On The Run . . . Again

[Arthur Pendragon]

This day could probably not get any worse. Arthur and Merlin had been out, hunting -- and simultaneously looking for Morgana -- when things took a turn for the worse. A group of bandits had spotted them. That was really the beginning of it all, and perhaps the worst. They were massively outnumbered, and Arthur didn't know why they were still even chasing them! He did not look like a Prince, or knight even. He was dressed in his regular hunting attire, with no indication that he was of any class higher than a commoner. So what did all these bandits want with them anyway? They did not seem the type that either Merlin or Arthur could stop long enough to ask though . . . they were literally running for their lives because these men were only showing hostility. They could not take any chances by stopping.

They didn't even have their bloody horses! They had tied them up and moved forward so that they could -- or well Arthur could -- sneak up on his prey. Sadly, they had been the ones to become the hunted, rather than the hunters. All they could do now was run as fast as humanly possible. They were not too far ahead, and Arthur needed to try to devise a plan because they could not run for the rest of their lives. Plus, they were running in the opposite direction of the city, so were getting more and more close to the border rather than to the castle which would easily provide them with the necessary sanctuary. Then, Arthur could have each and every one of these idiot bandits arrested and put in the stocks. That thought alone motivated Arthur to keep running, as fast as his legs could carry him.

On top of everything else, the rain that had started a little while ago, had gotten much heavier and was now pouring down, drenching them. While it provided a refreshing affect from feeling warm due to all the running . . . it was not a comfortable feeling to be so wet, and may lead to catching a flu or more serious illness. They needed to find shelter to get out of this dismal weather, and away from these vicious bandits.

_{Setting: Starts in the woods, eventually the Dancing Mare Inn
Time of Day: Lets say late afternoon
Timeline: During the one year gap between season 2 and 3
Tag: Merlin Caradoc and Yassia}

[greg]

Gregory: The Proprietor of the Dancing Mare.

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It was was a windy, windy day in Willowshire. And Greg was out in the middle of it, trying to do some repares. Unfortunately, a tree had fallen on the roof of his in, about a month ago. He had spent a lot of gold on the repairs, which most of it he had done himself. He had finished working on the roof, and was now busy trying to attach the sign back up.

So Greg was standing on a ladder, busy hammering up the sign that hung above the door. Lynda was in the Inn itself, sweeping the floors. Most of the Guest where gone, having either been dragged home by there wives or off working. Either way, it was a good time to work on repairs.

There had been troubling rumors of bandits out in the woods, though none of them have been brazen enough to bother Willowshire. But several of the out lying farmers have reported sounds of men and a few have found the unfortunate souls who fall victim to them. Actually Greg has had half the mind to go and request the King to deal with the Bandits who threaten the area.

But of course the King has been so focused on finding his Ward, he doesn't have much men to deal with such petty things. No, the peasants would have to deal with things, themselves. How typical.

“An eye for an eye. My debt has yet to be repaid.”

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Outfit:[/b] Greg, Lynda
Tag:[/b] Merlin, Arthur
Notes:[/b] Okay so I set up how it should look when you arrive. Take how long you need to, to get there. I'll post when both of you are in Willowshire. But of course, no rush.
Credits:[/b] All coding to me, Myval![/color]

[pie]

Merlin was starting to hate hunting. Why did every time him and Arthur go out to hunt (this time also looking for Morgana) something terrible happened? Either Arthur killed a Unicorn and brought a curse to Camelot, or something terrible happened, or they were chased by bandits! What kind of luck could they possibly have?! Merlin was starting to think that when he spied on Lady Catrina when she had the king enchanted, that the broken mirror's "luck" was actually to blame here!

They had to find somewhere to stop, to hide, or get back to Camelot and soon. These bandits just wanted to kill them for the sake of the sport! Arthur looked nothing like a Prince, a Knight, or a noble of any sort. He looked just plain normal! Normal, like a commoner. But that didn't deter the hostile bandits, and nor did it help out either of their predicaments.

And rain. Oh God, he hated this rain! Sure, it kept them from getting heat exhaustion at some point, from all the running the two boys were doing, but it was hindering his sight and making it harder to run. He couldn't see where he was going as easily, and the ground was overly muddy. He would bound to trip and fall, or bound to get shot with an arrow or something! Which, he wanted neither of to happen, but with his luck...

Even as he thought this, he tripped on a tree root, stumbling forward until he slipped in the mud...

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur had a feeling they were nearing the end of the woods, and would soon find a place to seek refuge. Of course with the heavy rain, it was difficult to see exactly where they were going or what was ahead of them. Never the less, their options were very limited and the only other alternative to running forward was to turn around and see if they could handle the number of bandits that were following them . . . which Arthur knew they could not. Since when did bandits travel in such large groups anyway?!

