Merlin: Stories from the Citadel (one shots)

The Völva (part one)

"Oh really, Merlin don't be such a girl," Prince Arthur complained as they patrolled the eastern coastline of the kingdom. There had been reports of strange visitors and it had been decided that the prince should journey there to inspect the area to reassure the people that all was well and under control. In truth, however, Arthur was worried. The reports had described horrible killings and raids by men and women with long hair, axes, and strange tattoos. They were rumored to be both skilled warriors and very violent. This, of course, was not news to Arthur. There had been raids like these before at the coastline of the kingdom. But the last ones had ended many years ago, before Arthur was born. The prospect of a new wave of such raids was exactly what made his servant complain at the idea of controlling the coastline. He argued they did not have enough men to withstand an attack and that Arthur was putting himself - and his 'brilliant' servant - in unnecessary danger. Now, Arthur knew Merlin did know when and - perhaps not even how - to hold his tongue in situations like this. Arthur had even learned to live with it. But there were limits to his patience after all.

"We'll catch a cold before long," Merlin pointed out, his nose red and running in the windy weather. The sun had not shown its face for some time and rain had been a daily occurrence.

"Only a few miles left, Merlin, then you get to prepare me a long, hot bath as we return to Camelot," Arthur reassured him, making the knights surrounding them chuckle.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Can't wait, Sire," he replied and said nothing more for a while. What Merlin could not voice was the tingling feeling in his fingers telling him something was coming. Something magical. This magic was not one Merlin recognized and it felt it it was calling to him from the waves. A strange sensation since Merlin had no idea what lay beyond those waves he could see from land. He found himself wondering what else was out there, beyond the borders of Camelot. Perhaps other kingdoms and other kinds of magic? Only his imagination could help him there. Even though Merlin could see much further than the prince and his knights were able to, he saw nothing out there but the riving ocean. He narrowed his eyes to check again.

Just as Merlin's attention was directed at the sea, Arthur sensed movement amongst the tall greenery that lined the beach. Before he could order his men to draw their swords, a great collective roar sounded and several figures came out of the greenery with shields and axes in their hands. Just as the stories had described, there were both male and female warriors amongst them and all of them had hair that touched her shoulders at the very least. They bore tattoos, but no armor. There was no fear in their eyes as they threw themselves into battle. And they were many. Arthur and his men had only one advantage; they were mounted. The horses might make the difference and afford them the victory. Merlin oriented himself toward Arthur to ensure the prince was left unharmed. The foreigners threw the otherwise organized knights into chaos. It was a good thing Merlin had learned to use a sword because he needed both that and his magic to survive this attack. Several of the knights were not so lucky. Arthur sent the youngest knight racing back to Camelot to inform them of their peril. Soon, Merlin and Arthur were alone and about to be defeated. The foreigners were much fiercer warriors than their reputation gave them credit for. But once Merlin and Arthur were alone and surrounded, they stopped fighting. Arthur was still prepared to take a hit from any angle and from any of the foreign northmen. To Merlin, it was a frightening experience to see them with his own eyes. Some of them were huge and perhaps as strong as Arthur himself. Some of them were indeed much taller than the prince and the look in their eyes told Merlin they had a plan.

"Hent völva. Vi har fundet prinsen," said one of the northmen. He was wearing the most elaborate clothing and the biggest weapon. There was a scar etched into his cheek, no doubt a battle wound. He was sure to be the leader since everyone else obeyed his command. Merlin did not understand a word of what he said, but it made two of the others leave to get something - or someone, as it turned out. From the greenery, the figure of an old woman appeared. She said nothing, but held up her hands in what appeared to be victory. The warriors whooped and cheered and disarmed Arthur and Merlin and began to drag them through the green and into the forest where their camp was.