...in for a pound

"I can't believe you gave her Superman."

It was about the fifteenth time Jon had heard that sentence from Richie, and each time it seemed to be filled with more awe and even more doubt. Richie had even said it during a break in Fiona's spiel about Merlin. Surely, she didn't expect them to believe that the mythical Merlin was a real person. Once that thought crossed Jon's mind he almost burst out laughing. Why couldn't Merlin be real? With everything else they'd proven to him, why couldn't that be real too?

During Fiona's long speech about Merlin, she'd carefully recited the rhyming riddle that the wizard had told her and Morganna.

"Are you sure you didn't leave out anything?" He heard himself ask that question, but couldn't believe he'd asked it again. He was getting as bad as Richie.

Fiona frowned at him. "I'm sure." How many times was she going to have to say that?

"Wait, Sister. There is a detail you've forgotten."

Fiona turned her frown on her sister. "I repeated the damn riddle word for word. Forgive me that I can't do it in Merlin's voice like you can, but I can remember what has been spoken to me."

"Fee," Morganna began, ignoring the sarcasm in her sister's tone, "remember what Merlin said about Jon?"

Quickly, Fiona began to replay the whole episode in her head.

"What DID Merlin say about Jon?" the man in question demanded.

Fiona was still trying to remember what she had obviously overlooked.

"Fiona?" Jon was getting impatient.

"To save him," Morganna prompted.

"I'll need that which only a chosen one can use," Fiona finished.

"Well, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Jon demanded.

"See, Anna, I'm not the only one that thinks Merlin is a pompous windbag that's full of shit."

Jon looked around the room, half expecting the wizard in question to appear out of nowhere. "I didn't say that," he quickly denied. "I only asked what it was supposed to mean."

"Weel, if I knew da answer ta tha' we'd be ghoulden, na wouldna we?"

"Relax, sister," Morganna said. "Your Irish has been up far too much since revealing yourself to the mortals."

Jon looked from one sister to the other. "You mean she's not always this quick to anger?"

Fiona took a deep breath, then while looking up at the ceiling, let it out on a long sigh. Morganna chose to answer Jon. "No, usually the only time she loses her temper is with Merlin."

"So, we have something in common with Merlin? Only we bring out the Irish in her?"

"Aye." Morganna shook her head. "But, you don't have to sound so proud about it. She's been having the same argument with Merlin for over a thousand years."

Jon's eyes grew wide. "A thousand..." He couldn't finish the question.

So, out of habit and shared astonishment, Richie did. "Years?"

Morganna smiled. “Yes. Actually, I think it is closer to one thousand, three hundred years – she didn’t argue with him for the first century or so.”

Fiona laughed gleefully at the gobsmacked expressions on her charges’ faces. “Anna, dear, I do believe you have rendered them speechless. Something that does not come easily, I assure you.”
Richie was just staring at Morganna. “You are more than thirteen hundred years old?”

Morganna just nodded. “Yes, child. Far more.”

Riche stood and crossed the room to Morganna. He circled her slowly, looking her up and down. Finally in front of her again, he whistled. “Damn, woman, you look good for someone who’s older than dirt.”

Morganna’s eyes went wide as Jon stood, shocked at his friend. “Bro! What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” Richie said, turning to Jon. “But this is just too damned much. LOOK at them. They don’t look a day over what, thirty? And they’re centuries old? Lots of centuries?” He shook his head. “And they’re pals with Merlin. The magician. From Arthurian legend.” He started laughing, then turned back to Morganna. “Did you live at Camelot then? Hmmm? Bang a knight or two?”

“Rich,” Jon said in a warning tone, but his friend wouldn’t be dissuaded from the tirade he was delivering.

“Watch yourself, mortal,” Morganna said, her voice getting steely.

“Or what? You gonna turn me into a toad? Wave your magic wand and give me a Bibbidi Bobbidi boo-boo?” Richie started laughing harder and couldn’t stop.

Fiona stepped forward. “You’d best stop now,” she said to Richie. “You do not want to make a sorceress angry at you.”

“Fairy sorceress,” Richie corrected, still laughing. “APPRENTICE fairy sorceress.” He snickered. “What does that even fucking mean?”

“It means,” Morganna said, “that you’d best stop right now, human. My patience only stretches so thin before it wears through.”

Richie flapped a hand at her. “Oh please. I can’t be the most exasperating person you’ve ever met. Hell, woman, I’m not even trying yet.” Richie flopped back down on the love seat, his eyes still shining with mirth. Suddenly, he sat upright. “No fucking way,” he said, looking at Morganna.

“What are you talking about?” Morganna said, confused.

“The big fucking light bulb just went on,” Richie said. He pointed a finger at her. “I read, you know. I’m not just some big dumb goofy guy. I figured out your deal.”

“I don’t understand,” Morganna said, looking to her sister. Fiona just shrugged.

