One Of Us Is Lying - Merlin Apply Fic

Chapter 11 - Suspicions Rising

I can't actually think of anything to write here, but basically thank you for reading, hope you enjoy!

Thoryne needed to clear his head. He'd been working non-stop in his forge all night and then all day with barely a break. He was exhausted, ready to collapse into his bed and forget everything that was happening. By now word had spread all through the village of the second attempt on the king's life in just over a week. The people were scared, Thoryne knew from the shuttered windows and locked doors lining every street he passed, and business was dropping all over the village. Half the tables in Ye Olde Pheasant were empty at its busiest, the stalls usually clustered in the square were few and far between, and most returned home with the majority of their stock still in their carts.

Thoryne himself had not been as hard hit as the rest of them, since most of his customers were highborn lords and knights, and new swords and mail were constantly needed to replace those damaged in training or the regular encounters with bandits common on patrols. Indeed, only a few nights ago one young knight had deposited a sackful of dented armour at his forge with instructions to 'fix it' before tomorrow. The arrogant teenager clearly didn't realise how bloody hard it was to repair so much mail in so short a time. The blacksmith ground his teeth in frustration. His life was full of self-centred, condescending nobles with no respect for the blood, sweat and tears of the peasants which kept them alive. He pushed his long hair back from his face; he didn't want to think about that right now. He wanted to sleep.

The cool air washed over him as he stepped onto the street and he turned his face towards the setting sun, finally allowing himself to relax after a hard day's work. He was about to turn his feet towards home when he saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. He froze, his brain already rationalising it - a bird, a stray cat, a guard. It was nothing.

There it was again. Too large to be a cat, too fast to be a guard. Intrigue pulled at him and suddenly sleep didn't seem half so appealing as this. He stood still, waiting for a glimpse of the shadow.

There. Thoryne followed.

His boots made little sound in the soft mud as he padded down the street. Uther had not yet imposed a curfew, but Thoryne knew how it would look to be caught sneaking down the streets for no apparent reason after the king's attempted murder. A noble would just stride down the road. How idiotic they are. The blacksmith had lived in the city for long enough to be used to the unstable mud paths of the village, and had no trouble keeping his balance despite the precarious footing. His quarry, however, clearly had less expertise in the matter and Thoryne couldn't help but smile to himself as the stranger slipped and fell onto his hands and knees for the third time in as many minutes, cursing. Then the boy - for that is what he was - glanced over his shoulder and Thoryne saw a glimpse of his face for the first time.

He was younger than expected, still a teenager, with short brown hair neatly cut to keep it out of his face and pale skin which shone in the moonlight where he had neglected to pull up his hood. His simple clothes were dirty from so many tumbles into the mud, but his hair and face were clean. From the castle, then. His curiosity was heightened. Why would a high-born boy be sneaking out of the city in the dead of night?

—

The sun had long set and still the boy was running, stumbling, through the forest, blacksmith in pursuit. He thought it odd that not once had the boy stopped to get his bearings or to change direction; instead he ran like a deer from a wolf, panicked and desperate to escape. It had taken all of Thoryne's skill to keep up undetected, but finally the boy was slowing, chest heaving, hands and face scratched and bruised from his mad dash through the undergrowth, until eventually he stopped altogether, leaning heavily on a tree for support.