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crack_van2010-08-31 08:56 pm
sandystarr88.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2010-08-31 08:56 pm
Copper Fields by brightedelweiss (PG-13)
Fandom: MERLIN
Pairing: Gen; Merlin, Nimueh, Arthur
Length: 4,225
Author on LJ: [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]
Author Website: Fiction Masterlist
Why this must be read:
Stonehenge. Drunk Arthur. Little Nimueh. This is a wonderful Merlin-saves-the-day piece. I loved the tension between Nimueh and Melin, their interactions have always fascinated me, and the pictures throughout really add to the dreamlike quality of the story.
The outer circle of stones seems to Merlin to be like the edges of a giant wheel. They tower over him and the moonlight makes them cast long, exaggerated shadows. He feels caught between being overwhelmed and being transfixed by awe. The stones themselves are worn by weather, more so than the stones that make up Camelot, but they still stand strongly, and Merlin has the suspicion that they will do so long after he is gone.
He stands on the edge of the circle for a collection of long moments before he walks back to the horse and carefully lifts Mara off of it, cradling her, waiting a moment for a breath before walking to the center. Merlin walks through the horseshoe of grand arches and then he gently places her in the grass and tries not to think of how the blades of grass curve around her frail form as if she is about to be buried. From the whispers of the trees Merlin knows that this is a sacred place, one meant for death, but he also knows that this is a place of life. There must, after all, always be a balance.
He whispers words to himself and a ball of light - made of shades of blue, white and gold - appears before drifting over Mara's heart. When he looks at her now Merlin can't quite see, but he can sense the faint spirits of sleeping forms. There is not just Arthur, but there are others as well. Morgana, Gaius, Gwen. Uther. A knight, a cook. A young boy, an old woman. All are there, eyes closed gently as if at peace.
Merlin turns away from Mara's body and sinks to his knees in the grass. He looks fiercely at the great Sarsen stones and the wheel they create. He thinks life with intensity before twisting his hand in the grass and then pushing it into the dirt. Merlin's eyes flood gold and suddenly he knows that the circle of stones does not just resemble a wheel.
They are a wheel. Life and Death.
He knows because he can feel the spokes, knows that he is the center and that they branch out from him. The feeling is a sort of weightlessness. Merlin feels like he is floating even though he knows that his head is flung back and his eyes are shut tight and that he could not move even if he wanted to. He thinks that he could be drunk off of this feeling and that leaving it behind will mean he will yearn for it long afterwards, but then, then Merlin remembers the ball of light.
He remembers why he came here.
He sinks his hand deeper into the ground and takes hold of the threads that run out beneath him, and from him and feels for the one that is stronger than all of the rest.
It is not difficult to find. The particular spoke glows bright, but something about it feels off. It feels wrong, twisted, and Merlin wants to shirk away from it but knows he can't, knows that if he doesn't continue that no one will ever wake. He tugs gently on it to no response, then tugs harder. Nothing happens. Merlin tugs again, and his eyebrows furrow in concentration. Still nothing. Finally, Merlin yanks.
Something yanks back. Merlin stops then, pulls hard on the spoke that is all wrong one more time before he gasps.
"Nimueh." He says, half a whisper, half a groan, and then slumps to one side.
Copper Fields
Pairing: Gen; Merlin, Nimueh, Arthur
Length: 4,225
Author on LJ: [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]
Author Website: Fiction Masterlist
Why this must be read:
Stonehenge. Drunk Arthur. Little Nimueh. This is a wonderful Merlin-saves-the-day piece. I loved the tension between Nimueh and Melin, their interactions have always fascinated me, and the pictures throughout really add to the dreamlike quality of the story.
The outer circle of stones seems to Merlin to be like the edges of a giant wheel. They tower over him and the moonlight makes them cast long, exaggerated shadows. He feels caught between being overwhelmed and being transfixed by awe. The stones themselves are worn by weather, more so than the stones that make up Camelot, but they still stand strongly, and Merlin has the suspicion that they will do so long after he is gone.
He stands on the edge of the circle for a collection of long moments before he walks back to the horse and carefully lifts Mara off of it, cradling her, waiting a moment for a breath before walking to the center. Merlin walks through the horseshoe of grand arches and then he gently places her in the grass and tries not to think of how the blades of grass curve around her frail form as if she is about to be buried. From the whispers of the trees Merlin knows that this is a sacred place, one meant for death, but he also knows that this is a place of life. There must, after all, always be a balance.
He whispers words to himself and a ball of light - made of shades of blue, white and gold - appears before drifting over Mara's heart. When he looks at her now Merlin can't quite see, but he can sense the faint spirits of sleeping forms. There is not just Arthur, but there are others as well. Morgana, Gaius, Gwen. Uther. A knight, a cook. A young boy, an old woman. All are there, eyes closed gently as if at peace.
Merlin turns away from Mara's body and sinks to his knees in the grass. He looks fiercely at the great Sarsen stones and the wheel they create. He thinks life with intensity before twisting his hand in the grass and then pushing it into the dirt. Merlin's eyes flood gold and suddenly he knows that the circle of stones does not just resemble a wheel.
They are a wheel. Life and Death.
He knows because he can feel the spokes, knows that he is the center and that they branch out from him. The feeling is a sort of weightlessness. Merlin feels like he is floating even though he knows that his head is flung back and his eyes are shut tight and that he could not move even if he wanted to. He thinks that he could be drunk off of this feeling and that leaving it behind will mean he will yearn for it long afterwards, but then, then Merlin remembers the ball of light.
He remembers why he came here.
He sinks his hand deeper into the ground and takes hold of the threads that run out beneath him, and from him and feels for the one that is stronger than all of the rest.
It is not difficult to find. The particular spoke glows bright, but something about it feels off. It feels wrong, twisted, and Merlin wants to shirk away from it but knows he can't, knows that if he doesn't continue that no one will ever wake. He tugs gently on it to no response, then tugs harder. Nothing happens. Merlin tugs again, and his eyebrows furrow in concentration. Still nothing. Finally, Merlin yanks.
Something yanks back. Merlin stops then, pulls hard on the spoke that is all wrong one more time before he gasps.
"Nimueh." He says, half a whisper, half a groan, and then slumps to one side.
Copper Fields
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