Arthur sped ahead, weaving through the trees, avoiding various branches though it was getting increasingly difficult. He was getting tired, and the only thing forcing his legs forward was the adrenaline. And that was when he heard a noise. While still running, he turned his head, and slid to a stop when he saw that Merlin had fallen. There was no time to insult his clumsy actions, so instead, Arthur just ran back. There was obviously no way he was going to leave Merlin behind to be brutally killed by the vicious bandits . . . no matter how many times Arthur joked about doing so. He quickly ran to Merlin's side, grabbing his arm and pulled him up forcefully, trying to ignore the fact that the idiot was completely covered in mud now. "Come on!" He exclaimed, hoping he had not injured himself too badly for it would only hinder their ability to get away.

[pie]

Merlin coughed and spluttered the mud out of his mouth -- choking on it -- wiping it with one hand. He squinted up at Arthur as he pulled him up forcefully. "I hate this rain!" he shouted above the roar of the loud din. If it hadn't been for it, then he would have had less of a chance to trip! After all, neither of them could see very well in this blinding storm! Merlin could hardly see a few feet in front of him! They were running wildly through the woods! Was there even anywhere that they could hide?! He prodded Arthur to move on, a silent statement that he was okay now. He hadn't really hurt himself that bad. All he had done was manage to scrape his knees on the rocks scattered through the mud.

He looked over his shoulder to check to how much the bandits had closed in on them in that brief pause. They were actually gaining quite a few yards, and he prodded Arthur to move again. "Run!" he said frantically. He didn't want to be caught by these bandits! They didn't seem the friendly type! Hoping that Arthur complied to his words, Merlin began to run again, thinking that nothing would go wrong. That they'd be perfectly okay.

When he had looked to check the bandits' distance, he had never spotted the man leveling a crossbow. Had never imagined that that crossbow was leveled at him, and that the clicking noise that seemed to single itself out from the rain, despite the roaring, was the bolt. The only sign that Merlin had that something had been shot at him was when it dug painfully into the left side of his back. A sharp gasp escaped his mouth and he stumbled forward a few feet, his movements sluggish as he clutched at his shoulder, trying to inch his hand towards the bolt in disbelief before the ground rose up to meet him, colors and objects blurring in his vision as he struggled to stand. . .

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur was going to say something to the effect of 'stop whining Merlin' but there was really no time for that. He would take it out on him later. For now, all he was concentrating on was getting Merlin up and running. They couldn't have been running for more than a few moments when Arthur heard something that made him freeze. He spun around -- this time not too much of a distance between them -- to see Merlin's pained expression . . . and an arrow sticking out from his back. Arthur's eyes slightly widened in shock at the unexpected attack. No. That was just it, it shouldn't have been unexpected! Arthur should have realized that they were closer in range and therefore, should be focusing on hiding rather than still running.

Arthur quickly hurried to his side, noticing the disorientation. Usually it was the Prince being the one to get injured but this time it was Merlin, and that made him worry more. Now, he was the one who became consumed with the fear that his friend would not make it; that they were in the middle of no where and therefore, no means to tend to his wound. Arthur was not about to give up though. He slid to the ground, kneeling next to his severely injured friend. He looked around frantically at their surroundings, trying to find some sort of way out of this. They were not moving and he could hear the commotion of the bandits, one of which now had a cross bow.

"Merlin?" He said, still trying to keep his gaze up while, talking to his servant. He glanced down to see the arrow, hesitant to touch it, but it was a battle wound, and Arthur had to do what he could . . . all he had time for right now though, was to break it. He looked at the arrow, and as quickly as he could, snapped it so that only a small portion of it was still stuck in Merlin's back. He would have to pull the entire thing out later. He threw it to the side and took Merlin's arm, putting it around his neck so that most of the weight was against him, and that Merlin would have that small support to at least somewhat stand.

He then led him over to where there was a thick tree and positioned Merlin against it so that he was sitting in an upright position, with his back rested against the trunk. "Just stay quiet," Arthur said in a harsh whisper as he scrambled to hide behind another tree. He stood, putting his back against it, slightly peeking out, watching the men rush by, giving a specific glare at the one he saw carrying a cross bow. He wanted to take out his sword and kill him for daring to fire an arrow, wounding Merlin, but Arthur held back his vengeful thoughts, keeping them only in his mind. He would not let his anger become his downfall because if he did that, then they were both doomed. Once he was sure the group had moved on -- knowing full well that they would return soon, realizing that they were not chasing any body, Arthur rushed back to where Merlin was.

"Can you walk at all?" He asked him, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice. While the worried tone was there, the panic was not; he was composed, even though he knew that Merlin was losing a great deal of blood. "There should be an inn not far from here." Arthur knew one thing, and one thing for certain; there was no way in hell he was going to leave Merlin right now.

[pie]

All he could feel was the terrible pain in his back. Every little movement sent that pain coursing through his body, and he wanted to curl up and try to ignore it. Curl up and ignore the bandits, ignore his surroundings. His breathing hurt his lungs, and came in sharp gasps, his eyes squeezing shut as he gave up on trying to stand. He couldn't feel his left arm at all, the arrow had caused all feeling in it to cut off; but the pain from the arrow itself was still evident.

