Alaia Skyhawk: (Added) I'm pointing out now that this fic is now an IMPORTANT part of my series, seeing as a lot of my material for the Season 4 tweeking will be based on events and characters from this. It will also influence the sub-eps of "A Question of Destiny", the Seasons 1&2, and start of 3 fic I will start posting once this one is completed.

(End of addition)

Here it is, a story telling of Liam's life up until the point he makes his appearance in A Question of Motives. He who started out as a random OC, who I added purely to drive Arthur up the wall in my Sub-ep "Sick Leave", has grown into a character loved so much by so many of you that I've decided his story will be the one I write to tide you over until the start of Season 4. However, I have since learned that Season 4 will not be airing until January 2012 (adding four months or so to our wait) so I've decided that when this fic is done I will start to novelise Season 1 and Season 2 in the same format as A Question of Motives. That's right guys, S1 and S2 with those annoying "why didn't he just do 'this'" scenes edited, new scenes added, and a full set of Sub-episodes for each.

So now, without further ado... Let the story begin!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Merlin TV series etc, but I do own the star of this fic... LIAM!

~(-)~

Whom History Won't Remember.

History will never mention him, his name will never be regaled in song, but he is one who can say what few will ever be able to. That he served a certain king, was friend to a certain sorcerer. That he stood beside history's two greatest legends. Stood beside Arthur and Merlin.

~(-)~

Chapter 1: A Humble Beginning ~Part 1~

This is the story of a young boy, a boy who would grow into a man. A man who will come to stand in the fabled kingdom of Camelot, as a trusted friend to the greatest sorcerer of all time. History will never speak of him, his name never remembered. He will be like so many others forgotten in the mists of the past, like the many others who played their small parts within the greater whole. Each with a destiny, no matter how small, a purpose along the road walked by those of greater fates. And while his purpose may have only been to be there as a friend, an ear who would listen, it did not matter. For even if he is never remembered, he was still in his small way a part of a great legend...

And so begins the story of Liam Morranson, the son of a carpenter father, a weaver mother. Cherished brother to his siblings and the youngest in the household, here in his home on the outskirts of the town of Ulwin in the lands belonging to the nobleman, Lord Hargren...

"Dad... Dad... Da-ad!"

A small hand tugged at the carpenter's sleeve, the man turning his head to look into the earnest green eyes of his youngest son. He smiled, setting down his wood plane and turning to face the seven-year-old boy.

"What is it, Liam?"

Tousled blond hair let stray strands hang over the child's face, Liam frowning a little as his expression became pleading.

"I want to help you make the cabinet for Lady Jancine."

Liam's father chuckled, ruffling his son's hair.

"You're too young, my son. Give it another couple of years and then I'll let you risk you fingers. Go and help your sister spin thread for your mother. Your brother's did that with no complaints, so you can too. Just be patient, your turn will come."

Liam let out a long sigh, his eyes still pleading.

"But Daaaad..."

His father gave him a nudge in his sister's direction.

"No buts, Liam. Go help your sister."

The man returned to smoothing a length of wood destined to become one of the final parts of the cabinet the boy had mentioned, the carpenter being one of Ulwin's finest. Meanwhile his son slumped across the fairly large living area within the larger-than-average house. He didn't know how lucky he was, to be the son of two such well respected crafters, when so many others scrabbled to get by on their own much more meagre earnings.

Liam sighed, sitting himself on the stool beside his sister's, both of them placed with their backs to the impressive loom that dominated one end of the room. Their mother would weave finer fabrics on commission, but otherwise produced the quality of cloth which most of the commoners in town bought for their clothing. The family made more profit on the cloth if she purchased some of her wool raw rather than buy it all as ready-spun yarn, and thus her children had been taught from an early age to spin. It also kept the youths busy and out of trouble...

That was what Liam was now doing, trying not to pout in disappointment as he sat there turning a combed coil of wool into thread. His efforts were far from perfect, but it didn't matter. Commoners didn't care if the cloth they bought was made from uneven yarn. So long as it kept them warm. He yawned, then noticing his sister shaking her head and sticking his tongue out at her in retaliation. She gave her spindle a twist before using the same hand to absently clip him on the ear, the young boy hunching his shoulders before giving his own spindle a turn.

"This isn't fair."

She shook her head again.

"It's not about being fair, Liam. Mom needs thread to weave, and you don't see me complaining about doing this day in and day out. You'll learn carpentry from father eventually, but I won't because I'm going to be a weaver like mom. So stop whining."

She ignored him as he pouted, the young boy on the verge of sulking as he sat there spinning thread. Why was he always stuck with the boring chores? He never got to do any of the interesting things his brothers got to. Sighing, he sat there and kept spinning until his coil of wool ran out, adding a new coil to the end of the old without really thinking about it.

