Merlin is scrambling through the forest by now, basket dropped in favour of running faster. He trips, back-pedals and is quite sure this is the part where his life flashes before his eyes --
and then it must be doing just that, because the person standing between him and the griffin looks so familiar. The utterly ridiculous person wearing not a shred of armour, waving a sword, and he barely manages to start to exclaim his name before he's being hauled to his feet and they're running --
He's always been lucky, but even Merlin can't believe this. Of all the people, of all the times to turn up.
He sits panting for air, waiting to see if the Griffin will wing back and spot them huddled against the log, but they've made it. Somehow, by some impossible means they've made it. He's alive, and Merlin turns to grin at his friend.
Lancelot wastes no time. He does not hesitate for a second. If he and his sword are all that can stand between whatever this is and Merlin, he will defend.
That is, until his sword breaks. There's one very important thing he's learned in his short experience travelling: when to run. There is a difference between being brave and being stupid.
They jump behind a log and try to catch their breath as they watch the griffin soar overhead. It's only then that Lancelot realizes he's sustained a wound and his hand rests on it. He does offer a very weak smile to Merlin anyway. "Told you not... to get in trouble."
That little wound has taken more out of him than he knows. The travel right before didn't help he... he just needs to sleep for a while. Let himself catch up. He'll be fine if he closes his eyes, really...
He laughs at that, half relief and half exhaustion, and then his eyes flick down.
They catch on the wound and Merlin pales.
"No, no, no -- Lance! Lance, stay awake, please. Look, it's not far, I can get you to Gaius. He can treat you. Can you stand?"
Then Merlin is on his feet, casting around frantically to check the beast isn't doubling back and trying to help Lancelot up. This can't happen. He can't have met his friend again only to watch him die, like this, after saving his life.
Lancelot can hear Merlin's voice. He sounds worried. What? Oh right, yes, the wound and monster and everything that had happened. He's just so... Tired... And isn't he dreaming? He dreams about Merlin so often it wouldn't be that hard to mistake.
"I can," he answers without realizing he has at all. He makes no movement to actually offer himself up. He can stand after a rest. A good long rest where he'll dream about Merlin some more.
Merlin lets out a miserable moan of distress, struggles to pull Lancelot to his feet with his limited strength.
"Come on," he begs, "please."
If Merlin has to drag Lancelot, though, he will. Camelot is not far, and Merlin is never one to give up on a friend. Especially a friend as dear to him as Lancelot.
Lancelot is bandaged and left to rest in Merlin's bed, Merlin hovering by his side nervously every free minute he has. He can't stand to see him this way, hurt and drawn, and the sacrifice of his own bed is a small one if it means Lancelot will be well again. He ends up falling asleep, arms folded on the side of the bed as he wills Lancelot to be well. To forgive him for getting in trouble and getting him hurt.
Lancelot slowly begins to awake. He doesn't remember last being somewhere with a bed. Actually, he can't remember the last time he had a bed at all. It's been fields and hay and grass for more than a year.
Merlin. Why does Merlin linger in his mind so much stronger than before? Merlin....
"Merlin?" he asks as he wakes and tries to sit up. The pain in his side causes him to wince and wake up much more quickly. The fight, rescuing his friend. He looks and feels relieved, despite the pain, at seeing him safe.
He startles awake at the sound of his name, a red blotch on the side of his face where it had been smushed against the rough fabric of his blanket.
"Lance?" Merlin blinks himself back to consciousness, shakes off the last dredges of sleep and scrambles to his feet -- hands fluttering in the air vaguely over Lancelot as he decides what to do first. "Don't -- don't move, stay still, you'll re-open the wound. Does it hurt? I can get you something for the pain, or, a drink, or, are you hungry? I can get you food, we have food, um, and I should fetch Gaius and --" He trails off, breath hitching awkwardly, then rushes forward the last step again to grab for Lancelot's hand. "I'm sorry, look, this is my fault. You came all this way and then --"
Then Lancelot got hurt, because of him. Merlin feels wretched at the thought of it.
He'd almost forgotten about the wound entirely. At least the pain was there to remind him. It doesn't take much for him to heed a little of Merlin's warning. The pain, which he winces from, keeps him from sitting up too far. he observes the bandage as he clutches it.
And, of course, has to deal with Merlin feeling needlessly guilty. Despite it all, he gives a smile for actually getting to see his friend's face. To see him alive and well. "I didn't know you were bait for a giant monster." Really, how was this in any way Merlin's fault?
"A griffin." Merlin swallows, draws his chair closer to the bed and sits again -- Lancelot's hand still clutched in his. "It's been attacking nearby villages, but... it isn't taking livestock. It's taking... people."
Which is more than a little disconcerting. First a creature shows up believed to exist only in the pages of myth, then it attacks villages and takes human victims. Where did it even come from? Merlin only hopes there aren't any more. One will be bad enough to deal with.
