Trials | Merlin FanFiction (Merthur)

Chapitre Sept

The ambush, when it came, would have been a total surprise if it wasn't for Merlin's gelding. It had started to limp. Merlin privately thought that it was just faking it so that it wouldn't have to work anymore,but Arthur forced him to dismount and had just bent to examine a hoof with careful attention, Lancelot leaning over his shoulder and watching intently.

Which was how the first arrow went high, grazing the gelding's neck instead of hitting Arthur in the chest. Merlin shoved Arthur down to the ground instinctively, standing over him with raised hands, and then the woods were full of men, several wearing white cloaks, and all of them pointing arrows at the three of them.

A man rode up through the crowd, his shaggy pony dusted with snow, and raised an eyebrow at them. He looked calm, and his sword wasn't drawn, but it didn't need to be. He said something Merlin didn't understand, and tipped his head inquiringly.

Arthur stood up, shouldered Merlin aside with a scathing look in passing, and arrogantly tilted his chin at the leader. He said something in the same language, maybe just a touch less musically than the mysterious rider, and Merlin rolled his eyes as he caught Arthur's name, "Pendragon" and "Camelot". Of course he was introducing himself to the strange armed men, Merlin thought darkly. It wasn't like he was running for his life or anything. It made perfect sense that he would give his real name to anyone who asked. Merlin gave Arthur a dark look, and Arthur didn't turn around, just elbowed his ribs. Hard. Merlin wheezed while Arthur said something else, and even under these circumstances, he still managed to sound a bit like a prat. Merlin caught one of them men rolling his eyes.

"How do you even know their language," Merlin hissed at him, grabbing Arthur's arm. He could still get them out of this, he was sure--knock them off their horses, deflect the arrows, hit the leader in the head. He flexed his hand, tried to look menacing, and wondered if he could managed to get in front of Arthur to shield him. Arthur shifted his foot, stepped on Merlin's instep heavily, and didn't stop until Merlin yelped.

"I'm the prince," Arthur muttered. "I know everything. Now shut up."

Merlin wanted to be annoyed at that, but it turned out that Arthur was doing more than simply playing Prince of the Realm--he was apparently negotiating their surrender. Merlin simmered quietly, but didn't protest when men came up and took away his belt knife and Arthur's sword, moved the packs onto their own horses, and threw the three of them back up into the saddles. He didn't even give into the temptation to kick them in the face when they were binding his wrists and tying his legs to the horse. He was pretty sure they didn't have a wizard, and after the past few days, he was pretty sure he could take them if this went badly. Of course, he'd much rather not test that assumption.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he muttered to Arthur, who looked relaxed and self-assured as men wrapped rope around his ankles. Lancelot didn't look any happier than Merlin felt, and it was reassuring to know that at least one of them wasn't an idiot.

"Of course I do," Arthur said arrogantly, and Merlin had to remind himself all the reasons that magicking up a stick to hit him in the head was a bad idea. "They're taking us to their village, and there we can meet their war-leader. Exactly what I wanted."

As it turned out, the Druid town was nearly three hours away. Merlin tried to memorize landmarks, but in a snowy wilderness, most of them were various shades of mottled brown-and-white. Finally, bored, Merlin settled for trying to figure out what the men were saying. Once he got the knack of listening, the language almost sounded like what most of his spells were written in. They didn't seem to notice or care that he was listening, so he eavesdropped and puzzled and tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

The town was a scattered collection of maybe seventy houses arranged like the spokes of a wheel, each surrounded by sheds and shacks, pens for sheep and cattle. There wasn't much moving, but a few optimistic geese explored an empty paddock for patches of dead, muddy grass, and they started a raucous honking as the riders approached. It looked prosperous, Merlin thought consideringly. Not much like Ealdor. He couldn't tell if that was good or bad.

People began to gather as they got nearer, and by the time they reached the center of the town, most of the inhabitants were there, their stares having an with almost physical weight. Arthur nudged his horse forward , bringing him just a fraction in front of the leader of the ambush party, making the men around Merlin mutter unhappily. Merlin subtly spurred his horse, trying to keep close to Arthur's heel, and almost crashed into Lancelot's horse when he tried to do the same thing.

They were brought to stand in front of a great hall, about three times larger than the cottages and huts that surrounded it. It was solidly made, well-reinforced, and Merlin eyed it warily. Men surrounded the front entrance, armed and armored, as they were brought to a halt before it.

The leader grunted, and waved at Arthur. He said something, and Merlin heard "Arthur," and "Uther," and something that was probably "Camelot."

An older man, beard grizzled, stepped forward and looked coldly at Arthur. Merlin braced himself, and the gelding shifted restlessly. The man looked over at him, and did a double-take.

"Emrys?"

There was that name again. Merlin still had no idea what it meant, but he was losing patience with it. Plus, seeing Arthur tied up was frazzling his nerves. "My name is Merlin," Merlin said sharply, and now there was motion, frenzied activity, people talking over each other, men reining their horses back away from him. Someone appeared at his knee and cut his wrists loose, then freed his legs, while the grizzled man barked orders and people ran to do his bidding.

Arthur and Lancelot were being cut free as well, and Merlin was bowed towards Arthur by a couple of nervous-looking bowmen. Arthur was doing that thing where he pretended to look regal but actually looked deeply amused, Merlin was relieved to see. Lancelot's hand was resting lightly but firmly on his sword hilt and was glaring at anyone that came too close, which made him look nicely menacing.

"Something you want to tell me?" Arthur asked, with a lightness that Merlin didn't believe for a second, as white cloaks lined in fur were brought out for them and they were escorted into the largest and most elaborate house in the village.

"Um. Not really," Merlin tried, with little hope. Arthur flicked his ear hard, and ten people twitched hands towards their knives. Merlin tried to look like he enjoyed having his ear stinging like mad, and hissed at Arthur, "Maybe you wait until we get out of here to abuse me?"

Arthur stared at their reaction, and then looked back at Merlin. "Oh, that's a promise," he said pleasantly, and nodded genially at a girl who served them hot wine sweet with honey and herbs.

Then came an interminable period where Merlin tried to sit casually and look welcomed and relaxed and not notice the way that every person in the village was peeking in the door and staring at him, while Arthur and the grizzled man--Brydain, Arthur introduced him to Merlin belatedly--prattled at each other.

Someone brought in a whole roasted lamb on a platter, fat still sizzling on the crisped sides, and Merlin decided that maybe being blamed for this wouldn't be so bad.