"Is he dead? Hey mister!"
Gwaine opened his eyes slowly, blinded by the morning sunlight. The frost had melted away under the sun's menacing glare, and he could barely believe it was mid-winter. A little boy was stood before him, waving something long and pointed in his hands.
"Oi! Give me my sword!" Gwaine laughed, sitting upright and rubbing his eyes.
"Come on lads, he's alive!" the child called as several small boys clambered from the hay cart and emerged from the straw. They all gathered eagerly around the bewildered Gwaine, who sat awkwardly encircled by the little troop. After a short wait, a tiny girl crawled from beneath the cart to sit beside Gwaine.
"Well...um...hello." the traveller said, clearing his throat and smiling a wry grin, lop-sided but handsome.
"I have your sword here, Sir." the little boy replied, grandly.
Gwaine laughed. "Well, haha, that's the first time I've been called Sir in my life!"
"Really?" asked an inquisitive boy from the side.
"Yep."
"But you're a knight aren't you?"
Gwaine laughed more.
"No no lads, I'm no knight, i'm but a lonely traveller who's wound up here in Camelot."
There were gasps and sighs from the little gathering around him as he retrieved his sword from the little boy, hefting his sack on his shoulder, crouched on the floor.
"Oh but you look like a knight, mister."
"Do I, how's that?"
"You're hair, your face...and your sword. You look like a big bold knight to me. Have you ever slain a dragon?"
"Look I'm telin' you now, I'm not a knight, to save you the disappointment when later you discover, I'm little more than a gypsy."
The children however chose not to heed his words and one clutched at Gwaine's head.
"How do you grow your hair like that?"
"Can you show us how to fight."
"Will you take us to a battle with you?"
"Can we ride a dragon?"
Gwaine chuckled, detaching himself from the little interrogators. As he headed along the path, he heard small cries from behind him and turning he saw the mob of children racing towards him, bearing a flask.
"You left this, Sir!" the boy who had taken his sword, held up Gwaine's flask of wine from Morgana. "And Kara has a question for you."
The tiny girl from under the cart was ushered to the front where Gwaine towered over her. Dropping on one knee so that he was at her level, he nodded.
"Are you in love with the Lady Morgana?" Kara asked in the smallest voice Gwaine had ever heard. As soon as the question registered in his mind, he looked up, startled. How did she know? Had someone seen the two of them together. Maybe there on the south wall. What if utter had seen, someone with more malicious intent than the little girl who stood sparsely clad before him.
“I...don’t know."
"She's very beautiful."
"She is, you're right my little friend. Now I think it's about time you all got home." Gwaine took from his bag the remains of the bread and cheese and passed it to the children. "Take this with you."
As the children thanked him, they ran skipping and prancing back down the road, bearing the food like treasured artifacts. Smiling to himself, the traveller continued up the cobbled path.
Once more settling by the wooden trestles beside the well, Gwaine thanked the gods that the day was full of good-weathered promise and decided promptly that given the splendid sunshine, he would make the most of it and head into the Darkling woods to wash. Still, we wandered why the children could see his feelings for Morgana. Were his emotions really that obvious?
Dressed in cream and white silk, velvet and lace, a dress sprinkled with diamonds and crystals and shows which aired her feet, Morgana felt ready for the day beautiful day. her long black hair was curled to perfection and a diamond droplet at the end of a delicate gold leaf chain rested at her forehead. She had woken far too late, only just in time for her breakfast before Gwen removed it and now it was almost mid day. The great oak doors were opened by to uniformed guards at Morgana’s approach and she entered the courtroom, heels clicking on the flagstone tiles, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. Only the king and Uther were present. The doors were closed with a clang which echoed around the large airy room.
Uther stood from his throne, smiling as he greeted his ward.
“Good morning Morgana. I heard from your maid that you slept well."
“Yes, My Lord, very.” she replied, beaming as Prince Arthur nodded his head politely.
