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PROMPT:
So many men before
had fallen prey. They feared
that fierce and frenzied boar
whose tusks could slash and tear.



They’d lost men, tens of men, men that now lay lifeless and still in the mud that covered them. Their faces pressed into the dirt and their bodies half sunken into the ground. It had been raining for days. The dark skies had haunted them since they had left Camelot behind and they weren’t about to stop, not now.

Thunder boomed through the air as the wind picked up and they waited. They waited and waited for the frenzied boar to return. The boar who’s tusks would slash and tear men apart like it was nothing. The boar who was clearly so much more than a boar. A boar could not take out armies, trained soldiers, or kings. There was something mystical about it; yes, something magical.

Arthur and his men had been on it’s tail for days now but as soon as they thought they were right behind it would appear at night fall and tear their camp apart and put up a fight that not even eleven trained knights could win. They were running out of ideas, they’d been moving around the woods for days, searching, hiding, fighting. Fighting the beast with every weapon that they had brought with them but they did not know that their greatest weapon was in fact the boy who carried their bags, made their food and found their fire wood. They never even thought of him. No one ever did - except for Arthur. Not until the night that the boar charged into their camp and Merlin - almost certainly dead - threw up a hand, whispered a few ancient words and the boar just suddenly dropped down dead.

Merlin had taken one look at the knights around him, at Arthur, and then he'd run. He had run so far away in the hope of escaping because Uther was still the King of Camelot and Camelot still hated magic. It wasn’t fair but sometimes fair didn’t matter. This was one of those times. So, Merlin ran and ran and ran until he reached the edge of the forest, pausing to decide which direction to head in when a hand reached out and grabbed him.

“Get off me!” Merlin had struggled but that didn’t matter. Not when the person had span him around and he saw Arthur face - all flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

“Merlin, stop struggling.” He said quickly.

“Why?! So you can kill me easier?” Merlin spat and Arthur’s expression fell into confusion.

“Why would I kill you?” He said quickly, “Merlin, you just saved our lives.”

“But you hate me now. I‘m a sorcerer.” Merlin reminded.

“I don’t hate you.” Arthur promised sincerely before he said, “I thank you, Merlin. I thank you for everything you have done for me.”

Merlin and Arthur shared a moment then, a moment when it was decided between them that Arthur would not tell his father if Merlin did not run away and that had been all there was to it. Because while Arthur had watched Merlin shoot his arm out - as the boar had charged at him murderously - his only thought had been, 'NO! Not him. Not Merlin.' And he wasn’t about to throw that away. There were so many magical things about Merlin - his magic only being one of them.

Comments

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
hermitknut
Nov. 1st, 2011 11:32 pm (UTC)
Ohhh, Merlin! *cuddles him* I really like this :D

HK
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )