Part 10 was created on 14th August 2012. This latest instalment won’t please one faithful follower of this blog – there’s another cliffhanger, worse than the last, which means you’ll probably be dropping your greengages again (sorry, Michelle). Hope you’ll enjoy your Merlin weekend fan fiction nonetheless.
Maria Thermann’s fan fiction “Merlin” (BBC series) sees the action set between seasons 4 and 5.
This piece of fiction is written purely as a fun writing exercise and was not created with the intention of any commercial exploitation on my part.
The copyright for all BBC Merlin series characters & storylines remains with the BBC and Shine Ltd, the producers of the show.
The show stars Colin Morgan (Merlin), Bradley James (King Arthur), Angel Coulby (Guinevere), Richard Wilson (Gaius), Katie McGrath (Morgana), Rupert Young (Sir Leon), Eoin Macken (Gwaine), Tom Hopper (Sir Percival), Adetomiwa Edun (Sir Elyan), John Hurt as the voice of the Great Dragon Kilgharrah and Anthony Head as King Uther.
Series 5 to be aired in the UK on 29th September. Latest BBC trailers and pictures are available at:
(source of animation: heathersanimations.com; photo credit BBC Facebook page)
The Honeymoon is over – Let the Questing begin (Part 10)
“Begging your pardon for the small deception, Your Majesty. My name’s Hueil and my lord is Prince Urien. He feared you wouldn’t welcome a messenger from Leofwine’s camp. King Arthur was alive and well up until last night and so was my lady Dragonara. That’s when my lord saw them last by the shores of Lake Merthur. He regrets there is no news of Arthur’s men; it appears they have been abducted by some bandits. My lady Dragonara and King Arthur must have gone after them, but there’s no need to be alarmed. So far none of Camelot’s knights seem to have been harmed or injured. We found traces of a scuffle, but no blood to speak of.” The man calling himself Hueil inhaled deeply, relaxing visibly, now that his errant had been discharged.
Gwen had barely arrived at the eastern gate, when Hueil discharged his message at breakneck speed. Behind her Gaius panted down the battlements, his face red and his long grey hair dishevelled from running down the steep staircase of the main entrance to the keep. Now he had to lean against the gate post to catch his breath. Gwen turned to the messenger and was about to greet him, when Gaius intervened.
“Food? Your lord?” Gaius barked and gesticulated wildly, his hand pointing at a number of empty baskets and crates lined up against the enceinte, Camelot’s defensive walls lining the ramparts.
“Oh yes, Prince Urien arranged for refreshments as a token of his esteem and friendship. He begs you to allow him time to calm his father’s mind. I trust the few trifles my lord sent were to your liking, my lady?” Hueil’s exterior belied his inner refinement. Gaius approved of the man, despite the torn leather breeches, dusty coat of mail and generally unwashed appearance.
One look at his queen told the old physician she also approved of the man and his lord. Gwen beamed a smile of gratitude that would have melted the heart of King Odin himself, Camelot’s grumpiest neighbour. Hueil had clearly been instructed to repeat Urien’s words to the letter…and Prince Urien could have gloated over the citadel’s lack of provisions, but he chose to call the much needed food simply refreshments, as if Queen Guinevere was preparing for a picnic instead of hoarding for a siege.
“Please thank your lord for me and tell him, his gift was warmly received and much appreciated. I’m most grateful for news of my husband and his party. Assure your lord I understand his difficulties completely. Alas, time is something we do not have in abundance. King Leofwine’s ultimatum is impossible for us to meet; your lord must know that. There are no dragons left in any of the five kingdoms – how could we therefore procure a dragon’s heart?”
“My lord is quite aware of your predicament, my lady, but Leofwine insists there is a dragon still at large that must be slain for the greater good of all.”
Gaius had finally regained his breath and was ready to use it. “For the greater good of all…or the greater good of Leofwine? What exactly is your overlord going to do with this hypothetical dragon’s heart? Lay waste to all five kingdoms?”
