A Homely Northern Castle Revisited


Come and warm yourself by the fire

Come and warm yourself by the fire

I redesigned and renamed this blog to honour the age-old Welsh tradition of storytelling, usually done when the harvest was in and people gathered by the fireside or hearth after a good feast. Where’s this particular splendid fireplace from?

Ages ago I promised you a return visit to this castle because the pictures I’d found at the time didn’t really get across how vast the site and castle really are. This is a fireplace from one of the master chambers and I guess it’s big enough to roast a medium sized wild boar or goat, if you don’t fancy climbing down draughty stairs to reach the kitchens (right next to the smelly dungeons).

It was just fantastic to see the room proportions, the height of the ceiling, the narrow winding staircases and enormous fire places – it will all find its way into my very own take on the Arthurian legends soon, so watch out for those to appear at a Jukepopserials outlet near you!

For once we actually had a summer in Wales so one fine day in early September I went happy-snappy to one of the largest castle-moat complexes in the world (the largest in Britain, if I’m not mistaken): Caerphilly in Wales.

I won’t bore you with the background data in this post – just feast your eyes on medieval architecture that’s just so “awesome” as our American friends would say. And yes, bits and pieces from the BBC’s hit series “Merlin” were filmed here!

Approach from the townside

Approach from the townside

The castle complex may look abandoned, but you’ll soon find it’s not unprotected:

Castle guards asking for your credentials

Castle guards asking for your credentials

If you cannot prove to these sentinels that you are there for entirely honest purposes (such as feeding them titbits of tasty bread or taking pictures of their glorious feathered-ness), you’d better buck up your ideas.

WHAT - No Bread? Let's get the castellan at once!

WHAT – No Bread? Let’s get the castellan at once!

Having committed the grave sin of not arriving with bribes, I watched these sturdy Canada geese rush off in search of the castellan.

Should I risk a swim across the moat before the guards return?

Should I risk a swim across the moat before the guards return?

I didn’t hang around and hurried along the path through the park, snapping away at the castle as I went.

Quick, there's nobody manning the bridge!

Quick, there’s nobody manning the bridge!

Finding one of the entrances unguarded – it was fairly early in the morning, the castle guards were probably still enjoying their bacon and eggs – I rushed through the park and up to the gate.

Sneaking past the guards and their breakfast kippers I stole up the tower

Sneaking past the guards and their breakfast kippers I stole up the tower

To show you how vast the complex is, here’s a picture taken from top of the tower:

View towards the town

View towards the town

Deciding that perhaps I might be allowed in if I paid my dues, I strolled confidently up to the main gate and demanded entry. Here you can clearly see the famous “leaning” tower.

Eat your heart out, Pisa!

Eat your heart out, Pisa!

An honest traveller with a bona fide ticket is eventually allowed into the great hall – sadly, the breakfast feasting was already over and a servant was clearing away the debris (NOT Merlin, before all you Merlinians get over-excited).

Great Hall as seen from the ramparts

Great Hall as seen from the ramparts

Great hall after the first breakfast sitting

Great hall after the first breakfast sitting

A harassed servant clears away the left-over baked beans

A harassed servant clears away the left-over baked beans

Next time I’ll show you a few of the fortifications, reconstruction war machines and chambers reserved for lesser members of the household. Hope you didn’t mind revisiting this homely Welsh castle:)

Merlin Fan Fiction; Let the Questing begin! (Part 22)


yellow dragon with waving tailYes, I know, this could be classed as torture, since I’m breaking up the ending into bite-sized little chunks for you instead of finishing the story and the great battle. What else would I do on a miserable, cold and rainy Sunday afternoon in Wales? Just think of me as a wicked sorceress, feeding you morsel after morsel of magically enhanced blog posts (she grins) to put a smile on your face but no extra pounds on your hips with my medieval fare.

Congratulations to actor Colin Morgan finally winning at the National Television Awards – about time too this fabulous young actor got universally recognised for his acting skills. As usual Downton Abbey won instead of Merlin as best drama show…but …had the writing been better in Merlin’s Season 5, I have no doubt King Arthur and his knights would have beaten Sir Julian Fellow’s own little kingdom.

Here at my own  version of Camelot things are about to get darker and more dangerous. The stakes are high, there are not one but two queens’  lives at stake now. Hope you’ll enjoy your Sunday afternoon morsel of Merlin fan fiction!

How Sir Galahad, Sir Bors and Sir Percival wer...

How Sir Galahad, Sir Bors and Sir Percival were Fed with the Sanc Grael; But Sir Percival’s Sister Died by the Way, a watercolour by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Honeymoon is over – Let the Questing begin! (Part 22)

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.

At sunset…in a field to the east of the citadel…the King of Bres’ tent…

“What a magnificent gift!” Walter the Ponderous held the sword in his hands up to the fading light of the sun. “The craftsmanship on the pommel and cross is second to none and as for the gem-stones on the scabbard…words fail me! Truly, a sword fit for a king.”

“Please, don’t mention it.” Prince Urien’s cheeks coloured slightly. “It’s the least I can do to show my gratitude, my friend. Segovia shall be forever in your debt. Thank you for taking care of my sister. I know she won’t come to harm in your niece’s care.” Urien stopped pacing around the tent and faced Walter’s grizzled head. “Without the King of Bres’ courage and conviction we would face our doom today.”

“It was a mere stroke of luck that we should happen across the rear guard your father had left to cover the eastern flank. Clever of your father to assemble his army into a five-pronged attack pattern. He’s quite the tactical genius. Not that it seems to have done him much good in the case of his rear guard. Phew, the way they fled out of those tunnels…as if the hounds of hell were after them.”

Prince Urien sank into a chair opposite Walter and held his hands out to a lusty fire burning in a brazier. “If only they were hounds of hell…we could deal with them, no question,” he sighed.

Walter rested his chin upon the palm of his right hand and reached for a goblet on the table in front of him with his left. “Ye-es; the arrival of a fully grown dragon complicates matters somewhat but I doubt the beastie will interfere with our ultimate plans for long.”

Urien raised an eyebrow. “Complicates matters? I’m glad you think that beastie is all that stands between me and the throne!” He got up and tore back the flap of Walter’s tent. “Oh look how pretty, the sun’s setting over Camelot…or rather what’s left of it. And over there by the burning citadel are my father’s troops…about thirty thousand men, last time I counted. You haven’t forgotten about THEM, have you?”

Startled, the guard outside turned with an enquiring look, but Walter just waved him off. Urien let the tent flap slide back and returned to the table. Walter filled a silver goblet with wine and slid it across the table to his young friend.

“Here, drink this, it’ll calm your mind and drown your scruples! Whatever happens, you’ll be the winner today, my son!” Walter smiled benignly at his young comrade-in-arms. For a fleeting moment Urien couldn’t shake the feeling he had stared into the eyes of a snake. Disbelieving his ears, he shook his head but gulped down the proffered wine.

“Your father brought this on his own head, Urien. The kingdoms of Lot and Bres have lived peacefully and in friendship for generations; when your father took power and threatened everything we hold dear, we had no choice but to enter into this senseless war. If Leofwine’s army is destroyed at Arthur’s hands today, you’ll be the winner as you take your father’s throne with your step-sister by your side. If, on the other hand, Camelot should fall –“

“Then you’ll see to it that I’ll be sitting on the throne of Camelot and not my father!”

“My friend King Lot and I are in perfect agreement on this matter. Leofwine will find himself surrounded on all sides with nowhere to run.”

“I’ll drink to that, my old friend! Here’s to slaying bloodthirsty beasts before the day is out!”

A smile stole across Walter’s face as he turned his silver goblet thoughtfully in his hands. “Ye-es…and we both know which one of the dragons we’d like to skin alive first.”

Catching just a hint of vengefulness in Walter’s voice, Urien raised his own goblet. “You have my blessing, old friend! I’d say the lady’s outlived her usefulness.”

Laughing, both men clanged their goblets together, a silvery note filling the tent. They drank deeply, blood-red liquid spilling down Walter’s embroidered shirtfront and staining Urien’s chin. They put their goblets down in unison and Walter refilled Urien’s generously, keeping his twinkling eyes firmly on an oak casket in the farthest corner of the tent.

“To the victor the spoils!”

“Urgh-exactly!” Urien burped, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. He smacked his lips with gusto and sniffed the contents of his goblet. “Say what you will about my father, but he keeps a good vintage in his cellar!”

As the last rays of the sun set over Camelot and Gytha’s Meadow, Walter and Urien drank to each other’s health from the wine Walter’s men had confiscated earlier that day, when they came across a small contingent of Segovia’s men guarding a camp close to Camelot’s tunnels.

English: Actor Colin Morgan after the premiere...

…to be continued…

Merlin Fan Fiction: Let the Questing begin! (21)


knight on drawbridgeI know, I know, you’re having to wait far too long for the end and I had promised to post this “shortly”. After I’d written the battle ending, I suddenly got this idea for a different twist…aaaand changed everything round. Aaaaarrrgggh, I hear you cry, now she’s written such a long “final” part, it’s going to be split over two more posts!

Never mind, I’m feeling somewhat flushed with success, having lured fab fantasy writer and WordPress blogger William Stadler into our Merlin Family. Yep, an otherwise sensible and business-like writer like William is now watching Merlin episodes as we speak, which just goes to show that resistance is futile – you might as well join the Merlin fandom now and have done with it (here’s looking at you, Michelle Barber from LoonyLiterature)!

From left to right: Guinevere, Gaius, Morgana,...

Part 21.

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.

 

In tunnels leading to the Great Cave below Camelot’s citadel…

 

Arthur hurried past the long line of soldiers and trolls making their way through the damp tunnel to join Lady Dragonara, Ethelgunda and Yolanda at the top of the column. Merlin, hampered by carrying Arthur’s lance and shield, had trouble keeping up. While the ladies had ridden into the tunnel, Arthur and his men were mainly on foot, their horses left behind in the forest, where Kai and Siward, Urien’s faithful servants, would tend them until their master gave new orders. Merlin could not quite fathom the wisdom of taking horses into the caves, but the ladies had insisted on riding ahead.

“Can’t say I blame them,” Arthur panted beside him, “if Gwen and Gaius really managed to persuade a dragon to take up residence in our Great Cave, the ladies want to find their way out of here as fast as they can. Horses hate fire, so horses bolt for the nearest exit. I get that. Ladies are made for banqueting halls, singing and dancing. Men are made for war…aaaaand for slipping on slimy stuff in tunnels apparently!” Arthur clung to a crevice in the roughly hewn wall; his feet were trying to find purchase on the slippery ground before the king was forced to suffer the indignity of landing on his behind. He pulled himself into an upright position and inspected the sole of his left boot.  “What in the name of Camelot is THAT? It stinks worse than Gawain’s feet after a full day’s training.” Arthur sidled past a sticky patch of slime on the ground of the rat infested tunnel.

“Dragon dung?” suggested Merlin unhelpfully. He sighed and shifted the heavy shield to his right arm to give his left a rest. “You’re doing the ladies an injustice. Your godmother tells me dragons are fond of horseflesh. The ladies are merely using their horses as bait.” Merlin examined the sticky stain on Arthur’s boot. “Arthur, there’s every likelihood we’ll get out of this alive…can’t you stay clear of stinky mess just this once? I don’t want to spend the day of our liberation cleaning boots while everyone else is dancing and singing in the banqueting hall!”

“What makes you think you’d get an invitation?” Arthur snatched the oak shield from him and set off at a trot. “Speaking of banqueting halls, how did you persuade the Segovia soldiers to drink that enchanted wine? I’m surprised it still worked after Dragonara’s treatment.” Arthur glanced at the column of troll-soldiers ahead and frowned. “Did my godmother use sorcery to enhance its potency?”

“Not a bit!” An air of innocence spread across Merlin’s face. He reached into his pocket and produced a purse heavy with silver coins. “We pretended to be traders fleeing from Camelot. After a long day’s marching Leofwine’s men were thirsty and gulped the whole lot down without a second thought.” He shrugged his shoulders. “The spell is bound to work better on Segovia’s own men. We told them we had seen Leofwine’s beautiful queen heading for Camelot. They’ve had years to lust after your godmother…stands to reason they’re even more susceptible to her charms after drinking the wine.”

“I didn’t know you had developed an eye for the ladies…and older ladies at that!” A grin spread across Arthur’s face, when he noticed his servant’s embarrassment. “Now I know why you’re always hanging around Camelot’s kitchens…you can’t resist the lure of our cook’s dumplings! You’re braver than you look, Merlin.” Arthur laughed out loud. “Mind you, they do say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

In the dark next to him Merlin snorted. “Trust me Arthur; I can do a lot better than that old crow!”

Arthur chuckled good-naturedly. “Who’d have guessed there’s a whole different you? Merlin: Camelot’s very own duster-wielding seducer of fair maidens! Gawain’s corrupting influence is to blame, no doubt. A word of advice, you might want to change your appearance, if you’re hoping to better his record of success with tavern wenches. Ladies like a man who shows strength of mind and has some muscle in his arms.”  Arthur tried to squeeze Merlin’s biceps, but his servant held up the lance and blocked his king’s move. He quickened his pace and now it was Arthur’s turn to hurry after him.

“Why would I want to win the hearts of tavern girls? A man likes to better himself, not trade down.” Merlin panted moments later, trying to run while carrying the lance. There was always the risk of accidentally impaling his comrades-in-arms in the dark. They had reached the top of the column and were just a few paces behind Dragonara and her magnificent horse. Merlin slowed his pace to match Arthur’s. “I heard when you first happened across Dragonara out there in the forest you tried to make an impression by appearing in your birthday suit. Let me guess, you were trying to win your beautiful godmother’s admiration but the lady just took pity on you?”

Ignoring the taunt, Arthur stopped abruptly and turned to face his servant with an air of suspicion. “I see where this is leading…I married a serving girl and now you’re hoping to climb up the ladder, too.” Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm roughly. “I have nothing against a servant making the most of his chances by pursuing a wealthy older woman but you’d better not set your sights at winning my godmother’s heart!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Merlin tore his arm out of the king’s grasp and scolded one of the torch bearing squires to keep up with the rest of the men. “My kind isn’t good enough for your godmother? I’m a servant and should know my place?” Merlin hissed at the king, when the hapless young squire was out of earshot.

“No, dollop-head!” Arthur slapped Merlin’s head. “I’m saying she’s an enchantress and not just in the usual sense of a beguiling face that turns a fellow’s head. She spells trouble…like all of her kind. When this idiotic war is over, she’ll answer to the laws of Camelot…there’s no place for sorcerers in my realm!”

Mistaking the dismay on Merlin’s face for hurt pride, Arthur reached out, giving his servant’s shoulder an affectionate, if painful squeeze. “Honestly, Merlin, lighten up. I didn’t really think you were setting your hopes on my godmother. She’d be flattered by the attentions of a young and…uh…not exactly repulsive fellow like yourself, no doubt, but she’s more trouble than she’s worth.” Arthur’s fingers reached for the broach that fastened the cloak under his chin. “Damn this thing’s far too tight; I feel I’m being throttled before the battle has even started. Does the tunnel feel hotter to you, too?”

Merlin ignored both the plea for help and his king’s discomfiture, preferring to march on at a faster pace. Arthur fell into a companionable trot by his side, playfully trying to match his servant’s gait. When Merlin continued to blank him, he dug his elbow into his servant’s ribs.

Merlin fastened his step. “I don’t recall you complaining when your godmother lifted the curse off everyone at Deira! You can’t have it both ways. Accept it, Arthur, not everyone who has magic is worthless or evil!”

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that! You know, we’ll never see eye to eye on this. We’re about to go into battle; let’s not quarrel.” Arthur slung an arm around Merlin’s neck and half wrestled him to the ground, before releasing him and ruffling his hair far more tenderly than Merlin had expected. Seeing Merlin’s surprise, Arthur relented. “If you must know, I’d wish for something far better for my…friend than losing his heart to a woman with a jilted lover on the throne of every realm.” Encouraged by the look of wonder on Merlin’s face, Arthur hurried on:” Even without magic, she’d still be a woman as untrustworthy as a goat in charge of Gaius’ herb garden, right?”

Before Merlin had a chance to reply, Arthur’s attention was distracted by a scout, who’d just arrived. The ladies were forced to dismount, when the horses refused to take another step into the darkness ahead. Arthur gathered his knights around him, while Merlin leaned against a large rock to catch his breath. They had reached the part of the underground vaults where two main tunnels intersected, the tunnel from Geoffrey’s Rest met up with the tunnel from Rowan in a smallish cave. Ahead of them a silent mouth gaped, tempting them into impenetrable darkness and onwards to the Great Cave.

Eying the entrance suspiciously, Dragonara gently stroked her horse’s nose. Arthur turned to her. “That’s odd…the horses are nervous, but not scared out of their wits…they should be, if we faced a dragon ahead. The smoke and flames we saw coming from the air shafts earlier must have been from fires within the citadel, courtesy of Leofwine’s men. All seems quiet now; Gwen must have ordered our men to put out the flames. Still, we’d better hurry.”

Arthur was proven wrong much sooner than anticipated when a flash of bright light shot through one of the air vents and exploded with a bang in the passage to their right. Knowing that it couldn’t possibly be a dragon, Merlin suspected foul play from Leofwine’s quarter. For a moment Merlin thought he had seen a man crouching in the shadows of the tunnel…the Rowan tunnel. He turned and stared with glowing eyes into the dying light but the man had disappeared. Merlin cast a spell into the passage, forcing all living things to reveal themselves only to him. Cowering on the ground, their dark purple cloaks blending in with the bluish rock formations all around them, Leofwine’s warriors had flattened themselves to the ground and into crevices, no doubt hoping to ambush Arthur and his men as soon as they had passed.

“Arthur, the Rowan tunnel is full of Segovia’s men!” Merlin cried and charged ahead with only Arthur’s lance as a weapon. Merlin’s eyes glowed fiercely, as his magic knocked out the first three warriors heading his way and he impaled the fourth on his lance. The man squealed, doubled up with his hands clutching his chest, where his blood was already drowning the golden crest of Segovia.

In no time the tunnels filled with the clashing of swords, the neighing of terrified horses and the cries of men falling under prey to the onslaught of Excalibur and Arthur’s knights. A second wave of Leofwine’s men thrust forward and into the affray, driving Camelot’s king and his men back into the small cave, where they ended up fighting back to back against Leofwine’s determined forces. Merlin dealt out magical blows left and right, but managed to keep an eye on Dragonara, who had unaccountably mounted again, clearly urging the other two ladies to do the same. Forcing their way through the melee of fighting men, the horses and their riders knocked over several of Leofwine’s men before charging ahead into the third tunnel, the one that lead to the Great Cave. The trolls abandoned the fighting and followed the women into the dark.

Strangely, as if a secret password had been spoken, Leofwine’s men also abandoned their attack and disappeared as noiselessly as they had come. Sir Percival advised pursuit and chasing after them in the Rowan tunnel, but Merlin urged Arthur to head for the Great Cave on the shortest possible route…the tunnel straight ahead. Arthur hesitated and laid a restraining hand on his servant’s shoulder.

