly off into the twilight.
“Not for long, if I have anything to say about it,” grumbled Bjalar, urging his mount forward with impatience.
“You speak truly, friend,” said Gilladrin as he did the same. The elf had come back to them after he had scouted north and found no trace of their quarry.
“Go forward my Brewers,” said the lore master. “I must follow at a slower pace.” Aneirin hesitated. “I command it. Your shield is needed, guardian of Lothlorien.”
In silence the warrior galloped after his brother and the dwarf.
Anharadeth sighed in frustration. Her left side felt as if it was one great bruise from the blow it had suffered from the fist of an irate troll. It slowed her down and she felt useless. “Hold on my Brewers,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “Hold on my little lore master.”
* * *
Merlin was back in the cave behind the waterfall and he looked at his hand. It was faint like a flickering hologram from Star Wars and growing fainter with each beat of his heart. “Am I dead then?” he asked himself.
“You are dying.”
He turned and saw the Lady of the Lake, her face serene.
“Arthur’s in trouble. I need help.”
“And you shall have it. I give you a gift, Merlin of London via Wales. By the grace of the Druid, I give you a gift.”
Beside her a column of water appeared and shimmered into the form of Myfanwy. Merlin smiled and his heart gave a leap of joy at seeing his adopted sister. The fair haired lore master reached out and gently grasped Merlin’s wrist. Her hand closed over the silver bracelet. “Have courage my brother in lore. You are not alone.”
A flash of white light blinded him for but a moment and he found himself once more on his knees on the white bridge. Myfanwy stood next to him.
“Morgana,” she shouted and the woman smiled at the sight of the elf and then lobbed the emerald topped staff. In one fluid movement Myfanwy caught it and placed its tip at Merlin’s brow. “Hebo estel. Be hale, be whole.”
Merlin felt renewed energy course through his veins and he jumped to his feet.
“Finish what you have started, for only you can.” the lore master said and smiled at him.
The youth smiled back and then grimaced as he concentrated on the island before him. His vision turned into a golden haze and he raised his arms. “Yeah,” he said. “Time to fucking finish it.”
The three bonfires grew suddenly in size and engulfed the orcs shamans that were tending them. When the flames subsided and were put out, no trace of the creatures could be seen.
Merlin gasped and his vision went back to normal. He held onto Myfanwy’s shoulder. “We have to help Arthur.”
The lore master looked over at the struggling men. Arthur was on top of the slaver and they were both chocking the life out of each other. “And Cynan,” she said uncertainly.
Merlin followed her gaze and saw that the elf hunter was standing. In one quick movement he snapped the cords that bound his arms and started to walk forward slowly. There was a savage and malicious grin on his face.
This looks like the shit’s gonna hit the fan.
* * *
Arthur knew that his friends were winning their battle. There were cries of defeat amongst the cries of the dying and the sound of heavy footfalls as men ran away passed him. He could also hear new voices; the gruff battle cries of Bjalar and Gilladrin singing.
However, he had to concentrate on his own troubles. Malthidel kneed at the blonde’s groin but the mithril coat protected him. Arthur did the same back and the slaver grunted in pain. The muscled man let go of Arthur’s throat to pry the hold around his own, but the blonde bore down relentlessly. His mind was full of anger and savagery. With a final grunt of effort he heard Malthidel’s neck snap. Arthur rolled away to one side, exhausted. As the adrenalin left his body he started to tremble and he felt sick to the stomach. He had just killed a man.
I’m not a killer. I’m not. His thoughts were interrupted by a harsh laugh and he looked up to see Cynan walk slowly towards him. The hunter snared a fleeing archer by the throat and, with his other hand, punched into the man’s chest and brought out the unfortunate’s beating heart. With savage glee the elf threw both pieces of flesh to either side.
Gilgalad shone brightly with a white light and Arthur picked it and himself up.
“You must be Cynan. What’s happened to you?” Arthur took a step back from the advancing elf. He was reminded of the minstrel that attacked them back in the Brewers’ town house in Bree. The animated corpse had a similar leer and a eerie white light in his eyes. Was Cynan already dead then?
Cynan’s voice was low and barely a whisper and it sent a chill down the blonde’s spine. “Your death with break him and he will be mine.”
Arthur back off another step and stumbled on one of the dead archers. As the elf hunter advanced with his outstretched hand aimed at his chest, a large shield came between them, carried by a tall elf in black armour.
“Get back to the lore masters young Brewer. I will deal with this.”
Arthur heard Myfanwy shout out in despair. “Aneirin, do not harm my lover. He is not himself.”
Before the elf guardian or Arthur could speak, Cynan grasped the shield with one hand and threw it and its bearer aside with surprising strength. Aneirin crumpled against a boulder, momentarily stunned. The hunter advanced another step, within reach of Arthur’s heart and the blonde knew that his end had come.
“NO!” Arthur heard Merlin’s voice but he continued to stare up at Cynan’s, transfixed by the light in his eyes. He would not kill Cynan using Gilgalad, but he was about to be killed by him. He closed his eyes and thought of his lover and the brief few months they had had with each other. Arthur wished he could have had more.
