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No. 3 (BBC Merlin) Hair’s Breadth From Death
Gun To Temple | “Say Goodbye.” | Impaled
Merlin was out gathering herbs for Gaius. For real this time. It was relatively quiet on the sorcerer front. Maybe they were giving him a break since it was his birthday. Probably not but still. One could hope.
Anyway, back to the task at hand. Merlin walked around the forest gathering random herbs when he came across a beautiful meadow. The sun was shining through the trees and the air was just crisp enough to be refreshing.
He decided he was allowed to rest a bit and laid his back against one of the trees at the edge of the clearing. Although it was getting closer to winter, he could still feel the magic practically vibrating in the forest around him.
It was peaceful. For the first time in a long time, he felt relaxed. Of course, it didn’t last very long. He felt something tickling the edge of his senses. A person. Most likely a bandit.
He kept his eyes closed until he sensed the bandit about 5 feet away. He ‘woke up’ acting like he didn’t know the bandit was there. The bandit rushed in and Merlin decided to use his magic. He was far to tired for this and no one else was around.
The bandit dropped to the ground and Merlin walked over to where he had left his basket. Just as he bent down to grab it, he felt a swell of new energy enter his senses. Probably around 25 people. But something was off. They weren’t far away. They were right next to him.
The next thing he knew, he was on the ground with an arrow in his stomach and yelling out in pain. It must have been poisoned because his vision was starting to blacken around the edges.
This was unexpected. And to think. He had been having a pretty good day.
He felt something cold clamp around his wrists and felt his magic retreating deep within him. Cold iron. If he was lucid enough he would have cursed. Unfortunately he was having a hard enough time keeping his eyes open, much less speaking.
He must have passed out at some point because he when he opened his eyes next he was in some kind of cart thing and wasn’t in the meadow any more. His eyes fluttered shut once more before he heard a noise.
“MERLIN” He could vaguely registered the sound of Arthur calling his name. He probably forgot to polish his armor again or something.
Arthur rushed in, slashing though the bandits like they were nothing. Unfortunately, they kept on coming and he was quickly overwhelming him.
His magic started reacting before he could stop it, blasting the cold iron off his wrists and filling the space around him. It flung the bandits back and burst open the cage he was in. He could just barely make out a blurry Arthur in front of him, his mouth wide open in shock.
“You’re welcome sire.” Merlin said, before promptly collapsing. Arthur, who had just recovered from his shock, dashed forward just in time to catch Merlin before he crashing into the ground below them.
“You’re hurt.” Merlin looked down at his stomach.
“Oh. I suppose you’re right. I forgot about that. I don’t suppose you have any bandages with you?”
“Can’t you just heal yourself?”
“Wish I could. I’m absolutely rubbish at healing spells though.” Arthur made a displeased sound and promptly picked him up.
“Fine. I’m taking you back to Gaius then. And don’t you dare die before we get there you idiot.”
“As you wish prat.” Merlin paused for a second. “You really don’t care that I’m a warlock then?”
“As long as you’re alive, I don’t care what you are.”