For The Love Of A Pendragon.

Chapter Thirty-One...The Art of a Table

It was midnight and the full moonlight shone in bright bold beams through the windows whose shutters were flung open to allow light to flood the workshop, Johan stood back to observe his masterpiece with a calculating, analytical expression. He scrutinised its every portion and at last turned to me with a look of quiet pride in the depths of his expression, 'it is time to fetch the king my lord.' He intoned respectfully.

'I shall wake him now,' I answered formally but enthusiasm threatened to bubble forth and stop me sounding like the elderly man that I appeared to be.

I left serenely but the moment I was beyond the sight of Johan's perceptive eyes I broke into a run, and rushed uphill, under the inner gate, across the public square, only slowing as I reached the steps of the castle. Straightening out my robes I climbed to the entrance and worked my way along the corridors until I reached Arthur's chambers. I had decided a legitimate entrance was called for on such an occasion, especially as the king would want to up and dress and his guards may have wondered how the information had reached him.

Geraint and Gwaine were Arthur's room guards that night, 'My lord Merlin!' exclaimed the latter in surprise, 'at such a time - are we at war?'

'The king may be awoken at times of joy as well as times of war sirs,' I answered grandly with a hint of excitement in my voice.

'Is it ready?' Geraint asked in a rush.

'The Round Table?' Gwaine suddenly caught up with his companions meaning.

'It is.' I confirmed feeling euphoric.

Geraint was already knocking loudly at the king's door, 'Sire we have news!' the door was wrenched away from under Geraint's hand so that he stumbled and almost fell forward.

Gwaine chuckled, 'my lord Merlin says The Round Table is ready my king!'

Arthur turned to me his tired eyes suddenly alight with a excitement which I had seen all too rarely since we were children together. "Is it true my lord Merlin?" he asked, though he knew I would never lie to him.

"It is Sire," I replied gently, "now is the historic hour, let us hasten there and then call all your knights to the council chamber tomorrow morning to find it awaiting them."

"They will be speechless, its speed of completion is incredible, Yohan will be rewarded handsomely for this!"

"You must see the table before you praise it Sire," Gwaine warned, ever the sensible and level headed knight. In my mind's eye I already saw him taking one of the first seats of the Council, but I could not speak of such before the men were allowed to vote.

"Indeed," agreed Arthur turning back into his room to seize his cloak and some footwear, we three followed him in. He sat to pull on his boot, beaming up at the three of us with an expression of unbridled joy. "Geraint, Gwaine, you will accompany Merlin and I to the workshop, you have earnt the right."

"Sire are you quite sure?" Gwaine exclaimed.

"More than sure," Arthur's expression changed to one of mock chastisement, "yet don't let me find you two boasting about it come morning or I'll personally make sure that you never sit at it!" they laughed and Arthur slapped them on the back, reminding me of Uther. As Arthur had aged, fought battles and learnt to protect his people he had become more and more like his father, but only in those ways that made him into a better king. He was not as easily given over to drink and he felt no desire to court more women than he had fingers on his hands, as Uther often had, and he was not so quick to rise in anger. I knew that the world would remember him as a brave and just and loyal king, and that the Council of the Round Table was about to become a vital part of that.

So in the darkness, the moon has shifted behind the clouds, we made our way with quiet excitement down to the workshop and found Johan waiting there, having lit small candles in jars of glass for us to see by. The murky green of the glass sent a mixture of strange, ethereal lights dancing across the surface of the great oak table.

Arthur stared at it in wonder, stepping forward to touch its edge reverently. He walked slowly around it his fingers learning the shape and the grooves and the natural knots in the wood, occasionally his hand trailed over the back of one of the ornately carved chairs that Johan had set around it so that the king could grasp the whole feeling of this magnificent piece of art. Upon completing the circle he stopped in front of Johan and tried to form words enough to describe the feeling that looking upon such a marvellous object had caused to rise within us all. It emitted such a powerful energy that radiated out from it in waves and proved to me, had I not already known it, that my gods intended this to become part of our legend.