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The trouble with Merlin is not that he is utterly useless as a servant, being suicidally feckless with regards to propriety in any form and selectively competent, mostly when unobserved, in which case he becomes improbably - one might say even say magically - capable. This is a minor, easily overlooked failing. Comparatively speaking. The real trouble is how, if there is a dangerous magical creature within seven leagues, if Merlin doesn't run into them, they come to him.
The unicorn is probably the most egregious and frankly stupid example. Most people go happily for their whole lives, and entire villages pass generations, without ever seeing one. Merlin runs into one. Which Arthur kills, naturally. Dangerous magical creature, after all. What did you expect from the son of Uther Pendragon?
Fortunately, it got better. The unicorn, that is, not Merlin's ridiculous thing with dangerous magical creatures.
Unfortunately, the stupid beast comes back. Arthur has learnt better than to shoot it full of crossbow bolts on sight, though it is wrong and unnatural and against all his instincts to allow it to prance freely about his forests as though Camelot were a magical kingdom of, oh, this is ridiculous, is that a rainbow shining overhead in the bright blue sky? Wait, two rainbows?
So apparently Camelot is a stupid magical kingdom of double rainbows and prancing unicorns, in blatant spite of his father's quest to rid the land of magic.
To return to the point, the stupid unicorn, which has, unlike Arthur, not learnt better, is tenderly whuffling into Merlin's stupid hair and ears, making him titter stupidly as he strokes its neck. And then, because he is standing next to Merlin, it decides to turn around and sniff at him too, while his knights, much wiser than he, goggle at them from a safe distance. He is starting to wonder what he will do if the stupid unicorn decides to nibble on his hair like that stupid pony he had when he was seven when, at the first whiff, the unicorn adds insult to injury by rearing its head back and dancing sideways from him, eyes rolling wildly like a horse that has scented a raging forest fire.
Which in unicorn terms probably means Arthur is vile and disgusting beyond description and not worthy of existing in a world in which unicorns and Merlins gambol innocently beneath double rainbows. It stamps on his foot, whinnying, and gallops away. Merlin is staring at him in silent disbelief while his knights murmur inaudibly among themselves. He is fairly sure he won't be cursed if he shoots any idiot who dares say a word to him. Except maybe Merlin. Fortunately, they do not have to test out his theory.
Just because he refuses to let the stupid magical beast ruin his day, he continues the interrupted hunt until everyone has shot at least one cute, fluffy rabbit. He gets two, and tells Merlin to give them to Gaius. Not because Merlin likes rabbit stew.
The visiting ambassador from King Olaf's court, Lord Cullen, is young and handsome and brooding, and all the maids are in a tizzy over him, but unfortunately he has the singular bad taste to become obviously, if quietly, fixated on Merlin, staring hungrily at him as he putters about behind Arthur in his oblivious way. Within a few days, even the maids normally most affectionately tolerant of Merlin's bumbling foolishness have become aware of the handsome lord's obsession, and Merlin is finding his chores strangely multiplied and complicated; his load of laundry is spilled when he trips over things that turn up unexpectedly in his way, he gets accidentally pushed at every turn, and hateful whispers follow him everywhere.
Arthur would have let it pass, if only because Lord Cullen will be gone in a few days and Merlin still manages to get all his chores done as soon as Arthur leaves him alone in the room and take a little longer beating up his knights than usual.
But then Merlin starts to find excuses to stay later or even overnight in Arthur's chamber, and that cannot be borne, because Arthur needs his private time to vent his frustrations, so to speak.
A determined interrogation reveals that Lord Cullen has been scaling the castle walls to lurk forebodingly in Merlin's window and watch him sleep, which is ... an outrage. Yes, that is the proper term. If anyone should be climbing up to Merlin's window to be creepy and annoying at him it should be- No one. Climbing walls is dangerous and stupid and improper and not romantic at all, and that is why no one should do it.
He tells Merlin to man up and go back to his room to face Lord Cullen and decline his interest properly, and follows him back to listen in and ensure that Merlin does do as he is told and decline him, not string him along with awkward banter and diverting the topic. This leads to a number of things.
Surprising thing: Merlin does decline Lord Cullen, firmly and politely.
Even more surprising thing: Lord Cullen agrees that he is all sorts of bad and wrong for Merlin and shouldn't impose his attentions any further.
Unsurprising thing: Lord Cullen proceeds to declare he cannot help himself anyway because Merlin is too irresistible and jumps the idiot.
Unsurprising thing again: When Arthur breaks down the door to rescue his hapless manservant, Lord Cullen is licking and sucking at a bite wound on Merlin's ridiculous neck.
Surprising thing: Various objects of assorted weights and hardness are pummelling Lord Cullen while this is happening, with no one wielding them, to no apparent effect.
Very surprising thing: When Arthur jumps in and hacks Lord Cullen off Merlin, the lord laughs off the wounds, which close up rapidly and completely as if Arthur had never managed to hit him.
A THING: Merlin rolls off the bed and reappears with a knobbly jewelled staff while Arthur is struggling with the dangerous magical creature Lord Cullen has turned out to be (unsurprising thing), yells something, and Lord Cullen explodes in a shower of sparks.