“Merlin, I know you like my godmother…but she’s leading us into a trap. When all’s said and done…she’s a sorceress and they can’t be trusted. No way is that a dragon ahead of us. Even if Gwen had managed to find and trap one, how on earth could we slay the beast in this confined space? We’d be incinerated before we’d struck the first blow!”

“Arthur is right, Merlin. We drugged Leofwine’s raiding party at Rowan, yet here he is, lying in wait with a second contingent of men in the Rowan tunnel. That can’t be a coincidence, surely?” Percival towered over Merlin, urging him to see reason, his face full of concern.

“You’re both wrong. She’d never harm Arthur or Camelot! You’re just prejudiced because she’s got magic.”

“I’m not saying Dragonara’s planning to usurp Camelot’s throne like her husband’s done with some of his neighbouring realms…but we should proceed with the utmost caution and perhaps follow Leofwine’s men rather than charging ahead. We can decimate them one by one as we go along,” Percival pointed at the lance in Merlin’s hand. “Now that you’ve discovered the business end of that thing you might as well put it to good use.”

“What about the queen and the Citadel? If we get held up fighting skirmishes here in the tunnels, there might not be a Camelot left for us to save! Just look at the extent of the fires already raging under the citadel. Here, what’s this?” Merlin bent down and picked up a diamond shaped object from the ground. He held the thing under Arthur’s nose. “Where there’s dung…dragon scales won’t be far! Now do you believe in Queen Gwen’s beastie?”

Without waiting for an answer, Merlin pushed his way past Percival and Arthur and ran into the gaping mouth ahead. The darkness swallowed him up, but his arrival was greeted with a deep rumble and thunder that shook the small cave.

“Why can’t that dollop-head ever do as he’s told?” Arthur growled and sprinted after his errant underling.

“The words pot, kettle and black spring to mind!” Percival sighed and followed his friends into the abyss. Gawain and Elyan were hot on his heels. Sir Leon directed a small contingent of his men to follow Leofwine’s soldiers into the Rowan tunnel and wipe out as many of them as they could. Then Sir Leon led the remaining men into the tunnel that headed towards the Great Cave.

 

In the Great Cave under Camelot…

 

With Gwen’s assistance Gaius managed to break off the arrow’s shaft and bind Hueil’s shoulder as best as possible, but the man was losing a lot of blood. Weakened but undeterred to be of use, Hueil shook off Gwen’s ministering hands and drew his sword, joining the throng of knights and guards that surrounded the queen under Sir Edward’s command. Ahead of them the make-shift dragon had been set ablaze and all around them the air shafts fanned the small fire baskets the servants had placed around the Great Cave. Kilgharrah’s enormous chain led from the Rowan tunnel exit directly to the fake dragon and Gaius hoped together with the trail of dragon scales they had scattered in all the tunnels it would be enough to lure Leofwine’s men straight into Gwen’s trap.

When the first of Segovia’s warriors tumbled into the Great Cave, Gwen gave the command to throw the small leather pouches Gaius had made earlier into the fire baskets. The explosions knocked Leofwine’s men off their feet and to the ground, where Camelot’s soldiers made short work of them. The hunters and beaters kept up their drumming, producing a fairly realistic dragon roar. Unfortunately, Leofwine’s men kept on coming, there seemed no end to their numbers. Gwen gave the command for a second salve of explosives to be used and more skirmishes broke out, now engulfing the whole cave in fighting.

To her dismay Gwen spotted another purple clad wave of Segovia’s warriors charging through one of the tunnel exits but they were joined by a tall, skinny man dressed in blue shirt and brown hose. Merlin shot into the Great Cave like an arrow from a bow, wielding his lance with the intention to encourage the troll-soldiers rather than actually harming anyone. Their shaggy manes and hog-like features terrified Leofwine’s men and the supernatural strength of the trolls helped to drive part of the throng back into the tunnel, where Sir Leon’s men were already waiting for them. When a fresh wave of warriors spilled from the tunnels, this time from the one that led to Geoffrey’s Rest, Gaius broke out in a loud cheer, for they were wearing the red cloaks of Camelot and Arthur was leading them.

Before Gwen and Gaius had a chance to digest this new development and greet Arthur’s arrival, three women on horseback rode at full speed into the Great Cave. Petrified by the fires and explosions all around them, the horses bolted and threw off two of the horse-women. Ethelgunda and Yolanda were immediately surrounded by their loyal and utterly besotted troll guards, but the ladies clearly had no desire to be rescued and drew their daggers to hurl themselves at Leofwine’s men. Only the Lady Dragonara was still on horseback, her blonde mane glowing like a halo in the red flames. She charged at Leofwine’s men, her brave war horse scattering them like chickens in a farm yard. Leofwine’s soldiers were clearly unwilling to harm their queen and sought refuge rather than raise their weapons against her. Merlin clapped his hands over his ears in an effort to get his bearings. The Great Cave was thick with the stench of burning furniture and singed tapestries; the din of whinnying horses and the cries of dying men rose up into the dome and rang through the tunnels.

Leofwine had fought his way through various skirmishes and had reached the cave unscathed. From across the cave Merlin watched the sorcerer-king sneak out of a tunnel mouth. Raising his sword with one hand and the clutching the magical crystal in the other, Leofwine stayed well behind the lines of his fighting men, clinging to the rock face of the walls. Merlin’s eyes followed Leofwine’s gaze. The sight of his own warriors dressed in Segovia’s livery but fighting for Camelot seemed to pierce Leofwine’s heart like a dagger for he stared at his former lover and helpmate Dragonara with a face that was distorted by rage and hatred. Dragonara had dismounted and was now fighting back to back with Arthur, their height perfectly matched, their sword arms dealing out blows in harmony, their blonde heads and illuminated profiles betraying a kinship that went deeper than oaths made over holy water or promises made on the deathbed of erstwhile friends. With a pang Merlin remembered her words: I recognise all my children by the kindness they hold in their hearts!

In an instant Merlin understood. All creatures born of magic were part of the very fabric that held together the universe and made Earth what it was for the children of men. Uther’s plea to Nimueh had been answered – he had received the son and heir he craved but Nimueh was merely a high priestess, a woman initiated into the mysteries but lacking the magical power necessary to create such a son…not just a boy or common princeling but a king who would bring about Albion and unite the lands, a son honourable, tolerant and true of heart, a king whose memory would last into the mists of time. Arthur wasn’t just born of magic. Nimueh had taken credit for something another had accomplished. Arthur truly was a Pendragon…a dragon’s son…just like Eliffer and Eleanor!

To bring harmony to the children of men the dragon queen had created dragon lords giving them magic. Merlin caught his breath; his heart missed a beat when he understood the full implications of his reasoning. Magical beings were connected…and that meant…Merlin felt tears rise to his eyes…all magical beings like him shared a kinship with Dragonara and, in a manner of speaking, Arthur was his brother and just as magical in his own way!

Recalling where he was and what was at stake, Merlin wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand and decided it was about time he dealt with Leofwine. On the other side of the cave the sorcerer-king slowly made his way towards his intended prize: Queen Guinevere. All around them, fires blazed; the putrid odour of rat droppings, mould and rotting leaves mingled with the rancid smell of burnt flesh and stung Merlin’s nostrils. This time it was the smoke that made Merlin’s eyes water and he squinted across the flames towards the Camelot quarter, where Gwen’s shape was flitting here and there, as she tended the wounded, hurrying to Gaius’ and then to Emma’s side to fetch water or more bandages for Camelot’s injured men, women and children.

In the centre of the cave Gwen’s fake dragon was beginning to fade, consumed by flames and hacked to pieces by Leofwine’s men. His soldiers had begun to drag smouldering chairs and trestle tables away from the fires, diminishing the dragon’s power to shield Gwen’s sanctuary. Stealing past a large boulder, Leofwine kept an eye on the flitting queen, while apparently assessing the cave. Merlin’s eyes followed the sorcerer-king’s. Above them in the cathedral like vault, the ceiling was studded with stalactites that dropped from the roof like gigantic icicles. All around them stalagmites rose up like pillars in a great hall. In some places the columns had been shattered by a great force, the rock face still showing recent scars, where lichen and moss had not had sufficient time to cover the breaks. Watching closely, Merlin saw how a mirthless smile lit up Leofwine’s face. He’d been right all along: a real dragon had lived here until fairly recently. Undoubtedly, Leofwine pondered if the queen had either secreted the beast in one of the many tunnels or hidden the creature elsewhere.

The sorcerer-king had raised his crystal and summoned a spell before Merlin could stop him, bringing down an enormous stalactite that crashed onto the heads of the troops below. Realising too late that he had chosen the wrong hiding place, Merlin was forced to dive for better cover or be trampled by the wave of fleeing trolls and men. A large fragment of the rock forced Arthur and Dragonara apart. Merlin lost sight of Arthur when a second spell illuminated the vault and brought down an even larger icicle, this time causing devastation among Gwen’s wounded.

Leofwine did not waste time; dazed by the noise and dust, Merlin tried to scramble over fallen debris and towards Gwen, guessing Leofwine’s intent. However, he was too late. Leofwine took one huge leap and reached the queen before Merlin did, but the sorcerer-king hadn’t reckoned with Hueil, who darted across and put his bulk between Leofwine and the queen.  Despite his wound, he challenged Leofwine, exchanging blow after blow, before Leofwine lost his patience and simply raised his crystal, removing Hueil with a spell that sent Urien’s favourite servant into the nearest wall with a skull-shattering force. Gwen cried out and tried to flee back into the circle of her guards with Sir Edward’s sword trying to protect her this time, but Leofwine was faster. He caught her by the wrist and dragged her towards him, holding on to her like a falcon unwilling to give up his prey.

“Bring me the ransom I was promised, Arthur Pendragon, and I’ll return your queen unharmed!” Casting another spell, Leofwine raised the crystal once more and Gwen disappeared in a cloud of golden dust. Leofwine grabbed the bridle of a fleeing horse and jumped on the animal’s back, charging into the Rowan tunnel without heeding the injuries he caused to his own men or any of Arthur’s soldiers being able to stop him.

Howling with rage, Arthur and his knights decimated Segovia’s men, the trolls fighting on Camelot’s side harder than before. Leofwine’s remaining garrison fled back into the Rowan tunnel and out of the caves to reassemble outside the citadel.

A strange calm was beginning to settle on the cave. Sir Leon was rounding up the remaining guards, Arthur and Gaius saw to the wounded, while Percival, Gawain and Elyan dispatched the last of Segovia’s warriors. Ethelgunda, aided by her sister Yolanda, limped towards Camelot’s women and children. They were strangely silent; instead of crying, the children who were unharmed brought cups of water to Gwen’s guards, who were crestfallen and desolate having lost their beloved queen. Under Gaius command the women rushed to the wounded and tried to help them as best as they could. Exhausted, Geoffrey of Monmouth scrambled out from his hiding place and knelt by Hueil’s side; he fingered the back of Hueil’s skull gently, but the man was dead, there was nothing left but to carry him off and lay him out tenderly with the other who had given their lives for Camelot and freedom to live as they chose. Merlin crawled out from behind the rock that had given him shelter and tried to find his bearings in the dust and billowing smoke. To his surprise, someone took him by the hand and pulled him back down. When Merlin looked up, he was confronted by a pair of emerald green eyes.

“It’s time for the real dragon to appear! Don’t argue with me, young warlock. Here, hold my hand and don’t let go.” Dragonara squeezed his fingers hard and he could feel his magical power drain from him, as if an arrow had pierced a vein. “My strength has not fully returned after reviving Eliffer and Marigold. About time you made yourself useful today!”

Dragonara’s skin changed from smooth to rough and he sensed how her blood turned from warm to cold. Her neck grew longer and scaly; her beautiful face transformed into that of a reptile and her clothing began to tear and fall off her in shreds.

“There must be another way!” Merlin looked on in horror as her fingers began to transform into a dragon’s talons. “I’ll think of something. We’ll get Gwen back, I promise!” Merlin clung to her claw with both hands. “Please, you’re the last of your kind!”

“Look after Aithusa for me, young warlock. It’s been a pleasure knowing you.” Dragonara smiled, gradually transforming into her dragon shape, her elongated face now graced by several rows of razor-sharp teeth, her emerald eyes changing into snake-like pupils.

With his own powers gone completely, Merlin felt his fingers slipping and she gradually escaped his grasp. Unable to hold her, he rose with tears streaming down his cheeks. Her golden body reared up in front of him; one of her gigantic paws pushed the rock that had sheltered them out of the way as if it were a pebble. She unfurled her wings and launched into flight, causing the fighting all around them to stop as everyone dived for cover, terrified of a fire blast from above. Before taking off into the vault, Dragonara turned and addressed Merlin one last time, but her voice only made sense to a dragon lord. To everyone else she emitted an ear-shattering roar.

“I’ll await my fate at sunset…on the field called Gytha’s Meadow, just below the town. Don’t forget: it must be Arthur who cuts out my heart! It won’t be hard to convince my darling husband; trust me, Leofwine will relish the thought. He’s a coward at heart.”

“I won’t allow it! Come back here, you’ve got to obey your lord and master,” Merlin said, barely able to stand on his own two feet. She merely chuckled and extended her wings, soaring up into the cupola, where a rose-tinted dawn was already showing in the skylight hundreds of feet above his head.

golden dragon flying into sunset…/to be continued

Merlin Fan Fiction: Let the Questing begin! (Part 20)


castle attacked by dragonsSo far I haven’t plucked up my courage to watch the final three episodes of the BBC’s Merlin, partly because then I won’t be able to remain in denial and must accept the show’s finally over and partly, because I made the fatal mistake of reading Twitter messages distraught Merlin fans had posted on Christmas Eve. They were clearly unhappy with the way the show ends and if what I read is true one can only assume amateur writers putting together their first short story for a local magazine competition could have done better than the Merlin/Shine Ltd team did…which would have spoiled my Christmas and my writing experience even more.

I also didn’t want to be influenced by what the Shine Ltd writers had concocted while I was still writing the ending to my own first fan fiction adventure. Initially I had planned to make part 20 the final part, but it was still so much fun writing it, I eventually expanded the battle for Camelot and stretched it out over two parts instead. Part 21. will follow shortly and will conclude the adventure nicely, methinks.

So here’s the penultimate episode for my own Merlin adventure – relax my dear Merlinians, my story will have a happy ending…of sorts…I cannot guarantee you won’t shed a tear but Arthur and Merlin will certainly live to fight another day!

From left to right: Guinevere, Gaius, Morgana,...

The Honeymoon is over – Let the Questing begin! (Part 20)

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.

At the Rowan entrance to secret tunnels leading into the caves under Camelot…

Arthur’s party had passed through Osthryth’s Fort unchallenged. Now his men were watching the entrance to the tunnels from the safe distance of a clearing in the forest. A small movement in the trees above signalled the return of Urien’s falcon. The prince held out his arm and the graceful animal swooped down from its perch. The falcon raised his leg and Urien detached a tiny silver cylinder, taking out the miniscule cork that stoppered it.

“How long do you think before Lot’s and Bres’ men get here, Urien?” Arthur whispered, thoughtfully turning Excalibur in his hands. He cast an anxious glance at the parchment in the prince’s hands. “We could do with some good news.”

“It’s from my friends in Bres!” Urien squinted at the piece of parchment and motioned Arthur and Merlin to come closer. Merlin raised the burning log he had picked up from a rather miserable fire that was struggling to bring a little warmth and comfort to their make-shift camp. The flickering light fell across Urien’s hands and lit up Arthur’s worried face.

Urien sighed. “Well, I guess you could call it good news of sorts. We must hold out until tomorrow evening. Even if they take the short cut through the Valley of Doom in Odin’s lands they can’t possibly arrive before sun set.” The prince looked up and sniffed the air. “Hm…camp fires…and close by. Stop tugging at my cloak, Siward, what do you want?”

Urien’s servant hastily retreated a couple of steps, when he saw the frown on his master’s face. “My lord, Kai and a couple of King Arthur’s scouts have just returned. A raiding party lead by one of King Leofwine’s most loyal knights has set up camp less than quarter of a league from here. At least two hundred men by Kai’s reckoning.”

“Then it’s closer to three hundred! That boy was never any good with sums!” Urien stamped his cold feet. “Damn, that’s three hundred men just waiting to sneak into the citadel through these tunnels. How on earth did Leofwine find out about them?”

“Probably the same way everybody else does who sneaks in and out of Camelot! Gaius thinks one of the dungeon’s guards is taking bribes,” Merlin sidled up to his king’s side. “Arthur, I have an idea how we can eliminate the threat from Leofwine’s men.”

Arthur turned and stared. “You…an idea?” He snorted dismissively, but Merlin’s serious face prevented him from teasing his servant further. “Go on surprise me…I’m willing to listen to anything…as long as it doesn’t involve herb salad and rabbits again.”

Merlin pulled a face. “No, but you’re on the right track. Our friends in the encampment have had such a long walk. Thirsty work, marching all day, don’t you think?”

“They’re camping by the Fort, plenty of water for horses and men,” Arthur frowned. “Merlin, don’t waste my time with riddles.”

“Why not let them have a small reward for their troubles?” Merlin jerked his head into the direction of the wine barrels, which a thoughtful Kai had managed to retrieve and smuggled back with their retinue. “I know strictly speaking this would involve the use of magic…but the wine’s enchantment is still powerful and…we have the pleasure of entertaining several ladies in our party.” Merlin pointed with a grin at Ethelgunda, Yolanda and a restless Lady Dragonara, who was pacing up and down in front of a palisade, where Gawain had tied up the horses.

“A honey trap! I like it! Good thinking, Merlin. Let Leofwine enjoy the taste of his own medicine.” Arthur called over two of his men. “I cannot spare any of my knights. Merlin, do you think you, Kai and Siward here can manage with one of my scouts?”

Merlin nodded. “Absolutely, but we will need at least one of the ladies to come with us.”

“You couldn’t make it my godmother, could you? She’s spooking the horses with her pacing and we really don’t want to draw any more attention to our presence here.” Arthur’s thumb pointed to the palisade, where two of the horses had started whinnying and stamping the ground with their hooves. “Merlin, don’t return to this place. Meet us at –“

Merlin raised an index finger to his lips and urged his king to caution. “I’ll find you, Arthur, never fear. Today is not the day where you’ll need to advertise for a new servant.”

“I shall, if your plan fails and a raiding party of Leofwine’s men overruns us!” Arthur clapped a hand on his servant’s shoulder and let it rest there for a moment. The two young men looked at each other briefly; then the king let his hand slide from Merlin’s shoulder and smiled wanly. “Come back in one piece, will you.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“Of course I care…you were supposed to darn my socks and there’s still a tear in my cloak you promised to mend.” A grin spread across Arthur’s face, when he saw the hurt on Merlin’s face. He reached out and ruffled his servant’s dark curls. Merlin wrinkled his nose and pulled away from his king’s caress, knowing that any show of royal affection would invariably be followed by a knightly clout on the back.

Shortly afterwards Merlin, Kai and Siward together with one of the scouts and the Lady Dragonara sneaked out of the forest and made their way to the enemy’s camp. It was hard work pulling a cart containing heavy wine barrels across undulating forest ground, through dense undergrowth of fern and bracken, over rocks and fallen branches, but if Merlin’s arms ached at all, he ignored it and pressed his companions for greater haste instead.