The semiconscious Merlin did not know how long he had been laying there. The arrow had been shot brilliantly by the cruel bandit, and the pain spread throughout nearly every inch of his body, his nerves aching. Several times he thought that he might slip into unconsciousness, away from the excruciating pain.

He laid on the ground, unable to attempt to stand again, and uncomprehending to the extent of damage the arrow had done. All the man wanted at the terrible time was to fall away from the world, from his pained body. He could not think of anything else, of the current situation he and Arthur were both in. The rain... he was now grateful for that soothing rain as it hit his skin, keeping it cool. Yet at the same time, when it hit that spot on his back, he couldn't help but a small whimper of pain.

Through the pain, he heard his name faintly, and realized that Arthur was beside him. He forced his eyes open a little, to stare at the man with a pained expression through tear-filled eyes. He couldn't respond, though, and the only response that came forth was a low, and very strained groan. Merlin did comprehend the seriousness of the situation now, however. He was now a liability because of his wound.

He should have been expecting Arthur's next actions, but the pain still had made it hard to think. When Arthur snapped the arrow, he felt a slight tug, which caused him to let out a small, but shrill, cry. He didn't protest when Arthur put his arm around his neck and brought him up into a standing position. He let all of his weight rest on Arthur, as he couldn't support it himself without great pain and the possibility of crashing to the ground once again.

When Arthur leaned him against the tree in a sitting position, he sank against it, though careful not to lean against the injured part of his body, and took deep gasps, sweat rolling down his body mixed with the rain. It took all his effort just to remain conscious with the blood loss he had, and multiple times he had to fight back the sleep that threatened to encroach upon him. Obeying Arthur's command to be quiet also proved a challenge, but he reminded himself that more was at stake here than just his own life -- Arthur's was too. And so silent he remained, or as silent as he could be, as eternal sleep began wrapping its claws around him.

He gulped and shivered, the rain adding now to his discomfort as his whole body was growing cold, and forced his gaze up at Arthur. It took him a few moments to sort out the Prince's figure, but finally his friend came into clear view as he spoke. Merlin thought for a moment, even began to nod his head to try and pretend he was alright, but at the slight shifting movement as he tried to stand, he suddenly began to shake his head no and lay against the tree trunk again. "N-No," he whispered in a hoarse, pitiful voice. "Leave... me..." He couldn't do much, the bandits would be back, and he was already near to death from his loss of blood. The mention of an Inn did bring him a little comfort, but he already had all he could handle with fighting back the fear that welled within him, which, mixed with his pain, was clearly noticeable on his pale face.

[ I hope I didn't drag that out too much, lol. I might have been having fun with it... *grins innocently* ]

[Arthur Pendragon]

Merlin was slipping, and that was not a good thing. He needed to make sure he stayed awake so that he would not slip into an unconscious state . . . possibly permanently. Arthur brought his hand to his own forehead and brushed back his hair trying to think of what to do in this situation. He had very limited options, and none of them involved leaving Merlin here. His servant had never left his side, and Arthur was going to return that favor. Seeing his evident massive pain though, made Arthur extremely sympathetic and worried for him. Although, he did not say it in so many words.

"Don't be an idiot Merlin," he said when he suggested that he just go. It was his defense mechanism really; his way of coping in a situation where he was nervous and quite frankly, a bit afraid. Humor was the best way to mask the deeper emotions and that's all he was doing right now. He kept looking around even while speaking to him, mentally formulating a plan, finally deciding that they would have to risk going in the general direction that Arthur believed there was a tavern. It would be better than just aimlessly wandering around, or waiting here. Merlin was losing more and more blood as each second passed.

Arthur looked at the wound, quickly inspecting it, knowing he had to temporarily stop the bleeding. He took the bottom corner of his shirt and ripped it off. "You can mend that later," he told Merlin. It was his way of telling him, that he was going to survive this; that he didn't have another choice. But Arthur, being horrible in expressing such sentiments in the most obvious way, chose to say them indirectly. His genuine concern for Merlin was in consistent though, and it was not about to diminish any time soon. He began to tie the long strip of cloth tightly around the wound, knowing it would sting horribly, but it was the only way to put constant pressure on the wound until they got to a place where they could take a better look at it.

Once it was tightly tied in a knot, Arthur paused for a brief moment, looking at him, letting out a bit of a heavy breath. "It's just a bit further," he told him, trying to sound confident and as comforting as he could. He then took Merlin's arm again and put it around his neck, making sure it was not the injured one. It would, as it did before, allow Merlin to lean on him and put most of his weight on the prince as he was clearly too weak to move on his own. They must have looked rather disheveled; both of them drenched with rain, one with a severely wounded shoulder, and the other with a torn shirt. Good god. "Don't make me hit you with my sword to keep you awake," he added in a warning tone, trying to joke a bit, but also was serious. He needed Merlin to stay conscious. And with that, began to walk towards where he desperately hoped was shelter.