He was on his fourth coil and his sister on her sixth when their mother came in, smiling warmly as she went over to her husband and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"How's the morning been, Samer?"

He smiled back at her, setting aside the chisel he'd been using on his piece of wood.

"Quiet, Alina, except that our youngest still seems to be determined to lose some of his fingers."

Alina chuckled, turning to face her daughter and youngest son.

"Helen, Liam, get your shoes on. We need to take the cloth I wove last week to the merchant."

The boy of the two siblings tied off the end of his spun thread in a flash, darting across the room to where his sandals sat beneath one of the tables. So eager was he to get going, that after putting on and tying the first he half hopped across the room while trying to do the other. Meanwhile Helen retrieved her own sandals at a much more sedate pace, rolling her eyes at his antics.

As for their parents, the couple simply looked at one another and chuckled, used to this scene as it happened so often.

The two siblings soon headed out of the house with their mother, each carrying a basket filled with un-dyed cloth. They walked down the short street upon which their home lay, and onto the main street beyond which cut through the town and led to the small, walled estate that held their lord's manor.

Ulwin was a large trading town, entrusted to the care of Lord Hargren by King Uther of Camelot. The town and its lands still belonged to the king, but he had given them into Hargren's care as reward for the lord's long and loyal service to his kingdom. As such Lord Hargren was a king in all but name, permitted to maintain a small armed force of his own wearing his colours. The only real difference is that he paid a percentage of the tithe he got from the lands to Camelot. The amount was small though, and more symbolic than actual payment. Hargren and Uther considered each other as trusted friends, and each would go to the aid of the other without hesitation if asked.

The result was that Ulwin was a peaceful place to live, cradled within the stability that blessed Camelot. But even so it was far from perfect, for even Ulwin had its darker side.

Alina kept her children close as they headed for the market, her eyes always watching for would-be pickpockets. A gang of thieves worked this area regularly, but for the most part left the locals alone. Those who lived in Ulwin were too wary to catch off guard often, thus it was the visiting merchants and travellers who were stolen from most often.

The gang were well known though, by reputation at least, their leader a man who had those who followed him steal only to survive. For that reason Lord Hargren only ever made a token effort to capture the wily man and his gang. He knew that many of them had not ended up in their way of life by choice. Instead those he did catch were branded and set to work on the farms around Ulwin, the less redeemable among them sent to the mines instead. He was fair in his dealings with them, and those who lived in Ulwin who had items stolen were oft reimbursed for a portion of their worth. Woe to any who would abuse his generosity though... The last individual to be found guilty of such had immediately been sent to work ten years in the mines.

Alina crossed the main street and turned into the market square, leading her son and daughter to the building behind the section dominated by stalls selling cloth and clothing. The merchant in charge of the building smiled when he saw her, indicating she enter with a wave of his hand.

"Alina, good to see you are well. How much have you brought me this week?"

She smiled back, using a hand to gently bring her children forward to add their laden baskets to the one that she also carried.

"The usual forty yards, Greg. Is the price the same it was last week?"

He nodded, waving one of his assistants over to take charge of the cloth from the baskets.

"It is." He chuckled. "In fact I already have your payment ready. You can count it if you wish."

She accepted the pouch of coins, shaking her head.

"I know you'd never cheat me, Greg, not when there isn't another weaver in town that can keep up with me."

He laughed.

"Aye, that be true. I hear Lady Jancine has commissioned you to make the fabric for her new gown."

"She has. I'll stop by in a few days to let you know what colour silks I'll need. She wants a pattern of satin panels and velvet accents. It's going to take me quite some time to weave it, and I still need to set my loom up ready for it... She would wait far less time if she ordered it from the cloth merchant in Camelot."

"But she respects you and Samer, why else commission him to make that cabinet and you to make the cloth for her gown? There are crafters out there that would give their eye-teeth for the kind of trade you two get."

Liam stood beside his mother, eyes moving from her to Greg and back again as he listened. When it came to discussions about the politics of being favoured by the nobility, he was totally lost. Helen was showing more interest, lapping up every word and storing it away for later. There was no doubt that her goal was to become as well regarded as their mother one day, and she was learning all she could about it while she had the chance.

Their mother bid her farewells to the merchant, leading her children with their now empty baskets back to the house. She still had a loom to start preparing, and they both had chores. As if remembering that that was what he always had to do after the trips to the market, Liam's cheer faded into a small frown... A frown that became a pout when they got back home and he was handed a broom to sweep the floor.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: Daww, seven-year-old Liam is so cute (Huggles little Liam) I'm going to enjoy writing this fic :D