Gwen dug her elbows into the old man’s ribs. “You must forgive our court physician. The sight of an army encampment outside Camelot makes him nervous; he’s apt to speak his mind a little too freely, when he’s been deprived of his favourite herbs for too long.” Gwen glared at Gaius. “Perhaps your lord and I should meet in person to find a solution together; would that suit my lord Urien?”
It was Hueil’s turn to beam. A smile stole across his stubbly features and his grey eyes lit up. “My lord was hoping you’d propose such a scheme. Your gracious Majesty is too young to have met her, but my lord Urien’s very much like his mother, who was as wise as she was beautiful. When she was alive, the realm of Dunadd was prosperous and at peace with all its neighbours. He’s out on an errant for Leofwine, but as soon as he returns, he’ll send word by my hand. I bid you good day, my Queen.” Hueil bowed deeply and turned to walk back to his encampment.
Gaius stared after the travel-worn man, who strode unhurried down the ramparts and out through the eastern gate. “Urien’s most loyal and trusted man, I’d wager. They can’t have slept a wink after their long ride to Lake Merthur and back. The prince must have sent him straight up here with provisions the moment his father’s back was turned. Hm, interesting. Hueil called you his queen…never once referring to his true overlord as king…or to Dragonara as his queen for that matter. No great love for either of them, I reckon.”
“It shows at any rate, Prince Urien prefers diplomacy to warfare, something I know Arthur will wholeheartedly approve of in a potential ally.”
“Speaking of diplomacy, that was deftly handled, my dear girl. My lord Urien, hehe. Count yourself lucky Arthur wasn’t here to hear that.”
Gwen turned away briskly but not fast enough to hide a touch of pink stealing across her cheeks from Gaius’ keen eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. It was a slip of the tongue, Gaius, nothing more.” She picked up her skirts and lightly tripped up the stairs to walk back up the ramparts and into the main courtyard.
“Slip of the tongue, my foot! Our Gwen’s turning into quite an accomplished little sovereign. Speaking of feet,” Gaius squinted at his swollen toes and sighed, “it’s about time mine got some rest.” He walked back into the main courtyard and selected a quiet spot against the wall of the chapel to watch the comings and goings of the servants. When he had settled comfortably, he pulled off his sandals, took out a leather-bound book from under his cloak and began reading the next passage concerning Dragons and their Ladies, a major work by the notoriously romantic writer Aurelius Smarticus the Younger.
No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on Aurelius and his lusty dragons, Gaius’ mind kept drifting back to the conversation at the eastern gate. Gwen’s willingness to ignore her newly acquired superior rank and give precedence to the prince boded well for the negotiations. More than that, she had shown great skill in allowing Urien to save face. Who’d want to admit their parent was a jealous lunatic, apt to fly off the handle and ride into battle at the slightest provocation?
And what about that curious absence of any reference to Leofwine’s or Dragonara’s rank? Gaius guessed correctly that Urien’s favourite messenger had no respect or feelings of loyalty for either his king or queen. Perhaps in his mind he had already usurped them with a new king, namely his lord Urien? If that should prove the case, it was a circumstance to be exploited. Out there in the camp there might be soldiers baying for Camelot’s blood, but they were mercenaries, men who could be bought. Arthur’s knights and soldiers on the other hand were loyal to a fault. If there was the slightest chance of a revolt by Leofwine’s knights and army, it was something to be promoted by Camelot. Leofwine’s kingdom was vast; with Urien on the throne as Arthur’s ally the four kingdoms surrounding Camelot might stop squabbling over boundary issues and finally be at peace. Arthur could fulfil his destiny and heal the lands, unite the kingdoms and make Albion strong forever.
Healing…it was the essence of the old man’s own heart. Yawning, Gaius became acutely aware of the sun’s rays searing his nose and checked for any blistering on the sore spot Gwen’s radish had left. He wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve and rose slowly to find a shadier spot under a covered walkway, where he slumped down on a stone bench and stared with unseeing eyes into the courtyard; maids hurried by with baskets full of old sheets, which were to be torn into strips to make bandages. A couple of grooms walked slowly up and down with buckets, collecting horse manure to be used in the kitchen gardens, where the gardeners were covering every inch of soil with carrots, cabbages and onions.
