by GR Griffin
“What are you-?”
Grabbing Arthur by his arm, Merlin’s eyes flashed gold suddenly.
“Quicker to teleport.” He murmured, not bothering to supply Arthur with a fully constructed sentence.
A confusing blur of disorientating colours and alarming brightness overpowered their vision. Surroundings were skewed and squashed, becoming nothing but a memory in the past. Then a dark obscurity shadowed over the explosion of colours, sending them into a dizzy darkness. They hovered in darkness for a few seconds, before light gradually seeped back into focus. Abruptly, the pair were cast down into the undergrowth, outside of the Camelot Base. Still fazed by the rapid travelling, far more efficient than the Camelot transporters, Arthur held a hand to his throbbing head. Merlin, unaffected, dove into his pockets.
“I fixed your…thing by the way.” He said bluntly, handing the teleporting device over to Arthur.
Studying the perfectly reassembled device in his hands, the blonde – too disorientated to fully comprehend normal human interaction – attempted to balance himself. Yes, he probably should have at least said thank you. But he didn’t. Instead his mouth opened and out came a simple and confused ‘oh’. Merlin seemed apathetic to his response. He cast a curious glance towards the large building, clearly interested with what lay inside. Arthur made his way out of the forest, standing in the clearing. Merlin wisely remained in the shelter of the trees, knowing it was too dangerous to step into the Camelot grounds.
“I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning.” He said, allowing the concealed fatigue to seep though his tone.
Arthur gazed over to Camelot Base, wondering just how long he had been gone for. Time seemed to be of less importance to the druids, their lives were governed by other means.
By the time he turned back to respond to Merlin, to finally thank him, he was gone.
Chapter 12
The reaction to Arthur’s disappearance was completely different to what he had expected. In fact, the moment the security guards laid eyes on him, the peaceful order turned into chaos. All of a sudden he was dragged forwards into the safety of the gates desperately. It was as if they believed one foot outside the gates would lure in the Bastet that attacked him or worse. Then he was smothered in an avid group of voices, all full of concern and relief. Morgana practically sprinted through the gardens, flinging herself dramatically into his arms. A fond smile spread over his lips as he held her gently. He could feel her own lips upturning against his neck. Quickly, she released herself from his grip. The pair began to walk back into the building. Arthur was greeted with blinding smiles and sighs of relief, many from workers he had never bothered to identify or even talk to. Morgana gestured towards the door in front of them. Punching him in the arm, she scowled. He feigned pain; she didn’t smile back, eyes smouldering.
“Don’t you dare go wandering off again you pompous idiot! You could have been killed.” There was affection in her voice, despite the venomous look on her face.
He looked into her turquoise eyes, misted over with tears she was too proud to cry, because giving Arthur the satisfaction would be something she could never live down. Nonetheless, the gesture touched him. Not that he’d ever tell her that. Instead, he playfully patted her arm, never leaving her gaze.
“Morgana,” he said with a grin, raising his eyebrows. Morgana averted her eyes, knowing where this was going. “Were you worried about me?”
Before she could reply or make an excuse the door in front of them burst open, and another pair of arms ambushed him- Gwaine. And then Lancelot and Leon and – …Uther? Too startled to return the embrace, Arthur gazed over his father’s shoulders vacantly, meeting Morgana’s astonished expression. It was a rare occurrence to receive any form of physical affection from his father, even as a child, gestures like this had come sparingly, as if rationed by some higher superior. Just as Arthur sunk into the hug, drinking up the warmth of his father’s arms, he was released. Frowning, Arthur studied his father’s stern lips, wild eyes.
“I’ve had search parties roaming these forests all day, from the moment the sun had risen. Where on earth have you been?”
Dazed by those words, Arthur lingered in silence for a moment, confusion pelting him in the face. His father was…worried about him? An exhilarating pulsation spread through his body, lighting up his sapphire eyes with newfound hope. Then he realised he probably should respond to his father’s words. Swallowing-hard, he met those eyes and his heart ached a little when he watched any trace of compassion fade. His next word elicited a wave of shock and awe – awe primarily resonating from Leon.