Lancelot realizes he isn't going anywhere any time soon. If the pain of the wound weren't enough, Merlin's about to grip his hand right off. He looks so guilty, the poor thing. It's not his fault the beast came after him.
"Can magic stop it?"
His sword broke in two from one swing. Lancelot may be strong, but he's nowhere near that. Relaxing might have been a terrible idea. He feels so weak. He can't! Not now. Not when there is a monster out there ready to take up people. What if Merlin needs to be protected again?
"I don't know. Maybe. It's a creature of magic, Gaius thinks magic can fight it, but you saw it! I can't bring down something like that. I don't have magic that powerful."
He eases his grip on Lancelot's hand with a sigh, closes his other hand around it to clasp it between them and frowns sadly.
"Besides, magic is forbidden here. Punishable by death. I have to be careful."
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airbaths2014-05-17 07:31 pm
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and then it must be doing just that, because the person standing between him and the griffin looks so familiar. The utterly ridiculous person wearing not a shred of armour, waving a sword, and he barely manages to start to exclaim his name before he's being hauled to his feet and they're running --
He's always been lucky, but even Merlin can't believe this. Of all the people, of all the times to turn up.
He sits panting for air, waiting to see if the Griffin will wing back and spot them huddled against the log, but they've made it. Somehow, by some impossible means they've made it. He's alive, and Merlin turns to grin at his friend.
"You were almost late."
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That is, until his sword breaks. There's one very important thing he's learned in his short experience travelling: when to run. There is a difference between being brave and being stupid.
They jump behind a log and try to catch their breath as they watch the griffin soar overhead. It's only then that Lancelot realizes he's sustained a wound and his hand rests on it. He does offer a very weak smile to Merlin anyway. "Told you not... to get in trouble."
That little wound has taken more out of him than he knows. The travel right before didn't help he... he just needs to sleep for a while. Let himself catch up. He'll be fine if he closes his eyes, really...
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They catch on the wound and Merlin pales.
"No, no, no -- Lance! Lance, stay awake, please. Look, it's not far, I can get you to Gaius. He can treat you. Can you stand?"
Then Merlin is on his feet, casting around frantically to check the beast isn't doubling back and trying to help Lancelot up. This can't happen. He can't have met his friend again only to watch him die, like this, after saving his life.
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"I can," he answers without realizing he has at all. He makes no movement to actually offer himself up. He can stand after a rest. A good long rest where he'll dream about Merlin some more.
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"Come on," he begs, "please."
If Merlin has to drag Lancelot, though, he will. Camelot is not far, and Merlin is never one to give up on a friend. Especially a friend as dear to him as Lancelot.
Lancelot is bandaged and left to rest in Merlin's bed, Merlin hovering by his side nervously every free minute he has. He can't stand to see him this way, hurt and drawn, and the sacrifice of his own bed is a small one if it means Lancelot will be well again. He ends up falling asleep, arms folded on the side of the bed as he wills Lancelot to be well. To forgive him for getting in trouble and getting him hurt.
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Merlin. Why does Merlin linger in his mind so much stronger than before? Merlin....
"Merlin?" he asks as he wakes and tries to sit up. The pain in his side causes him to wince and wake up much more quickly. The fight, rescuing his friend. He looks and feels relieved, despite the pain, at seeing him safe.
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"Lance?" Merlin blinks himself back to consciousness, shakes off the last dredges of sleep and scrambles to his feet -- hands fluttering in the air vaguely over Lancelot as he decides what to do first. "Don't -- don't move, stay still, you'll re-open the wound. Does it hurt? I can get you something for the pain, or, a drink, or, are you hungry? I can get you food, we have food, um, and I should fetch Gaius and --" He trails off, breath hitching awkwardly, then rushes forward the last step again to grab for Lancelot's hand. "I'm sorry, look, this is my fault. You came all this way and then --"
Then Lancelot got hurt, because of him. Merlin feels wretched at the thought of it.
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And, of course, has to deal with Merlin feeling needlessly guilty. Despite it all, he gives a smile for actually getting to see his friend's face. To see him alive and well. "I didn't know you were bait for a giant monster." Really, how was this in any way Merlin's fault?
"What was that?"
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Which is more than a little disconcerting. First a creature shows up believed to exist only in the pages of myth, then it attacks villages and takes human victims. Where did it even come from? Merlin only hopes there aren't any more. One will be bad enough to deal with.
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"Can magic stop it?"
His sword broke in two from one swing. Lancelot may be strong, but he's nowhere near that. Relaxing might have been a terrible idea. He feels so weak. He can't! Not now. Not when there is a monster out there ready to take up people. What if Merlin needs to be protected again?
no subject
He eases his grip on Lancelot's hand with a sigh, closes his other hand around it to clasp it between them and frowns sadly.
"Besides, magic is forbidden here. Punishable by death. I have to be careful."