Chapter 10

Taradiddle

Merriam Webster tells us that the origin of the word, 'taradiddle' is UNKNOWN! Some link it's root to the word 'diddle' which means to cheat. Some other scholars connect it to the Old English word 'didrian', which means to deceive. No one knows when it was first used. In colloquial speech, 'taradiddle' is defined as a synonym for 'fib'. (History and fate are mysterious! You never know, it might be one of Merlin's words!)

I do not own Merlin and I apologize, for any errors or deviations from the canon characterizations or timelines as depicted in this fiction. I offer my sincere apologies for any errors, I may have overlooked.

Merlin was tired. His mind and his magic woke him long before the dawn. Sleep had eluded him for long enough that he knew it was useless to pretend.

There was an emptiness that descended on him some nights. These were nights when the thoughts of his destiny and the puzzle of Arthur, the Once and Future King, would trouble him. He would slake his doubts in those shining memories of hope, of Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone, of the people of Camelot cheering at his coronation. He would dream of a Camelot , free and fair, of a land where magic and human ingenuity could build a world together. And sleep would return.

But there were other nights, with even darker thoughts.

Shaking his head, Merlin mounted the steps that led to a parapet, high above the castle courtyard. From that vantage, he could see in the distance, fields and orchards. Using his magic he could see farther and feel the land, almost breathing beneath his hand, as he sat drinking in the clean air.

It was a cloudy night. The very heavens were dark with rain, low and heavy above him. The moist air comforted his breath. He stood feeling the wind, the singing slough of the air. Rubbing his hands together, Merlin smiled in anticipation. He loved nights such as this!

He blew out a breath, gesturing with his hand, as if pushing something incredibly delicate forward. His eyes changed to gold, bright as stars in the darkness. His lips framed a single word. He looked skyward, pleased to see the clouds moving towards the fields. He waited, slowly pushing the cloud, his magic flowing from him, as gently as a spring breeze. He spoke again, and although he was far away, he felt the gentle rain as it began to soak into the soil. He loved the soft feeling of the water as it drank itself into the earth. Merlin stood transfixed for a single moment, enjoying the sensation of his magic and the rain. The roots of the plants quested ever deeper; the leaves lifted and the trees sang their endless soft songs of earth and water. The wind stirred his hair and he came back to himself.

He found a profound delight in helping the crops and vinyards of Camelot. He knew which of the farmers prospered, and who struggled, thanks to riding patrols with the knights, and he sought to help those who needed it. But the thoughts that had woken him hung like fetters on his attempts to find peace. He sat down, looking out over the kingdom that he had come to love. There was a gap in the clouds now, and the stars were shining.

Merlin's heart was heavy. There were so many lies beneath the bright face of Camelot. The whole kingdom was thick with lies. The lies were part of the very foundation of Uther's reign. From the very beginning, the lies had begun. Arthur knew very little of his family background. He had not known that Ygraine's sister, Vivienne, had been a priestess on the Isle of the Blessed before her father had given her in marriage. She had been a skilled witch, and the legacy of her talent was present in Morgause, and in Morgana. Agravaine was rumored to have magic as well. While Ygraine had not possessed the talent of magic herself, it had been as familiar to her as breathing. That same legacy ran in Arthur's veins.

The King still did not know the price of his birth. The shade of Ygraine had spoken truth of a sort to Arthur long ago. But he still did not understand the willing sacrifice his mother had made, nor had he begun to comprehend the love that drove her to such straits. Outraged and bereft after her death, Uther had turned on the forces that had been his mainstay, seeking to eradicate magic from Camelot. His hypocrisy had led to more lies.

Gaius was so deep in lies that Merlin wondered how the old physician bore the pain of it. His lies were of omission, of refusing to speak, of turning a blind eye, and giving an unseen helping hand. If his assistance had been revealed, his life would have been forfeit to Uther. Gaius knew the price of lies.

Kilgarrah told the truth, he supposed. As far as a dragon could ever tell the truth, given their obsession with fate. The dragon's lies were direct, but were sometimes more subtle, concealing motivations. The Great Dragon had borne long imprisonment beneath the keep of Camelot because of a lie, a false offer of peace. The corrosive hatred of that action had eaten at the dragon through long nights of his captivity, and fed his thoughts of revenge and fire.