* * *
“NO!” cried out Merlin. He would not lose his Arthur. His vision shone golden and it was as if time had frozen, or slowed. Without thinking, the scrawny youth ran forward and pushed Arthur to one side. He then gingerly reached out towards Cynan and slipped the silver ring off the hunter’s hand before he dropped it into his satchel. In his mind came a wail of outrage.
You will not escape a third time, wretch.
Yeah? You’ll be too busy. Good luck in finding the One Ring, twat face.
With a final scream of rage, the Witchking’s presence in his mind was gone. Merlin looked around and saw that time was back to normal. He knelt beside his lover and kissed him. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, prat,” he whispered.
“I like that, idiot.” Arthur got to his feet and helped Merlin to his. They both turned to Cynan, who was breathing hard and with a look of confusion on his face.
“Prince Arthur, Lord Merlin? I feel as if I have been in a dream, or a nightmare.” He looked passed them and smiled. Myfanwy rushed into his waiting embrace. “I think I may have struck you, my lady. For that I can never forgive myself.”
Myfanwy kissed him then laughed. “Then it will be I who forgives you, my love. Welcome back.”
“Indeed, my Lord Cynan, welcome back.” The four turned and saw Anharadeth on her horse trot over the bridge, the other mounts behind her and led by Morrowdim. “And a welcome to all new Brewers this day.”
Aneirin helped her down and the lore master allowed him with good grace. “Come, let us make a camp in yonder tower and talk of good deeds done and deeds that have yet to pass.”
Amongst the white stones of the tower, Gilladrin lit a fire and Celimdol prepared a stew of beef and dried tubers. When they had washed they sat and ate in silence and Merlin looked about at his friends, both old and new. Morgana was with Myfanwy and the two spoke in low tones. Gwen knelt beside Lance as she patched up a small wound he had taken on his shoulder. Cynan and Celimdol also spoke quietly in their own tongue with each other and off to one side. The elder brother finally hugged the younger and kissed him on his cheek. Celimdol had tears threatening to spill down his face and Merlin knew in his heart that they were saying their goodbyes. Gilladrin looked on at the two elves of Mirkwood and smiled sadly. Anharadeth followed his gaze and, when she turned back to the champion of Lothlorien, she nodded once, understanding what had occurred. Bjalar ate noisily and finished off his second helping.
Aneirin broke the silence as he finished the meal from his bowl and stood. “Prince Arthur. I have a gift for you.” The elf warrior went to his horse and came back with his sheathed two handed sword. He took out the grey blade in one fluid movement and handed the scabbard to the blonde. “Blades such as Gilgalad shoud have a suitable home. I hope that this will suffice.”
Arthur stammered his thanks and Merlin looked on in admiration as his lover sheathed the famous sword and strapped it to his back.
“I wish that all our new Brewers could have such gifts, but perhaps those of friendship and love will be enough for now.” Anharadeth stood and turned to Myfanwy as she and Morgana came back to the fire. “It is time to say our farewells, sister in lore.”
“Heavy though my heart is at the prospect, my Lady Anharadeth, I fear that you speak truly.” Myfanwy turned to Merlin. “Your book of drawings, if you please.”
Merlin pulled out his sketchbook and handed it to the elf maiden. She gracefully flicked the pages until she smiled and placed the book on the ground before her. The elf had opened it onto a page of a sleeping Arthur, a sheet half covered his naked form. She gently placed the foot of her staff on the centre of the picture and the emerald began to glow softly. The elf maiden began to sing a mournful tune. Anharadeth joined her, her voice slightly lower and Gilladrin added with his tenor. When they stopped, an arched doorway of silvery light was etched onto a wall and through it they could see swirling grey mists. In the distance was a hooded figure, robed in green and carrying an oak staff.
“I suppose this is goodbye then,” said Merlin, his throat thick with emotion. Anharadeth hugged him, as did Myfanwy.
Cynan bowed low and when he straightened he took both Arthur’s and Merlin’s hands in his own. “I owe you my life and such a debt will not be forgotten. Until such a time, I beg you, look after my brother.”
“We will, I promise,” said Arthur and Cynan gave one of his rare smiles and let them go. He bowed again before he hugged his brother one last time.
The little group finished off their goodbyes and entered the grey mists. Within one step they were beside the hooded old man. Merlin turned back, but the silver doorway was gone and he felt an ache in his heart. He slipped his hand into Arthur’s and felt a reassuring squeeze from his lover.
Oakhaven chuckled. “Time to go home, kids. I think I’ll travel all the way with you. It will be quicker, for one thing, and you might need me.”
“Erm, when do we get our own clothes back?” The answer Merlin got was another chuckle. Shit.
“Merlin, that was my favourite rugby shirt, idiot!”
“And I’ve lost a suitcase of very expensive clothes,” said Morgana in mock anger. Gwen and Lance just laughed.