[pie]

Merlin couldn't deny that he was thankful that Arthur wouldn't leave him behind. It wasn't as if he actually wanted to die. He forced a smile through his pain when Arthur told him not to be an idiot. He even managed to chuckle, but by the end it just turned into choking, but subtle, sobs of pain. The arrow had gone further than he would have expected, and he was not used to being shot. At least the rain, despite how painful it was, washed away the blood that was soaking his clothes.

He kept his mind focused on Arthur, trying to ignore the pain and his heavy eyelids. He had to remain conscious, remain awake. Merlin knew that if he fell unconscious, he may never return from it. Therefore, he had to stay awake, and was using Arthur has the guiding point. If he focused on Arthur, focused on paying attention to everything Arthur did, then perhaps it would be easier to remain conscious.

He watched as Arthur tore his shirt, telling him he could mend it later. Arthur intended for him to survive this, he knew. Despite all the blood loss and pain that he was feeling, how much sleeping sounded good right now, Merlin didn't want to die, he had to place his trust in his friend keeping him alive. Chores right now sounded most pleasant next to death. He wanted to continue to walk at his friend's side, to fight beside him -- despite how terrible he was at it! -- and work for him. "Ha, you'll never see a better mended shirt!" he promised, forcing himself to speak, showing he trusted him.

He closed his eyes tightly when Arthur began to tie the cloth around his wound. It hurt, terribly, but he managed to hold back any cries or shouts at the pressure was applied. However, his body couldn't stop shaking, shook even more, during it. He knew this had to be done, that it would help stop the blood from coming out, any and all pressure on the wound sent a searing agony coursing through him.

When Arthur was done, Merlin looked at him, forcing himself to refocus on the man. He had to keep conscious, he had to keep awake, he couldn't give in to the temptation of closing his eyes and just resting for a little while... He nodded at the Prince, hoping he was right, that the Inn wasn't that much further. He needed that Inn to be closer if he wanted to live and get out of this depressing rain! When Arthur put his uninjured arm around his neck again, Merlin hung on as tightly as he could in his predicament, seemingly clinging to the man, trying to be able to walk himself, but needing his friends support. If he tried to walk himself, he would still fall down.

Arthur would hit him with his sword if he fell asleep? Well, that was a little comforting given the circumstances. But the heavy rain began to sound more like a symphony lulling him to sleep, and he felt his body grow heavier, relying more and more on Arthur. "Thank you... Arthur..." he managed to gasp out, even as his eyelids began to slowly flutter closed against his will.

No, he had to remain awake. . .

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur did not reply to Merlin thanking him. This was not a reason he needed to be thanked for. It was something to be expected, and Merlin should not have to express his gratitude. Arthur knew he was slipping, and needed to do something drastic to keep him awake -- not to the point of hitting him with the hilt of his sword, but enough to distract him so that he would not pass out. He took his free hand and lightly smacked Merlin on the back of the head before repositioning it so that it gave the full support he could for Merlin.

"I told you I would hit you if you fell asleep, so stay awake," he said in an overly demanding voice. He needed him to stay awake for Arthur feared that if he went into an unconscious state, he would not wake up. Arthur was not the overly talkative type but he felt in a situation like this, he would have to force himself to be. "Do you realize that this is one of your first battle wounds. It an initiation from being a boy to being a man . . . not that you are one. But this could perhaps increase your hopes of ever becoming one." He would have to do what he did best: mock Merlin in the hopes of keeping him distracted enough to stay awake, though he did not want him to argue in return for he had to keep what little strength he had.

"And you damn well better not die from it. I don't have the time or energy to train another servant. After all the time I invested in somewhat training you, it would be far too painful to go through that entire process again." Again, he was just giving him a hard time as he did not really mean any of this . . . well, in the sense that he was not giving the proper reason as why he was commanding Merlin to stay alive. "Besides, you have an extraordinary talent in mucking out stables."

As they trudged through the mud, Arthur was beginning to see a clearing. He squinted his eyes a bit, trying to see through the trees and rain, and managed to see a wonderful sight: an inn! Arthur breathed a silent sigh of relief, not wanting to indicate to Merlin that he had not been entirely certain that the inn was there. He began to quicken his pace, though it was difficult for there were far too many factors hindering their movement; still, Arthur kept forcing one foot forward, using all the strength he could. "Look, there's the inn," he said, hoping this would be enough to provide Merlin with the motivation to stay awake. "You better not have made me come all this way for nothing." He was still just trying to talk to keep the mood far from quiet -- though the rain seemed to be providing enough noise to keep him awake.