“Ealdor.”
♦☼♦
Arthur rolled his eyes, begrudgingly prodding his average dinner as his friends laughed around him. Uther had demanded Arthur explained the situation immediately, with an urgency nobody else understood. So Arthur had told the story, of how he had jumped over the cliff edge, saved from death by Merlin, chased by a Chimera and healed by the People of Ealdor. Naturally, Leon thought it was totally appropriate to turn his epic adventure near-death-experience story into a hilarious comedic sketch. The man was sat animatedly opposite him, using vivid hand gestures to try and better articulate himself.
“So Arthur makes himself a little forest friend whilst we’re walking-”
“-Ábilgest.” Arthur supplied subconsciously because his little forest friend does have a name after all. He hasn’t established the trap he’s just walked into until it’s too late. Groaning, Arthur watched Morgana smirk in delight beside him, even Leon spared him an amused smile.
“I didn’t realise you had such a profound connection with nature Arthur,” she cooed tauntingly, knowing full well his indifference towards the notion of pets.
Shrugging – it was all he could do – Arthur beckoned Leon to continue, so he can get to the best part and amaze all of his friends. Leon doesn’t hesitate, catching Morgana’s eye coyly for a split second.
“So this Bastet appears, and well you know this bit – we leave, Arthur doesn’t because he’s running from this creature-”
“-then Gwaine gets all bromantic-” Lancelot interjected, and Arthur couldn’t help but snigger at this comment, watching a blush of all things smear over the rugged man’s cheeks.
“-I wasn’t going to leave Arthur to die if that’s what you mean by bromantic.” He said dryly. It was the first time Arthur had ever seen such a defensive exterior about Gwaine, hardly something he would be able to drop.
“Now who sounds like a sentimental princess?” he replied, unable to resist the temptation.
Leon took the pointed look on Gwaine’s face as a sign to press forwards. Nonetheless, he decided to repeat Lancelot’s words, because it was funny in hindsight.
“Anyway. Gwaine gets bromantic, we wind up back here. Arthur is stuck out there and god we all know unless he doesn’t get himself into the canopy layer or higher he doesn’t have a chance.”
There was a moment of silence, where everybody seemed to dwell in the memory of the panic and concern. Arthur felt touched by this display of care towards him. Then Leon pressed on, predicting Arthur’s compulsive urge to ruin the moment with a snide remark.
“He reaches the edge of the forest, and jumps over the cliff and into the Cearcetunge waterfall, known for its jagged rocks and lethal rapids!” Leon inhales a breath, shooting Arthur a look of admiration. “Literally the druid word translates to grinding teeth! Yet somehow he lands in the water and uses the rocks to get to the other side.”
“What can I say? I’m superhuman.” Arthur boasted light-heartedly, sharing a smile with Lancelot. He’d missed this, his friend’s banter, their incessant bickering and playful jibing. He’d missed the way Morgana and Leon purposefully avoided each other’s eyes in case somebody noticed but everyone knew they were secretly together anyway, Gwaine’s insolence, and Leon’s overwhelming enthusiasm for anything to do with the Druids.
“Then he gets ambushed by a pack of Ræ-”
“-What ar
e Ræ?” Morgana asked curiously, wanting every explicit detail of this adventure. Leon seemed thrilled that he had the chance to show off his knowledge of the druid world once again.
“Well they’re about the size of a small dog, with two to three sets of teeth. They’re cunning, fast. They usually hunt in packs of six or seven-”
“-And they’re nasty bastards. One of them gave me this.” Arthur gestured towards his bandaged arm.
“You’re lucky he got there in time.” Gwaine mused with a grin, engaging everybody back into this ridiculous story-time dinner fiasco. Leon almost choked on his water, gulping it down rapidly so he could share the punch-line to the joke. Not that Arthur found this funny, or a joke. It was not funny at all.
“You won’t believe this-”
Gwaine’s voice cut through the room, beating Leon to it.
