It has come to my attention that my other story is a very played-out and overused prompt (Morgana kidnaps Merlin etc.) so I've decided to start another one on the side. It's based on Jivin4Jesus's story Balinor's Sons.

Balinor watched his sons sparring lazily from the fields he toiled in. The work left his back aching, arms burning and brow sweating but it was honest and kept food on his family's table. In the chill of the spring air the man could not help but think about how he came to settle in the small, peaceful village of Ealdor.

It had been nearly 16 years since Balinor had first set eyes upon the small farming village of Ealdor. At the time it was nothing more than a simple stop for the night, a brief respite in his tireless running from the shapeless evil that followed him. It was a dark night when the man, wild and weary, had burst into the home of the young maiden Hunith and asked for shelter from the cold, babe in his arms.

Of course the woman had taken pity on the man – how could she not? Balinor had obviously no idea how to care for the infant that he held so close. She took them in, at first just for the night but the kind woman could not let the pair go just like that. It was just shelter that he had sought and Balinor ended up with something he had never fathomed – love. By the time the babe was beginning to walk Balinor and Hunith had married, adopted the child, Arthur, as their own son and were expecting another within a month.

Life just seemed to take hold of itself from there. The child was born, hair black as a raven's wings, so much like his fathers. No words could describe how Balinor had felt the day his son, Merlin, was born. The angers of his past, all of his worries, betrayals, pains and wrongdoings had simply melted away as he slipped into the simple world of a farming village and the exciting journey of fatherhood.

Of course Balinor and Hunith had never told Arthur that he was not their true child, he believed that Merlin was his brother, Balinor his father and Hunith his mother. But what was so wrong about that? Every fiber of the man's being said that he was Arthur's father, regardless of blood.

He had watched the boy sit up on his own for the first time, been the one to let go of his tiny hands when he took his first steps, it was even Balinor who placed baby Merlin in Arthur's arms for the first time and told him to look out for his younger brother. The love that he felt for Arthur was equal to the love that he felt for his own son, and far greater than anything he had ever felt before.

There were many differences between the boys that had been difficult to explain over the years, like why Arthur had hair of golden blond when Merlin's was black as night. Balinor always just laughed off the question, telling the boys that it was to balance each other out. At first it seemed to satiate the boys' questions but as they grew, more arose.

Hunith was much better with answering the seemingly unanswerable than Balinor was. She explained to Arthur that her own mother had hair as golden as the sun, and that he must have gotten it from her. When the boy pressed as to why his mother's hair was dull brown and not golden Hunith just laughed, saying that it was the way things go sometimes.

As the years past, it was hard not to see the resemblance between Merlin and Balinor, which only frustrated Arthur more. And indeed, Merlin, at least in his face and sky-blue eyes, did look like a replica of the older man. However he was lanky and thin, resembling nothing of his father's muscular, strong build. No, when it came to many things Arthur was more like Balinor than Merlin was, especially when it came to fighting.

From a young age Balinor saw the need to train the boys to fight. With Arthur it had been no problem. He took to the sword like a fish to water and was a better hunter at the age of ten than most of the men in the village. But Merlin, he was special. He could not swing a sword properly to save his life yet could hold his own against his brother any day, though not with weapons.

It seemed that Merlin had inherited something more from Balinor than just his looks, yes, Merlin had magic, just like his father.

Wiping the sweat from his brow Balinor thought back to the first time Merlin had used magic. He was no more than a babe, crying out in the night when it happened – the boy's eyes had flashed a brilliant, swirling gold and an instant later a bucket sitting on a nearby table was launched across the room. Hunith had run screaming to Balinor, who in turn held the child in his arms and cried tears of pure joy. There is no greater gift than that of magic, though he would never admit it to Arthur, who possessed no such talents.

"Father!" Balinor was brought out of his dream-like state by the worried face of Arthur running towards him. Sensing that something was wrong, he dropped the wooden pole of the hoe that he had been leaning against and rushed to meet his oldest son.

"What happened?" The man's hands gripped Arthur's shoulders with concern as the boy tried to catch his breath.

"It's… It's Merlin!" Arthur managed to gasp out between frantic inhales. "He fell… We were fighting and he hit his head!"

Instantly Balinor was off, followed by Arthur as they ran to the spot where the boys had been sparring. It was a rocky outcropping near the bank of a small stream that ran through the dense forest surrounding the fields of Ealdor.

The man's heart nearly stopped when he spotted a mess of raven hair lying face down on the hard rocks. A red stream of blood was visible from under the messy locks, dripping onto the grey surface beneath him.

"Merlin!" Balinor put a steady hand on his son's shoulder and shook it in an effort to wake the boy. "Merlin can you hear me?"

The boy did not stir, causing panic to rise in the man's throat. He put his head to Merlin's back and listened intently as Arthur watched from afar.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Relief flooded into Balinor's mind when he heard the strong heartbeat of the unconscious boy. In a quick, practiced motion he scooped Merlin into his arms and started back for the village.

"Come, we must get him dry." He said referring to the dampened state of Merlin's clothing from the wet rocks that had caused his fall. The boy's head lolled around limply as he was carried, blood streaming from the lump beginning to form on his temple.

Arthur followed behind his father wordlessly, looking a good deal paler than normal and badly shaken by his brother's accident. Even through his concern for Merlin, Balinor couldn't help but chuckle at how very un-Arthur-like that was, for him to look afraid. Normally the boy was the spitting image of bravery and courage.

It starts off sort of slow but there's a lot be explained so stay tuned!