Chapter Text
Merlin drilled the pestle into his bowlful of dried comfrey, chewing on his lower lip. The leaves shattered under his attack, only a few tough, leathery specimens resisting until the last.
"There’s some fresh honeysuckle in the basket over there," Gaius said. "Add about a handful."
Merlin obediently fetched the flowers and scooped a generous clutch out of the basket. He sniffed dubiously at them. "What am I making here, anyway? A salve or a potion or what?"
"A suspension," Gaius said. "Don’t grind the honeysuckle too finely, leave some flowers intact. Just bruise them enough to bring the scent out."
"Oh, I see. So it’s not medicine at all, it’s perfume. Actually, that would be quite handy. You should smell the inside of Arthur’s cupboards sometimes when they’re full of sweaty old socks. It’s disgusting!"
Gaius raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Technically speaking, it is your job to make sure the dirty laundry doesn’t go back into the cupboard, Merlin."
Merlin shrugged. "Things get a bit mixed up sometimes when I’m busy."
"Hmm. In any case, it’s not perfume. The ingredients are suspended in an oil which is heated gently in a special container." Gaius pointed at a little pot further up the table. It had an opening at the bottom a bit like a tiny kiln, with a dish-shaped top. "You put a candle in there, you see, and it heats the oil in the top to just the right temperature."
"The right temperature for what?"
"To release fumes, Merlin," said Gaius, as if it were obvious. "The patient inhales the fumes and that’s how the medicine enters their system. The ingredients of this particular preparation are far too toxic to be ingested any other way. Besides, it’s a remedy specifically to treat the lungs. This is the best way of getting the medicine where it’s needed."
"Right. Who’s it for?"
"Sir Leon. You know he’s had a very troublesome cough since...."
They exchanged a glance before Merlin looked away, crushing a pinch of honeysuckle hard between his fingers. Since the dragon, was what Gaius meant. Since Kilgara attacked Camelot, killing and maiming people and wrecking stone and timber and anything he could reach in his terrible, awful rage.
"Dragon’s fire is particularly troublesome," Gaius said. "It sears the lungs, badly affecting the membranes on the inside which-"
"Yes, yes, you explained that before," Merlin interrupted. "Membranes, scorched, magical, won’t heal properly, got it. So this oil thingie will help, will it?"
Gaius prodded the basket of honeysuckle with his stirrer. "Yes. Yes, I think so."
He didn’t sound very convinced.
*
"You’re in good spirits this morning, Sire."
Arthur flung his window open wide and leaned out, breathing in big lungfuls of fresh summer air. "How could I not be? Look at that sky, Merlin."
Merlin peered over Arthur’s shoulder. "It’s blue," he observed.
"Very good, Merlin! And do you know what that means?"
"Er... it’s not going to rain? Probably?"
"Quail, Merlin! It’s spring! That means quail!"
"What from?"
"What?"
"You said quail, I just wondered why we would be quailing. Especially you. You hardly ever quail." Merlin smiled brightly.
Arthur stared at him as though he were speaking a foreign language. Badly.
"Because, you know, you’re quite brave. Generally speaking," Merlin elucidated.
"Merlin?"
"Yes Sire?"
"What the blazes are you talking about?"
Merlin wished he could go back to the part where Arthur was blathering about the colour of the sky and busy being in a good mood. "You said-"
"Because you’d better not be suggesting I’d run away from a stupid bird."
Now Merlin was truly lost. "Bird? What bird? What?"
"The quail, Merlin. It’s the start of quail season."
Light dawned for Merlin. "Oh! You mean quail the bird! Not quail the cowering!"
"That’s right, Merlin!" Arthur's voice dripped with sarcasm. "There, you got there in the end. It’s not as if you were born stupid or anything."
"So you’ll be wanting your hunting jacket then?"
"An excellent notion. See, you’re going from strength to strength here. Before long you’ll have developed the mental capacity of, oh, I don’t know, a weasel, maybe?"
"Actually, weasels are quite clever." Merlin crossed to Arthur’s cupboard and started rifling through the jackets that were hanging up there. He flicked past the red and the tan and finally his long fingers came to rest on smooth black suede. He pulled it out and returned to the window, where he fitted it snugly to Arthur’s broad shoulders and strong arms.
"Have the horses ready and waiting in the courtyard. I’ll meet you there with the master falconer shortly."
"Horses?"
"Yes, Merlin, big four-legged creatures that you ride. For hunting."
"No, I mean, how many horses?"
"My new mare, she could use the exercise. Whatever it is you’re riding these days. Oh, and something sedate for Rupert."
"Rupert?"
"The Master Falconer."