Gaius felt slightly ashamed. Had he not been dozing in the sun, when he should be helping Gwen in the last few hours before the siege on the citadel began in earnest? But what could he do – he was just an old man? A healer at that, not a soldier. He was a healer of people’s bones and looked after their insides, not a physician treating a cuckolded king’s hurt pride. To heal the lands, for that they needed Arthur!
Healing Camelot’s leadership was Merlin’s destiny…but how could he heal a realm that had been torn apart by Uther’s relentless persecution of those who had practiced magic and those who still followed the old religion? Gaius rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and yawned…healing powers were such a valuable thing to have…Urien was also in need of healing for his lands. After decades of waging war on his neighbours, Leofwine’s kingdom must be just as exhausted, devastated and in ruins as the realms outside of his borders. What a legacy to leave to his only son!
Gaius started. He stared at Aurelius’ book lying openly across his knees. Dragon’s and their Ladies…dragon queens gave birth to dragons’ eggs…and if the eggs were female…the dragon inside could potentially be another queen and might turn into anything, including a beautiful maiden. Could such a maiden be a threat to Arthur and Gwen’s happiness? He swallowed hard, when the image of a dragon’s egg rose up in his mind.
What about Aithusa, their very own fire-breathing, hiccupping baby dragon, currently making life unbearable for Camelot’s native squirrel population? Gaius weighed up the chances. On the whole he thought Aithusa might be a girl, but not a dragon queen. The egg Merlin had brought back was blue, not golden. Merlin had said the hatchling was completely white, no silver spikes running along its spine. Then there were Arthur’s feelings for Gwen. Could a chance encounter with a mysterious beauty turn his heart? He’d had so little experience of women’s ways, the lack of princesses in neighbouring kingdoms had seen to that. Had Arthur’s heart ever truly recovered from Gwen’s betrayal with Lancelot? Gaius sighed and turned to the next passage in Aurelius’ book. Perhaps Aurelius the expert on romance knew how to heal a broken heart!
This time Gaius sat up straight and knew he had found the answer. Healing powers! A dragon queen could not only heal that which was hurt or injured…she could heal what was barren and dead! Gaius gathered up his tunic and cloak and raced up the stairs taking two steps at once. The two guards at the entrance stared after the old physician, as his bare feet pelted past them and into the keep where his queen was still blissfully unaware of Leofwine’s deadly plans.
At Castle Deira, on a hill facing the moat…
Eleanor dismounted Bede and led him by the bridle down the hill, towards the moat and drawbridge slumbering in the evening mist. He began to whinny and from somewhere nearby that call was answered. “Did you hear that? Hengist is here! We’ve found the right place, Bede, my boy. I bet you’re looking forward to your hay as much as I’m looking forward to a bath and a plate full of stew.” She stroked his nose affectionately and urged him on. “Strange, no welcoming party, no guards at the gate?”
She sauntered downhill past clumps of cornflowers and red poppies, her fingers running over the plump ears of grain that was growing all around her; Bede snatched a few wild flowers, munching happily after their long journey, his huge belly swaying gently alongside the girl. Their combined movement stirred a swarm of flies riding on the balmy air. Eleanor swiped them away impatiently, sending the living cloud straight up into the air, where a passing swift welcomed the unexpected meal. The bird reminded Eleanor it was important to reach the bridge and safety of the castle before the sun set and she gave Bede’s rear an affectionate slap to hurry him along. Once or twice she looked over her shoulder, but did not espy what she had feared to see.
“Looks like we’ve finally shaken off our shadow, my boy. I hope he plunged back to whatever sewer he came from back at Osthryth’s Fort.” She kissed Bede’s neck. “Not that I wish Oswiu any harm, mind, but between you and me, a world without Oswiu in it is a brighter world by far!”