The single large throne was the only chair in the room and when neighbouring kings visited with princes, successors, pompous ambassadors and their many footmen and flag bearers boasting their leaders’ family crest or emblazoned emblem, long trestles or tables of marble and stone would be placed in the room with dozens of chairs all beautifully carved and ornately decorated for the exquisite guests. Roast hog, poultry, meat cuts, fresh produce, wine, mead, brews and broths would be laid by candelabras loaded with long tall candles illuminating the feasting diners.. Pewter plates, cutlery, goblets and jewelled chalices would be shindig in the candlelight and much boasting, joking and drunken arguing could be heard throughout Camelot. Mirth and joy would reign and drunk singing would soon drown out the exhausted entertainers with their tenor voices, juggling and dancing who would thankfully slip unseen from the cacophony of the room, glad for a night’s peace and quiet.
Today, however, there was no boasting, shrieking, laughing and belching, only the joyful sound of birds could be heard from outside on the terrace along with the usual hubbub of day-to-day life in the market streets and the citadel. Golden sunlight shafted in through the high arched windows, cross-garted and reinforced with lead and iron, lighting the room with so that minuscule dust particles could be seen drifting in the glare of the sun.
“I was simply discussing with Arthur how best to spend such a beautiful day before we congregate in the late afternoon to hear the reports of Idirsholas from Sir Leon; perhaps you will join us.” Uther suggested “We think it would be most relaxing and pleasant if you and Arthur were to ride out, perhaps have a good long walk - it will do you both the world of good and maybe you could take a light meal with you before riding back to join me in court."
Morgana smiled.
“Of course, My Lord, when do we leave?"
“Everything is packed, the horses are saddled. I think we’re more or less prepared to go.” Arthur replied, holding his gloved hand to guide her.
“I wil send two soldiers to escort you for as we all know well, the roads and paths that cut through the woods from Camelot are occasionally targeted by bandits and saxons. I hope you will enjoy your day."
With that, Morgana and Arthur left the courtroom.
“Is there anything you need to fetch before we go?” Arthur checked.
“I’ll run to my chamber and thank Gwen for packing before, and fetch my cloak."
Arthur nodded and then added “Tell Gwen I say thank you too."
Morgana smiled to herself. She was right, her maid did not have to fear her feelings for Arthur. The prince loved Gwen too.
Entering the room, Morgana spotted Gwen still dusting down and making the bed. Looking up, she laughed.
“My Lady, there seems to be an odd young man close to the market being followed by a flock of children!” Gwen chuckled, plumping up the pillows and smoothing the sheets “It almost looks as if he’s the Pied Piper!”
Morgana rushed to the window, wandering if it was Gwaine. Sure enough, the dark wild hair was unmistakable and she giggled to herself. She saw him turn and bend on one knee to talk to a little girl before handing the small group bread and cheese. How kind his heart was, Morgana thought to herself. So he was still here. She continued to watch him for several minutes as he paced around stalls, filling his water and the well and splashing his face but her delight soon turned to horror as she saw his point of direction. Morgana watched the traveller turn and walk boldly out of Camelot’s main gate, over the bridge and away into the woods without once turning back to think about her.
She felt something cold rush over her. Why did she even care? She’d known him for only two days and yet she stood here, shattered at the thought that she would never see him again. She knew it was silly but her heart told her otherwise. Morgana knew that time she saw him standing on the south wall, her heart almost went mad. There had to be a reason. She had heard people mention soulmates when couples knew they were made for one another; perhaps that was what it as like for her and Gwaine. But he was walking away and there was no way to stop him. Was she an idiot for believing he could have felt the same way she felt?
“My Lady, the prince wishes to know if you’re ready to depart?” Gwen said, her voice cutting into Morgana’s troubled thoughts.
Startled, she turned and replied “Yes, yes, fetch my cloak and I’ll be off.”
Her maid unhooked her mistress’s velvet green cloak from the peg and passed it to Morgana, studying her pale face carefully.
“Are you alight, Morgana?” she asked, concerned.
“I’ve never been better.” Morgana choked, smiling falsely before clattering out of the room. As soon as she turned the corner, she angrily wiped a tear from her eye. The beastly peasant, leaving without so much as a goodbye when she had treated him with such kindness offering him food and drink.
Turning the corner, briskly, she collided painfully into someone before he collapsed to the floor.
“Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry!” Morgana exclaimed, helping him up and collecting his basket of reeds from the floor, handing it back to him. “Where are you going?"