Merlin bid Siward and Kai to take over his cart duties for a moment so he could hasten to Dragonara’s side.

“Foolish boy! What do you think this mission will accomplish? The wine’s enchantment is no longer strong enough, my earlier spell saw to that. Even if it were the same potion it once was it takes several hours for a full transformation to take place. You’re not going to lead an army of battle hungry trolls back to Arthur, but a garrison of love-sick puppies. We should be at his side right now, not gallivanting through the forest.”

“My lady, together we can enhance the potency of the wine. A three hundred-strong raiding party of trolls commanded by the ladies in our camp might prompt King Leofwine to enter into more civil negotiations with Camelot. Surely that’s worth a shot?”

“It’ll buy us time, I grant you, but the outcome will be just the same. There are simply not enough warriors protecting the citadel. A dragon’s heart must be handed over or Camelot and all its allies will fall.” Dragonara breathed in deeply, turned and stared back over her shoulder. A red glow had appeared on the horizon. She pointed to a column of smoke rising from the hills beyond the forest. “Look, my fate is sealed, Merlin, there’s nothing you can do.”

Merlin spun around and what he saw made him shudder. “The citadel is burning! You’re right! Camelot will fall if we don’t hurry.” He raced back to the cart and helped Kai and Siward pull the wine barrels with renewed vigour.

In another encampment in the forest surrounding Camelot…

“Where the hell have you been?” King Leofwine paced up and down at the tunnel’s entrance, scowling at one of his men.

The scout, who had just returned, fell down on one knee. “My liege! I did as you asked and rode to our encampment at Rowan to give them your signal to storm the tunnels as soon as Arthur’s party had entered.” The scout inhaled sharply and straightened his shoulders before continuing. “Sire…they’ve disappeared.”

“What do you mean…disappeared? My men entered the tunnels before you gave word, is that what you mean?”

“No, Sire.” The scout puffed up his cheeks and released air through his pursed lips with a hiss. “Puff…and vanished, is what I mean! Arthur’s party is gone…and what’s worse, Sire, so are our men! There is no sign they ever entered the tunnels at Rowan. The raiding party’s encampment was deserted, no horses, no weapons, no men. Do you think Arthur’s got magic?”

Leofwine stared at the smoke clouds swirling up from the air shafts under the citadel. He raised his fist into the air. “They must have entered the tunnels before we were ready! Fools, don’t just stand there, give the signal, we’re going in!”

The captain of Leofwine’s personal guards intervened. “Sire, without our raiding party at Rowan we are three hundred men short and have no idea where Arthur and his men are hiding. The King of Camelot will know these tunnels and caves like the back of his hand. If there really is a dragon living in the great cave –“

“Look for yourself, fool! It’s there alright.” Leofwine pointed to the red glow of flames that shot out from cracks in the rocks of the bluff on which Camelot had been built. He pulled a large crystal from a leather satchel dangling from his belt. “I saw it. My crystal doesn’t lie!” The king waived the stone wildly towards the tunnel entrance, where ringlets of smoke drifted up into the cold night air and joined the clouds of white smoke billowing from the citadel’s many fires.

“Just listen to that rumbling sound…like distant thunder. Can’t you tell, man…it’s the beast’s last goodbye?” A smile stole across Leofwine’s grey face and he bared his teeth like a wolf about to pounce. “Mark my words, at dawn I shall carve out her cheating heart.” Leofwine dropped the crystal back into his satchel and tore out a piece of parchment instead.

“Listen to this: Camelot’s impudent Queen Guinevere dared to send me an ultimatum! A servant girl dictating terms to me! She’ll soon learn what makes a real king.” Leofwine laughed unpleasantly. “Who knows, if she apologises nicely…I might overlook her youthful arrogance and make her my future queen. I hear she’s rather pleasing to the eye and she might bear me many sons.”

The captain of the guard took the parchment Leofwine held out to him and read out loud. “Come and get your prize from the great cave if you dare. It was Arthur who captured the dragon and put her in chains. If you are a worthier warrior than the king of Camelot himself, I have no doubt the beast will be happy to oblige,” the captain shook his head. “Sire, this has all the hallmarks of a trap. Beware beautiful women who are too obliging is what my mother always used to say and I’ve always found her advice to be sound in this regard.”

But Leofwine no longer listened to his men. “Your mother, if I recall, also foretold the crown of Segovia would be worn by a servant’s offspring one day and her prediction was made more than forty years ago…as you can see, Segovia’s crown still sits firmly on my head and I promise you, only a man of royal blood will wed my Eleanor!” Leofwine selected an elaborately decorated sword from a row of weapons on a stand by the side of his tent. “Tell your mother to mind her own business – which is baking pies and dumplings, my friend, while mine is to rule and be a leader of men!”

The captain of the guards stared wordlessly at his hands, folding the parchment into ever smaller pieces, before handing it back to his king. The seasoned warrior’s grizzled head bowed in a silent salute and he turned on his heal to signal to his men.

Disregarding him, King Leofwine draped a fur-lined cloak around his shoulders and fastened it under his chin. “Let’s not keep Queen Guinevere waiting. If we can trap Arthur and his men between us and the dragon, the beast will decide who lives and who dies today.” Leofwine raised his sword and hurried into the dark abyss, his cloak billowing behind him in the wind, Segovia’s crown glittering in the light of the flames that had sprung up all around the tunnel entrance and further up on the bluff, where the citadel stood in blazing in the night and the screams of the men and women inside could be heard across the realm.

The captain sighed and drew his sword, following the leader of men into the tunnel, at the end of which he suspected nothing good would emerge. Had not his mother always said how those who ruled today would find out tomorrow there was always a power greater than theirs?

In a forest clearing by the tunnel entrance at Geoffrey’s Rest…

“Merlin, where have you been? Arthur’s been spitting nails and hell fire.” Gawain clouted his friend’s ears with rough affection the moment the young sorcerer appeared in the camp. “You were gone for hours! What happened? You’re not telling me Leofwine’s soldiers refused wine and song in favour of water and bread?”

Merlin raised his arms to protect his head and dived behind the relative safety of Percival’s bulk suddenly rearing up behind the friends. Merlin’s hiding place didn’t save him for Percival pulled him out and shoved him gently but firmly into the centre of an emerging circle of friends. Sir Leon, Percival and Elyan had joined them noiselessly. Gawain eyed Merlin anxiously. “Did your plan succeed?”

Merlin beamed. “Look for yourself, my friends.” He inclined his head to the left, where to Gawain’s astonishment a single file of trolls followed the Lady Dragonara through the forest like a herd of mild-mannered sheep.

“By all the fair maidens you’ve kissed in taverns and all the beer in we’ve had in Arthur’s realm…those trolls are even uglier than you were…and that’s saying something, Gawaine!” Sir Leon watched the line of lovelorn trolls with appreciation before remarking with a grin: “A sight to warm my heart. Armed to the teeth and ready to do mischief in the name of their beautiful captain! Makes me wonder, if I shouldn’t appoint a woman to lead our future castle guards.”

“Appoint Dragonara as the captain and I promise none of us will be late for guard duty or grumble at having to sit through night watch ever again!” Gawaine inclined his head to stare open mouthed at Dragonara’s retreating rear as the next column of warriors rode by. Sir Leon dug his elbows into Gawaine’s ribs, alerting him to Arthur’s approach. “Erm…she’s a fine horsewoman, and probably handy with a sword. Just look at the way her body moves with the gait of the horse.” Gawaine said hurriedly, rubbing his side where Sir Leon’s disapproving elbow had left a bruise.

“Oy, that’s my godmother you’re eyeballing!” The last remark had not escaped Arthur and he grabbed Gawaine forcefully by the ear. “Isn’t there a battle you should be preparing for, my lusty knight?”

“Who needs an enemy army, when my friends can inflict so much more pain?” Gawaine’s watering eyes couldn’t resist following in admiration as the throng of Segovia’s enchanted warriors rode by. “I’m just glad Sir Leon thinks there’s going to be a future castle guard a woman could lead. What are our chances getting out of this alive, Arthur?”

Arthur let go off his knight’s ear and inhaled sharply. “Unless we can hold off Leofwine’s men until sunset…pretty much none, I fear.” He motioned to his knights to gather around and his loyal troops followed suit.

“You know what is at stake – Camelot’s very future will be decided tonight. By the flames coming from the bluff under the citadel I’d say the fires from Leofwine’s bombardment have already spread throughout the castle. We haven’t a moment to lose.” Arthur drew Excalibur and raised the sword into the air. “Each man must decide for himself, where he stands. That decision none can make for you. I know where I make my stand…for my heart, my soul and the hand that wields this sword are here for the love of Camelot!” He looked into the pale faces surrounding him and realised the forest around them had grown utterly still. “For the future of Albion!” Arthur cried, his voice ringing out into the night.

“For the love of Camelot!” The corresponding roar of his men echoed through the trees, seemingly bouncing off the hills and filling every heart with verve. “For the future of Albion!”

The horses began to whinny impatiently, their decorated harnesses gleaming in the light of the torches Segovia’s troll warriors held up to guide the way into the tunnel. To everyone’s surprise, it was not Arthur who led the knights into the mouth of the tunnel at Geoffrey’s Rest, the alternative entrance they had chosen to outwit Leofwine’s scouts.

Three women warriors headed the column of riders now streaming into the maze of caves. Merlin appeared at Arthur’s side and watched Dragonara’s horse enter the tunnel first.

“Do you think she’s still alive?” Arthur whispered and his blue eyes widened as he turned his pale face towards his servant. “How could I be so foolish and leave her unprotected without at least Sir Leon by her side? She’s never had to deal with a threat like this…and how could she, given her upbringing? If she dies because of my folly -”

Merlin rested his hand on Arthur’s sleeve. “If I know Gaius and his trusted friend Sir Edward, they’re concocting a surprise welcome for King Leofwine as we speak. Never fear, Sire, the queen’s well protected and awaiting your return.”

Startled by strange sounds coming from the citadel above, Merlin looked up and squinted at the blazing battlements, where one of the siege ladders had just crashed into the attackers below, burning men falling to their death on the raised lances and swords of their own comrades. He smiled wanly. “You forget Gwen’s used to sweeping intrusive dirt from Camelot’s steps.” Merlin was rather pleased about his little joke at Leofwine’s expense, but it fell on deaf ears.

Arthur just nodded absentmindedly; his unseeing eyes following Merlin’s fingers as they hurriedly tightened the leather straps that fastened plate armour and assemblies to the king’s arms and legs. “You’re right, Merlin. I should have more faith in Gwen’s ability to be queen…let’s not keep her waiting though. I don’t like the look of that smoke coming from the air shafts of the Great Cave.“ Arthur pulled his arm abruptly away, just as Merlin was trying to hand him his gloves. “Heavens above, did you hear that roar? That sounded just like a –“

“Dragon!” Merlin gasped, his eyes scanning the dark clouds in the sky. He felt his heart miss a beat and expected to see the wings and serpent head of his old friend Kilgharrah appear at any moment.

“You don’t think Gaius could have actually found a dragon, do you?”

Not waiting for an answer, Arthur ran towards the tunnel entrance where the last of Segovia’s troll warriors had just disappeared into the silent mouth of Geoffrey’s Rest. Merlin sprinted after him, elbowing his way through a swarm of Camelot’s soldiers heading for the same fate.

Merlin (Falco columbarius)

Merlin (Falco columbarius) (Photo credit: Larry Meade)

…to be continued…

Merlin Fan Fiction: Let the Questing begin (Part 19)


slowly riding knightDear Merlin fans, we now the end is nearing and the great battle is soon to take place…this chapter of my fan fiction could best be described as a filler chapter where I’m setting up a few characters for you to like a little more…so I can kill them off with a greater emotional impact in the next and final chapter…

 

On TV there are, of course, only two more episodes left before the whole show comes to an end, but here at my blog I will write more Merlin fan fiction in the not so distant future. One reason Morgana didn’t feature in “Let the Questing begin” was because she had such over-exposure on TV…the other reason was that I’m planning the next fan fiction piece in which she will feature, so hopefully you’ve enjoyed my take on the Merlin sagas enough to return for more!

 

The Honeymoon is over: Let the Questing begin!

 

Part 19.

 

From left to right: Guinevere, Gaius, Morgana,...

From left to right: Guinevere, Gaius, Morgana, Merlin, Arthur, Uther and the Great Dragon in the background. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

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 (Gwain), Tom Hopper (Sir Percival), Adetomiwa Edun (Sir Elyan), John Hurt as the voice of the Great Dragon Kilgharrah and Anthony Head as King Uther.

 

 

 

Outside Gaius’ chambers in burning Camelot…

 

 

 

Geoffrey of Monmouth crawled on all fours through the dust and debris to reach his queen, who was clutching her aching head, her ears still ringing from the explosion. Tears streamed down her dusty face, as she scrambled up. She stared at the smoke billowing through the open door. “Gaius, my old friend…Sir Edward and brave Hueil gone, too. Now all’s lost!”

 

Geoffrey held out a hand to his queen, raising her to her feet. “Don’t upset yourself, my lady, Gaius wouldn’t want that…he lived a long and fairly content life; I’m sure his last years were made all the happier for sharing them with young Merlin and finally seeing Arthur succeed to the throne. He was so proud of –“

 

“I wished you wouldn’t talk about me as if I were already in my grave, Geoffrey,” Gaius spluttered as he emerged from the smoke, Hueil’s steadying hand beneath his elbow. “I assure you there’s plenty of fight left in this particular court physician.”

 

Never one for court etiquette, Gwen threw her arms around Gaius and hugged him tight, before bestowing a grateful kiss on the noses of Hueil and Sir Edward, who came staggering through the door after his friends, both hands still firmly clapped over his ears.

 

“My dear old friend!” Geoffrey of Monmouth grabbed Gaius’ hands and shook them enthusiastically. “I thought you were dead!”

 

The old court physician raised an eyebrow and peered at the wall opposite his door. “I certainly shall be when Merlin discovers his favourite painting’s gone. Why that boy should be so attached to the subject of mountain lakes is beyond me. I find him staring at that picture of Lake Avalon quite often.” Gaius shook his head, dislodging a squashed leach from his long, grey hair. It landed at his feet, where it squirmed in the dust until Gaius took his revenge and kicked it back into the burning chamber.

 

“Perhaps it reminded Merlin of Ealdor, his mother’s village?” Gwen squinted at the burned remains on the wall.

 

“You’d think tavern signs would be more to his liking or pictures of nubile young maidens.” Gaius felt the heat rise to his cheeks when Gwen snorted, the only possible response to such an outrageous notion. Gaius clearly felt it politic to correct the impression he had just created for he hurried to add: “Purely in the interest of healing, you understand, Your Majesty. I am training him to be a good physician and knowledge of female anatomy is important, is it not?”

 

Hueil laughed out loud and clapped him on the back. “It certainly is in my experience, dear man!”

 

Blushing, Gaius sidled past his queen and scurried down the corridor as fast as his shaky legs would carry him. “You have no idea what ailments young maidens can report in the space of a day…and don’t even get me started on those drinkers in The Rising Sun tavern…and then there’s the bewildering subject of babies and childbirth! Erm…we’ll be safer down below, let’s head for the dungeons, my lady,” he cried over his shoulder, the queen following him with an amused expression on her face.

 

“Yes, let’s Gaius, and while we’re walking I shall enlighten you on the subject of dragons…babies and childbirth included.”

 

Gaius stopped in his tracks and turned on his heel. “Erm…what, my lady? What dragons would that be?”

 

“The one you and I shall conjure up, old friend.” Gwen beamed. She half-turned towards the smoking chamber behind her. “Do you think any of your…erm…more disagreeable supplies might still be intact?”

 

Gaius raised an eyebrow. “Now what are you up to, my girl?”

 

The queen had caught up with Gaius, who was still unsteady on his feet after his brush with poisonous death and greedy leaches. “One or two of your more temperamental ingredients might come in useful, don’t you think?”

 

She hooked her arm through his with a grip far stronger than the old physician had expected from such a petite lady and more or less dragged him back to his smouldering chambers, where she picked up an iron cauldron and shoved it rather unceremoniously into Hueil’s arms. “Hold this, will you, while Gaius prepares some Camelot magic that will make Leofwine’s ears ring for a long, long while.”

 

Most of the physician’s supplies had been incinerated but the odd temperamental ingredient still snoozed safely in its earthen-wear pot or leather pouch. He collected what was usable and could easily be found in the smoke-filled chamber, flung the stuff into the cauldron, only half understanding what his queen had in mind. When nothing more useful could be gathered, they hurried back into the corridor and down towards the main stair case to the dungeons, until Gwen stopped abruptly at a particularly gruesome tapestry that depicted one of King Uther’s raids on the local druid population. Gwen wrinkled her nose in distaste, instantly letting go off Gaius’ arm. She picked up a corner of the tapestry with both hands and tore down Uther’s shameful reminder. When the dust cloud had subsided a secret door was revealed.

 

The queen turned to one of the wall sconces in the corridor and lifted a torch out of its wrought iron bracket. “Arthur once showed me this route. It’s much quicker and takes us straight to the entrance of the great cave, the dragon’s lair.”

 

“My lady, I don’t understand…you’d dare practicing sorcery…right here at Camelot under Arthur’s nose?” Gaius squeaked, mindful of the torch, it being within dangerous proximity of his long grey hair.

 

“Arthur’s nose is leagues away, probably stuck knee-deep in whatever mess his royal pig-headedness has landed him in. Besides, I have a feeling he won’t object to the type of sorcery we’ll be employing here today!”

 

The trained physician in Gaius shook his head at the thought of noses with knees, while Geoffrey, his fingers still trying to unclog plaster dust from his ears, finally caught up with them. “Is this wise, my lady? Shouldn’t we wait for King Arthur’s return?”

 

The queen flung Uther’s tapestry over Geoffrey’s head, pulled open the secret door and pointed resolutely down a stair case, before plunging into the silent darkness that lay beyond the door. “Gentlemen, you swore allegiance to Camelot, not just to the man sitting on the throne. At this moment in time, I represent the king. So quit moaning!”

 

Gaius sighed deeply, reluctantly following his queen down into the citadel’s bowels. Hueil and Sir Edward cluttered down the spiralling steps after them, each clearly dubious what this new scheme might possibly achieve in the coming battle. Geoffrey of Monmouth disentangled his head from the tapestry and trotted down the stairs, still muttering they should wait for Arthur to arrive.

 

When they reached the bottom of the stair case, Gaius had to rest. He held on to the damp wall beside him and puffed. “My lady, I fear on this occasion Geoffrey may be right. I cannot see what we could possibly do that Sir Edward and his knights haven’t already done in defence of the citadel?”

 

Gwen turned and pulled a face, the flickering light adding two little horns to her shadow’s hair, as she faced her old friend. “Since Arthur has put me in charge of the citadel…you can jolly well watch me defend his realm as I see fit!”

 

“But my lady, if Arthur finds out we’ve used magic to defend his realm –“

 

“Gaius, none of this would have happened, if Arthur had stayed at home with me and not set out on yet another ill-advised quest. You’re a physician! Find a cure for his pig-headedness and leave me to worry about the sorcery!”