“John Smith – Merlin – comes out of nowhere and rescues his ass!”
“So wait, he was actually a druid?” Lancelot gasped with a chuckle, and Arthur narrowed his eyes with a sigh. He assumed Gwaine had shared the ‘dollophead’ story with everybody by now; even Morgana seemed to understand the irony of this statement.
“Yes. He is a druid.” The blonde monotonously replied. “And he didn’t rescue me Gwaine, he merely assisted me.”
“After Merlin rescues the damsel,” Arthur shot Gwaine a deadpan expression, Morgana was loving this, unable to control the grin on her face. Leon interrupted Gwaine quickly, wanting to tell this part of the story.
“They run into a Chimera, a real life Chimera!!”
“But I thought they were mythological creatures?” a foreign voice asked nosily.
The group turned towards the voice, a little astounded. Arthur hadn’t even noticed other Camelot Enterprise workers had crowded round the table to hear the story until now. He spotted Valiant and Cedric on the other side of the hall, grumbling to themselves, clearly uninterested in his epic escape. Elated to have an audience, Leon turned to the stranger and explained. Arthur felt increasingly uncomfortable with all this attention.
“Well, this is a magical land. We stumbled across all sorts of creatures on our first expedition, it makes sense for mythological creatures to be real here.”
A few people around began to murmur to themselves enthusiastically and Arthur assumed if his father walked in to see a large group of workers discussing magic in such a positive way…all hell would break lose. Thankfully, his father had dined earlier, and was not to be found in the great hall. Some members of the crowd disbanded, not wanting to be caught speaking about magic and Albion so openly. Those that were left, a mere handful, sat on the spare seats of the table beside Morgana and Leon.
“So Merlin once again rescues his dollophead,”
“I’m not a dollophead, and I’m certainly not his.” Arthur growled in outrage at such an accusation, Leon shrugged casually.
“And then he takes Arthur to Ealdor!!”
Arthur decided it was his turn to take over the story, and finish it in a way that was entirely truthful and real.
“Balinor, the leader of the clan, is currently deciding whether I will be able to return to the clan or be banished from the perimeter-”
“-I hope they let you stay. If they let you into the clan we’ll be able to learn so much about the druids.” Leon interjected, a hazy, wishful tone to his voice.
“I’m not your personal spy you can poke around I’ll have you know.” Arthur joked instigating a few laughs. Little did they know that the truth of the matter was Arthur was already Uther’s personal spy. Lowering his gaze to the table, to try and conceal the look of trouble he knows has already made its face across his face, Arthur grimaced. He heavily disliked lying, especially to his friends. Yet he had no choice. This mission was top-secret, and now it seemed he was one step closer.
“Arthur this is amazing.” Morgana breathed, offering him a smile. “If they accept you, you could be one of the first people to live alongside the druid’s in Albion!”
Arthur was about to protest, and tell them about Gwenevere, but thought better of it. Perhaps revealing her ‘crimes’ would put her in danger. Instead, he nodded slowly and bid his goodbyes to his friends. Exhausted didn’t even cover how he was feeling right now. He slumped onto the uncomfortable bed – almost as uncomfortable as the one in Ealdor – and closed his eyes in relief. Relief that he was back here, and relief that he had escaped the endless attention diverted his way. He lay there for a moments in the silence. He pretended not to acknowledge it, the thing he’d had since he returned back here.
Turns out, returning to Camelot had created a ridiculous dull ache in Arthur’s chest, an ache for something he couldn’t distinguish. It took him a few minutes of this solitude to establish what exactly it was. It was Ealdor, for the adventures of this world…for M- no. He assumed it was just a preliminary feeling, one that would subside and let him be. After all, emotions and business didn’t really co-operate well. The less feelings he had, the better- especially with his mission. Too weary to change into nightwear, Arthur let sleep overpower his system.
Arthur…
My Arthur…
He pretended to ignore the whispering in his head, assuring himself it was nothing but a figment of his imagination.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
♦☼♦
“We have come to a decision.” The leader of the clan said slowly, studying Arthur intently.
