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Posted on August 27, 2012 at 11:20:38 PM by arthur & pendragon
“Nobody knows,” Arthur explained with a smile, “they say that there was no hole in the tent when they found the wicked king and the arrow disappeared not long after.” Arthur had stopped trying to work the way in which the wizard worked long ago, but he could not help but notice, that at all the key moments in Arthur’s existence, Merlin had been there pulling one string or another in order to get everyone in their right places. That had been before Shaman, of course, the wizard’s influence did not extend into the realm of faeries, it would seem, and the only relic of him lay in the personality of the King’s own familiar, who, on this occasion, Arthur had left dozing on his perch in the library. “By the time I knew him,” he pressed on, offering Dyna a small smile, “he would not have resorted to loosing an arrow himself, but I suppose he was young, and we are all a little more reckless when we’re young.” He broke off, falling into a contemplative silence as he remembered how Merlin had set to his game of puppets in order to win Arthur Guinevere’s hand, and how he had united the King with his sword, Excalibur. Where was Merlin now? Arthur wondered to himself, his eyes filling again with the ghosts of long-ago memories, memories from a different world, and a different life. He thought of the wizard, alone in the crystal cave with the stones of prophecy, trapped, and doomed to run mad. Could he see what had become of his protégé? Could he look into one of the shining clear gems and see Arthur sitting in a castle attic, in a world he was never supposed to have been in, talking of the world he had left behind to a woman he was never supposed to have known? The sound if clinking glass snatched Arthur away from his contemplation, and he watched with interest as Dyna uncorked the bottle in her hands. The scent of alcohol hovered upon the air like a mist, weaving into the haze of the attic-must. Accepting the bottle, the king lifted it to his nose, sampling the aroma of the contents in order to determine if it were still good. He could smell nothing amiss, and so moved the bottle back towards his mouth, closing his lips around the top of the bottle’s neck, he tipped his head back, his mouth filling with the sweet-scented wine. It was not what he was used to, preferring the sharper, richer tastes of reds, but it was not unpleasant, there was a certain charm to it. It put him in mind of a summer field beneath the branches of a great tree as nature blossomed in the surrounding grasses. It was a wine of spring. He had always considered himself something of a winter king, but then, he supposed, Dyna, with her supple body and animated face was all spring herself. What other drink would she offer. “It is good,” the king smiled, offering it back to her, his eyes drawn for a moment to the dark pink of her gently pouting mouth, “strong,” he continued with a chuckle, “but good.” “I was told it by my tutor when I was a boy...a human boy, I mean, before I was the King of anywhere. He was the boy from the story, and the good king, allegedly, was my Father, Uther. The dragon became the symbol of our house and our Kingdom. We called him a wizard, but since I have been in Shaman I have found myself questioning that. He might have really been a fairy, I honestly do not know.” He did not know what made him do it, but he reached out with the hand nearest to her and closed it gently around her slender fingers. “I was sixty-four when I died,” he explained after a pause, “and I remember being placed in a boat on a lake, and then nothing, until I woke up again in Shaman as a boy again.”  |
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- but once you've known love how can you find it? - By Dyna Bowmore August 29, 2012 at 06:50:04 AM
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