 

Shivering in the icy cold tunnel, Gaius snatched the tapestry from Geoffrey and wrapped it around his shoulders. “How exactly, with your Majesty’s gracious permission, should I cure Arthur of his wanderlust and you of your eternal fear for his safety without the use of sorcery? That boy was born with ants in his breeches and nothing but jousting on his mind. He’ll never be a stay-at-home husband and well you know it. Now, what about that dragon-beastie you want us to conjure up? Isn’t there something in Aurelius’ dragon book…I seem to recall a chapter on magical tincture?”

 

“Aurelius’ tinctures!” Gwen snorted and headed back into the darkness with a grim expression on her face. “You won’t conjure up a fully grown dragon with tincture of honey and lemon balm…but you never know…it might cure the beastie’s chesty cough before Leofwine gets around to carving out its heart!”

 

Her fingers gliding along the damp and moss-covered wall on her left, Gwen plunged into the gloom, raising her torch with her right hand to guide her party. The long tunnel ahead of them was lit up by just one wall sconce every twenty yards and sloped downwards, heading to the very bowels of the castle. Gaius had trouble keeping up with the lithe young queen. Above them, the bombardment never ceased, explosions and screams followed their descent, the stench of burning flesh already pervaded the citadel and spurned Gwen on to hurry even more. Hueil easily overtook Gaius with his long strides and fell in beside the queen, urging her to explain her plan, while her aged fellow conspirators tramped reluctantly behind them, trying to keep up.

 

They finally reached a small, cave-like chamber, where they came to a halt at the outer dungeon gates. Gaius caught his breath and peered through the lattice work, where a heavily studded oak door led into the inner most secrets of the citadel.

 

“How are we going to conjure up a dragon? I haven’t enough puff left in my lungs to conjure up a squirrel…erm…I mean if I did have magic…which I don’t, Your Majesty!” Sir Edward cried in a loud voice, causing everyone to jump out of their skin. He leant against the roughly hewn stone work lining the chamber and mopped his brow. “Has one of you any practical experience in such matters?”

 

“It’s no use looking at me, there are no more spell books left in my library; Uther burned the lot.” Geoffrey panted. He rattled the bars of the outer dungeon gates, his breath finally catching up with his lungs.

 

“Does anyone else hear this ringing noise?” Sir Edward asked nervously, his head cocked to one side like a bird’s. “I fear there must be sorcery at play. All I can hear is a strange ringing.” He clapped his hands to his ears and frowned.

 

Hueil lifted the old knight’s hands and pronounced his words slowly and with care. “There was an explosion, my good knight…sulphur Gaius said, I believe. It’s highly flammable and doesn’t agree with the other fragrant ingredients of your physician’s chamber. Help us stir the queen’s pet dragon into action, Sir Edward; the ringing in your ears will soon subside.”

 

Hueil flashed a smile at the queen, when Sir Edward’s enlightened face showed them he had at last regained his wits. Sir Edward nodded enthusiastically. “A pet dragon…yes, I understand,” he cried, pointing to the dungeon’s doors. “I’d love to see Leofwine’s face when he finds out!”

 

Gaius scratched his head. “Have you all gone mad?”

 

Gwen giggled and unlocked the gates with a huge key from the set dangling off the embroidered belt gathering her gown at her waist. She tripped lightly through the gates, the others following her less lightly, and pushed open the studded doors. Bright lights flooded the small cave-like entrance, causing everyone to squint. The clamour of many voices drifted up from the innards of the citadel and when Gaius sidled pasts the queen to cast an enquiring look down yet another set of stairs, he noted a long line of servants hurrying along the tunnels below, each servant laden with household furniture, a stream of ants on their way to a gigantic nest.

 

Gaius’ eyes widened. “That’s your cunning plan? We’re moving into the dungeons! I don’t think that’s going to save our skins for very long. It won’t take Leofwine long to discover us, you know.”

 

“But I want him to find us!” Gwen turned to him, a wide grin spreading across her face. “Leofwine wants a dragon queen’s heart, so he shall have one. He’ll have to cut it out first, though! Let Leofwine show us that he’s the mighty warrior he claims to be…a dragon slayer and worthy King of Camelot!” She raised her hands playfully and turned them into claws. “I’ll give him a fire-breathing, smoke-spewing beastie, a gigantic scaly worm that’s lurking in the tunnels just waiting to do battle. Grrrrrrrr. May the smoke from his fiery nostrils rise to the heavens like a beacon and bring my Arthur home!”

 

Hueil slapped his forehead and burst out laughing. “Why, of course, that’s brilliant!”

 

Gaius looked bewildered from his queen to his enemy’s servant. “This…erm…scaly worm…if it’s not going to live long…does it really need all this furniture for its comforts? I mean, if it’s all the same to you, but that was my favourite arm chair I just saw Emma carrying into the cave.”

 

Gwen’s silvery laugh rang through the corridors and bounced off the cave’s domed ceiling. “Show me the Great Dragon’s broken chain, Gaius, and I promise to explain. The poisoned arrow must still be addling your brain.”

 

“I thought the arrow hit his chest,” Geoffrey muttered, shaking his head as they walked down the steep stairs to join the throng of huntsmen, beaters, servants and maids, who streamed into the great cave that had been the Great Dragon’s prison for more than twenty years.

 

In the centre, just under a natural sky light hundreds of feet above their heads, the servants had erected a huge pile of every flammable thing Camelot could spare. The conspirators found the severed end of the enormous chain that had once held the Great Dragon Kilgharrah prisoner and with the help of a couple of servants and with much huffing and puffing, Sir Edward and Hueil finally heaved the massive chain into position; it now led from the darkest part of the cave to the centre, where a rather oddly shaped pile of furniture grew with every new arrival of servants.

 

Gwen watched the men carry the enormous instrument of Kilgharrah’s imprisonment. She turned to Sir Edward. “Look, over there! How generous of our old friend the Great Dragon. He’s left us a souvenir of his time at Camelot. Gather the scales together and scatter them in the tunnels on the other side of the cave. Take a scouting party with you. When Leofwine’s warriors enter the tunnels, they’ll find a dragon’s heartbeat that’s far fiercer than anything the sorcerer king has ever dreamt possible!”

 

“And if Arthur enters the tunnels first?”

 

“Sir Edward, we must make sure it’s Leofwine who enters first! Any ideas?”

 

“Leave it to us, my lady. I think I’ve got an idea how to lure him and his men into the tunnels.” Hueil grinned, already setting off at a trot with Sir Edward and several guards hot on his heels.

 

Gwen turned to Geoffrey and Gaius. “Now for a little dragon magic, my friends! Show me what’s in that cauldron of yours, Gaius, and we’ll see if our fire-breather can’t greet King Leofwine with a little snap, sparkle and pop.”

 

Gaius looked around the enormous cave and spotted several strategically placed fire baskets under the most important air shafts. Finally catching on to Gwen’s brilliant plan, he chuckled and slid the moth-eaten tapestry from his shoulders, handing it to Emma, who had just appeared with an arm full of old cushions by his side. “Here, take this my girl, it’ll be perfect for the dragon’s head.”

 

Emma looked up anxiously, when another attack from Leofwine’s mangonels made short work of demolishing the turrets of the middle tower. “I’ll get the wall hangings from King Uther’s former chambers, shall I? Those gloomy purple ones with the severed Saxon heads?”

 

“Splendid idea, Emma! And get the old rascal’s robes whilst you’re at it. He won’t need them anymore and this beastie of ours requires an awful lot of skin!” Gaius nodded encouragingly and strolled over to the ever increasing furniture pile.

 

Emma handed tapestry and cushions over to a young lad, who scrambled up on the pile and stuffed the cushions into a tangle of chairs, before draping the tapestry over the arrangement.

 

“Try to make it bulge out a bit more…yes, that’s it…just like a dragon’s brow. Well done!” Gaius encouraged the young squire. The boy flashed a shy smile at the old physician, before starting to drape blankets and sheets over a long line of upturned armchairs that sat on top of a pile of tables. The furniture-beastie wobbled dangerously, but the lithe young squire sprang from chair to chair with the agility of a squirrel without causing the pile to collapse.

 

Gwen watched the creation of her very own dragon with pride. Every available servant, guard, hunter and squire had answered her call and was determined to defend Camelot. The royal guards and knights had taken up their positions by the cave’s various entrances, the kitchen servants were manning the fire baskets and Gaius skipped between all of them, handing out small leather pouches containing plenty of snap, crackle and pop to greet their unwelcome guests.

 

“Arthur has truly created a realm worth dying for. I wonder if Leofwine’s men feel quite the same about their’s,” she muttered absentmindedly, when an exhausted messenger arrived and handed her a small piece of parchment. The man collapsed at her feet and had to be carried off.

 

She unfolded the blood-stained, crumpled message and gasped. “It’s from Arthur! He’s finally coming home…and he’s not alone!”

 

Before she had time to hug Gaius, who had hurried over to her, Hueil returned, one of his cheeks was bleeding and an arrow protruded from his right shoulder. He sunk to his knees before the queen. “Sir Edward and his men are luring Leofwine’s men into the tunnels. They’ll be here any moment. Prepare the beast, my lady, or all is lost!”

 

“Gaius, help Hueil! Geoffrey, now would be a good time to start lighting the fires!” Gwen stopped a passing knight and drew his sword. “For Camelot!”

 

“For Camelot!” Every man, woman and child in the cave responded to the queen’s rallying cry, but their voices were drowned by the roar approaching from the tunnels; the onslaught of enemy shouts and taunts was accompanied by trumpet fanfares and drums and the unmistakable sound of clashing swords.

 

 

 

English: Statue of King Arthur, Hofkirche, Inn...

English: Statue of King Arthur, Hofkirche, Innsbruck, designed by Albrecht Dürer and cast by Peter Vischer the Elder, 1520s. This statue is old enough so that it is not covered by any copyright. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

/to be continued…before the end of this year!

 

The Kindness of Bradley James


From left to right: Guinevere, Gaius, Morgana,...

When you love someone, set them free – or words to that effect, according to a song by Sting. More to the point, when you love somebody, you want to keep them safe, even if that means sacrificing yourself. It is our most “human” quality, the thing that truly sets us apart from other animals. Hyenas may laugh and chimps may chuckle, but they do not volunteer in a life-or-death crisis to sacrifice themselves for the greater good, so their family and friends can live.

Speculation is rife on Twitter and Facebook how the final Merlin series is going to end – bearing in mind the producers never bothered showing us Camelot’s glory days nor Albion coming to pass and that the show was supposed to be a “before they were famous snap shot”, it is rather silly they want to show us what happens at Arthur’s final battle – this was never supposed to be part of the show according to many interviews with Capps and Murphy.

Colin Morgan said in a recent BBC interview, he was pleased as well as shocked, when he read the script for the final two episodes; he believes fans will be pleased with how the show ends. So far I am rather miffed about everything’s that’s gone on, so “pleased” is rather an optimistic term to use, young Master Colin.

piebald horseThanks to the kindness of Bradley James, who finally came clean, it was revealed the show’s coming to an end because King Arthur himself could no longer be bothered with it. I suspect this was true for all four young actors, who must have been fed up to the back teeth when they saw the first half of season 5 scripts and realised that once again the show’s producers had ignored everyone’s criticism and were carrying on as before.

How then would this writer end the BBC’s hit series Merlin, if she were allowed to write a script?

1. If Merlin can transform into an old man or old crone, he is also able to transform into another young man, far less draining than opting for an old person! Remember he swore he’d die for his king, should this be necessary? This is his chance!

When Arthur’s besieged on all sides in a hopeless war and there’s no other way out, the logical conclusion is for Merlin to open the portals to Avalon and allow Arthur to pass through into eternal safety with the proviso Arthur can return when Albion needs him most. This will be the magic reveal, as Arthur will never see Merlin again, so neither of them will have to deal with the consequences of the discovery.

Arthur won’t want to go willingly, so his faithful servant will use some trickery. Merlin will ask the lady of the lake (Freya) for help, as she promised him. He gives Excalibur into Freya’s safekeeping for Arthur’s eventual use, when the once and future king returns to the world of men.

golden dragon head with fire2. Merlin then transforms into Arthur and “allows” Mordred to wound him mortally. Mordred believes he’s in a position to seize the throne for the greater good of Camelot and wants to re-introduce sorcery (banning only the practice of evil magic); he has already secretly proposed this to the rulers of the other kingdoms.

When mad Morgana finds out, she’s furious and she falls out with Mordred; he taunts her she won’t be getting the throne after all and when she gets that murderous look in her eye, Mordred knocks her out during battle, wounding her fatally.

For Mordred has been playing the long game and always planned to ingratiate himself into Camelot’s throne room, but when his plans goes wrong and his true motives are discovered by Merlin/Arthur, he has no choice but to align with Morgana to fulfil his dream. He wants the same thing as Merlin, but goes about it in the wrong way, because he is rather fond of power, as we saw when he was still a child and killed a large number of men with his scream.

3. Merlin, adopting the guise of Emrys with his last strength, finishes off a dying Morgana in a final showdown, when she mocks him over the bloodied remains of Camelot’s knights on the battlefield.

4. With a true-to-his-word Mordred as temporary regent of Camelot and with Gwen as rightful queen by his side, the five kingdoms will unite to prevent further bloodshed and Albion is finally created. Uther’s 20 year reign of terror has cast such a long and dark shadow over Camelot and the five kingdoms that, no matter how good Arthur’s intentions were, no Pendragon would ever have succeeded in remaining on the throne of a united Albion.

h78 fighting knightsWith the removal of the Pendragon blood line, Albion is created…however, Gwen is pregnant and her son Arthur will eventually rule…prolonging the Arthurian legend for ever.

5. If I recall rightly, the great Dragon Kilgharrah never actually said that our Arthur had to be around/alive to rule Albion, he just said that with Merlin’s help Arthur would bring it about.

And that’s my potted version of the final two episodes as I would write them.

Oh, I almost forgot: Gaius will get his well-deserved retirement in medieval Bournemouth, where he opens an olde tea shoppe with Camelot’s cook, but she must promise never to bake her pies or try to tempt people with her dumplings again or Gaius will use what little of his magic remains and turn her into a warty scullery maid at a local burger bar.

golden dragon flying into sunsetAithusa’s dragon breath keeps the hearth fires glowing. When Aithusa gets too big for the shoppe, they all retire to Tintagel, where they meet up with Kilgharrah, and together they start a thriving clotted cream and scones business with deliveries by air made all over Cornwall.

As for King Arthur in Avalon, he finally finds a sexy blonde girl-elf he really fancies and they have zillions of changeling kids, who eventually escape Avalon and wreak havoc on Camelot in a good but mischievous way.

Merlin Fan Fiction: Let the Questing begin! (Part 18)


dark green dragon in cave resting

The Honeymoon is over – Let the Questing begin! (Part 18.)

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.

In the council chamber at Camelot…

Gwen watched as the flames devoured the last of the names on the writhing scroll. Eight brave men who had done what they thought was best. Eight fearless knights, old perhaps, but nonetheless determined to stand up against Leofwine’s tyranny. For their king. For Camelot. Yet, knowing Arthur as well as she did, she feared he might not look kindly at their eagerness to hand over what the king regarded as his most precious treasure, the queen’s heart, his to keep for all eternity.

She held up her hands to the fire; no longer trembling now, she watched the hearth’s glow streaming through her outspread fingers, the light reflecting off the golden wedding ring on her finger, an illuminated brush painting a tiny circle on the queen’s breast. In the centre of the circle, a fine silvery thread had come loose from the embroidery on her blouse; the silky strand danced in the warm air that engulfed her by the hearth. Geoffrey’s dagger had cut the cross stitching and a minute spec of red had formed in the centre of the circle. Gwen’s eyes began to swim, when she imagined Arthur’s pain upon finding his queen dead and Camelot lost to tyranny once more.

Turning abruptly, she blinked the watery traitors away and eyed Hueil’s tired face keenly. “And Prince Urien knows this to be true? Arthur is really on his way with an army? But how…and whose army agreed to come to our aid?” Gwen raised an eyebrow, when concern spread across Hueil’s face. “Who told you this? Are they to be trusted?”

“My lady, the falcon arrived with just this brief message.” He sighed and scratched his stubbly chin. “Forgive my misgivings, my lady. If my lord Urien has joined forces with the King of Camelot and the army turns out to be Segovia’s own rear guard…you’ll understand, civil war in my country is not quite the home coming I was looking forward to.”

Gwen stared at Urien’s liege man. “Segovia’s rear guard?”

Before Hueil could answer, a direct hit on Camelot’s west wing reverberated through the massive walls. Tremors emanated from the very foundations and echoed upwards through the curtain walls and the citadel’s eight towers. Gwen closed her eyes in horror. The shockwave would have thrown the men on the battlements off their feet and the archers would have loosened their volley of arrows far too early to be of use against the enemy. Gwen opened her eyes and inhaled sharply, when the sounds from the battleground reached the castle’s inmates. The archers had truly missed their targets – Leofwine’s men were cheering and shouting their taunts louder than ever. A brightly lit torrent of arrows swished past the open council chamber window with a squeal. Gwen straightened, threw back her shoulders and walked stiffly over to the window, shutting it with a determined bang.

She turned and frowned at her unexpected visitor. “You were going to tell me about Segovia’s rear guard?”

A rather pale Hueil was still holding on to the table by his side. “Uh, sorry, I’m feeling a little faint.” Hueil pointed wearily to a chair. “May I sit?”

“Of course, I beg your pardon.” Gwen darted forward and filled a goblet with wine, as Hueil sank onto one of the carved council chamber chairs. He took the goblet from Gwen’s hand and drank deeply, but all the while his eyes scrutinised her. Gwen considered his position. He was clearly fiercely loyal to his prince but also reluctant to show disloyalty to his king. While that did him credit and showed him to be a man of integrity, it did nothing to enlighten her as to Arthur’s newly acquired army and current whereabouts. She smiled wanly. “Leofwine’s bombardment has gone on for so long, I have become accustomed to the ground shaking under our feet.”

“You’re very brave, my lady.”

Gwen shrugged her shoulders. “Not I! I keep pretending we’re out at sea.”

She sat down opposite Hueil and pushed a decanter with ruby wine and a platter with bread and ham across to him. “Here, you must be famished.”

“Thank you, my lady, I don’t mind if I do.” Gwen watched as Hueil tore a chunk out of the bread, his hands grimy and covered in fresh scars. Hueil’s blood spattered hand reached for the platter and a large slice of ham disappeared without trace within moments, followed by an enormous bite out of the bread.

Noting the puzzled look on her face, Hueil hurriedly swallowed his meal. “Prince Urien’s falcon has his favourites. Sadly, I’m not one of them.” A grin spread slowly across Hueil’s face, now that his cheeks were no longer bulging. “I hear fashionable ladies-in-waiting wear riding caps adorned with feathers this year. What say you, Your Majesty, would such a gift cheer your own heart?”

