"How? How is this possible?" Arthur studied Merlin as though he had never seen him before, taking in the shadows under his servant's eyes and the ghostly pallor of his skin. Cloaked in grey and surrounded by the thickening fog of the gloaming, he was a mere shadow of himself. But the thin shoulders under Arthur's hands were solid enough.

"Druids. There were Druids. In the clearing, I-" Merlin broke off, licked his chapped lips and took a calming breath. "When I woke up, there were two of them. A healer- a powerful healer- and her son. They- I don't know how. I don't know if even she knew how she did it." His hand came up, fingers absently tracing the pattern carved into a flat grey stone on a cord about his neck.

"Did this have something to do with it?" Arthur touched the stone. He wasn't sure what he expected to feel, but all that met his fingertips was a cold, dead stone.

Merlin nodded. "She called it a charmstone. Said its power was broken. They're gone now, too. I don't know where."

"Why?" Arthur's gaze flicked around to the knights, whose expressions ranged from Percival's confused shock to Lancelot's concerned awe. He looked back at Merlin. "Why would the Druids help a servant of Camelot?"

Merlin's hand shook as he clutched at his cloak. His pupils expanded within the blue of his eyes, adding to the confusion written across his face. "I don't-". His knees buckled.

Lancelot caught Merlin's arm, and he and Arthur guided the servant to the ground. Merlin slumped against the prince, eyes hooded, his breathing rabbit-quick. "Maybe they were just tired of seeing innocent blood being spilled," the dark-eyed knight said as he pressed gentle fingers against Merlin's throat, just above the pink, healing skin over the once-fatal wound. "Merlin?" Lancelot murmured.

"'m fine," was the slurred response.

Arthur chuckled. "Sure you are. And I'm a pretty lady." Merlin made a noise that might have been a laugh. "I suppose the questions can wait. Come on, then. Let's get you out of the rain." They wrapped him in blankets and set him down by the fire, shoving a spoon and a bowl of stew in his hands, hardly letting him eat as they asked if he needed this thing or that. Was he warm enough? Was he too warm? Did he want anything? Anything at all? Too weary to resist their ministrations, Merlin let them fuss, his color and smile returning together even as exhaustion dragged him off to sleep. But he revealed nothing more about the Druids who saved him.

It was near midnight, when the fire was burning low and a raucous choir of nighttime insects filled the air with their midsummer songs, that Lancelot sat down next to Arthur. The rest of the knights had long since fallen asleep, the strain of the day and their injuries quickly draining their energy. Merlin had hardly stirred, save for his eyes under closed lids, flickering with whatever strange visions lurked in his dreams.

"What's in your mind?" Lancelot asked. He poked at the embers, sending sparks up into the air, lighting Merlin's face with an angelic glow.

"I don't know." Arthur rubbed his gritty eyes. "Druids, he says. Druids healed him. I could believe that, but Lancelot, he was dead. You saw what happened. You saw him fall. I still see it happen every time I close my eyes." He shook his head as though that would displace the memories, focusing instead on his servant's face and the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders. "I've heard of Druidic healers, but… bringing a man back from the dead? How can that even happen?"

"Are you asking me to explain the mysteries of magic?" Lancelot asked archly. "Because I'm in the dark as much as you are."

"Right." Arthur sighed. "But why? Beyond what they did for Merlin, they helped us, too. I think they killed those mercenaries and freed us. I saw one of them this morning, by the trees before he fled. I saw the glow of his eyes, but I couldn't see his face. He saved our lives." His gaze traveled over the dark shapes of the the sleeping knights. "Why would Druids, of all people, go out of their way to help the Knights of Camelot?"

"Maybe they want to show you that magic can be a force for good, and that it's not all evil. Perhaps, like Merlin, they believe that you'll bring about a better world when you're king. Or," Lancelot shrugged, "Maybe I'm just a maudlin fool who's as much of a clotpole as Merlin's always saying you are. But I can tell you what I wouldn't do right now." Lancelot's eyes shone in the waning firelight.

"What's that?"

Lancelot smiled. "I wouldn't look a gift miracle in the mouth. Every mistake we made yesterday, every move we misjudged- it's like it was all undone. The world was remade, just a little, for our sakes. Now we have another chance to prove our worth to him."

"You spend your days trying to prove yourself to a servant?" Arthur asked.

"As much as you do. Or did you not mean what you said this morning?"

The prince's mouth dropped open. He snapped it shut again, a wry grin twisting his lips. "Undone by my own words. You're right, but if you ever breathe a word of this to him, I'll have you in the stocks for a month." Arthur tried to put his serious face on, but Lancelot's snort of laughter broke it. "Fine, then. No stocks. I'll just deny this conversation ever happened."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"I know it doesn't," Arthur said, waving the knight away. "Go on and get some rest. I'll take the rest of the watch. My mind's too full to let me sleep." Lancelot gave him a long look, then nodded and walked across the camp. There was a rustling as he settled down, and then quiet.

Arthur sighed and poked at the fire, thinking. How? Why? Would those two questions ever be answered to his satisfaction, or would he forever wonder at the circumstances? He lifted his gaze to find Merlin still asleep. Still alive. Don't look a gift miracle in the mouth. Wise enough words for a day full of questions with no answers. "All right, then," he whispered to his sleeping servant, "I'll not ask any more questions you can't answer. Just don't put me through something like this again. Do that, and I promise I'll do my best to be the kind of man you seem to think I am." Merlin didn't stir, but to Arthur, the deal was set in stone.

He walked to the edge of the camp. The clouds had cleared away, revealing patches of the night sky above. He stood quietly for a time, pondering stars and servants and strange miracles. And for a while, Arthur let himself believe that all was right with the world.