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merelyn.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2009-09-30 08:06 pm
merelyn.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2009-09-30 08:06 pm
Beltane by Astolat (PG)
My last rec for the month is one of my all time favorites. It's been so much fun driving the van, hope you all enjoyed! <3
Fandom: MERLIN
Pairing: Gen
Length: 1171 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
astolat
Author Website: Intimations
Why this must be read:
Beltane is part of a series that continues with Coming of Age and the previously recced That Shall Achieve The Sword, but it stands perfectly well on its own.
We don't really know a lot about Merlin's history from the show. There are number of fics that have addressed this, but none have done it so well as Beltane in my opinion. You know where you read a story and it's so perfect (and perfectly crafted) it becomes instantly part of your own personal canon? This is one of those stories.
There is a story that is not told in Ealdor anymore, not for many years now. It is told commonly elsewhere in Albion, though, in many variations, one among the many folktales that while away the cold dark span of the winter nights, as often in castle as in tavern. One night Arthur is sitting at drink with his knights, and a squire pressed into service as storyteller for the night offers it up.
Merlin is there, too: sitting back against the wall, with several of the other servants. He's giving Arthur's hauberk a cursory polish; it'll get the real thing later tonight, in his quarters, while he sleeps. He worked that out after a month or so of practice. Gaius comes in sometimes and watches the armor quietly working, the boy sleeping; watches and worries. Potions can be brewed, artifacts enchanted, but he has never heard of a wizard whose spells can run along without his consciousness, as though they are as automatic to him as the pumping of his heart, the rise and fall of his lungs.
The squire doesn't choose the story with intent. Or at least, not conscious intent, but magic is rising everywhere in Camelot these days, seeping through the rock like the dragon whispering dreams of the future beneath the city. Or maybe it is just that Beltane Eve is so far away now, a distant memory of summer, and he wants to remember the warmer time.
This is the story:
Beltane
Fandom: MERLIN
Pairing: Gen
Length: 1171 words
Author on LJ:
astolatAuthor Website: Intimations
Why this must be read:
Beltane is part of a series that continues with Coming of Age and the previously recced That Shall Achieve The Sword, but it stands perfectly well on its own.
We don't really know a lot about Merlin's history from the show. There are number of fics that have addressed this, but none have done it so well as Beltane in my opinion. You know where you read a story and it's so perfect (and perfectly crafted) it becomes instantly part of your own personal canon? This is one of those stories.
There is a story that is not told in Ealdor anymore, not for many years now. It is told commonly elsewhere in Albion, though, in many variations, one among the many folktales that while away the cold dark span of the winter nights, as often in castle as in tavern. One night Arthur is sitting at drink with his knights, and a squire pressed into service as storyteller for the night offers it up.
Merlin is there, too: sitting back against the wall, with several of the other servants. He's giving Arthur's hauberk a cursory polish; it'll get the real thing later tonight, in his quarters, while he sleeps. He worked that out after a month or so of practice. Gaius comes in sometimes and watches the armor quietly working, the boy sleeping; watches and worries. Potions can be brewed, artifacts enchanted, but he has never heard of a wizard whose spells can run along without his consciousness, as though they are as automatic to him as the pumping of his heart, the rise and fall of his lungs.
The squire doesn't choose the story with intent. Or at least, not conscious intent, but magic is rising everywhere in Camelot these days, seeping through the rock like the dragon whispering dreams of the future beneath the city. Or maybe it is just that Beltane Eve is so far away now, a distant memory of summer, and he wants to remember the warmer time.
This is the story:
Beltane
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