Gwen smiled. “Fashion has been known to aid peace occasionally.” She fingered the fine cross stitching on his dusty cloak. “Once Urien’s favourite messenger has lost the strength in his wings, I have no doubt the seamstress responsible for this garment will receive her just deserts.” Gwen raised an eyebrow confidentially.

Taking another deep draught from his goblet, Hueil considered Gwen for a moment; then he relented with a sigh. Leaning across the table he came closer, still preserving a polite distance between them not to offend Her Majesty’s dignity.

“Her name’s Mariette. She’s the niece of Princess Eleanor’s lady-in-waiting. I want to ask for her hand…but she’s still undecided. My loyalty to Prince Urien has been a bit of a stumbling block,” Hueil confessed with a sigh. “And she resents the time I spend in his aviary.”

Gwen eagerly pushed her emotional advantage. “It’s hard being so far from the one you love. I wished there was a way to end this idiotic siege, so we could all sleep easy in our beds again.” Realising what she’d said, she blushed very prettily. “Erm…I wasn’t implying you and Mariette –“

Hueil guffawed, waving his chunk of bread with the air of a man who discusses his love life with royal heads every day of the week. He leant a little closer across the table, a corner of his neckerchief dipping into his goblet. “Between us and these four walls…Mariette’s as pure as the driven snow…more’s the pity.”

“The gift of a pretty falcon feathered cap might lighten her mood and prompt her to bestow her favours more generously?” Gwen fished his neckerchief out of the goblet and wrung out one corner, dark red droplets spattering across the stretch of table between them.

“Ah, but my lord Urien loves that darn beast to distraction – “

“And he shall go on loving it, my friend! If I’m not mistaken, one of our huntsmen reported one of Camelot’s falcons expired a few days ago. I wonder if a tail feather or wing might not be procured? Call it a gesture of good faith, Master Hueil.” Gwen beamed, her brown eyes twinkling in the candle light. “I have good faith in the power of love and that people usually do what that’s right in the end, don’t you?”

Hueil sat up straight and blinked. “Of course!” He took another swig of wine and cleared his voice: “Your Majesty didn’t hear this from me…but Leofwine always leaves a quarter of his men behind until the siege is well under way. When the die is cast in his favour, Leofwine brings out his rear guard for the kill. He received word there are tunnels leading right into Camelot. He will count on the element of surprise.”

Her guise as temptress forgotten, Gwen’s small fist pounded the table with force. “Then he has miscounted his fortunes!” She jumped up and started pacing the chamber. “I will send a scouting party through the tunnels and if the rear guard is indeed headed that way, we shall know how to act…and if by fortuitous chance –“

“The rear guard turns out to have joined Arthur and his men,” Hueil continued her sentence, “your scouts can lead Camelot’s king and his men right into Leofwine’s vulnerable flank, where they’ll be able to cause painful mischief. Leofwine won’t know the men appearing on the hill behind Arthur are really Segovia’s own warriors…well, not until they are within a sword’s range and he’s staring up the nostrils of his own knights.”

“Exactly!” The queen paused in her perambulations around the council chamber table. Her eyes happened on Aurelius Smarticus’ book. Gwen tapped the book with her ring-finger and laughed out loud. “Aurelius Smarticus, you are rapidly becoming my favourite writer! I say, Hueil, you’ve given me an idea. Subterfuge and a trick of the eye…the old tunnels…I wonder…it might just work! Follow me!” Gwen turned on her heel and pushed through the halberds her guards had crossed to cover the council chamber doors. One of the startled guards accidentally hit the wall and the halberd’s blade screeched across the brick work, but nothing would deter Gwen from her task. She tore open the doors and hitched up her long skirts. Pausing only long enough for Hueil to grab his gauntlets and helmet, she pounded down the corridor.

Troubled, Hueil called after her. “My lady, where are going? You’re not thinking of entering the tunnels by yourself?”

Guinevere didn’t stop. She turned left into the next corridor and hurried down a stair case, taking two steps at a time. On the landing, she half turned and cried over her shoulder. “Come quickly, Hueil, we haven’t a moment to lose! Leofwine wants a dragon’s life…he shall have a dragon’s last breath and be welcome to it! I’ll promise him a last gasp he won’t forget in a hurry!”

Bewildered, Hueil followed the queen as instructed, wonder written all over his face. How anyone could run so fast in such dainty shoes? He made a mental note to find out Mariette’s running speed before they were betrothed. Who’d want a husband unable to keep up with his wife?

He chased after the queen, down the stairs and onto the next level, where Gwen hurtled through a long, covered walkway with handsome, carved columns on either side, before diving into a corridor that lead to the royal couple’s domestic quarters and guests’ chambers; issuing forth orders along the way to any servants they met on the way, Gwen sailed on without waiting for Hueil. The commotion of running feet brought Gwen’s maid out into the corridor. She was carrying a couple of woollen blankets, no doubt intended for Gaius’ use.

“Thank goodness, there you are, Emma! Blankets…good thinking, bring them, oh, and this can go, too!” Gwen tore down a moth-eaten wall hanging and thrust the embroidered adventures of Uther the Magnificent into Emma’s overloaded arms. “I’ve always hated the thing. Arthur’s cranky old nurse presented it on our wedding day.” Gwen pulled a face. “As if I needed a permanent reminder of Nurse Ida’s deeds! We know only too well, who spoiled Arthur during his most formative years.”

Emma giggled and followed her queen into the royal bed chamber. “None better than poor Merlin, my lady. T’ way his Majesty bellows for his bath in the mornin’…cook can hear him in t’ kitchens – ”

No longer listening, Gwen was busy assessing the contents of her husband’s wardrobe and flung out two soiled shirts and one rather worn-out hose. Emerging slightly red faced, she said: “Take these wretched things, so Merlin won’t have to mend them again and, Emma, fetch me any spare sheets, chairs, wicker baskets and straw-filled mattresses you can find. Tell the men to bring them to the entrance of the great cave below the dungeons. Hurry! I’ll see to Gaius, never fret.”

Leaving an utterly stunned Emma in her wake, Gwen rushed down the corridor and practically flew past the statue of the griffon that guarded the staircase to the throne room. Hueil had trouble keeping up with the queen. Gwen entered the vast chamber and made a quick survey of the inventory. She cornered one of the knights who had been guarding the throne.

“See to it that all unused benches, trestle tables and chairs are brought to the entrance of the cave that lies below Camelot. Get the huntsmen and their beaters down there, too. Tell them to bring their drums and whistles. Where’ll I find Geoffrey of Monmouth and Sir Edward de Mangetout?”

The knight directed her to a small look-out tower from where Edward and Geoffrey surveyed the fiery siege engulfing the citadel’s western tower and curtain walls. The noise of the attackers’ rocks hitting the castle walls and the citadel’s own catapults’ returning fire was enough to render the small party deaf. They retreated to the relative safety of the battlements surrounding one of the main towers in the east. Below them, within the walled fortifications that surrounded the inner village, fires had sprung up here and there.

The sound of collapsing roofs and falling masonry was not enough to drown the screams from those trapped inside their burning homes. Smoke filled the air; the stench of burning flesh rose up from the courtyard and the village. Men and beast tried to flee a fiery end but wherever they ran Leofwine’s warriors and death were waiting for them. Beyond the outer curtain walls the settlement was already lost. A line of fire marked the spot were once a fine row of merchant houses had graced the village. Gwen shuddered, but was determined not to lose her courage in the light of such wanton destruction.

“Geoffrey, will you sit with Gaius, Hueil and me for a moment to hold a council of war? Sir Edward, I need you to come, too.” The old librarian and Arthur’s advisor followed their queen and Hueil without a murmur of dissent, although the Segovia emblem on Hueil’s cloak clearly tested their resolve not to burden their queen with unnecessary questions.

They arrived outside Gaius’ chamber just as another missile struck the citadel. The impact shook the castle’s foundations so hard that Gwen and Geoffrey were forced to cling to the door frame or be thrown off their feet. The force of the strike flung Sir Edward and Hueil against the opposite wall, where wall hangings and decorative shields plummeted down adding to the general uproar and clamour; a large crack appeared in the plasterwork with an eerie screech that caused Geoffrey to nearly jump out of his skin. A rumble as loud as an angry dragon’s roar followed the direct hit. Hueil scrambled up, rubbing his shoulder and Sir Edward hoisted up his heavy belt and sword, his face ashen and his hair sticking up in dusty tufts.

He turned towards his queen. “My lady, whatever you have in mind…may I respectfully request we make this the shortest council meeting on record?”

Gwen nodded wordlessly and turned towards Gaius’ door. She willed herself not to think about the men outside. When the roar of the citadel’s crumbling walls ebbed away, the corridors were filled with the screams of falling men whose task it had been to fire arrows from the battlements but who were now tumbling into the flames below, where they were swallowed hole. The warriors’ death cries mingled with the boom of falling masonry and the hissing of pitch-filled pigs’ bladders originally destined for the enemy’s camp but now dropping into the courtyard below and engulfing the citadel’s own men in an inferno.

Gwen’s hands flew to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears; she stifled a cry and the urge to run away, leaning for the fraction of a moment against Geoffrey’s reassuring bulk. This brief contact with human warmth was enough to rekindle her courage. With a visible effort, she steadied her trembling hands and reached for the door knob. She opened the door but shut it instantly with a yelp. The sharp tongue of a flame had nipped her hand and was now snaking through the keyhole, mocking them.

“Gaius is in there! Please help him!” Gwen’s tear-stained, upturned face entreated the travel-worn warriors at her side. Hueil pushed her gently aside and Sir Edward cautiously opened the door afresh. A flash of heat and flames shot past them and hit the wall opposite, leaving a blackened circle where once Merlin’s favourite painting had graced the walls. Smoke billowed out of the room, followed by several small explosions. Hueil and Sir Edward shook hands briefly; then they darted through the open door into the blistering heat and smoke clouds that greeted them. Gwen’s strength gave way and she cried out after her friends.

Apart from the hissing fire raging inside Gaius’ chambers, the silence that greeted Gwen and Geoffrey out in the corridor was positively deafening.

“Sir Edward…Hueil…where are you?” Gwen ventured forward and peered into the billowing smoke, holding her arm across her nose. “Gaius…are you there?

An ear shattering explosion threw Gwen off her feet and sent Geoffrey’s rotund figure flying through the air.

/too be continued…

Ep. 9 Review & Merlin’s Liars, Liars, Pants on Fire Press Day


 

Ep. 9 “With all my Heart” (contains spoilers)

 

 

From left to right: Guinevere, Gaius, Morgana,...

Producers Capps & Murphy must have insisted once again on playing to a “slapstick audience”, as actor Bradley James (Arthur) referred to it in a recent BBC radio interview.

 

 

With a final international press day over for the Merlin cast, many of their fans feel betrayed that the actors have suddenly developed collective amnesia about all the promises made for a sixth series and Merlin movies they talked about until just a few months ago – now they all claim it was only ever going to be five series and NO movies at all were ever in the pipeline for them.

 

 

It had been “political” Bradley James said in interviews: nobody should find out before 26th November the actors had decided months ago they would not carry on.

 

 

Liars, liars, pants on fire, is all one can say to BBC, Shine Ltd and yes, the acting team, who have gone down in my esteem thanks to these manipulations and outright lies.

 

 

English: Actor Colin Morgan after the premiere...

So, “with all my heart” I’d like to state that I detest being  manipulated into buying “the last ever Merlin series on DVD box set in the rush towards Christmas”, thank you very much.

 

 

Frankly, after watching episode 9, without doubt the worst Merlin episode ever made, I’m now relieved they’re not carrying on with movies and more TV. Nil point for this cheap and awful Panto episode, where Colin Morgan and Bradley James are practically phoning in their performances and everyone else is finding it hard to keep a straight face.

 

 

The episode never reaches the emotional climax it should do, given Arthur’s fighting for the life of his beloved wife Gwen and Merlin manages to obtain the king’s acceptance that not all magic is bad.

 

 

For every time a scene arrives requiring dialogue & action that engages us on a deeper level, Merlin’s either dressed up as a man in drag (nooooooo, even Colin Morgan’s exceptional acting skills cannot make him move and talk like a woman let alone look like one!) or the cast are asked to perform slapstick comedy with bread rolls or Gwen’s being carted around like a sack of potatoes, making an absolute mockery of everything that went on before and the threat she poses to Camelot.

 

 

This is playing to an audience of 5-year-olds and is hardly the “darker, more grown-up” show we were promised over and over again by Capps & Murphy, and yes, by every actor on the show.

 

 

The scene by the “cauldron”, which turns out to be a loch or lake in the mountains, is cheapened and made ridiculous by Colin Morgan in drag. The lame “glowy light” effect surrounding Gwen, when she’s transformed into her old loving self, ruined the entire emotional build up, such as it was.

 

 

SDCC 2010: Merlin

SDCC 2010: Merlin (Photo credit: shine_blitz_on)

Real onscreen magic comes not from cheap CGI trickery, but from using imagination, originality and making the most of the charisma and skills the actors bring to the show. Judging by episode 9, Uther has at last fulfilled his dearest wish: both Camelot and our TV screens are entirely devoid of magic and sorcery!

 

 

Full marks go to young Alexander Vlahos for his multi-layered performance as Mordred, the only highlight in this dismal episode. Morgana (Katie McGrath) has accepted her role as evil panto-queen rather than insisting her considerable acting talents be allowed to shine. Shame on you, Shine Ltd, for spoiling our last Merlin season with such poor fare and robbing us of the magic it could and should have been!

 

 

Merlin prancing around in a dress performing the lamest CGI magic on record is hardly going to convince critics to bestow a BAFTA on the show. Please stick to the day job Colin; you’re hopeless as a woman!

 

 

What would have happened if ITV’s Downton Abbey’s actors had never agreed to be part of the show – would a different set of actors have made any difference to the critical acclaim and commercial success of the show? Nope, not one bit. Why?

 

 

Because Julian Fellow’s scripts are excellent and his overall story arc is always extremely well researched and spot on; we get a consistent story and character progression for every member of cast. It may be more subtle in the case of say the butler or housekeeper for example, but it is there nonetheless, the moving with the times and circumstances, the acceptance of loss, of change and modernity, of growing up and finding one’s place in the world, of social upheaval and barriers being broken.

 

 

Don’t get me wrong, I love Downton Abbey and hugely enjoy the current cast…but they are interchangeable with other actors (Dame Maggie for Dame Judy for example) and having a different set of actors would make no difference to the success of the show.

 

 

Both Downton Abbey and Merlin are family viewing, prime time shows, appealing to a wide range of people of all ages and gender. But Downton Abbey wins all the prizes…why? Is it because it’s not a fantasy show? Nope, not at all. Dr Who and Buffy the Vampire Slayer fall broadly into the fantasy genre, yet both shows can boast a plethora of prizes. These are shows where the writing’s great and the producers know what they are doing.

 

 

Highclere Castle

Highclere Castle (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Incidentally, the setting of “Downton” (Highclere Castle) is as integral to the show as Pierrefonds Castle is to Merlin…BUT –

 

 

the BBC’s Merlin would never have worked without the current set of actors. The show became successful without ever receiving any critical acclaim simply because of the fine ensemble acting the handsome and mainly youthful cast provided and, more to the point, the sensational acting talent of Colin Morgan – we fell in love with this young boy who carried such a responsibility, both as the character Merlin and as an unknown young actor, on whose shoulders the weight of the show’s fate and success rested. It’s therefore particularly hard to accept that the actors cheerfully told a load of porkies with regard to carrying on with the show and the possibility of movies.

 

 

Back to ep. 9: Where was the gut-wrenching, heart-breaking impact on Arthur, after discovering the love of his life is a traitor and tried to murder him? We are not shown this, just a brief scene at the breakfast table where a monosyllabic Arthur plays with his food rather than talk to his murderous queen. We are not shown either how on earth Merlin managed to persuade the king in the first place to spy on his wife and entertain the notion she might be the traitor Camelot’s knights have been hunting for.

 

 

As soon as a little in-depth analysis of the emotional and psychological impact of events or the motivation for a character’s actions are required – and therefore quality dialogue and subtlety – the show’s writers and producers are like fish out of water and cannot deliver; let’s have some slapstick comedy instead, why don’t we?

 

 

Critical acclaim would have made all the difference to the acting ensemble and to us…I have no doubt the series would have continued, had a few BAFTAs littered their way.

 

 

“With all my Heart” is a dismal episode and I for one could have done without the horrible image of Colin Morgan in drag, even if we are entering the Panto season!

Don’t worry Merlinians, I shan’t bother writing any more reviews – this final series is just too disappointing to bother with.

 

 

Merlin Ep. 8 Review & A Call to Arms


English: The Lamentation of King Arthur

Merlin Ep 8 Review and A Call to Arms

(Fairly spoiler free…except…)

Episode 8, titled “The Hollow Queen”, is one of those filler episodes that do not advance the story arc one bit and do little to tie up loose ends. It’s enjoyable enough, I guess, but bears the usual hallmarks of muddle-headed writing, I’m afraid.

Oddly enough, the title might as well have been “Hollow Promises”, since we were told at the outset of series 5 the story would progress by leaps and bounds, that Merlin would finally take centre stage – always bearing in mind the show’s supposed to be about him…

The knights were also meant to see more action independent of Arthur and Camelot, but as you might have guessed, once again Capps and Murphy, the exec producers and creators of the show, stuck to their old formula of one main character being poisoned and then Merlin, with the minimum amount of magic and CGI production cost, saves Arthur’s life once more.

King Arthur, who is supposed to shine as a statesman in this episode, is suddenly thrown back in time to series one, episode 1, where he acts just like an infantile bully boy. In ep. 8 we see him bawling for Merlin at every occasion – it seems the king is incapable of putting on his own shirt and breeches, let alone find his own comb without help.

When it turns out Merlin’s not available, Gaius must come to rescue. Next time, when Gaius is not available, we see a playful king very much “in lurve” who is being dressed by his wife, a mummy’s boy, pampered and cosseted. Hmm…Murphy and Capps have never excelled at writing dialogue, therefore expressing love and intimacy between a married couple couldn’t be done in a more “statesman-like” fashion but had to resort once more to slap-stick comedy. I guess it saved a bit of money, since the producers didn’t have to pay jobbing writers for a better scene with dialogue.

Merlin, who is probably by now regarded as the most slow-witted warlock in history by his medieval contemporaries, falls for yet another Morgana trap; as a consequence, he gets himself poisoned, then rescued by his temporary sidekick and then Merlin runs like a weasel to save Arthur once more at the end.

Why oh why can’t these wretched writers keep their promises – or stick to the letter of the advertisement, namely a show about a WARLOCK – and give us a Merlin-stand-alone adventure, where young Merlin can show he’s heroic, resourceful and wise beyond his years without any Camelot related shenanigans? Simples, as the little TV-meerkat would say.

Capps and Murphy cannot deviate from a winning formula, because they lack the necessary vision to produce a show about the supposedly wisest and most powerful sorcerers of all time and they clearly cannot stick to their promise of truly multi-stranded stories either.

Why or why can Arthur never be shown GOOD MAGIC in an episode? Elementary, my dear Watson (to misquote Mr S. Holmes), because doing so would introduce some REAL conflict and produce a thought-provoking conundrum into the show.