"He’s coming on the hunt too?" Merlin tried not to sound suspicious, but Rupert Greslet was an odd man; he looked far too much like the hawks and falcons he cared for and Merlin didn’t completely trust him. His servant always looked frightened and Gaius tended to give him hard stares whenever they saw him in the lower town. "I would have thought you’d do better with one of the knights."
"He's the biggest expert in falconry in the whole of Camelot, and he's hand-reared this hawk specifically to hunt quail. Of course he's coming!"
"Great," said Merlin with forced enthusiasm.
"It's going to be a good day, Merlin. I can feel it in my bones."
Merlin really wished that Arthur wouldn't say things like that.
*
"Are you going somewhere?" Gaius said, watching Merlin stuff things in his bag.
"Hunting. With Arthur and some bird and dogs and horses, oh and some guy who knows about falcons."
"Rupert Greslet?"
"That's the one."
Gaius pulled a face.
"Yes, I know," said Merlin.
"I hope he won't keep you too long. I promised Geoffrey you could help him with an errand."
"Thanks, that's just what I need, someone else to work for."
"Merlin," Gaius said, a gentle chastisement. "It's a personal favour. He's had some problems with his shoulder and there's a book pedlar coming to Camelot this afternoon whom he particularly wants to see."
"A pedlar?"
"Yes, Merlin, a pedlar. Where else do you think books come from?"
"I don't know. I just supposed that Uther would ask and it would, you know," Merlin snapped his fingers, "appear."
"How? By magic?"
"Maybe. Geoffrey could be a sorcerer. He's got the whole beard-and-robes thing going for him. And those eyebrows. Very wizardly."
Gaius rolled his eyes. "Well, that's not what happens. So he needs some help carrying books."
Merlin hauled his bag up onto his shoulder. "I'd better get going, then. Sooner Arthur gets to kill something, sooner I get back."
"Splendid," said Gaius. "Off you go."
*
At least it made a change to be out in the open. Quail, apparently, weren't that interested in forests. They also didn't run very fast, or at least the whole grisly process didn't require Merlin to do much running after them. He mostly got to stand around with the horses and watch Rupert and Arthur stalking around in the tall grass like a couple of demented heron.
"Idiots," Merlin confided to his horse. "If they had any idea how ridiculous they look..."
His horse tossed its head and even Arthur's mare stamped a foot, seemingly in agreement.
Above them the hawk circled, going about its business in a graceful, if deadly fashion. At first glance it looked like teamwork, Merlin thought: the dog quietly leading the men to the prey; the men stalking through the undergrowth, flushing it out for the hawk to kill.
But it wasn't like that really. If the men weren't there, or the dog, the hawk wouldn't go hungry. The men and the dog were playing games. The hawk was the only true hunter.
"That's something I might not say out loud in front of Arthur," Merlin told his horse.
As the day moved from morning towards the other side of noon the number of quail strapped to the pack horse steadily increased. They were small birds, not much meat on them (and even less on the one the hawk had snacked on) which apparently meant they needed to kill a lot of them. Merlin watered the dogs and horses while Arthur and Rupert ate bread, cheese and ham and discussed lures and hoods and bells. The hawk was quiet; tethered, tamed, watching Merlin out of one beady little eye as if he might be interesting to eat.
Merlin reminded himself that the power of a dragonlord coursed through his veins, and it would thus be ridiculous to be scared of a smallish bird, however cruel its beak and talons. He tried to give it a hard stare back, but the thing was cunning and turned its back.
Merlin retreated to the tree where the horses were tethered, and sat leaning against its trunk. He'd succumbed to the warmth of the afternoon and let his eyes slide closed (just for a moment) when the dogs started to bark.
"What? Arthur!"
Merlin was on his feet and took in the facts in a few fleeting seconds. The hawk was circling; Arthur's sword was flashing; Rupert Greslet was nowhere to be seen.
And Arthur was surrounded.
Merlin quickly hid behind the tree and outstretched his hand. He spat spells that Arthur, with his back to him, couldn't see; heating the sword hilt of one assailant, lifting tree roots to trip an unwary axe-wielder (whose axe conveniently landed in his comrade's thigh) and tightening the armour of another swordsman to the point he was struggling for breath and trying to tear it off his body. Arthur remained oblivious, pushing the battle with the other three men in the opposite direction, further into the plain.
Merlin let his magic ebb and released the dogs to finish the job.
It was over as suddenly as it had begun; two men lay dead and the other four fled across the plain towards the distant promise of cover. Arthur's eyes flashed as angrily as his sword, while Merlin calmed the horses.
"Where the Hell did they come from?" said Arthur.