[pie]

When Arthur smacked him in the back of the head, Merlin's eyes came open again. He blinked away his weariness and tightened his grip on the Prince. It wasn't like he was slipping, it just gave him that mental hold that he needed to keep his eyes open. Also, it would let Arthur know if he was falling asleep again, because his grip would slacken. He had to remain awake, like Arthur wanted him to. He had to remain awake and trust that Arthur knew what he was doing, and that they weren't heading in the wrong direction, that there was an Inn up ahead.

When Arthur began to talk, Merlin knew that it was to give him something to keep his attention on. And he was thankful for it. He focused his mind on only paying attention to that, on ignoring the pain and the rain. And, despite that pain, he smiled. Despite being mocked, the words words brought him comfort. He knew that he could trust Arthur to keep him alive. His only fear was that the bandits would come back and get Arthur, too.

If he wasn't in pain, he would have even laughed. Extraordinary talent in mucking out the stables? Well, he wouldn't exactly call it that! "Heh, mucking the stables sounds pretty good right now," he rasped out. Yes, he would much prefer to be doing that!

Still, despite himself forcing himself to stay awake, despite the distraction that Arthur was providing, that didn't stop himself from growing weaker. It might be binded, but it was still not properly fixed, and was still wounded. His grip loosened a little, but not much, as he clung to Arthur. So when Arthur spoke again, about an Inn, he wanted to drop with relief. There WAS an inn! He sagged a little, but this wasn't out of him slipping, but out of a show of his relief.

He tried to take on some of the walking himself, so that Arthur didn't have to practically drag him, but it was hard and made him dizzy. In the end, he resorted to the Prince's help once more. He shook his head at Arthur, indicating that he didn't plan on dying and having the Prince come all this way for nothing. No, he had to remain conscious. If Arthur didn't make it there soon, however...

[Arthur Pendragon]

The fact that Merlin was so laconic, was even more worrisome. Though Arthur knew he should have expected it. He knew what it was like to be injured, and he did not wish it upon anyone. But he would not let him die. He could feel Merlin's disorientation in his movement, knowing that he was trying to walk, but wasn't succeeding all too well. They were almost there though! So close! And perhaps just in time for he knew that the sound of the charging bandits was not far. They really needed to find something better to occupy themselves rather than hunting two men. Then again, he was the Prince. He could imagine that would cause a good prince if held for ransom. But Arthur would not let that happen, especially with his seriously injured friend.

When they got to the inn, Arthur burst through the door. They must have looked rather pitiful; both drenched with rain and now blood, though it was minimal. However, it was seeping through the cloth Arthur had put around it, knowing that it was not strong enough to create the necessary amount of pressure. It had merely substituted long enough for them to get here. "We need help!" He exclaimed in a loud, slightly desperate voice. Hopefully there was someone here, hopefully they would be able to claim sanctuary here for a bit.

Without waiting for an answer, Arthur set Merlin on one of the chairs, and went back to the door, closing it and even taking the liberty to lock it himself. He did not care of the inn keeper objected; he needed to make sure the bandits did not enter. Once that was done he looked around for someone who could assist them, since Arthur had just prevented any more customers entering, thanks to his decision to lock the door.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Rain and cold… yes, those were the least likeable things about a journey. And of course it was her luck both had gotten her on the same they while she had been still far from any form of shelter. Now she was drenched and shivering, even though she had been sitting in this tavern for quite some time now, her cloak close to the fire were it started to let off that distinctive smell of half wet – half dried wooll. Not very pleasant on the nose. Wringing out her long hair Yassia took a casual look around the dim room, where both innkeeper and his wife were busy serving the very little guests. The rain might have drawn a few in, but business seemed to be low. Hopefully it wouldn’t be reflected in the prices… Who would have thought a woman like her, born to be queen would be thinking of nothing else but money all the time? But fate had chosen to slap right into the face more than once and it always seemed to leave her with less and less money.

Brooding and still shivering she took a sip from the tankard of meade she had ordered a while ago, hoping with all her might something interesting might happen to cheer her up. But that would most likely not be the case, here, in the middle of nowhere. Only listening with half an ear, she heard the landlord and –lady discussing the issue of bandits roaming the forest and valleys of this place. Oh just great! Wouldn’t it be just her luck if she ran into a bandit-set trap tomorrow? And maybe lose a bit more than the few coins she possessed? Really, such news made her wish to finally reach Camelot and be done with it all!