I must say, perhaps the best part of the entire episode comes at the very end, when Merlin stands high up on a gallery above the stunningly beautiful throne room and looks down on King and Camelot…I couldn’t help but feel that he had finally assumed the place and position owed to him at court and already granted to him in our Merlinian hearts.

Castle Pierrefonds, as always one of my favourite characters in the show, shines and sparkles with the corridors, chapel and throne room taking on partly imposing, partly sinister roles. Unfortunately, the writers forget the citadel is more heavily guarded this time round, not just by Camelot’s own armoured division of knights, but also by the visiting king Sarrum and his warriors. Despite this increased protection detail, plucky Queen Gwen not only sneaks out on foot one night to hide a key for Morgana, no – she RIDES OUT ON A WHITE HORSE to meet up with the arch-villainess. Very inconspicuous. Frankly, Camelot’s guards should all be given 125 lashes, methinks. A bunch of sleepy OAPs could do better than that.

Queen Gwen rather enjoys her gorgeous young husband’s wandering hands in this episode, but still wants to form an alliance with old and balding King Sarrum. Is this credible, fangirls? Nope! Not even J K Rowling’s Confundus Curse would be capable of that!

Please Merlin-writers, no amount of sorcery would cause any red-blooded, young heterosexual woman to throw in her lot with Mr Blobby-Sarrum (no offence, Mr John Shrapnel, sir), if lusty King Arthur’s making himself available as a plaything. This really stretches credibility to breaking point for women around the globe.

“The Hollow Queen” was incidentally the first episode where we see young Arthur showing any kind of sexual attraction to his wife – must be the stress of the Sarrum arriving, usually Arthur avoids meeting his wee Gwennie in the bedchamber by taking to a quest elsewhere. Is this Capps and Murphy responding to criticism about the lack of bedchamber action between the royal couple, when there’s been so much bromantic hands-on banter between Merlin and his king?

As a Queen in medieval times, Gwen would obviously be on the way to the executioner’s chamber by now…she has failed to produce an heir after three years of marriage. Would this not have been a credible reason for Sarrum to believe in her treachery rather than him falling for a few smiles and eye-lash flutterings of Gwen? Not according to the writers of the show, who allow a ruthless and cunning King Sarrum to fall for the charms of the first serving-wench-cum-queen that crosses his path.

A Call to Arms

Around the world Merlinians are mourning the BBC’s announcement that their favourite show will end after series 5. On Facebook we are being fobbed off with nonsense about three films “which would inevitably be a reboot of the show”, according to Messrs Murphy and Capps.

Trouble is, we’ve been fed this line for several months now…and this kind of talk started way back when the actors were still referring to the possibility of season 6 and fans were demanding the hit show to continue…only for all of us to be ignored. By the time any movie script would be ready, the current ensemble of fine young and older actors would have been snapped up by Hollywood or be engaged in long running BBC/ITV sagas of a different kind, given how high profile these actors are now.

One has to conclude that Messrs Capps and Murphy or their investors Freemantle are content to deprive the wonderful Merlin actors of their chance to grace our movie screens with the roles they have made their own over the past 5 years; I for one will boycott any Merlin rebooted film or TV show that does not star the original cast. I can only hope all other Merlinians will do the same, ensuring the Merlin movies that do not feature the current ensemble will flop miserably.

The other startling announcement was that Capps and Murphy are leaving Shine Ltd to start their own TV channel. Either this was long in the planning – in which case the uneven production of the so far shown 8 episodes are explained by the exec producers’ lack of attention to a project they are about to leave – or this came about because of a potential falling-out between Shine, the producers and their investors Freemantle. Whatever the underlying reasons for their departure, I feel rather angry at how this has been handled.

In various interviews this year the two exec producers and the actors were still implying there would be room for another series and follow on movies, yet now everyone’s suddenly saying, oh no, there were only ever supposed to be five and the movies…well, they are a long way off and may be with different people. Erm…that’s actually quite insulting to all of us who have followed the show, bought the DVDs and therefore brought about the financial success of the production company, Messrs Capps and Murphy, the actors and not least, the BBC.

It’s a sad end to an overall great show – great not because of the uneven storytelling, but because of the exceptionally high production values that have shown us where TV is headed in the future and the outstanding acting from a much-put upon cast consisting of Richard Wilson, Anthony Head, Bradley James, Colin Morgan, Angel Coulby, Katie McGrath, Eoin Macken, Rubert Young, Tom Hopper, Adetomiwa Edun and John Hurt plus all their many wonderful guest stars.

They deserved to have the finest dialogue written for them, but were more often than not let down. The present actors made this show what it is…you may want to remember that Messrs Freemantle, Shine and Co, before hiring a bunch of snotty nosed 14-year-olds to “reboot” the series for the silver screen.

R.I.P. Merlin, Arthur, Gaius, Gwen, Morgana, the knights of Camelot, Aithusa and Kilgharrah! You will be greatly missed.

Merlin Mash


As promised, here is a quick overview of the last three Merlin episodes of the current Series 5 shown on Saturday evenings on BBC 1 television in the UK.

What strikes me with all three episodes is that

a) Merlin, who is supposed to be the most powerful warlock of all time, hasn’t used the 3 intervening years to learn anything about magic, anything about druids and anything at all about the ancient legends of Camelot. What’s he been doing for three long years? Darning Arthur’s socks?

King Arthur knows more about magic and the legend of the dark tower than Merlin the would-be warlock does! Yet, Merlin found a secret library full of books about magic and has a dragon at his disposal whom he can ask. Does this make sense?

b) having squandered their chance earlier on in a previous series, when the whole Lancelot/Gwen romance fizzled out and Lancelot got bumped off, the producers were clearly at a loss of what to do with the newly crowned queen. Hey, why not make her evil for a laugh and let her fall into the hands of Morgana? (The Dark Tower, A Lesson in Vengence) Not exactly the most original idea the series has produced so far.

c) as one Twitter fan observed, “Arthur’s Bane” may well turn out to be Merlin himself, since he’s constantly making the wrong decisions (see The Desir). Heart-breaking decisions must be made by Merlin and Arthur that will have far-reaching consequences – for once a well written episode that ticked most of the boxes for me and was immensely thought provoking.

I don’t want to give too much away, but I can say that the many inconsistencies and illogical plot twists in The Dark Tower and A Lesson in Vengence really got on my nerves. For example, Morgana, who was Uther’s favourite child and lived a pampered existence all her life, is supposed to utterly hate Arthur, so much so, she never stops searching for new and twisted ways to kill him and even goes so far as to turn his own wife against him. Why, what possible reason has Arthur given her for her immense hatred of him? None.

While Uther deserved her hatred, her half-brother’s sole crime seems to be that he’s the heir to the throne. This, my dears, is supposed to be a medieval setting, when girlies like Morgana would have expected to be overlooked when it comes to handing out thrones after daddy’s demise. Not getting the crown handed to her on a silver-encrusted platter was therefore very much an everyday occurrence. Worse, when Morgana had the crown briefly, she didn’t know what to do with it and spend her entire time slaughtering the local population. She sucks at being a ruler and she knows it, so would she go on with this farce?

She is supposed to be a powerful witch, yet every time she plots an attack on Camelot she has to enlist the help of some bloke and his army. Worse, in the latest episode she’s forced to BUY poison at a chemist’s, instead of brewing or conjuring up the stuff herself! Looking increasingly dishevelled and wearing more rags than riches, she’s hardly likely to turn the head of passing kings and princes with a grudge against Camelot, no matter how pretty Katie McGraw might be under all that pale make-up.

Answer: having done away with the original legends that deal with incest and Mordred being Arthur’s and Morgana’s love child, the producers couldn’t think of a plausible plot twist that would have really turned Morgana against Arthur…so they just didn’t bother writing anything and blame Morgana’s hatred of Arthur purely on his refusal to let magic reign in Camelot and on parking his bottom on the throne. Bad writing, guys.

Arthur, who sends out his knights to hunt down every harmless warlock called Osgar, Fritz or Taliesin, does nothing about his murderous half-sister and just lets her get away on every occasion – so, oddly enough, does Merlin, who has been told by Kilgharrah the Great Dragon that he should use every opportunity to kill the damn witch. Why would neither king nor servant even try to hunt her down? Answer: Bad writing, guys.

In The Dark Tower, we see Gwen being held in a room full of mandrake roots (about 100 of them dangling off the ceiling). In a previous series, Uther needed only ONE mandrake root treatment to lose his marbles completely…Uther, a strong, powerful warrior dude struck down with madness after sniffing just one mandrake’s magical odours…and wee little Gwennie needs 100 times that dose? Balderdash!

Having previously established Gwen as this strong, statesman-like ruler who can hold her own during Arthur’s frequent sojourns from Camelot, Gwen’s suddenly shown as this weepy damsel in distress after spending just a couple of days with the mandrakes. Not only does she know her Arthur and his knights will come to her rescue – they’ve done it often enough in the past – she nursed Uther and therefore knows about mandrakes generating hallucinations. Why on earth would she fall for Morgana’s lies? Utter nonsense and really badly written, guys.

Even if we are in a fantasy setting, logical sequences of cause and effect must still apply to the behaviour of our protagonists. Constantly twisting the characters like leaves in the wind from one extreme to the other really doesn’t do it for me and seems to have irritated quite a few critics so far. The whole series seems rushed so the producers can get to the very end of the Arthur legends.

On the plus side, the knights are finally being allowed to speak and get more involved in the story. About time, too!

A Lesson in Vengence was what exactly? Gwen’s taking vengence for what? A misleading title if ever there was one. Beautifully played though by Angel Coulby and Colin Morgan – I am not sure about the constant switch between drama and comedy in this episode, no matter how hilariously funny the scene between Merlin/Dragoon the Great and the dungeon guards was or the kitchen scene between Merlin/Dragoon the Great and the cook.

From left to right: Guinevere, Gaius, Morgana,...

Some fine comedy moments from Bradley James’ King Arthur (Arthur pretending to remember his wedding anniversary) and finally Eoin Macken’s Gwain and Rupert Young’s Sir Leon get to do some lovely scenes.

On the whole, Colin Morgan’s superb acting stands head and shoulders above the rest of the cast, even out-acting the Great Richard Wilson himself, but it is not enough to gloss over the inconsistencies, entirely down to some of the writers not doing their job properly.

If I had to give a star rating, I’d give 5 stars to The Desir, and 3 stars each to the other two episodes (but only because young Mr Morgan’s so great in them).

My own Merlin fan fiction will resume next week, when I’ve managed to get my client work out of the way.

Merlin Review Ep.3 & Fan Fiction (Part 16)


Review of last week’s episode (contains some spoilers):

Episode three delivered “with bells on” what many of us have been waiting for since the show began: a self-assured, confident Merlin and a king Arthur who not only questions his father’s legacy, but uses magic for his own ends without judging it to be either good or evil.

Despite many inconsistences and down-right errors such as the writers confusing the festival of Samhain with Beltane and Uther threatening his own son’s life, when he knows Camelot will most certainly fall, if Arthur dies without leaving an heir, this well-balanced mix of comedy and ghostly goings-on was thrilling to watch. Anthony Head’s brilliant as the vengeful king who comes back from the dead.

His venomous portrayal of a despot dissatisfied with the way his son is shaping up as king serves as a timely reminder for Halloween: ghosts are rarely like our loved ones were in life but are spirits with their own agenda. The episode also boasts some genuinely funny moments; one is delivered by Richard Wilson’s Gaius, who scared the life out of me with his jack-out-of-a-box trick, and the scene with Sir Leon, Arthur and Merlin in the closet was hilarious, light relief in an otherwise dark episode.

Bradley James (Arthur) handles the emotional scenes very well, which must be difficult when going up against Colin Morgan (Merlin) who can out-act even the most seasoned of colleagues and would still be brilliant if he wore a potato sack over his head. Just watch the way in which his face changes when he drinks the potion before Arthur does and later, when Uther is recalled to the realm of the dead, intent on revealing to Arthur that Merlin has magic, before the portal closes. Quick, give that man a BAFTA or better still, make it one for every minute he graces our screens!

While young Mr James normally has to carry all the action scenes, Mr Morgan is typically responsible for the emotional part of the script. This time we see a role reversal, where Merlin rescues Gwen (actually slinging her over his shoulder in true Hollywood-hero style) and fights a duel with Uther, while Arthur does the soul searching for a change.

Finally, Arthur is allowed to undergo huge emotional transformation, winning true insight into his father’s kingship and character, while at the same time defining himself as a man, husband and king. Arthur’s face, when he is forced to send back his father while leaving so many issues unresolved, is filled with pain and sorrow – at this moment Mr James’ dramatic acting skills are allowed to shine through, whereas normally he is confined to lending just his (considerable) comic talents to the show. When the portal closes and the ghost of Uther disappears, we see a young man finally cutting apron strings that tied him to a father he was never destined to please. No words necessary, the eyes say it all.

Almost at the very end of the episode the script is at its most revealing with regard to character development. Seeing a mirror image of tears in the eyes of both young men was very moving – we understand they are far more than king and servant, comrade-in-arms and bickering friends: they are two fatherless young men bound together by destiny, yes, but far more than that they are bound by trust and loyalty borne out of love, not medieval convention of the day.

Finally, the last scene shows an assertive Merlin, who dares to stand up to his king in a way we’d never have imagined at the beginning of the show. Arthur is forced to admit…they are both equals, even if Arthur still thinks of himself as being more “equal” than a man who cannot hold a sword without slicing off his own toe.

For me – and it seems also for lots of Merlin followers on Twitter – this was the best episode of the entire five years, despite its inconsistencies (the writers would do well to occasionally read earlier scripts!).

The fifth series of Merlin asks fundamental questions about leadership and loyalty, true justice, personal fulfilment and duty, love and friendship and how we define ourselves in a hostile world – greatly outshining the mixed bag of sentimental clap-trap that Dr Who with Steven Moffat at the helm has delivered since Russell T Davies and David Tennant’s departure. Should series 5 indeed be the last we’ll ever see of Merlin on our screens, I for one will miss it greatly. Perhaps some of the money wasted on Dr Who hype could be spent on series 6 of Merlin instead?

Gustave Doré's illustration of Arthur and Merl...

And now…for something completely different…here’s my own take on Merlin’s world:

The Honeymoon is over: Let the Questing begin! (Part 16)

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 (Gwain), Tom Hopper (Sir Percival), Adetomiwa Edun (Sir Elyan), John Hurt as the voice of the Great Dragon Kilgharrah and Anthony Head as King Uther.

At the foot of a hill near Castle Deira…

Merlin raised his hand, his fingers shaking slightly, and the very air seemed to tremble with the intensity of his gaze. Oswiu’s shoulders were yanked backwards; Merlin could almost hear the bones crack from the force of his spell. The man fought against the incantation with every fibre of his being; straining against the force he leaned forward and grabbed Eleanor’s arms, but the power of Merlin’s words released the girl from Oswiu’s hands, breaking the man’s fingers one by one. Oswiu cried out in pain, turning to Merlin for mercy, but the sorcerer’s eyes burned too brightly with pity for the girl, clouding any compassion for the man. Oswiu’s body rose up into the air, where he hovered above the girl, a writhing, screaming puppet unable to escape its master.

All around them the meadow began to whisper and tremble; the tall grass turned into a churning, bubbling sea; the breeze tore at the poppies and scattered their scarlet blossoms like blood drops at a lion’s feast over the man and girl, before plucking the cornflowers from the earth and lining them up alongside a deep gash in the soil opening up just a few feet away from the body of the horse.

A gust of wind picked up the child’s dagger and sliced the air in one swift motion, its high-pitched scream piercing the sorcerer’s conscience, urging him to do what was right. When Merlin dropped his hand, the dagger found its aim. Oswiu’s hands rose up to his forehead for an instant, as if to yank out the blade trembling between his eyes; the expression on his face bore more surprise than rage, when his hands no longer had the strength to touch the blade. With his final breath Oswiu’s body dropped from the air like a stone, drenching the girl underneath in a pool of blood.

Merlin hurried over to Eleanor. He rolled Oswiu’s corpse off her, mumbling another spell as he did so. Eleanor’s shift slid down to her ankles instantly, hiding the bruises on her legs and allowing her to get up with some dignity.

“Leave the talking to me,” Merlin hissed, when they heard Urien and Dragonara call out to them from further up the hill. Already, they could see Arthur’s blonde head appear above the clumps of hazel and gorse at the bottom of the hill; any moment now the others would be upon them.

Eleanor was too weak to stand; she held on to Merlin’s arm and stared down at her attacker. “Father trusted him…his most loyal servant.” She could say no more and buried her face in Merlin’s tunic.

“Crying is good after hand-to-hand combat.” Merlin said and laid an arm around her shoulders; she clung to him like a child. He buried his face in her hair and shut his eyes, trying hard to stop his own feelings from overwhelming him. ”Even the great warrior Arthur sheds a tear now and then…clears the nasal passages apparently,” he muttered, when he felt her strength failing her. He helped her sit down on a nearby tree stump, where she buried her face in her hands and wept freely.

MERLIN, where the hell are you?” Arthur’s voice roared from somewhere among the gorse bushes up ahead. “If you’ve allowed yourself to be captured by Leofwine’s scouts, I’ll kill you myself!”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Sire, you’ll have to put up with me for a while longer!” Merlin cleared his throat and dried his face with the sleeve of his tunic. He squinted up at the lush vegetation ahead of him, trying to assess by the sound of Arthur’s voice how quickly the others would be upon them. He realised there wasn’t a moment to lose and raised his hand once more; his eyes flashed up golden, but this time nothing happened. He frowned and, raising both his hand towards the dead dragon, he tried again, concentrating harder this time. Searching his mind for even more ancient magic than the one he had used before, he was finally rewarded when a gentle mist enveloped the baby dragon, before the body of Eliffer reappeared. It had taken all of Merlin’s power to bring the transformation about. He felt his knees give way and he sank to the ground. Something warm and sticky began to run down his nose and across his lips. He touched his mouth and stared with disbelief at his fingertips which were stained by a red substance. Merlin’s nose was bleeding badly. He lowered his head between his knees and tried hard not to blow blood-bubbles, but the stream would not stop. Across the meadow, Arthur had made it past the gorse and hazel and had almost reached the foot of the hill. Left with little choice, Merlin pulled himself together and mumbled one final spell. The blood stopped flowing instantly but now he felt completely drained.

Merlin glanced over his shoulder at Eleanor, who was sitting up in a more composed manner than before. The first wave of sorrow had swept over her, now it was time to deal with the consequences. Merlin approved of her resolve. She pointed at the dead boy’s small figure and said in a barely audible voice. “You’ve got magic!”

“I beg of you…don’t mention to anyone what I just did. Eleanor, someone weaved an incredibly powerful spell to transform this dragon into a human being…I’ve never encountered such strong magic before. Did you…know what the boy was?”

“Of course! He was sweet and gentle…and…I loved him,” she raised her tear-stained, swollen face defiantly. “He was my brother.”

Merlin managed a weak smile. “That makes him mine, too.” He eyed her keenly. “Tell me…did Dragonara find both of you when you were eggs and save you…hide you from persecution by transforming you…she must be an extraordinarily powerful sorceress, if she did?”