"I've no idea. They seemed to just appear out of nowhere. Are you alright?" Merlin bit his lip, too late to take back the intensity of his concern. His tongue got the better of him sometimes, he couldn't help it.
"I'm fine. Thanks. How could they have just appeared?"
"I'm okay too, thanks for asking."
"What?"
"Never mind."
"Wait, they didn't just appear. There's a trail, here." Arthur pointed at indentations in the soft earth near where he stood. Merlin took a closer look, dropping to one knee to gently touch the soil and flattened grass.
"You're right."
"Of course I'm right, Merlin. They came from over there," Arthur pointed towards the sparse woodland towards the eastern horizon. He looked around him, up at the sky, and back to Merlin. "Where's Rupert?"
"I don't know. He was here just before the dogs started to bark, I think., The bird was there-" Merlin pointed at the sky, "-and then he was gone. I don't know where..... oh."
Arthur turned, following Merlin's gaze. The hawk had settled a few yards away with a rabbit, close to one of the dead bandits. The blood from its kill pooled with the blood from the man; Merlin had to look away for fear he'd be sick. Arthur would never let him live it down if he was.
"I'm not sure Rupert can be trusted," Merlin said, fixing his attention once more on the horses.
"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. I expect he was just scared."
"Can't be a very good hunter if he's no good in a fight."
"Ha! You're hardly one to talk. Come on, something tells me that's the end of today's hunt. The hawk won't fly when she's full and the dogs won't settle. Let's find Greslet and go home."
"We might not be able to find him," said Merlin.
"Then we'll send out a search party when we get back to Camelot. Hurry up, Merlin and keep your eyes open. I've had quite enough surprise attacks for one day."
*
As it turned out, they found Rupert Greslet almost immediately; he was cowering under a bush near the stream, white as a sheet and actually shaking. Merlin might have felt sorry for him, had Arthur not gone out of his way to comfort the man and reassure him. Whenever Merlin was scared - usually because he was in mortal danger due to some stupid scrape Arthur had got him into - all that ever happened was that Arthur gave him pitying glances that made him feel pathetic, and told him to stop being a girl. Which Merlin always thought was a stupid thing to say anyway. He knew some girls who were far braver than him. He wondered what would happen if Gwen overheard Arthur saying things like that.
"Stop smirking, Merlin, and help Rupert back onto his horse."
Merlin sighed deeply, and did as he was told.
It wasn't his fault the horse bolted.
Well, mostly not, anyway.
*
"There. Keep it in the sling for at least a week, and use this salve to help with the bruising."
Merlin and Gaius watched Rupert Greslet limp out of Gaius's workroom.
"Nasty dislocation," Gaius said.
"I could tell, the way he was crying like that."
"Alright, Merlin. What did you do?"
"Nothing! It was the horse!"
Gaius gave him one of those looks that made Merlin want to disappear. Or start whistling innocently.
"It's not my fault the horse got spooked! It was the bird."
"Oh, really? Any other animals you'd like to rest the blame with? An errant shrew, perhaps?"
"Shouldn't I be going to help Geoffrey with his books?"
"Merlin," said Gaius, in his warning tone.
"I thought I saw something, in the bushes, just as I was helping him back on his horse. We had just been attacked by bandits, if you remember."
"And?"
"I knew I couldn't use magic, so I grabbed a sword. For some reason the bird thought I was attacking its master. It got all... squawky, and the horse got upset."
"The hawk attacked you?"
"It didn't do any damage. It turns out hawks are quite susceptible to particular wind currents," said Merlin, then took a step back from the full force of Gaius's glare. "I was so subtle, honest, you'd never have known! It was barely a breeze!"
Gaius sighed a deep, long-suffering sigh. "If anyone saw you..."
"They didn't, okay? Would you rather I had my eyes clawed out by some bird? Really?"
"Of course not, Merlin. I worry about you, that's all."
Merlin looked away, fighting guilt and frustration for the sake of the deep affection he had for Gaius and the conviction that how ever many times they had this conversation, it wouldn't change anything.
"Geoffrey will be waiting in the archives. Try not to get into any more trouble?"
"Promise," said Merlin with a grin. "What trouble could I get into with Geoffrey, after all? A bar-fight?"
Gaius chuckled. "You'd be surprised, Merlin. Geoffrey had his moments, back in the day."
"Really?" asked Merlin, curious. He couldn't imagine Geoffrey of Monmouth as a young man, or Gaius, come to that. "Did you have adventures?"
"Oh yes. But those are stories for another time. Come on, Merlin, we've both got work to do."
"Spoilsport." Merlin picked up his bag and slung it on his shoulder. "I'll might just ask Geoffrey instead."
Gaius just laughed.