Suddenly, her silent wish seemed to be answered more quickly than she ever would have imagined. The door was opened with such force it crashed against the wall, sending everyone jumping in their seats. Was this the trouble Yassia had just foreseen? Would the bandits dare to attack a tavern?
But when she looked to the door, she saw something a little less threatening if still dramatic. A man was half carrying, half pushing another through the door, both drenched with rain and staggering. His desperate cry for help was left unanswered for the time being as all were too shocked to move. The man sat his friend on a chair and went to lock the door which sent the innkeeper growling. Yassia was inclined to agree, who did this man think he was? And what was so dangerous from outside he needed to shut out the world? His friend was probably already smashed, so why did they seek out another tavern? It was more than –

Then she saw the broken shaft of an arrow protruding from his back and in an instant everything else was forgotten: Rain, cold, annoyance, all that remained were her healer instincts that now kicked in with full force.
Whoever these men were one of them needed help and she was able to give it!
Without further ado she moved to her feet, grabbing for her precious bag that contained her remedies as she was already walking and approached the two men.
“Goodness gracious, what happened? Someone shot him?” it was more of a declaration than a question. Blood was seeping through the makeshift dress which consisted – after all Yassia could tell by a quick glance – of the other’s shirt. Surely not the cleanest means…

“He needs to lie flat, move those two tables together and put him on there!” she ordered, using her authoritative princess voice out of habit. But for the moment this was no matter of status, she simply knew what she was doing and this other man was not.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Thank god! Someone was willing to help them. This gave Arthur a bit of hope, but did not diminish any of the fear he felt for his close friend. Especially still with the impending threat of bandits to bring their terrorizing ways to this inn. They were just bandits though, and would hopefully not spend too much time trying to barge their way inside. If they did . . . well, they would cross that bridge when they came to it. Arthur would deal with one thing at a time, and right now, his friend was injured and could very well die. He did not need to be told twice to do what was told of him. He did not even care about the authority in her voice, and did not pause to ask her name or tell her who he really was. None of that mattered right now. She was willing to help, and Arthur would find a convenient time to express his gratitude.

"With an arrow," he answered when she asked -- or stated rather that he had been shot. He watched her as she grabbed her bag. Did she have the necessary means to help him? Or would they also require the assistance of the innkeeper. Either way, Arthur would get whatever she needed . . . Merlin's life was at stake! He then proceeded to do as told; he went over and moved the tables together creating a larger space for her to work on. He then very carefully, placed Merlin on it. It was just enough space for him. Arthur knew it would be safer -- and probably better -- for them to move upstairs, but he was also fully aware that Merlin's state was not the most stable and that he should be tended to first . . . then they would probably have to get a room in here anyway for he would be too weak to travel.

Arthur began to take off his vest, just an added layer on to his shirt. It was wet, but they had no time to dry it. He bunched it up and put it under Merlin's head so that it would serve as a sort of pillow. Merlin had not quite yet passed out, so Arthur wanted him to be in as much comfort as a man who had been shot with an arrow could be in. "What do you need?" He asked the woman, concealing the desperation in his voice . . . instead, it came out a bit more formal, but still held that concern for it was truly impossible to hide it when the life of your best friend was placed in such jeopardy.

[pie]

He wasn't much aware of what was going on as they entered the tavern. All that he was aware of was that the pain seemed to be sucking away his energy, leaving him with just that -- the pain. Whether or not they actually entered the inn he wasn't even sure of, he had no mind to pay attention to his surroundings, just the fact that an agonizing throbbing was spreading throughout his shoulder. The rest of his body seemed to go numb, and even if it hadn't, he wasn't keen to explore that notion.

He wasn't sure if his eyes were closed or open, as all he could see was dark space all around him -- he wasn't aware that he had them shut so tight to the point that naturally one would get a headache. He wasn't aware if Arthur was still supporting him, or if something had happened and they were once more attacked by bandits. He wasn't even sure of his name at this point. In all aspects, he couldn't help but wonder if he was dead already and whether or not this was Hell.

"Nng, Arthur," he groaned as he was laid upon the table, which he was very dimly aware of. "The bandits..." If truth be told, Merlin wasn't even aware that he was speaking, mumbling incoherently, groaning, or even making any noise at all. Part of him wanted to sink into the blackness that tugged at his consciousness, the other part wanted to remain conscious, as it was afraid of what would happen if he did otherwise. Afraid that death would consume him.

The pain was so strong, however, that he knew he was bleeding to death even if his mind wasn't working in conjunction with his wishes. The tempting darkness tried to sink it's claws into him, to pull him into it's depths, where only more darkness awaited him. "No," he mumbled, squirming a little on the tables as if tossing and turning like he was in a nightmare would wake him up, would free him from Death's cold grip.

He was burning up, or so he thought. He felt as if he were bathed in fire, as sweat poured off of his twisting body from a pain induced fever. His hands clawed at the tables beneath him, and his breath came in quick gasps, almost as if he were having some kind of panic attack. "Stop it... quit... please!"

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

Baneberry and white moss… True Lover’s Knot and bandages… yes she was set! Thoughts raced like bees through Yassia’s mind as she rummaged in her medicin bag for the things she needed. Never before had a case been this imminent and dangerous, she was not used to care for battle wounds. But she kept a clear head and told herself to calm down. One thing after the other, like her mother had told her countless times. What is it you need first?
Get the arrow out and stop the bleeding… alright! Or better give him something against the pain first? No, she decided. She had observed him slipping into a delirious state, any encouraging by sedative herbs would mean his death… he would have to deal with the pain.