“Erm, yeah, well, I’ve lost my favourite skinny jeans, so we’re even?”
Celimdol interrupted them. “The mists are thinning.”
Oakhaven chuckled again and it grated on Merlin’s nerves. “This one’s a sharp boy. We are nearly there. Which reminds me.” The old man grasped Merlin’s injured shoulder. His hand, the silver bracelet and the staff all shone brightly with a green light for a brief moment and Merlin felt that his shoulder was healthy once more.
“Thanks, I mean it.”
The old Staffwielder shrugged. “Whatever. Look, we have arrived.”
The mists disappeared and before them stood the three standing stones. The sky was clear and a full moon bathed the field in an otherworldly light. Two men stood in surprise. One was big and had long shaggy hair and a scruffy beard. The other also had long dark hair to his shoulders, but only had a few days growth on his chin.
“King Arthur?” said the taller of the two.
Oakhaven stepped in front of Arthur and Merlin. “This is not the one you knew, vampire.”
At the last word Merlin tried to make his vision turn into a golden haze. In frustration he inwardly swore when it did not come.
“You laid in wait at Grey Hill for Merlin’s arrival, to kill him. Nothing much escapes my attention near stones of power. I and my kind put them there in the first place!”
The younger stranger took a step forward. “He’s not evil, although I never thought I’d see the day that I said that of a leech, er, I mean vampire. “I…” the man stuttered and his cheeks turned red when he spotted Celimdol. “My_my name’s Gawain and this is Bedwyr.”
The elf gave a short bow. “Mae govannen, Lord Gawain.”
Gawain blushed even further and clumsily bowed back. Merlin laughed inside. He’s got it bad, he thought.
“Kara?” asked Morgana and Merlin turned to see a beautiful woman in a black dress step from behind the middle standing stone.
“Not any more, you stupid child, thanks to the boy and his dreams taking you away from me. Let me introduce myself; Nimueh, high priestess of my order and a tough life witch to boot. I would ask you to say ‘hi’ to Gaius for me, but you’ll all be dead in a few minutes.”
Gawain in a blink of an eye changed form into a hulking wolf man and most of his clothes were ripped and fell to the ground. He rushed at the woman. Bedwyr grew fangs and with blinding speed joined in. The woman laughed as they bounced back a few feet from an invisible barrier. She calmly brought out her mobile from her bag and spoke into it. “You can kill them all now, captain.”
Merlin could not hear the response but he figured that it was not a very cheerful one, because Nimueh’s face turned angry.
Oakhaven yawned loudly. “Their weapons have wood and the wood was warped minutes ago. I suppose you could say they’re useless now.” He chuckled and, for once, Merlin did not find it irritating. “Life witch? I wrote the book, so you listen good, missy. Harm any of these here, or their friends and family, and I will visit you and your perverse little druid friends and give you all a damn good spanking. A very hard spanking. I’m sure an intelligent girl like you understands me. Now I’m getting bored with your presence. Piss off!”
Nimueh screamed in outrage but knew she could not do anything. With as much dignity as possible, she turned and walked across the field to the road and a waiting car.
Arthur breathed out a sigh of relief. Merlin noticed that his lover had drawn his sword, as had Lance, and that the blade was glowing slightly in the presence of Bedwyr. “Thanks, from all of us,” said the blonde, sheathing Gilgalad.
The druid laughed. “It was all a bluff. I cannot stay too long on this world or the old gods will wake up. Indeed, there is a forgotten shrine of Nodens just south of here and he already stirs from his slumber. It would be cruel for him to see your world as it is now, so I better be off.” Oakhaven looked at Merlin and he smiled kindly. “See you at The Sanctuary Inn maybe. Look after yourself and Blondie here and don’t forget to take the bloody thing off when you are humping like rabbits.” With a last irritating chuckle the old man faded from view.
“Let’s get back to London,” said Gwen. “I need a shower.” Lance kissed her on her cheek and then wrinkled his nose. She punched him in the stomach.
“Alas, I will not go to that city for I have many enemies there. Merlin, know that I was to have killed you at the behest of the life witch, but I am glad to have thwarted her plans. Know also that, for the love I hold for you and Arthur, I will protect your mother with my very existence. Gawain here will go with you. He is a good warrior and will serve you well.”
“Erm, thanks,” said Merlin. They all turned their attention to the lupine. He stood naked and he covered his embarrassment with his hands.
Celimdol took off his grey cloak and wrapped it around the man’s shoulders. “I do not know what kind of being you are, my Lord Gawain, but we thank you for your help this night. It will be an honour to have you with us.”
Gawain blushed furiously again. “I_I have a change of clothes in my van. Won’t be long.” He quickly left the group.
Celimdol turned back to Merlin, a puzzled expression on his face. “Was it something I said?”
Merlin laughed and kissed Arthur’s cheek. “Celimdol, you are going to have a busy time fighting off men and women.” At the elf’s confused smile, Merlin joined in with everyone’s chuckles.
It was good to be home.