Richie stood again, and got in Morganna’s face, pointing a finger at her. “You, Ms. Fairy, Ms. FEY....Ms. Morganna the Fey....Morgan la Fey.... YOU killed King Arthur, didn’t you? All that shit is real, isn’t it?”

Jon stood too, finally, unable to sit back and watch his friend slowly lose his marbles. “Rich, just what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Damn,” Richie said, laughing, and turning to Jon. “This is like a bad Monty Python sketch.” He made his voice deep and pointed a finger at Jon. “Arthur,” he intoned, “Arthur, King of the Britons! Oh, don't grovel! If there's one thing I can't stand, it's people groveling.”

He switched his voice to a very good approximation of Graham Chapman. “Sorry.”

Richie went on, playing out the whole scene, alternating between God and Arthur. “And don't apologize. Every time I try to talk to someone it's ‘sorry this’ and ‘forgive me that’ and ‘I'm not worthy’. What are you doing now!?”

“I'm averting my eyes, oh Lord.”

“Richard,” Morganna warned, but he was having none of it. He was on a roll.

Richie continued in a deep voice, totally ignoring Morganna. “Well, don't. It's like those miserable Psalms — they're so depressing. Now knock it off!”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Right! Arthur, King of the Britons -- your Knights of the Round Table shall have a task to make them an example in these dark times.”

“Good idea, oh Lord!”

By this time, Jon couldn’t help himself, and joined in. “Course it's a good idea!” they shouted together, and dissolved into a fit of hysterics.

“ENOUGH!” Morganna bellowed, her color high. She turned to Fiona. “Sister, you are on your own. Debt owed or not, I would rather spend an eternity reliving Accolon’s betrayal or suffering Urien’s cruelty than one more moment of this idiocy.”

“Morganna!” Fiona gasped. “Surely you cannot be serious?”

Richie, tears streaming down his face, interjected, “She is serious. And don’t call her ‘Shirley’.” He was laughing so hard he was doubled over, holding his stomach. This new quip evaporated Jon’s control, and he let out great barks of laughter.

Morganna raised her arms, freezing Jon and Richie in place. Their eyes frantically bounced around the room as they struggled to move. Nodding her head in satisfaction at them, she turned to her sister. “Fiona, I cannot stand that these two imbeciles are meant to save the world. Humanity is doomed.”

Fiona hugged her sister. “Don’t let them get to you,” she said.

Morganna raised an eyebrow. “Like you don’t let Jon get to you?” she asked.

“Yes, well, you’ve always had better control over yourself than most. Please, I’m begging you.” Fiona gripped Morganna’s hand firmly. “I will release you from your promise if it is truly what you want, but I’m begging you to help me.”

Morganna looked from her sister to the two men, frozen in time. Crossing to them, she leaned in close. “I will consider it if they can behave themselves. No more blasphemy.” She looked at Richie. “No more crude jokes at my expense.” She looked at Jon. “No more.”

Fiona came up behind her sister. “I’m sure they can behave themselves.”

“I am not so sure,” Morganna countered. “But I can be reasonable. They must promise to try,” she emphasized the last word, and watched the men’s eyes. They looked ready to promise anything as long as Morganna would release them. “This is life or death, gentlemen,” Morganna said. “Not only yours, but everyone’s. The fate of every living being on this Earth is in your hands. That is not something to be taken lightly.” Morganna sighed and took a step backwards. With a flick of her wrist, the men un-froze, collapsing onto the couch.

Morganna gave them a disgusted look and vanished.

“What the fuck just happened?” Jon asked Fiona.

Fiona gave them a wry smile and said, “She just Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo’d your ass. And if you don’t want her to do it again, I suggest you cut the shite.” She looked at Richie. “No more jokes about Camelot and King Arthur,” she said. “And for the record, Morganna did NOT kill Arthur.”

Richie’s eyes went wide. “All that was really real? Not a myth? Arthur and the knights? Excalibur? It was all real?” He shook his head. “Should I try to go apologize to her?”

Fiona put up a hand. “Wait, what did you say?”

Richie looked confused. “I was asking about apologizing.”

“No, no, before that.”

Richie looked at Jon. Jon just rolled his eyes. “Attention span of a flea, man. You were talking about Arthur and Excalibur.”

“That’s it!” Fiona exclaimed.

“What’s what?” Jon asked, just as confused as his friend.

“That which only the chosen can use. Excalibur!” Fiona was chattering excitedly to herself. She rubbed at the ring on her finger, and Morganna reappeared.

“What, sister,” she said, annoyed.

“Their idiocy was not all bad,” Fiona answered.

“Hey!” Jon said, indignant at being called an idiot, even tangentially.

“Oh hush,” Fiona told him, her wide smile taking the sting out of her command. “Sister, we’ve sorted out that which only the chosen can use. It’s Excalibur!”