It was lies that had broken Morgana's bright spirit as she struggled with the awakening of her magic. Uther's lies about her birth, and his unreasoning hatred of her magic, had tortured the valiant Morgana into a twisted wraith of violence and retribution. Her cruelty was Uther's shadow magnified. Her hatred was a consequence of Merlin's failure, as he struggled with the lies about his own magic that had stayed both his hand and his words, when his heart had been begging him to do something else. If he had he spoken about his magic, maybe.. maybe…

He closed his eyes in grief, overcome for a moment. He saw Morgana's frightened, accusing eyes as she realized that Merlin had poisoned her. That look lived eternally in his innermost heart, despite all the subsequent evils she had practiced. It struck deep at his own lies. It was like wound forever unhealed. Regrets were not lies, but still, they hung heavy as he wrestled with the weight of his every prevarication, with the shadows of his endless equivocations.

He wondered how he could ever bear the look in Arthur's eyes when he found out about his magic. How could Arthur forgive the lies he had told, the actions he had hidden, both bright and dark. It was easy to hide the good things he had done; it seared his soul to think of the lies he had told. It was hard to bear that he had betrayed his own magic.

Yet he feared the judgment in his friend's eyes more than death itself. What would he do if Arthur turned away from him. He would rather die a thousand deaths, in the cause of Camelot, than see enmity in Arthur's eyes. He lifted his head to gaze at the stars. They were eternal in their witness.

Surely the stars could see the motive and the fate that drove his decisions. In their clear light, he could see the dream of a free world, that fueled his lies. He believed the stars would judge him more kindly than Arthur, and certainly, more kindly than he, himself. Morning was coming.

Merlin unashamedly wiped at the tears that stained his face. As the daylight came, the stars would fade. In the glare of day, their small comfort would be obscured. And yet their light would be unceasing, still there, unnoticed, but still as hopeful. Merlin stood up, took a deep breath, and began his day.

-m-m-m-m-m- -m-m-m-m-m- -m-m-m-m-m-

Merlin was late with his breakfast and the King had decided to dress himself. His clothes had been laid out behind the dressing screen. His belt lay on top of his new linen shirt, with an awl, laying across the leather strap.

Arthur pushed the sharp instrument aside, and picked up the belt, looking at the holes. There were two new holes. The undyed edges of the leather showed up, raw, against the supple surface.

Merlin stumbled into the room at just that moment, pitcher and tray in hand.

"Here's breakfast, he said cheerily, as he busied himself setting up the food.

Arthur came out from behind the screen, carrying the belt in his hand.

Merlin looked up. Arthur was glowering.

"I never said you were fat," said his servant immediately, but he smiled as he said it. Arthur still looked baleful.

"Well, you certainly didn't tell me the truth," retorted the King. "You think I'm gaining weight and you don't want to tell me."

"Of course not!" Merlin laughed out loud. "Useless as it is, I rather like my head Arthur. I'd like to keep it!"

"You still lied!"

"Oh, that's only a taradiddle," said the servant. He uncovered Arthur's plate with a flourish and gestured at the juicy sausages, still sizzling on the plate, beside the golden toasted bread. "Look, Arthur. Your favorite, this morning!"

The king sat down immediately, a smile on his face.

"Taradiddle?" He wolfed down a bite of sausage before he looked up at his servant, still chewing. "Another one of your made up words, Merlin?"

"Oh, I heard it somewhere," he replied, with a small sideways glance at his friend.

"Well, I dub you King of the Taradiddles," laughed Arthur, as he handed his plate to his friend, and he gestured at the belt that now lay on the table, not far from where he ate. "But only if you bring me more sausages!"

Merlin chuckled along with Arthur, but his thoughts were not of joy. His heart was still dark with the weight of the lies. His morning on the castle walls came flooding back to him; herding the clouds, grappling with the darkness, finding some hope. He shuddered, almost invisibly, but his friend did not note it. Merlin found that even the memory of the stars, could not help him bear the price he knew he would someday pay for his lies.

Someday, at Camlann.

FIN

Thank you very much to each and every reader who took the time to read my stories. I hope you have enjoyed them! I apologize for the late issue of this last chapter, but a part of me, simply did not want the series to end. If you ever take the "Pants on Fire" challenge on the Merriam Webster site, I expect all of you to ace all ten words! Merlin fans are the kindest and best in the world! Thank you again, from the bottom of my heart!