Lowering his eyes, suddenly nervous at the attention devoted to him – he’d had enough of that back in Camelot Base, Arthur gritted his teeth. Any trace of serenity mutated into tension as he quickly released the breath held for far too long in his lungs. This was his one chance. If he messed this up his father’s orders of negotiation would be pointless, and a dark destiny would perish the beautiful landscape. If Ealdor didn’t accept him, the plan was faulted forever. Running a hand through his golden hair, Arthur felt his racing heart beat against his ribcage viciously. He waited for what felt like minutes for the answer. Finally, Balinor’s voice resounded.
“You are allowed to stay.”
Lifting his head, Arthur broke into a relieved smile. Triumph smothered his complexion; his father would be pleased, proud even- he knew that for sure. He glanced over at the bashful Gwenevere who beamed at him contentedly. Standing beside her was that aggressive brown-haired man he had met the day before. Will’s jaw was clenched, knuckles white. He looked like he wanted to rip Arthur to piece with his bare hands and beat him senseless. Arthur couldn’t resist really, giddy on the good news. He raised his eyebrows comically at William, shooting him an amused smile. This merely heightened Will’s anger; Gwenevere bit her lip in a lousy attempt to hide her smile.
Then his eyes scanned over the crowd assembled. He was not surprised to see a mixture of curious smiles, fearful gazes and furious glares. It seemed not everyone was as happy as Gwen about him staying here. Balinor took a step forwards, meeting the blonde squarely in the eyes. Balinor was one of the irked druids, that much was obvious.
“But,” Arthur had to restrain the compulsive protest emerging on his tongue. He should have known there would be a ‘but’. The initial wave of happiness faded into severity. “This does not grant you total freedom.” He added, and Arthur straightened his posture, waiting to hear the terms of the agreement.
“No-one else from Camelot must come here, just you. You must participate in clan activities and chores…”
The more Balinor spoke, it appeared that there was more than just one but. Arthur groaned inwardly, trying not to switch off at the recitation of endless, dull rules. It was as if he was back in school again.
“…You are to be supervised at all times in Ealdor. If spending the night here, you must sleep where another can ensure you do not wander off.”
Unable to control his irritation, Arthur felt his lips twitch upwards sardonically.
“…Anything else?”
Balinor seemed unfazed by the insolence dripping from his v
oice. He gestured for Arthur to follow him up the cobbled steps, towards a low house built inside an archaic tree hollow. Leaving behind the small crowd of druids, Arthur walked up the steep steps. When he reached the door, Balinor pushed it open gently.
“A few questions. Follow me inside.”
Chapter 13
Stepping into the low-lit house, he discovered it was not at all a house. There seemed to be no source of light, other than the mysterious hovering orbs that indicated magic. It was a modest room, barely the size of his bedroom in Camelot. The druids weren’t keen on houses or things that would cause destruction to the ‘balance of nature’ he had discovered. There was a thatched mattress on the ground, pushed to one corner of the room. It looked extremely uncomfortable.
In the middle was a rug woven from colourful leaves. Seated on a cushion of some kind – probably made from those succulent leaves, Arthur thought - sat Merlin. The man seemed pensive, sitting in a meditative state. Gradually, he lifted his head and gazed at Arthur quietly. Arthur tried to conceal his awe at the way the dim light embellished those fantastic cheekbones, or the way it painted his skin with a hypnotic glow. Those timeless eyes were pervading into his own, full of vibrancy and a sparkle.
“Merlin will take it from here.” Balinor said in his low, warm voice, making sure to shut the wooden door behind them. Blinking slowly, Arthur pulled himself out of his daze.
“So,” Merlin’s voice resonated through the room, eyes following the blonde as he sat down on one of the cushions. “They’re letting you stay.”
Arthur was unsure whether the tone signified feigned joy, genuine joy or a whole different realm of emotions. The druids were a curious race, difficult to interpret. Scoffing at Merlin’s words, Arthur grimaced. They were hardly letting him stay, more like supervising his every move.