“Um, I’m collecting weeds, herbs and plants for Gaius. In the Darkling woods. Will you let Arthur know that I’ll be back before Sir Leon’s report tonight?” Merlin asked, brushing himself down and taking his basket from Morgana. “Just in case he thinks his dinner has sprouted legs and run away!"
“Of course.” she smiled and continued down the corridor, completely forgetting Merlin’s message as thoughts of Gwaine’s departure filled her mind.
Strolling past the main gates of Camelot's citadel, the two sentries posted at the stands and the gatekeeper from above exchanged worried glances, seeing this roughened carefree man striding about without a care in the world but allowed him to pass. The traveller smiled to himself. He stopped for just a moment to glance up at the leaded windows of Camelot, wondering which one belonged to Morgana. Then he carried on.
Walking peacefully along dust tracks, grass verges and pebbly roads, Gwaine entered the woods where he leapt like a child over huge ditches, climbed over great boulders and slithered through rough undergrowth, travelling past dense thicket and brushing foliage. Stopping by a weak flow of clear water, he followed it till he reached a brook which lead him to the main river. There lay a suitable clearing lined adequately with dried bracken and leaves, the wintery sun shafting through the emerald canopy of the remaining evergreen treetop. The skilled nomad then proceeded to collect vines and worms which he laid as bait for the fish in the water and removed his worn shirt and leather jacket, unbuckling his hard iron arm cuffs and the strips of leather bandaged around his scuffed hands, which he wore to prevent spraining tendons. After busily washing and dunking the clothes in the cool refreshing water, he strung them out in trees and across overhanging ivy vines. Having done his work, with an almighty and cheerful whoop, Gwaine leapt dressed in his trousers and boots, into the river splashing crazily and laughing to himself.
Spending the morning bathing and splashing, he then checked his vine lines to find a pair of small freshwater fish which he sliced and gutted and cooked over a fire of logs and dead leaves. Sitting eating his wild catch, Gwaine allowed the heat to dry his sodden trousers and bare shoulders, toasting his wet boots by the fire. Lying back feeling full, warm and content, the sun beating down on his face and chest, the bubbly cold water of the stream lapping at his hot feet, he couldn't help but slowly drift off. Although it was early winter, the sun still slept lazily in the sky, pushing back cold gaols and heavy snow. It would be a hot winter.
Snap! Gwaine propped himself up on his elbows and looked around, scanning for the source of the sound, gripping his sword in his hand. He realised at that moment that he was completely unprotected, wearing only his trousers and gold pendant, leaving his neck, arms, chest and face completely exposed.
"Who's there? Show yourself!" He cried out into the woods. Footsteps crackled over fallen twigs and scuffled through dead leaves and a figure leapt from the cover of the trees. Without knowing who was opposing him, Gwaine grabbed the person by his shirt and held his sword to the victim's neck. Finally having the upper hand, he stared them in the face before releasing him and giving out a hearty laugh.
"Ha! Merlin! Ha, you scared the life outta me!"
Gwaine thumped his friend playfully on the back as the two of them laughed.
"What're you doing out here in the woods unprotected?"
"I was collecting herbs for Gaius." Merlin replied, flopping down on the bank beside his new friend.
Offering Merlin some leftover smoked fish from the charred fire, Gwaine then asked "Who's Gaius?"
"He's Camelot's court physician. He helps everyone he can. I've never known a kinder better man." Merlin mumbled, hungrily devouring the travellers offer.
"Apart from me." Gwaine teased.
"What? Oh ha, sure, says the one who grabbed me by my shirt and jabbed a sword to my throat; definitely the kindest and most welcome gesture I've encountered in a while!"
"Ah yes, but taking into account how I shared my straw shelter with you and offered you my fish!" Gwaine replied, ruffling Merlin's hair playfully.
"I suppose." Merlin admitted, removing several fish spines from his mouth and casting them carelessly into the river. "Why are you dressed so...sparsely anyway; trying to get sunburn or what?"
Gwaine lay back, basking in the sun, warming his bare chest, arms and shoulders.
"Today's relaxation day."