“I have anything I need right here!” she answered to the man’s question. “But I need someone to assist me”, she looked him up and down and nodded. “You don’t look like you will faint at the sight of blood and can hold your stomach contents with you, so I will ask you to do what I tell you to help you friend. I need to get the arrow out, that will hurt and he will most likely rear up. Can you hold him down?”
Her accent was very audible in these stressed circumstances as she wasted no effort erasing it. But she didn't care, she took hold of the remaining shaft and tugged at it as gently as possible to check one very important thing. It did move a little but then suddenly got stuck. Taking in a sharp breath Yassia turned again to the patient’s friend. “Scratch that. The arrow is barbed. It is fortunate you didn’t try to pull it out, as it would have malmed his shoulder and left it wide open for infections. There is only one way… I will have to cut it out.”

Her own stomach started to get a little queasy at the prospects as she knew what would be waiting for her. She needed to be strong! Yassia had seen her mother doing it to a knight of Ailantha and it had been a very formative incident for the twelve year old girl, one she probably never would forget.
To calm himself she lightly touched her patient’s sweaty face and felt for a temperature. Nothing so far but that could change within minutes. How very young he was, probably not older than herself. “What it is name?” she asked and slowly removed her dagger from its sheath, placing it on the hearth so the blade was inside the fire.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Merlin was delirious, that much was clear. He was speaking nonsense, perhaps seeing hallucinations caused by the fever consuming him and the loss of blood. Had he not already been drenched, Arthur would have considered throwing a bucket of water on him to keep him awake, but that did not seem like it was going to help. Besides, he did not want to jolt Merlin awake, just in case he moved to much and therefore made the wound more severe than it already was -- if that was even possible. So instead, he just remained close, not even trying to understand what Merlin was saying. He heard his own name spoken by Merlin, and then more than ever that if Merlin died, Arthur would forever carry that guilt with him for not having protected him better.

She looked like she did this for a living . . . which continued to give Arthur hope. It meant that she knew what she was doing, and from the way she spoke, these assumptions were confirmed. For once, good fortune had been on their side. Of all places, of all people . . . they had happened to come across a woman who appeared to be some sort of healer for she had all the necessary supplies to treat this wound. He was not even going to offer, for his assistance was something that should be automatically assumed as he was not going to stray from Merlin's side. Not until he was certain that he was going to survive this arrow wound.

Faint at the sight of blood. No. Not at all. Arthur had seen gruesome scenes indeed, as he had been on battlefields and seen the corpses of men, some killed in the most morbid of ways. He did not wish to add Merlin to the list of dead bodies he has witnessed. Merlin was not a warrior, he should not have to die in this way. Which was why he gave a short nod and moved a bit close to hear further instruction. At this point anyone else in the area had dispersed, some rushing up to their rooms . . . for the mention of blood most probably scared them away. And if that had not, then it would most certainly have been her decision to cut out the arrow. Bloody hell. That was going to be extremely painful. Arthur did not have to experience to imagine the extent of the pain Merlin was about to experience . . . which was perhaps greater than whatever he was feeling right now.

Arthur had to admit that he was rather relieved to hear that he personally did nothing to worsen the injury -- though he of course felt like he should have done more to prevent it. But even Arthur had to fight the urge to cringe at what she was suggesting. Arthur would have to hold him down indeed, and use as much strength as he could . . . Merlin may not be overly strong, but when experiencing the upcoming agony and massive discomfort. Arthur took off the glove from his hand and placed it in between Merlin's teeth so that he would have something to bite down on. He then began to reposition himself so that he could firmly hold Merlin down, especially around the area she was working on. So Arthur held down the other shoulder -- the non injured one -- and put his other arm on Merlin's stomach so that even if he kicked his legs, it would be a limited amount of mobility.

This was not going to be pretty.

"Can't you give him something for the pain?" Arthur asked as he looked at her, a little hopeful, but also knew that if she had not already, chances were she could not. Still. He had to at least ask . . . for Merlin's sake who could not exactly ask for it himself right now. "His name is Merlin," Arthur said, returning his gaze to the wounded man. He did not bother telling her his own name, or even ask hers. There would be a time for that, and now was not it. Both of them only had one priority . . . and that was saving the man in front of them.

[pie]

All that he was aware of within those next few moments was that something was preventing him from moving. His heart leapt to his throat at this sudden restriction, as if it meant that something was wrong. His body automatically wanted to twist and turn, to try to squirm away from the pain like it was possible to run from it. To finally be unable to move brought fear to him to add to the pain. He tried to squirm more, but failed and was dimly aware that something had been put in his mouth. It felt like something... leather, perhaps? Whatever it was, he didn't have the energy to spare in figuring it out.

He thought he heard his name... it was his name, right? There were people around him, he thought. Or was it something other than people? He thought that he was dead, or dying at least, but somehow voices got to him. Who were they? There were two, and as far as he thought, he had only been with one person... Unless bandits had caught them? "Arthur... run," he gasped out -- before biting down hard on the object in his mouth -- as if it would make a difference in what the man did.