Slightly surprising thing: Arthur doesn't get blasted into sparkly bits along with Lord Cullen.
"I think we need to have a serious conversation," Arthur says.
Sort of surprising but not really thing: Merlin is a dangerous magical creature himself. Oh well. Arthur will get over it. His father's quest to rid the kingdom of magic was clearly doomed to failure long before this discovery anyway.
He sends a missive to King Olaf on his father's behalf informing him that his ambassador was secretly replaced by a dangerous magical creature that has now been safely disposed of.
The maids get over the sudden disappearance of Lord Cullen and everything returns to normal.
Arthur has long had Suspicions about a number of incidents occurring in his vicinity, like that matter of the dragon that turned out to be very much not dead, but as long as Arthur and everyone else in Camelot are not dead too, he is perfectly willing to let it pass. Arthur is a very gracious and accepting prince and master. In the interests of boosting morale, he decides to step up the knights' training program. They can't always rely on having a stupidly loyal manservant who is secretly a powerful sorcerer to keep on rescuing them from dangerous magical creatures and things.
One would think that taking his men for a bracing swim in the lake as part of the day's training would be a pleasant, moderately peaceful activity. What could go wrong? Apparently if one brings Merlin along, everything.
Or close to it. If nothing else, it is a bright, clear day with warm sunshine and mild breezes. On reflection, that is another thing that has gone wrong, because his planned bracing swim in a chilly lake has instead made his knights languid and happy, joking and splashing water at one another when his back is turned.
Fine. He can deal with that. His men have been through much of late, what with the constant attacks on Camelot by dangerous magical creatures and being neglected by the maids who are usually fawning over them in favour of the deceiving Lord Cullen. They could do with a day of peace and rest, never mind that he's already spent the morning beating the laggards into shape. The rest of the day is plenty.
He doesn't think anything of it when Sir Leon finds an odd creature shaped sort of like a large, fleshy pink blob with soft and slippery appendages that wave around gently when he hoists it out of the water for a better look. A couple of other knights join Leon in examining the creature curiously, gently prodding and petting it while it explores their hands and arms in turn with its long, slick appendages, apparently just as curious. Then Leon yips in surprise and drops the creature back in the water with a splash.
"It goosed me!" he complains in explanation, glaring at the blob while he rubs the offended part. Everyone laughs and makes fun of Leon's animal magnetism, while the blobby thing blithely continues walking about in the shallow water with its appendages, occasionally wrapping one briefly around an ankle or stroking a knee. It seems perfectly harmless.
Then it has to wander up to Merlin, who is perched on the shore, just dabbling his feet in the water. Why he is there: Someone has to watch their clothes and weapons after all, and he's such a skinny little thing he'd probably catch cold and die if Arthur let him frolic around in cold water in the altogether like the knights, who are of a much sturdier constitution. Besides, if he got chilled while frolicking around in the altogether, one or more of the knights might get ideas about warming him up, and that just wouldn't do.
The blobby thing, as it has already done with all the knights by now, tickles Merlin's bare feet and makes him laugh. But then it stops waving around for a while. It starts gathering rocks and depositing them in what appears to be a deliberate formation at Merlin's feet. Then it gathers a bunch of aquatic plants and sticks it in the centre of the rock formation, while Arthur grows increasingly suspicious. When it pulses away with unexpected speed, he is relieved. Then, much sooner than anyone would have thought, it is back.
It offers Merlin a fish.
Arthur wades to the shore, grabs his sword and runs it through."I'm certain that creature was up to no good," he tells Merlin. "You should be grateful." Merlin gives him a dubious look, making no comment. Neither do the knights.
Whatever. He is quite certain he has saved Merlin from a fate worse than death, and orders a much subdued group to ready themselves to return to the castle for further training.
Now, while scarecrows are unsightly and viscerally disturbing, it makes sense of a sort to plant them in fields, although Arthur is sure he has seen birds sitting on them while travelling about the kingdom. What he is having trouble wrapping his mind around is the increasing prevalence of the ugly little clay figures in what seemed like every other garden and grassy patch. What do they do, keep people with taste from walking on the grass?
Nobody seems to think anything of them. He makes discreet enquiries: That's an interesting lawn ornament you have there. So where did you get your garden gnome? Why? What function does it serve? but as the prince, any attempt at light conversion, even with his own knights, like Sir Geraint who has two of them in the flowerbed under his window, or Cookie, who used to sneak him sweetmeats when he was three until Gaius chanced to remark that he was getting a little chubby and his Father banned all sweetmeats from Camelot for a year, seems to skid off instantly into suspicions that he suspects them of wrongdoing or disapproves, or something, and he gets nothing more coherent than: I don't know, it just showed up, Sire, or worse: I think my neighbour might have placed it there secretly, do you think it's a secret message of some sort, maybe he's conspiring with sorcerers, what should I do, my lord?
More of them appear; no one tells him anything. No one seems to think there is anything to tell. The ugly little figurines are everywhere he turns, and seem to mock him with their odd misshapen faces that always seem frozen in some kind of rude expression, though other obviously blind people have called them cheery.