Before Eleanor could answer, Arthur and Urien crashed through the cornflowers and poppies simultaneously, both coming to an abrupt halt when they saw the dead man and Eleanor’s torn dress. Urien darted forward and tried to gather Eleanor up in his arms but she pushed him away, not unkindly or distrustful, rather full of resolve not to lean on him. Behind them, Siward and Dragonara arrived out of breath, each freezing on the spot, when the whole horror of the scene before them unfolded. Kai brought up the rear, gawping open-mouthed at his mistress’ bare shoulders before turning his stare to his overlord’s dead squire.

Seeing Eleanor taken care of by her step-son, Dragonara turned to Merlin and pointed at Oswiu’s corpse, but at that moment she caught a glimpse of Eliffer and cried out in horror; she rushed over and threw herself over his motionless body, gathering him up in her arms and pressing his pale face to her lips.

Arthur pulled a blood-stained Merlin to one side. “I know my head took a knock up there on the hill…but I distinctly remember saying find Eleanor, not start a massacre!” The king pointed to a discarded cloak that carried Segovia’s coat of arms. “How am I supposed to negotiate Leofwine’s retreat from Camelot, when you slaughter members of his household?”

“Trust me, Sire…had Urien found them before I did – ” Merlin inclined his head towards Eleanor. “It was better this way.”

Arthur’s eyes widened at the sight of the dagger between Oswiu’s eyes. “You don’t mean to say that man tried to…?” Arthur’s gaze travelled from his man servant’s tear-stained face to Eleanor’s bruised shoulders and back to Oswiu’s twisted body and he finally comprehended.

Merlin dropped his own gaze, staring at his boots rather than meeting Arthur’s inquisitive eye. “He did more than just trying, my lord…he succeeded.”

“Then you did right and he got what he deserved.” Arthur finally managed to say with a look of pity aimed at the girl. He held out his hand and Merlin took it hesitantly, expecting the usual liberty to be taken with his person; instead of having his hand crushed as expected, he felt Arthur’s battle-hardened fingers enclose his own hand with warmth and feeling. Surprised, Merlin lifted his head and met Arthur’s steady gaze. The king’s cornflower blue eyes searched Merlin’s face and, apparently finding exactly what he had expected to see there, Arthur pulled his servant closer and whispered in his ear: “Merlin, I didn’t know you had it in you! I’d better watch my step or you’ll be challenging me at the tournament next!”

Letting go of Merlin’s hand abruptly, Arthur turned, loosened the broach that fastened his cloak and slid the garment from his shoulders. He approached the girl wordlessly and wrapped his cloak gently around Eleanor’s grazed and bruised shoulders. Urien helped her to cover her torn dress and shift, keeping her as close to him as she would allow.

Dragonara rose with tears streaming down her face. Merlin could sense her pain as if it were a branding iron searing his skin. He felt connected to her in some peculiar way; an invisible umbilical cord linked him to this mysterious queen. This was far more intense than anything he had ever experienced before when meeting another member of the old religion. He looked into her face and realised the sorrow and rage he saw there surpassed his own a thousand times. He caught a glimpse of a soul that had witnessed human evil for centuries, a once gentle soul that was now in short supply of mercy. Instinctively, he withdrew, protecting his innermost self from coming into contact with such limitless fury.

Dragonara roused herself and turned on her step-son. “Urien, in the light of what has happened here perhaps you will dispense with your usual flippancy and tell us what Leofwine is really doing in Camelot? It cannot be merely to avenge his hurt pride and restore me to Dunadd! Those would be the actions of a husband who still cares for his wife. Alas, there has never been any great love between your father and me. You may not approve of my actions but you cannot accuse me of ever doing anything that has harmed you or your kingdom. If Leofwine starts a war with Camelot, the other four kingdoms will be drawn into it, whether they like it or not. They must adhere to their obligations under the treaty they have with Arthur.” Dragonara planted her feet firmly in front of her step-son and glared at him. “Thousands of innocent people will die on all sides! Do you want the armies of five kingdoms to lay waste to your beloved Dunadd?”

Urien drew Eleanor closer to him and sighed. “No, of course not! Father has turned on Camelot in the mistaken belief Arthur would grant you sanctuary, allowing you to carry on cuckolding Father from the safety of Camelot. I’m not in Father’s confidence, but I do know he has given Queen Guinevere an ultimatum. She must give him –“ Urien shifted his weight from one leg to the other and stared at his boots rather than meet Dragonara’s fierce gaze. Her sharp intake of breath prompted him to continue. “Begging you pardon…it’s just too fantastical for words! Queen Guinevere must produce a dragon’s heart by sunrise.” Urien raised his eyes defiantly and met Dragonara’s stare.

“And who told you that…when exactly? From what I hear you’ve been busy pilfering in Castle Deira’s wine cellars. How could a dragon’s heart restore your father’s honour and reputation…not that he’s ever had much of that in the first place?”

“My faithful servant Hueil has kept me informed through our most trusted messenger.” Urien smiled wanly and pointed upwards at a falcon circling above their heads. “Beats me what Father might want with such a beastly thing, but there it is, he demands a dragon heart or else.”

Arthur pulled a face. “He’ll have a long wait. There are no dragons left in Camelot or in any of the other four kingdoms. My father saw to that. We slayed the last dragon a few years ago. I must get back to Gwen. Perhaps we can reason with Leofwine.”

“Nobody reasons with Leofwine. He’s quite mad.”

“Then what do you suggest I should do, Dragonara? Let my wife face the full force of Leofwine’s army and do nothing?”

“No.” Dragonara turned away abruptly and took a long, hard look at Eliffer’s lifeless body. “You would never do that…you love your wife. Madmen are best caught by humouring them. Leofwine demands a dragon’s heart and he shall have one.” She glanced at Merlin, who shook his head in horror, but she ignored him, laying a hand on Arthur’s arm instead. “Before we return to Camelot, there is the matter of giving Lady Marigold and Eliffer a decent burial. May I borrow your servant, Arthur?”

Arthur consented and as a consequence Merlin found himself scrambling up the hill with Siward and Kai to fetch the cart and Urien’s horses. When they reached the peak of the hill they found Unding, who was still guarding the cart and wine barrels, as well as keeping a sorrowful eye on lady Marigold’s body; they told him what had happened and he made haste to unload the remainder of the barrels. They left the spoilt wine on the summit of the hill and used the cart to transport Marigold down to the meadow.

When Merlin got back, the scene that greeted him was quite changed, a camp of sorts had been erected, a fire burned and the knight’s horses had been lead to the brook to drink. It had taken Elyan quite some time to persuade the mounts past Bede’s body. The beasts smelled their fallen friend’s blood and were filled with terror. Arthur sat by Urien’s side, studying maps and discussing the best course of action. Dragonara and Eleanor sat silently a short way off, neither of them talking nor looking at the other woman.

Percival stood over Oswiu’s body and stared with unseeing eyes at the blade in the man’s forehead. He blinked, when Gawain joined him. “How could he…look at her…she’s just a child!”

Gawain pointed to the deep hollow in the soil next to the dead Bede. “It’s weird, don’t you think? All those cornflowers lined up…like a grave just waiting for its occupant.”

“I don’t think this one will find his eternal resting place in it, do you?” Percival pointed at the dead body by his feet. “The meadow is far too pleasant a place for a traitor of his ilk.”

Gawain lifted a finger into the breeze. “Hm, a gentle south-easterly, plenty of water nearby and a meadow full of juicy hay in autumn. Now that you mention it…the hole is exactly right for the piebald. Seems the good horse was Lady Eleanor’s childhood friend and a brave defender of her honour to the last. What do you say…shall we?”

Percival nodded his head wordlessly; they enlisted the help of Sir Elyan and Sir Leon to roll, drag and pull the Friesian piebald into the hole. When Bede was finally in his grave, Eleanor tore away from Dragonara’s side and hurried over to the circle of knights. Picking up a handful of grass, she sprinkled it into the open grave and whispered her goodbye before the knights covered the horse with earth and stones. She gazed at the circle of solemn faces, where dust, lack of sleep and worry of the last few days seemed to have aged the usually so cheerful men.

“Thank you for your kindness, my lords.”

Sir Leon spoke for all of them. “Please…you only have to say, if there’s anything else we can do.”

She inclined her head towards Oswiu’s corpse; Sir Leon nodded slowly. “Yes, of course, my lady. We will take care of…it.”

Throwing the cloak with the Segovia emblem over the dead man, Gawain and Percival didn’t take long to dispose of Leofwine’s most loyal squire. They dragged him into the wood, as far away from the meadow as possible and threw him into a pit, conveniently left by an uprooted oak.

“The foxes will get to him, if we don’t cover him with rocks,” Percival hurled a large specimen down into the pit, where it crushed Oswui’s skull. A second rock aimed at the head rolled across the corpse’s chest and came to a shuddering halt at Segovia’s crest, where it obliterated the crown an industrious seamstress from Dunadd had embroidered there.

“Who cares? Let them; a fitting end for him, don’t you think?” Gawain dusted off his hands and knees. He kicked some loose soil into the pit and turned to leave, but Percival stopped him. Together they hoisted the fallen oak trunk up into the air, rotated it 180 degrees, before dropping it on the pit, where it obscured all traces of the man beneath.

“Let him be compost for the new oak, Gawain. Perhaps in Deira he will finally do what he failed to do for his lord in Dunadd.”

“What, be a loyal supporter? Not this one, not in a lifetime!”

“Perhaps you’re right. He’ll make a fine set of roof beams for Wulfric’s great hall though!”

Upon their return, everyone gathered for a council of war. When Merlin re-entered their temporary camp after gathering more firewood as part of his chores, he came across Urien, whose trusted falcon perched on its master’s gloved hand and was about to set off into the night. Merlin watched as Urien lifted the tiny skull cap that had blinded the falcon and detached the leather strap that had fastened the bird’s leg and talon to the gloved hand. The bird’s bright eyes twinkled with pleasure and it spread its wings and took off into the sky with an eerie cry. It rose so fast into the deep blue that they had already lost sight of it, when the wind in its wings could still be heard. Moments later the falcon re-emerged briefly as a shadow against the backdrop of the first stars appearing the sky.

“Was that a message to Hueil…or to your father?”

Startled, Urien turned and found Merlin by his side, scrutinizing him. Urien shrugged his shoulders. “Neither. I have burned by bridges. Tell your master I’ve done all I could. Let us hope the rulers of Bres and Lot still hold Dragonara in the same regard as they did in her younger days, when she was more discerning in the male company she kept.”

Surprised at Urien’s harsh words, Merlin left and joined the others by the fire, where he accepted gratefully a morsel of bread from Siward’s saddle bag. He told Arthur of Urien’s message, when the sound of hooves caused him to turn around abruptly. Unding had saddled his horse and was leaving for Castle Deira.

“Where’s he going? It thought he wanted to be present at Lady Marigold’s funeral?” Merlin said when Gawain sauntered over to join him by the fire.

Taking the offered chunk of bread from Merlin, Gawain gazed after Unding’s galloping horse. “He will be…he’s just going back for something he forgot earlier.”

“Oh, what’s that? A favourite keepsake of Lady Marigold’s? Don’t tell me…it’s that indestructible cauldron!”

Gawain threw another log on the fire and smiled grimly. “His men! He’s fetching the castle guards and any other men he can find in the neighbourhood. It’s about time my lord Wulfric learned to fend for himself, were Unding’s exact words.”

Sir Leon pursed his lips and whistled. “A castle revolt! I guess Master Wulfric’s got it coming to him.”

Percival joined them. “I’m not sure we can trust that young princeling. Urien claims he has sent word to the kingdoms of Bres and Lot, old King Bicoir’s realm.” Percival pulled a face as if his taste buds had been assaulted by one of Gaius’ bitter tinctures. “If you believe that…you’ll believe anything. Bres is Leofwine’s sworn enemy and has been so for many years.” He scratched his belly thoughtfully and lowered his huge body onto the blankets Siward had spread out for the knights earlier. “I know I shouldn’t speak ill of Arthur’s godmother…but if Urien’s servants are to be believed…the lady Dragonara has a long list of former lovers apparently still loyal to her. I’m surprised she found time to marry Leofwine, truth be told.”

“Let’s hope the lady parted from her lovers as good friends…or there’ll be two more armies marching on Camelot.” Gawain grinned from ear to ear. “Trust Arthur to have a godmother, who’s a determined flirt!” He pointed discretely with his thumb into Dragonara’s direction. She was sitting next to Arthur, their golden heads bowed over a map, their long limbs stretched out comfortably on a rug. Gawain’s hands outlined the curvature of a woman. “Not what you might call the standard specimen, is she? I bet if my godmother turned up after a twenty year absence, she’d look like an old warthog with the body of a bear.”

“Run in the family, your warthog features?” Percival said innocently. “If she does turn up unexpectedly, we’ll have no difficulty recognising her…now that we’ve seen you at your troll-ish best.”

“Very funny. Why don’t you and Arthur find us something to eat…oh no, I forgot, Arthur’s off his aim and you couldn’t bag a rabbit if you sat on it, Sir Percival of Clueless!”

It seemed the subject of rabbits was as unwelcome to Percival as it was to Arthur. Percival clouted Gawain’s back with such force he winded the much smaller man. Gawain fell backwards over a pile of logs. Despite his heavy heart, Merlin had to laugh at the knights’ horseplay and banter. He held out his hand and helped Gawain up.

Alerted by the commotion, Arthur looked up from his maps. “Merlin, remind me to issue a royal decree upon our return to Camelot: anyone mentioning the subject of rabbits will spend twenty days in our dungeons!”

Merlin beamed at his king. “And anyone convicted of this terrible crime will escape down a rabbit hole on the very first day of their incarceration! Camelot’s dungeons are the worst in the five kingdoms!”

“Nonsense, we’ve doubled the guards on the stairs and in the corridors. Sir Leon assures me nobody passes through the gates unchallenged.”

“Arthur, a rabbit could outwit Sir Leon’s guards…not to mention break in through the old tunnels! We’ve done it often enough.” Merlin shot a nervous glance at Sir Leon, who had fortunately only caught the last part of his words, as he was too busy inspecting the saddle bags for food.

“The old tunnels, of course, well remembered, Merlin!” Leon unearthed a dried up rind of cheese, which he tossed to Merlin as a reward. “If we approach Camelot from Osthryth’s Fort instead of Lake Merthur we can enter the tunnels at their farthest end…you know…the old entrance at Rowan.”

Arthur frowned and threw another log on the fire. “Do you think the Rowan entrance is passable? It’s a long time since anyone has used that tunnel, it may have collapsed.”

“It’s worth a try and if that entrance is no longer open, we cut round to the entrance at Geoffrey’s Rest, that one’s definitely passable, my lord.”

Dragonara left Arthur’s side and selected a place next to Eleanor. The queen tried to lay her arm around her daughter, but Eleanor flinched from her touch and turned away. Dragonara sighed and turned to Sir Leon. “It sounds like an excellent plan. You could create a diversion.”

“Alright Leon, we’ll do as you suggest. Let’s all get some rest until Unding’s men get here.” Arthur yawned, stretched his tired limbs and curled up on his blanket. “Urien has asked Lot’s and Bres’ rulers for help. Whether they’ll respond remains to be seen. In the meantime, we’ll have to stall that madman Leofwine for as long as it takes. Dragonara, if you really know of a dragon’s heart…I hope it belongs to an old and feeble beastie that’s grateful to be slain. I don’t think I’ve got the energy for a fire-breather with an attitude.”

“You have my word it will jump on your blade as tamely as a toothless lapdog.” The queen suppressed a yawn, unfastened her cloak and rolled herself into it, settling down next to her daughter. Merlin’s heart began to race at her last words. He glanced in her direction but was unable to catch her eye. The camp fell silent as knights and servants also retired for the night, one by one finding their place by the fire. A single watchman in the form of Kai was patrolling the camp.

For several minutes Merlin watched a couple of fire flies dancing above their encampment. He followed their antics with his eyes, trying hard to recall all the events of the day without glossing over his own role in the outcome. Above him bats flew here and there, chasing after insects in the balmy night air. A gust of wind rushed through the branches of the surrounding trees, causing them to twist and turn, crack and splinter. He listened to the night music of owl, cricket, mouse and nightingale and wondered briefly, if he’d ever see his mother and his old village again.

When he had sorted the various things people had said and done in his head, Merlin crawled over to Arthur, who had shut his eyes tightly against the brightness of the flames. Merlin laid a hand on the king’s shoulder and shook him gently. “Arthur!”

The king grunted. “Go away!”

“Arthur, you cannot kill a dragon just to satisfy this madman. Who knows what he’ll do once he’s got the heart.”

“For all I care he can roast it and feed it to his dogs. He can fashion a winter coat out of it! Let me sleep, Merlin!” Arthur rolled over onto his other side, snuggled into his blankets and dozed off.

“Arthur!”

Merlin shook his lord awake for the second time. The king opened one eye. It glittered dangerously. “Unless you’ve come to tell me there’ll be eggs and freshly baked bread for breakfast, I’m not interested, Merlin.”

“Dragons are powerful beings with long memories.”

“So are kings deprived of their sleep!”

“I’m just saying…if there’s really a dragon and we fail to slay it…it won’t take kindly to having a lance stuck into its chest.”

Arthur’s other eye opened. It glittered even more dangerously than the first. “Do you doubt your king’s ability to slay another dragon?”

“Well, you did pass out the last time…and you’ve been off your aim ever since you married Gwen.” Merlin said hurriedly, retreating a safe distance of five paces before the long arm of Camelot’s law could grab him by the ear on the charge of treason. With a grunt Arthur sat up again and shot a malevolent glance at his servant.

“Care to explain that?”

Merlin hesitated. “Actually, I can’t. Gaius might know. I only know that every bit of wildlife we’ve encountered so far as walked, hopped and flown away without a scratch.”

Arthur let himself fall back into his blankets. “In that case, I’ll stick to fishing. Just ask the dragon to go for a swim and I’ll deal with it.” He snorted, curled up and this time even Merlin’s most determined efforts at shaking him awake were left unrewarded.

The truth began to dawn on the young sorcerer. Merlin slapped his own forehead with some force. “You being off your aim is exactly what we need!” He settled down next to his king and pulled a blanket over his tired limbs. “I have a horrible feeling Dragonara plans to serve Kilgharrah’s heart to her jilted madman on a plate…but why would she want to do such a terrible thing?” He closed his eyes and the image of his friend the Great Dragon rose up in his head.

Merlin sat up again and rubbed the sleep form his eyes. “Maybe they’re in it together…and all this godmother fleeing from cuckolded husband story is just a ruse…to get Arthur to slay a dragon for them…but why…what do they want with Kilgharrah’s heart?”

Illustration from page 4 of The Boy's King Art...

Illustration from page 4 of The Boy’s King Arthur: Merlin taking away the infant Arthur – “So the child was delivered unto Merlin, and so he bare it forth.” (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

…/to be continued…

Merlin Fan Fiction: Let the Questing begin! (Part 15)


 

 

Part two of Arthur’s Bane (shown on BBC 1 last Saturday) lived up to my expectations – with the exception of the elf-type creature (Diamuir?) that looked like an alien, had plenty of promise but did not deliver thanks to the writers wasting an opportunity here.

