Merlin, the adventures continue...

Chapter 5: One born from twice dead

With a florish George opened the curtains of Arthur’s bedroom. The delicious smell of freshly baked bacon, eggs and bread wafted through the air, the rays of the early morning sun filled the room and lit up Arthur’s sleepy face, making his hair even more golden.

“A very good morning Sire,” George said, and started fussing around. Arthur groaned inwardly. Of all the servants available, he had to get George. Again. “Merlin, Merlin, please come back,” he thought and heaved a sigh, but he knew it was all for the best. Merlin and Gaius needed time to try and find a cure and quickly too, for Merlin simply fell asleep where he stood, like yesterday while pouring wine and half of it landed on Arthur’s lap instead of in his goblet; and Merlin stood there swaying, eyes closed and all but snoring. Merlin tried to wipe the wine away, but he managed to make it even worse, ruining Arthur’s hose and shirt; and then his hand landed on the rim of a plate filled with roasted pork, catapulting the meat and it landed on Arthur’s head. “Thank you Merlin,” he had said, “but I prefer to have it actually in my mouth.”
“Yes Sire,” Merlin had answered, plucking pieces of pork from Arthur’s hair, “I thought I might save you some time getting the meat to you this way. You’re not very good at catching are you?”
“No Merlin, but I’m sure I can learn from you. What if I simply put you in the stocks and I’ll pelt you with fruit. I’m sure you’ll be able to catch some in your mouth! It will be fun and I can learn from you at the same time!”
“Ah, yes, my favourite past-time, the good old pillory. Brings back memories. And don’t forget to include some tomatoes. And grapes. Grapes are good for catching. More wine Sire?”
And now he was stuck with George. Efficient, predictable, utterly boring George.
“I hope you did sleep well Sire,” George said, “I took the liberty of laying out your clothes for you to wear this morning, including a freshly polished mail shirt, and your bath will be ready shortly, after you have had your breakfast.”
“Where is Merlin,” Arthur said, sitting up in bed and flexing his muscles.

“I am sure he will be here any moment now I think Sire, as he does every morning,” he said with a hint of disapprovement in his voice. “But while you wait Sire, perhaps I can while away the time by telling you an amusing anecdote I just remembered. It is very amusing Sire,” and George, stone-faced, never smiling George actually chuckled. “Very amusing and diverting indeed Sire. It is a humorous story about brass.”
An audible groan now escaped Arthur’s lips and he let himself fall back on the cushions, closing his eyes. At that moment the door burst open and Percival came storming in, big smile on his face, followed by Merlin.
“Sire, Mordred has returned,” Percival said, catching his breath, totally ignoring George’s disapproving frown. Very deliberately George started to wipe away the mud-stains left by Percival’s boots. Arthur’s face lit up and he smiled broadly. Merlin on the other hand looked gloomy, a deep frown on his forehead.
“Come on Merlin, no need to look so glum, you look like a cranky wilddeorren. Mordred is back, be happy. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten how to smile,” said Arthur and he jumped out of bed, stretching his arms in front of him. Merlin tried to take a shirt to dress Arthur, but George got there first, all but shoving Merlin aside. “How is he?”
“Tired and dusty, but otherwise fine. He’s waiting in the Great Hall.”
“What are we waiting for, let’s go,” Arthur exclaimed and swiftly walked away, followed by Percival and Merlin.
“But your breakfast Sire, and your bath---“ George said, but his words fell deaf on the heavy door.

“I am ready to get back to work Sire,” Mordred said, after a warm and heartfelt welcome from Arthur, “my apologies for running away like that.”
“I understand Mordred,” Arthur answered, “I wasn’t easy for you. But we’re all glad you’re back and that’s the end of it. We’ll talk no more of it”
“Thank you Sire.”
Mordred looked around, looked at the Knights gathered there, smiling and talking, and his gaze fell on Merlin. Their eyes locked and Mordred saw the distrust in Merlin’s eyes, saw his frown, his coldness. “You still don’t trust me, do you,” Mordred said, using his Druid-voice so only Merlin could hear.
“I know you are a loyal knight of Camelot and loyal to Arthur,” Merlin answered, also using only his mind as he followed Arthur into the corridor, one thought predominantly on his mind: Arthur shall die by a Druid’s hand.
“That is not an answer.” With the accusing voice of Mordred sounding loud in his head, Merlin kept silent as he walked with Arthur back to his chambers.