He keeps thinking that they sometimes look different when he turns around, but that is blatantly impossible, and he determinedly refuses to pay them the honour of remembering what they look like.
Merlin seems to like them. When he's not happily running errands for Gaius or huffily running about after Arthur, Arthur sometimes sees him quietly sitting on the grass beside one, with a confiding air and occasionally petting the ugly thing on its conical hat.
With anyone else, the sight would have lent a little credence to the notion that the things are possibly part of some diabolical conspiracy against the throne, and Arthur would have both man and lawn ornament hauled in by his knights for questioning. But it's Merlin, his ridiculous manservant, who trips over himself walking on a straight, level road and keeps throwing himself into danger by accident or intent in Arthur's service, no matter how often Arthur tries to get into his head that it is his prince who is supposed to face the danger by shoving Merlin behind himself whenever they encounter something potentially harmful.
Finally, one fine morning after a dark and stormy night during which his idiot manservant had run off babbling about needing to do something, ignoring Arthur's angry and imperious but entirely reasonable demands he get back and explain what is going on, Arthur decides he has had enough.
Having woken up to find that Merlin has not bothered to put in an appearance, Arthur waylays a passing chambermaid to bring up his breakfast and some water for his ablutions, and once refreshed and properly armed, he sets off to track down his wayward manservant.
Gaius has not seen neither scarf nor hair of Merlin since the night before, which is a little troubling, especially the part where the old physician seemed to have thought Merlin had been with Arthur the past few nights. Why would Gaius have thought so, and more importantly, since Merlin had not in fact been with Arthur, where had he actually been? And with whom?
Irked beyond the expressing of it, Arthur makes his excuses to Gaius and goes on to check elsewhere.
He picks up Sir Geraint somewhere between the library - where Geoffrey has not seen Merlin since just after dawn and looks so surprised to see Arthur that it is frankly insulting - and the stables, which are deserted. Sir Geraint wants to ask Merlin about something he is unwilling to tell Arthur about, but since Merlin is not with him, he is beneath Arthur's notice for the moment.
They find Merlin in a secluded corner of the herb garden with a garden gnome, flipping through a large, old book that Arthur has only seen once, but remembers very well indeed. Arthur jogs up and smacks Merlin on the back of the head, hoping he is far enough ahead of Sir Geraint that the knight will not notice the odd writing on the book. "Close that book, you idiot, where have you been all night?" he snaps sharply, and Merlin jumps and slams the book shut with a guilty, furtive look.
The garden gnome, which till then had been nothing more than a strange, ugly little clay figurine standing on the grass rears back and glares at him indignantly. It draws its misshapen little clay sword and charges, shrieking in a barely comprehensible shrill voice about his daring to strike and/or offer insult to the fair mammaries or something of the sort while Merlin gapes like the idiot he is.
"Is the creature talking about the Lady Morgana?" asks Sir Geraint, drawing his sword to defend himself as more angry gnomes begin to invade the herb garden. "Because I'm quite sure Merlin doesn't have fair mammaries to defend-"
"Shut up and pay attention, these creatures are tricky," snarls Arthur, swatting away two gnomes with one slash of his sword. Merlin just yelps and stands back, useless and appalled, while Arthur and Sir Geraint align themselves on either side of him to fend off the gnomes.
The numbers are too great, however, and several get through their defence to seize Merlin by the knees and ankles. Merlin flails wildly, losing his balance, and Arthur knows that he will be taken if he falls.
Sir Geraint trips and falls on his face, and the little monsters immediately take advantage, swarming over the fallen knight to rush at Arthur from all directions, swords brandished high. One of them manages to stab him in the leg, and then Merlin shouts, "Oh no you don't!" and a small whirlwind springs up, sweeping up all the gnomes and carrying them away.
Sir Geraint struggles to his feet, bug-eyed and speechless.
"What a lucky freak whirlwind that was, don't you think, Sir Geraint?" asks Arthur in very meaningful tones.
"Absolutely, Sire," Sir Geraint agrees, nodding frantically. "Almost unbelievably lucky," he babbles, then thinks to add, "but I believe it, truly. I suppose I don't need to ask if Merlin knows what happened to the gnomes under my window now."
Arthur dismisses Geraint, who departs with undue relief and haste, as though he had expected Arthur to do Something to him. Then Arthur looks at Merlin, waiting for an explanation.
"What was all that about?"
At that, Merlin blushes. "They were talking nonsense about someone being unworthy of me even if he was born of magic, and I was trying to figure out who they were talking about. It doesn't matter anymore." Merlin looks at his leg. "Are you all right? We should get you to Gaius to have it looked at."
It hurts a little, but Arthur knows his injuries, and this one is quite inconsequential. "It's fine, you can just clean and wrap it up in my room. Stop clucking like an old hen."
Merlin glares, but helps him to his room and tends to the wound, fussing all the while.
As far as Arthur is concerned, he is the only dangerous magical creature besotted with Merlin that matters. Just ask Merlin.
And this, dear readers, is a proper happy ending.