Arthur’s only comment upon seeing the creature was merely “what was that?” – given that he’s a king opposed to all things magical, this writer could see plenty of useful plotline potential…particularly, since the magical creature saved Gwaine’s life…which should have given Arthur plenty of food for thought…along the lines of “not all magic is bad or evil”. Alas, the opportunity was wasted.

 

 

 

Morgana was on good form with the excellent Katie McGrath showing the sorceress’ descent into madness to full effect.

Mordred is no longer being played by the asthonishingly talented Asa Butterfield but by a much older actor – which is puzzling since Mordred was only 11-years-old the last time he met Merlin and Arthur.  All is forgiven though, as Alexander Vlahos is great as the enigmatic would-be assassin and strikes just the right balance between deadly and potentially redeemable villain.

 

 

 

The rebellion of the slaves wasted the talents of the lovely (and once again shirt-less) Tom Hopper and Eoin Macken, both actors were given miniscule lines in favour of much naked flesh and flexing of muscles. Merlin finally reunites with the baby dragon and we get to see snippets of what has actually happened to Morgana in the intervening three years.

 

 

 

Tom Lenk, Emma Caulfield, Alexis Denisof, Alys...

Tom Lenk, Emma Caulfield, Alexis Denisof, Alyson Hannigan, Anthony Stewart Head, Joss Whedon, Michelle Trachtenberg and James Marsters at the Buffy the Vampire Slayer wrap party. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

On the whole, I liked the episode, as it threw up more questions than it gave answers, setting up the rest of the series as it were. The comedy action between Merlin (Colin Morgan) and Arthur (Bradley James) is still as good as ever, but Merlin seems less prepared to put up with his liege’s comments.

 

Can’t wait for the next episode, which will see the return of one of my favourite screen villains – Anthony Head, who was of course one of the good guys on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, where he played buffy’s watcher and friend Giles.

 

 

 

Hope you’ll enjoy reading my take on what might have happened prior to series 5.

 

 

 

The Honeymoon is over – Let the Questing begin! Part 15.

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gaius’ chamber in Camelot…

 

 

 

“Will you stop fussing, girl!” Gaius pushed the Queen’s hand away and sat up laboriously under his own steam. “Hasn’t Her Majesty something a trifle more important to do than ministering to the wounds of an old man…like saving Camelot from that madman Leofwine for example?”

 

 

 

Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Now what could be more important than saving an old friend?” She had tried to administer a compress of herbs and honey to Gaius’ chest, where the arrow had narrowly missed his heart, but her patient and her own maid had intervened. Emma, her new maid, gently but firmly took charge. The old physician’s hands shook slightly as he took the compress from Gwen and pressed it hard his against his wound. He winced but said nothing; instead, he turned to Emma and ordered her to bring him some fresh water and some wine for the Queen. The maid left his chamber reluctantly, turning at the door to glance at the sickbed, her eyes wide and full of fear.

 

 

 

She opened her mouth to speak but for the moment she was too distracted by the flickering light that illuminated the small window on the opposite wall. Fires raged on the forecourt, flames had begun to threaten the machicolations that served archers as launch pads for their missiles and guards as lookout platforms from where to observe the goings on in the enemy’s camp. It wouldn’t be long now before the first attackers breached the walled fortifications. Their war machines were already at the final gates.

 

 

 

Emma started at the sound of a huge rock finding its target. The citadel seemed to tremble from the force of its impact. Leofwine’s new catapults were working to perfection. The maid visibly forced herself not to flee and instead turned her pale face once more towards the patient and his regal physician.

 

 

 

“My lady, he won’t admit it but I’ve dealt with this kind of wound before. If the arrow was poisoned, the infection will spread and he will get weaker by the hour.”

 

 

 

“Then we must stop the poison from spreading, Emma. Fetch me some leaches from the tank over there.”

 

 

 

Gaius inhaled sharply. “You’re not going to set leaches on me now, girl? There’s really no need, I’m fine! Hand me my cloak and I’ll accompany you to the council chambers.” Gaius tried to get up but failed utterly even to raise one leg from his bed.

 

 

 

“You were quite prepared to face Leofwine’s army out on those ramparts, but you cannot brave one little leach?” Gwen snorted. “You’re not a knight, Gaius! It’s perfectly acceptable to show weakness and suffering.” She plumped up the old man’s pillows and eased him gently into a more comfortable position. Emma appeared at her side and handed her a small phial.

 

 

 

Gaius grunted and accepted his fate. “How long do you think we can hold out against Leofwine’s forces?”

 

 

 

“Until Arthur returns! What else can we do?” Gwen recoiled slightly, when Emma dropped the first leach on Gaius’ wound. The women watched in silence as the slimy black creature burrowed its way into Gaius’ flesh. Gwen feared she would wretch, but this sensation was overtaken by something far more distasteful happening around her. A second rock hit a part of the domestic quarters and the shock of the impact brought down a shelf containing some of Giaus’ prized tinctures and ointments with a crash. Glass phials shattered, essential herb oils spilled across the floor, powdered medicines kept in earthenware containers exploded with a bang and precious parchments fluttered to the ground to mingle with blue, green, yellow and pink tinctures. Gaius raised an unsteady fist and cursed Leofwine.

 

 

 

Gwen beamed. “My old friend must be on the mend, if he can use such language! Sit with him, Emma. I must go and hold council. I will send someone to help you clear up this mess.” Gwen snatched Aurelius’ dragon book from Gaius’ bedside table and hurried off, leaving the old man raging against Leofwine’s catapults and Emma’s solicitude.

 

 

 

Gwen hastened through the dark corridors with unseeing eyes. Once or twice she came across a guard looking for more weapons or a knight barking an order at his soldiers, but the citadel’s chambers were all but deserted with the majority of her fellow inmates fighting on the ramparts and in the courtyards outside. She stopped at an arrow slit and peered outside. The forecourt was crawling with knights and guards trying to prevent enemy soldiers from scaling the castle walls. Camelot servants were rushing here and there to strengthen their defences at the gates.

 

 

 

Gwen held her breath: the east gate was still letting in people, a never ending stream of men, women and children, cattle and carts, refugees from the outer villages, were being hurried along and herded into the bowels of the citadel, where they found shelter in the dungeons. In the distance, across the expanse of tents that was her enemy’s encampment, Gwen could see the first signs of dawn…the day when the dragon heart was due to be handed over was already upon her! Her heart began to race; blood seemed to drain from her face, arms and hands, leaving her hot and cold at the same time; she tore herself away and hurried to the council chamber, where a circle of anxious faces turned towards her when the heavy doors fell back into their lock behind her, shutting her in with a brace of advisers, whose counsel would no longer be of any use.

 

 

 

She nodded a brief greeting and sank down on her throne. “Thank you all for assembling so promptly.” When Geoffrey of Monmouth rose to speak, Gwen raised her hand and cut him off. “I know you are anxious to hear our old friend Gaius is doing well…for now. Emma is with him and knows what to do. Geoffrey, I’m in sore need of good news. Has there been word from Arthur?”

 

 

 

Geoffrey shook his head but risked a smile. “No, my lady, but there may have been a sighting of him on the Merthur Road! The source is somewhat dubious, a shepherd from one of the outer villages, but from the way he described the men, we can be hopeful he saw Arthur and his knights.”

 

 

 

Gwen’s hands shot to her mouth; before she could stop herself, an audible sigh of relief had escaped her lips. “My Arthur is coming home!” She tried to compose herself as befitted a lady of her standing but she could not hide the smile lighting up her face or the sparkle brightening her eyes.

 

 

 

“I trust my report qualifies as good news, my lady?” Geoffrey beamed back at his queen. “He will be here by noon at the latest. If we can hold out until then –“

 

 

 

“We shall, Geoffrey, we shall! Knights of Camelot, my trusted advisors, we must strengthen our defences and take the fight to Leofwine, if we can. How are the preparations for our own mangonels coming along? Is there anything our soldiers need that we haven’t thought of, yet?”

 

 

 

Sir Edward de Mangetout got up and cleared his throat. “Erm…no my lady…short of producing a dragon’s heart, we’ve done everything we can to protect the citadel. Leofwine’s catapults have a far wider reach than ours. The gates are holding but Camelot’s west wing has taken rather a battering -”

 

 

 

A scuffle erupted outside the council chamber’s doors; the sound of clashing swords and poll-axes on shields echoed through the long corridors; everyone’s eyes turned towards the two guards protecting the entrance of the council chamber with little more than their lances. Gwen rose quietly and folded her hands.

 

 

 

“It seems we are too late. The enemy is already at our door. This is my fault! You deserved a queen, who could reign like a true monarch, but ended up with a misguided servant girl who believed, she could protect Camelot and her king.” A tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another and another. Gwen wiped the traitors away with an angry swipe and picked up a parchment and goose feather from the table in front of her. She handed both to Sir Edward, who took them wordlessly before signing his name below the Queen’s own signature. He handed the goose feather to his neighbour and one by one, eight council members added their names to the parchment. Gwen sighed with relief and scrutinized the circle of pale faces surrounding her.

 

 

 

“We do not have a dragon’s heart to give to Leofwine, but he shall not remain empty-handed for long.” The council members watched in horror, as Gwen pulled a silver dagger from her sleeve. Her glance came to rest on a face she had known all her life. “Mine is but a poor substitute, but I shall give it gladly in the hope that it will appease him.”

 

 

 

Geoffrey shook his head, his lips trembling. “No! My lady, I implore you! You mustn’t…Arthur will never forgive us, if we let you sacrifice –“

 

 

 

“Silence! You have your orders.” Gwen turned to Geoffrey and handed him the dagger. “Do what you must do…and please look after Gaius for me.” The old librarian nodded with tears welling up in his eyes and received the dagger from her hand.

 

 

 

She slowly untied the ribbons that braided her corset at the front of her gown and pulled down a sleeve, exposing her shoulder and the swelling of her breast. A collective gasp escaped the council members’ throats as Gwen reached out, raising Geoffrey’s hand to her chest, the silver dagger gleaming in the candle light as it came to rest against the Queen’s skin. Geoffrey’s hand shook violently, preventing him from pressing the dagger into her flesh.  Gwen smiled, laid her hand over his wrist and whispered: “For Camelot!”

 

 

 

“For Camelot!” Every council member repeated her words; their lips moving as if in slow motion, their eyes focussing anywhere but on the Queen, their faces filled with pride and utter sorrow.

 

 

 

Gwen closed her eyes and thought of the day when Arthur had first kissed her. The happiness of that day and the warmth of his lips transported her, rendering the sting of the blade against her breast meaningless in the light of such bliss. “Now, old friend,” she said and held her breath.

 

 

 

The doors flew open, sending the two guards flying across the council chamber’s floor. Gwen opened her eyes and stared. A man had appeared in the doorway, his face seemed vaguely familiar. She searched her mind, but for the moment her head felt utterly empty; his cloak was dusty from his long travels, his mail shirt torn, his hair unwashed and his grin was as wide as the gap between the kind of queen Gwen thought she should be and the one she actually was.

 

 

 

“Beggin’ my Queen’s pardon, but Prince Urien has sent word. He’s met up with Arthur and they’ve mobilised an army to come to Camelot’s aid.” Noticing the look on the council members’ faces for the first time, the man scratched his stubbly chin. “I say, I’m not interrupting anything important, am I?”

 

 

 

“Hueil!” Gwen’s knees gave way and she sank down on the throne behind her and broke into helpless laughter. “Nothing important at all! Geoffrey here was just entertaining us with his recommended book list for the winter. Arthur will be pleased. He’s long been saying how he should read more.”

 

 

 

Sir Edward gulped and dug his elbow into the librarian’s ribs. The old man stared uncomprehendingly at this friend. When the implication finally penetrated his mind, Geoffrey rushed to the table and stabbed the parchment right through its treacherous heart. Everyone watched as the silver dagger shivered to a halt. Hueil raised an eyebrow and was about to comment, but Gwen got in first.

 

 

 

“Geoffrey, I hope you won’t insist on His Majesty perusing the final eight on the list. Come to think of it, they’d probably give him heartburn!”

 

 

 

…to be continued…

(source of animation: heathersanimations.com)

 

 

 

More Trouble with the Grunters


Caerphilly Castle in Wales

I haven’t had a chance to do research on Castle Bratislava in the Czech Republic, so today I’m just heading down the road to Caerphilly Castle in Wales instead.

I truly wished over the past week I owned a castle, since it would keep everyone else out and me safely in.

For those of you who have been following my blog for a while now, the term Grunters will probably ring a bell…

Actually, bell-ringing is how it all started last Tuesday night at 11.50 pm, when I was woken up by persistent ringing and hammering at our front door.

As I was completely alone in the house at the time, I didn’t switch on the lights or answer the door. Eventually the nuisance callers went away and I fell asleep once more…only to be woken up again at 1.30 am by more bell-ringing and fists on the door.

English: Caerphilly Castle in Caerphilly, Wales

English: Caerphilly Castle in Caerphilly, Wales (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This time the callers had brought their very own helicopter which circled over the area and woke up the entire neighbourhood.

I shut my eyes and started dreaming of buying Pierrefonds Castle, pulling the duvet over my head until the callers went away.

I fell asleep only to be disturbed for the third time at 2.18 am, when more bell-ringing followed, this time unaccompanied by helicopters or fists.

The next morning I went down to check with the business located on the ground floor of our building, if anything was missing or if someone had tried to break in, only to be told that my upstairs neighbour’s boyfriend had made a nuisance of himself there by turning up repeatedly with the police, trying to get into the building when I was out and my flatmates were also away.

Was the nocturnal nuisance caller dressed in blue uniform or just in his customary dirty shirt and jeans?

English: Caerphilly Castle

English: Caerphilly Castle (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Turns out, the middle aged lady living upstairs has gone missing, just like in the Hitchcock classic “The Lady vanishes” (1938, starring Michael Redgrave and Dame May Whitty as Miss Froy). Perhaps it was the Gestapo at my door or Hitch himself reminding me to always expect the unexpected in my prose?

The vamoosed lady left more than a month ago, conveniently forgetting to tell her boyfriend she’d be staying elsewhere – her post has been re-directed, so I’m assuming she’s safe with her daughter or son.

Meanwhile, on Sunday morning at 10 am I was once again disturbed by more bell-ringing, this time via an imposing ring-finger belonging to one of 3 police people, who couldn’t give a flying fig about vanished ladies but quizzed me about….YEP, THE GRUNTERS who moved out in March!

I had to identify the chief Grunter from a picture and tell the plain-clothes detectives everything I know – which is precisely zilch – about the whereabouts of this most nauseating of former neighbours.

Now, you would think that this interview represented the pinnacle of a public spirited performance from a foreigner living in the UK – but no, this morning (Tuesday) I was allowed to show a repeat performance to two uniformed officers, who came ringing and hammering at our door at 8 am. Yep, the knave Grunter strikes again. Did I know of his whereabouts and had he been seen near the premises and when did he actually move out…?

Hang on, didn’t I tell that already to the plain clothes detectives on Sunday morning? It must be me – I’m clearly going prematurely senile with all these night and day-time disturbances.

English: Scaled-replica siege weapons at Caerp...

English: Scaled-replica siege weapons at Caerphilly Castle, south Wales (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Where are my knights, my soldiers, my castle guards and crossbowmen you might ask? Where are the archers who’ll put an arrow into the paininthearse that is Grunter and Co?

Caerphilly Castle

Before everyone jumps to the conclusion I live in the slums of Cardiff and therefore only have myself to blame, well, I don’t. At least I didn’t until the Grunters moved in…and out again. Now our house has a police reputation and is probably under surveillance as I’m writing this.

My new flatmate S. and her small dog B., who only moved in on Saturday afternoon, will probably spend today sniffing through my kitchen cupboards in case I’m involved in a major drug deal or gold bullion heist. Meanwhile, I’ve fled to a university library, which is currently free of uniformed menaces in blue but full of men in white coats…they are painters and decorators the librarian said, but I don’t believe in the tooth fairy anymore so why should I believe a librarian with gold dust on her nose?

English: Interior of the Great Hall, Caerphill...

English: Interior of the Great Hall, Caerphilly Castle, south Wales (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In fact, I’m no longer sure, if I shouldn’t simply throw in the towel and head for the safety of a padded cell. Reading through Caerphilly Castle’s estate agent blurb I find it requires far too many repairs to be of interest to me.

When Earl Gilbert de Clare (1243 to 1295) built Caerphilly Castle, he apparently forgot to add a keep, a pretty stupid thing to do when you live in Caerphilly town centre – I worked there – I know what the local peasants get up to come sunset!

You want to head straight for the keep and let down the portcullis the moment school’s out, not hang around by the fire in the great hall, watching half-naked minstrels perform your favourite bit from Blackadder or cheer your jesters jousting in the corridors.

Caerphilly castle - another western view

English: Caerphilly Castle in the early evenin...

Come to think of it, the Grunters would fit right into Caerphilly, a run-down little town surrounded by hills, where even toddlers are likely to carry knives I’m told (by Welsh people). Earl Gilbert built the castle because nearly one half of his revenues were derived from the south of Wales and as a consequence he needed to defend his agricultural realm from rebellion by the Welsh and a jealous King Edward I, who was after Gilbert’s wealth.

Caerphilly Castle

Caerphilly may have concentric defences and major reinforcements at its gatehouse that would keep out even the most determined of boyfriends, but the east front defends the dam that holds the waters of the moat in place and that makes the whole place rather damp and not to my taste. Just imagine the mess, if somebody broke through that curtain wall! You’d never get the stains out of the carpets.

Also, Caerphilly train station is right opposite, a cesspool of rebellion if ever there was one and a favourite hang-out for Edward I, when he’s been to a rugby match.

Caerphilly Castle is in fact an early example of the keep-gatehouse principle of defence, meaning there’s an entrance passage that can be closed at either end by letting down a portcullis and shutting a heavy door. This means my imaginary knights could defend the castle against besieging boyfriends entering the courtyard and against any detectives knocking at the other door from the outside.

The keep-gatehouse was constructed far higher than a normal gatehouse would be, affording my armed guards excellent views over the undefended back of the wide southern platform and the whole of the outer ward in that part of the castle complex – in the event any Grunters should try to sneak in, you understand.

Caerphilly Castle relies mostly on its impressive water defences, which nowadays include floating dead pigeons, used condoms, plastic bags and drinks cans;  no doubt these were put there by the local tourist board to repel any fan-girl visitors, who arrived hoping they’d get a signed photograph from Merlin’s Colin Morgan or Bradley James once the fearless fan-girls get across the stretch of water and past the BBC’s own crossbowmen.

English: Took this picture of Caerphilly castl...

Having worked in Caerphilly I can honestly say it’s not worth attacking – I wouldn’t waste a single arrowhead or bolt in its defence should any Welsh person rebelling against taxes imposed by their big-eared overlord come knocking at my portcullis or swim across my moat.

Grunters on the other hand should watch out for flying chamber pots, left-over lances from the Merlin production and Earl Gilbert’s toasting forks!

(source of animation: heathersanimations.com; photographs Wikipedia)