A Visit with Merlin

“Fiona!” Morganna gasped.

“No, it’s quite all right, my child. She is entitled to her anger,” Merlin said softly, patting Morganna’s shoulder.

“You betcha, I’m entitled. Ya coulda saved her! Ma powers were still ta new,” Fiona railed.

“And yet, you were still able to accomplish your goal,” Merlin finished the sentence. He’d known these two sisters a very long time. Fiona still blamed him for not saving Morganna from the other Elders when she’d stood before them accused of causing Arthur’s mortal wounds. Fiona had been sorely afraid that her powers wouldn’t be strong enough to pull off a rescue. Merlin had known that Fiona was perfectly capable of doing it on her own, that she only lacked confidence. Fiona had needed the confidence gained from being able to ‘pull the wool over’ the eyes of the Elders, so to speak, for her to handle her future destiny.

“And, it was you that coulda stopped how history views my sister. It wasna my sister who was ta blame. It was Guinevere, the slut that woulda gladly fucked her sire and husband’s favorite knight if given even a smidgeon of a chance, who walked away as a martyr in that whole escapade. History blames ma sister!”

“History is told by the victors, Fiona,” Merlin said, with all the patience of a saint in his voice.

“I am sure that Merlin didn’t come here to resurrect this old argument,” Morganna tried to play peacemaker.

“Aye, tha’ brings us back ta ma first question. Wha’ does bring your ass here, Merlin?”

“I thought that you might need my help, but if I was mistaken, I can go back whence I came.” Merlin smiled patiently.

“Then go, I didna need your help then, and I do’na need it now,” Fiona said angrily, waving her hands in the air as if to shoo Merlin back to Tír na nÓg.

“Wait!” Morganna tried to be the voice of reason for her sister. “Fee, he is a sorcerer and an elder, perhaps he knows something that could be of help. A warning now would be nice, would it not?”

“Most likely....not,” Fiona said, glaring angrily at Merlin. “Any advice or information will come in da form a one a his damned riddles, and I’d rather figure it oot on ma own than havta woonder ‘boot ever’ word in one a his rhymes.”

Merlin had been standing there with all the patience of Job, his strong arms crossed on his chest. Any outsider looking at him would have no idea he was someone of any import. The picture the world had of him was so far from what he actually looked like. There was no long white hair or conical hat with stars. He was as beautiful as any Hollywood actor. With long blond hair that hung around his shoulders in waves, swirling forest green eyes twinkled even in the darkness. With a heart-stopping smile, Merlin had an ageless beauty. Faded and worn blue jeans encased powerful thighs, and a tight black t-shirt hugged wide shoulders and taut pecs. In fact, he looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of a romance novel. “Fiona, you know that I can not interfere with destiny or free will. Not even yours.”

Morganna looked at her mentor and then at her sister. “He’s right, Fee. His ‘riddles’ are his way of helping without changing those things that he is bound by the rules not to change.”

“Fowk da rools!” Fiona was more than angry now. “If da balance a power is wha’s in jeopardy here, den why canna he jus’ speak up? It isna a ma’er oof ‘canna’; it isa ma’er of ‘willna’.”

He still held on to his patience although Fiona had a way of pushing even him over the edge, but he knew things about how this whole scenario would play out. “Fiona, you know as well as I do, that the balance is quite tenuous. Any little thing could tip the scale in the wrong direction. You are also fully aware that for good to exist, so must evil.”

Fiona frowned. “Aye, I know this. Bu’, I do’na have ta like it.”

Merlin laughed, a full, throaty, sensual sound. “No you don’t, little one. No you don’t.” His eyes turned briefly toward the large house, then back to the two women. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“I can’t go very far,” Fiona reminded him. The Irish accent was gone, telling her companions that she had begun to calm down.

“I know this,” Merlin replied, his British accent clipped. “But, I would rather your charges not see us together. They would ask questions that neither you nor I would like to answer.”

They began to walk down the hill, away from the house, with Merlin in between the two of them. They had walked several feet before Morganna finally chuckled at the absurdity of the whole situation. “Merlin, just impart your wisdom and get it over with. I’m dying here.”

“Patience is a virtue,” he responded.

Morganna looked at Fiona and rolled her eyes. The trio had reached a copse of trees several yards from the house. Fiona looked back at the house just in time to see the light go out in Jon’s window. Unknowingly, she let out a little sigh. Morganna and Merlin didn’t miss it.

“To save his life, you will need that which only a chosen one can use,” Merlin said cryptically.

Fiona frowned at Merlin. “Wha’ da hell is that s’posed ta mean?” The Irish was back.

“You know I can not tell you that,” he answered.

In anger, Fiona launched herself toward the wizard, only to have her sister step between them. Morganna grasped her sister’s shoulders to keep her from reaching Merlin. “Le’ me goo, Anna,” Fiona cried. “He will tell me ‘ow ta save ma charges, or I will tear him limb from limb.”

“Calm yourself, child. I would not have come here if I was not willing to help,” the wizard said, patience still evident in every word.

“Na riddles nor rhymes den, wizard,” she said the last word with derision, “jus’ tell me wha’ I need ta know.”

Morganna threw up her hands in exasperation. “Fee, you know he can not do that.”

At an impasse, the three stood in silence for long interminable seconds. Merlin stood with his feet braced apart and his arms once again crossed across his chest, his face impassive, while he waited for Fiona to calm down. Morganna silently pleaded with her sister to accept what she could not change, and Fiona glared at Merlin with malicious intent.

Finally, Merlin’s voice filled the air; his eyes closed, arms raised at his sides with the palms skyward as if he intoned great wisdom. And, indeed he did.

“In that time when dark does not quite reach,
In that time when light is shy,
Lies a time of neither here nor there,
Where dark and light must vie.

In that twilight time twixt day and night,
A soul could lose his way,
Or find his way into the light-
The dawn of a new day.

'Tis here the battle will be fought,
Where souls are won or lost,
But ye must make believers first
Of those who'll pay the cost.

'Tis not a simple task for thee,
To make Midsummer right
But try ye must to win the day
Else live fore'er in night.”

“Oh for fowk’s sake,” Fiona cried, in her anger not even realizing that she had borrowed one of Jon’s favorite phrases, “what da hell is tha’ s’pose da mean?”

“I’ve said all that I can,” Merlin announced.

“An’ yet ya tol’ me noothing,” she complained.

“He told us quite a bit,” Morganna tried. “We will just need to decipher the meaning.”

“An’ will we be able ta doo tha’ in time?”

“You’ll have to,” Merlin said, then disappeared in a swirl of wind that raked the grass and leaves into a mini tornado.

“Weel, tha’ was soooo fowkin’ helpful,” Fiona growled sarcastically.