But any coherent thoughts he was beginning to form fled from him as another wave of pure pain shook him. His groan turned into a whine, which was choked off abruptly he clenched his hands into fists subconsciously.

[Yassia Dyfrène de Ailantha]

The man, though young he was, seemed to know what she was talking about and it made Yassia wonder for a moment who he was. He was not dressed all too costly, but he had that certain air about him that made her think if he wasn’t already he was born to be a leader. Maybe they were mercenaries? But however much of a fighter the man looked and acted on, his friend – Merlin apparently – wasn’t a chip off the same block.
However, she wasn’t here for social studies, time was wasting! Hardly did she notice everyone else had left the room, her vision narrowed down to the makeshift operating table and to the fire where her dagger was slowly turning from grey to red, to orange and finally to a very bright yellow, almost time!

“I wish I could”, she replied regretfully, showing him a little flask. “This contains Baneberry and it would surely not make him feel any pain, but his current state won’t allow me to use it. I have the fear he would slip away – permanently!”
Another thing Yassia had learned from her mother was that it was best to involve the imminently affected, be it relatives or friends into the process and tell them as much as you could without sending them into shock. People who felt involved were less likely to wreak havoc in any way, as they didn’t feel as useless.
The man – Yassia wondered if his name was indeed Arthur as Merlin kept on repeating this name in his otherwise mindless mumblings – even was expert enough to give his friend something to bite and immediately took a good position to hold him down. Nodding commendatorily, Yassia bent over Merlin again.

“Merlin… I don’t know if you can hear me, but I need to cut open your shoulder. It will hurt so prepare for the worst if you can. We will both be here to see you through and I can promise it will be over soon.”
She was almost sure he would not be able to understand half of the words she was directing at him, but this was as much to calm herself as it was to calm him. Step by step, one thing after the other, get it off your list. Yassia even imagined her mother standing at her side, guarding her every movement with watchful eyes. This was the ultimate test and she better passed it. Yassia the princess had been replaced by Yassia the healer for the time being, a transistion she hadn’t even noticed.

Taking one last deep breath she retrieved the now almost white-hot blade from the fire and nodded at her assistant. “Let’s get this over with. On my call: One… two… THREE!”
Sending a quick and breathless prayer to heaven, Yassia sliced into human flesh, a bit tapered to where the actual arrow point was, sending it sizzling and letting off an almost sickening stench. Stay strong, breathe through the mouth only, it’ll be over soon!

[Arthur Pendragon]

Merlin was speaking gibberish again . . . it also meant that he was slipping into unconsciousness and there was a good chance that he may not awake from it. The shock of the pain would probably alert him enough to remain awake . . . but if only there was a better way. Even though Arthur had expected her to say that she had nothing she could offer Merlin for the pain . . . it was still disappointing to hear that confirmation. It only meant that Merlin was about to endure a tremendous amount of pain and Arthur could do nothing to help, other than hold him down. The sooner she got started though, the sooner this would be over. Then he could just recover and they could be on their way back to Camelot before his father sent out a search party. They had already used a great deal of resources in the search for Morgana, and preparing for a very likely upcoming war with Cenred . . . the last thing they needed was for the Prince to be missing as well.

He watched and listened to her speak rather calmly, and in a soothing voice to Merlin. While hearing the words, Arthur's hold on his servant subconsciously tightened . . . for Merlin was also trying to fight it. Arthur was not the best at calming people down . . . for someone who suppressed their emotions usually did not always succeed in trying to provide comfort to those who needed it. There were very few that Arthur could successfully console . . . but right now, he feared for Merlin's life too much to find the words to say. So instead, he just watched and listened, still very thankful that someone who was willing to help was here . . . someone who knew what they were doing.

The watching part however was getting a bit difficult, so once she began to insert the hot knife into Merlin's skin, Arthur refrained from cringing. It was horrible to see, but at the same time, was difficult to look away from. He kept a very strong hold on Merlin, knowing that the pain could not be easy to tolerate. It would be over soon enough -- hopefully. It was definitely a good thing that Merlin had a glove to bite down on. As if this was not bad enough, Arthur became distracted by the sudden heavy pounding on the door. The voices on the other end were demanding to be let in and from their aggressive manner of trying to break down the door -- unsuccessful so far -- Arthur knew exactly who it was: the bandits.

They had probably not even seen them come in, but were doing what bandits did best: causing havoc among all those they encountered. The innkeepers seemed to have no intention of letting them in but judging from their numbers, it would only be a matter of time before they managed to get themselves inside. Arthur glanced at the door, then to the innkeeper to just make sure they did not open it right away, then he looked at the beginning of Merlin's surgery . . . and then he looked at the woman. All these glances occurred in a matter of seconds. "Keep going," he said in a composed voice. It was not a demand, it was more his way of saying to ignore the pounding on the door and to proceed with what she was doing: saving Merlin's life.