Finishing the food, Merlin smiled. In full daylight, he was able to study his strange friend in much more detail than in the murky darkness the night before. He could see that the man was about average height, his arms and legs hardened with muscle, his face weathered but handsome, framed by voluptuous dark waves of hair still damp from his recent dive. Merlin pondered to himself how such a funny, carefree, attractive young man remained unmarried and homeless.
After a few silenced moments where birds trilled their melifluous songs, mellow and sweet upon the golden air, tinted by the smiling sun as it gazed down on the two friends, sprawled lazily by the burbling river, Gwaine asked with closed eyes “Do you have someone you love?"
This seemed to take Merlin by surprise for it took him seconds before he replied with sadness in his voice “I did."
Hearing the tone in his companions voice, Gwaine opened his eyes and sat up.
“She must have meant a lot to you. What happened? Did she leave you?"
The other man shook his head.
“She was taken from me. Murdered. Shunned by her people for a curse placed upon her by an evil sorceress, hated more by Uther and his the people of Camelot. She was a druid. Her name was Freya.” Merlin answered, sniffing back tears. “Why’d you ask?"
Gwaine shrugged, not really knowing why himself.
“I guess I wanted to know how love felt. Never been in love myself."
This certainly took Merlin by surprise.
“Surely a man like you has had your encounters with love! Are you sure you’re not lying?"
“Well, there is this one girl but i’ not sure if it’s love. Tell me Merlin, being Arthur’s serving boy; do you know much of the Lady Morgana?"
Once again, Merlin was startled.
“A little. She’s a very good lady. Everyone is fond of her. I’m sure you’d like her well if you knew her."
Sitting back and smiling to himself, Gwaine said “Tell e what you know. I’m all ears."
The two men lay about on the bank, the servant describing the Lady Morgana to the traveller. At last, Merlin concluded with ,”But lately, she’s been a little worrying for Uther and Gaius."
“Why’s that?"
“Uther’s sure she’s hiding something, but Gaius thinks she’s ill."
Gwaine was now laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Merlin asked, puzzled.
“If you can, tell the two not to worry. Morgana is perfectly alright. I know exactly what the problem is with the king’s ward.”
Becoming even more confused, Merlin asked what.
“I think she’s in love..."
“Finally! So you did decide to turn up again after all; I thought perhaps you’d bailed.” Arthur called, seeing his half-sister striding down the steps, cloak in hand.
“...I’m sorry. I got...held up."
Arthur looked unconvinced.
“By what?"
“Ur...my dress. It ripped.Gwen had to put in a few stitches.” she lied, taking Arthur’s arm.
The prince’s face softened at the sound of Guinavere’s name, hoping Morgana hadn’t felt him breathe out. Of course though, she’d already noticed and Gwen’s confession had only made things all the more obvious.
“Couldn’t you just have put on another one?"
“No!” Morgana pretended look astonished by Arthur’s idiocy.”That would just have taken even longer."
In a way, this was true. The gowns that the king’s ward wore every day took both time, care and expertise to don. Firstly, they were all very long and very very elaborate. gwen would spend ages to keep them in perfect form and would spend even more time tying, knotting, pleating and clipping it whilst Morgana would stand stick straight being pushed and pulled from side to side, as the dress was tightened and perfected.
“Fine. Let’s go now."
A footman held the leathered reins of Morgana’s grey gelding as another boosted her onto the horse’s back whilst Arthur mounted his own dapple bay mare and slouched casually in the saddle. The two soldiers escorting them, sat rigid as posts bearing forked pikes and wearing the golden dragon emblem of the Pendragons on their crimson cloaks. A soft breeze rippled across the quiet courtyard and caught at Morgana’s hair, ruffling the cloaks of the Camelot men. Effortlessly, Arthur kicked his horse into a measured trot as they set off. Morgana followed the leading escort as the clatter of their horses’ hooves rang across the courtyard cobble, announcing the departure of the small party.
One soldier would take the lead to protect the prince and the ward whilst the other would take up the rear ensuring Arthur (who was riding second to last in the line behind Morgana) would not be attacked from behind or secretly followed.
Trotting from the courtyard and across the stone bridge to the citadel, Morgana decided to allow her mind to rest and perhaps she’d forget Gwaine for the better.