Bede snorted his agreement, prompting Eleanor to perform a happy little dance. Horse and girl were exhausted, they had ridden hard and far to outwit her father’s favourite retainer, finally shaking him off at Osthryth’s Fort, where his horse had met with a small accident during the crossing. As a minor member of the gentry, Oswiu held just one manor with no more than two hides of mainly hilly land that provided barely enough to feed the peasants living there, let alone keep a royal wife in the comfort she was accustomed to. Yet Oswiu’s family had long-held ambitions for their son to rise far above his station. Eleanor had seen him looking at her in a way no king’s retainer should ever dare employ towards a princess of the realm. One time, when Bede had been sick and she had visited him secretly during the night, Oswiu had followed her to the stables and had pressed his case. She had threatened to expose him to the King, but Oswiu had merely laughed and said, girls with mothers like hers should remember their place. Since that day she knew Oswiu lacked the necessary scruples and would not hesitate to take her by force, thus claiming his entitlement to a throne that might soon become vacant, if Leofwine’s self-destructive path continued along the lines as it had done of late.
With Eleanor the monarchy’s bloodline continued by the king’s decree. Leofwine had declared his step-daughter to be a legitimate heir, should any misfortune ever befall Urien. Unlike her own mother, Leofwine had always doted on her from the time she’d been small. Hadn’t Dragonara let it slip often enough how Urien was the result of magic rather than a son born of noble blood? No wonder the king had turned to the child he knew was most decidedly of royal blood. Her father had been King Bicoir of the ancient kingdom of Lot and Queen Dragonara’s bloodline was as old as the Earth itself. Her mother’s reputation might have been tarnished by her entanglement with Nechtan, but noble blood was noble blood in any book on heraldry!
Eleanor stopped her merry dance abruptly. Was that why Urien had kissed her in the cave? In her own mind and to the world at large they might be step-brother and sister, but they were not really related at all. If he took her for his wife…it would appease the barons and nobles of Dunadd, who were on Dragonara’s side, but what about the troops still loyal to Leofwine and the mercenaries he had allowed into the realm?
She breathed in deeply, sucking in the cooler evening air, hoping to bring clarity to her troubled mind. Letting go off the bridle, she permitted Bede to make his own way down to the water’s edge. The tips of her fingers touched her lips as she tried to recall Urien’s kiss. She closed her eyes and was instantly transported back to the scent of his skin and the warmth of his cheek against hers. The cry of a kite plunging out of the red sky into the parched fields below startled her. She opened her eyes and saw Bede had reached the moat and was grazing by the water’s edge. Eleanor hurried down the hill to join him and enter Castle Deira before nightfall.
Concealed in the scrubland that formed the background to the moat to the west Oswiu was busy wrapping a cold compress around his horse’s front leg. The animal had stepped into a water vole’s hole and as a result had gone lame. Unwilling to give up the chase, Oswiu had barely made it to Castle Deira before Eleanor arrived on top of the hill. He patted the compress of mud and wild mustard seeds firmly into place. The mare was shivering, covered in sweat and worn out by pain and exhaustion. Oswiu regarded his horse with a frown, before leading his horse deeper into the thicket. A useless mare, should his quarry decide to flee! When he was certain the horse could not be seen from the moat or bridge, Oswiu crept back to the water’s edge and lowered his body into the moat. He swam across to the reed bed growing closest to the foot of the bridge and waited patiently for his prey to arrive. This time Oswiu wasn’t taking any chances. He knew what a wild-cat Eleanor could be. He’d watched her grow up, watched her tease that boy Urien. Oswiu smiled and drew his dagger.
She certainly had fire in her belly! It was fine by him, but this time she’d not get a chance to stab him again! How she must have congratulated herself, when she got away at the Fort. He suppressed a laugh and ducked lower into the reeds, the cool water refreshing his senses instantly. Her body had felt so warm under his, her mouth defenceless against his lips, her hair smelling of roses and myrrh, her small fists pounding his back. Since that day in the stables he’d been unable to think of anything else. Oswiu’s mouth began to fill with drool, when he recalled the softness of her skin. He laughed. Eleanor was going to be juicier than a ripe peach; this time he’d show her, who was her true lord and master!
Oswiu ducked lower into the reeds and held his breath. Eleanor had reached the water’s edge and was taking Bede’s bridle to mount and head for the bridge.
The man in the moat clamped the dagger between his teeth and rose silently out of the reeds. This time he’d have her, no matter what…