To the ends of the earth.

Chapter five.

The next morning they had broken off the campsite with swift ease and silence all around - the silence of not a word being shared between anyone as Arthur focused solemnly on Merlin, who had woken up in the morning looking like a wreck. Seeming worse then he had done the night before but that is what happens to one throwing up. The warlock had tried to explain without words or a single sound that he was thirsty.

It took a bit of struggled and limply finger pointing at the water skin on Arthur's belt before he understood what the warlock was wanting. With a bit of discomfort did Arthur manage to get Merlin up in a sitting position with one hand holding him up and the other feeding the warlock the water. He took small and not many sips before he was done, too afraid to over do it again and throw his guts up again.

The knights and their King were pretty sure that Merlin had no recognition to even seeming to have any idea that it's them who are taking care of him, he had seemed almost afraid to ask for the water and yet was pretty surprised to have been granted it without having gotten hit. He had only flinched a little whenever someone got to close to him at this point. He still seemed too out of it to understand what was going on around him as he didn't acknowledge the loud cursing of Gwaine when he dropped multiple pans and pots to the ground in a loud clang.

He didn't even acknowledge the yelling of bandits that had come their way when they were almost done with packing up their camp. Arthur had no time to hide Merlin somewhere behind a tree or in some bushes, he had to jump into action and unsheathed his sword. Taking on as many bandits that were presenting themselves. He didn't notice anything until one bandit was looming above him did his eyes grow even bigger then they had already been and fear was reeking off him. Trying to use his weak and limp arms to cover his face but he couldn't lift them.

Arthur was just in time with killing the bandit before he could even lay a hand on his Merlin. The bandit died within seconds, dripping blood over Merlin from the wound in his chest. Pushing the body to the ground beside a fear strikken Merlin, trembling in fear as they kill of the last of the bandits that have attacked them. Glad that they didn't need the magic of the warlock as he couldn't provide it and most definitely glad for the fact that Merlin has stayed unharmed by the whole situation.

"Let's go!" Arthur announces to his knights to no longer to daydream in the clearing that they had camped in, leaving the bandit bodies behind to rot away and get eaten by wolves or flies, whichever came first.

Percival holds on to Merlin so that the king can get seated on his horse, before they lift Merlin on top and in front of him. Holding on to the warlock was rather odd and uncomfortable, his spine so crooked that it makes holding Merlin a challenge to keep him comfortable and from falling off the horse and to the ground. His head lulled forwards and Arthur had noticed that Merlin bad fallen back asleep.

The other knights get on their own horses, ready to go back home and get Merlin checked up and nursed back to health. Leon and Gwaine lead the way with Arthur and Lancelot following, Percival and Elyan take up the rear of their little group. Leaving nothing in it awake but deafening silence, the wind rustling the leaves and the first snowflakes falling down and coating the landscape in a thin layer of snow.

As the snow drizzles heavily on, layering the landscape with each passing step of a horse's hooves with more and more snow. Arthur tries to shield Merlin from the heavy snow falling on him, preventing the warlock with his own body heat to get any colder then he already is. They know that their arrival back in Camelot is futile to Merlin's survival, if they want Merlin to survive - which they really do - they would need to get back by dawn.

Arthur unlaces his cape from his shoulders with one hand. Struggling as he does so, swirling it around to the front of him and laying it on top of Merlin to keep him warm in the clean red shirt, black breeches and his leather sleeveless coat. All clean and neatly chanced in the morning before they broke off the camp, Gwaine and him had checked on the wounds of his and seen the wounds were getting better.