Hi Guys! So while I was watching Merlin, I realized that Merlin... really shouldn't be clumsy... like, it doesn't make sense. He runs around a lot and trains with Arthur and the knights and defeats bad guys ALL THE TIME. So I just thought of this little ficlet. I might do a part two for this if people want it, just let me know. :)

Also, side note, I got a tumblr! I'm going to put this on my bio too, but my tumblr is: theartistpirate .tumblr .com

It mostly has fandom stuff along with other cool artsy stuff, and I'll probably post my stories there too.

Anyway, enjoy the fic and review!

...

Merlin really isn't clumsy. Of course, sometimes he is, but it's mostly because he's distracted by yet another threat on Arthur's life, or his magic's acting up again. Granted, he isn't the best swordsman, but he can use a sword. Having to train with the knights and go on hunting trips plays an important part in that—it would be ridiculous if Merlin didn't know how to properly defend himself. He's also very good at running, running away from Arthur's wrath, running away from angry sorcerer's, running away from Gaius and extra chores and running away from bandits.

Not to mention that he's very good at sneaking about—no one knows about this of course.

But the point is, he isn't as clumsy as people often think.

However, his "clumsiness" provides a great cover. No one, in their right mind, would assume that Merlin could do magic, let alone be a powerful warlock. And Merlin would be lying if he said that he doesn't enjoy playing things up a bit: falling here, knocking things down there and being obnoxiously loud while walking. He is never suspected of magic because everyone underestimates him.

Well, almost everyone.

…

It had all started when Merlin and Arthur had gone hunting, just the two of them. Uther had been particularly difficult concerning matters of the state and Arthur needed to get away before his blood pressure sky-rocketed. So while Arthur paced restlessly in his chambers and threw goblets around, shouting about how utterly absurd it was for his father to raise the taxes again, Merlin had packed some essentials and the two went off into the woods.

Arthur walked through the trees silently, trying not to scare away the prey. He stepped lightly on solid ground, making sure not to let even the smallest of sounds, and he applauded himself for being so good at it.

Merlin, on the other hand, was purposely stomping around, crunching leaves, tripping over roots, and generally creating a ruckus. Arthur knew that Merlin opposed to hunting animals and more often than not, their "hunting trips" were unsuccessful because of him. But at the same time, Arthur was unsure that Merlin was even capable of being stealthy.

The first five times they went hunting together, Arthur had asked Merlin, "Is it necessary to scare everything within Camelot's border away with all that racket?" Merlin had responded with a shrug and had tramped around even louder with an infuriating smirk on his face.

Because he realized that no amount of nagging could make Merlin less useless, Arthur would normally just sigh a lot and let his bumbling idiot of a manservant follow behind him. This time, it seemed, wouldn't be different than the others.

"Arthur!" Merlin's whispered harshly from behind him, his disjointed footsteps coming to a stop, allowing Arthur to finally, finally, hear the peace and quiet of the forest around him. Arthur turned and saw his manservant smiling slightly with his head cocked to the side. Without a sound (which, needless to say, startled Arthur indefinitely) Merlin put down their hunting gear and put a silent finger to his lips before waltzing away.

Waltzing.

That was the only word Arthur could think of as he watched his usually-noisy manservant gliding effortlessly through the trees as easily as if he were sweeping a lady off her feet at a ball. The leaves barely crunched beneath his feet as he leapt through the vegetation and Arthur stumbled to keep up, wondering what Merlin was up to. When he finally caught up (how in the world had Merlin got there so fast?) Arthur found Merlin crouching behind some trees looking into a clearing.

Arthur stepped gingerly, crouching down next to Merlin and turned to see what his manservant was looking at.

At first, Arthur assumed it was a unicorn, having seen one not too long ago, but there was something different about this majestic equestrian creature.

"It's a Pegasus." Merlin whispered softly. He pointed to the white creature, "His wings are folded. Gauis says they are very rare—even rarer than unicorns."

"Really?" Arthur looked at it again, wondering how an animal so big would manage to fly. Almost as if it could hear his thoughts, the Pegasus spread its white wings tarnished with bronze feathers and continued to graze nonchalantly. "It's magnificent." Arthur whispered in awe, because while he enjoyed hunting, he did appreciate beautiful animals when he saw them.

"You think we can get closer?" Merlin said excitedly. Arthur's mouth twitched at Merlin's childish excitement and nodded. He rose and took a step, wincing when a stick snapped beneath his foot. The Pegasus immediately stilled, eyes wandering around the glade. The prince and servant both held their breath, but the damage was done. The Pegasus had spotted them and it bolted, leaping into the air as its large wings made the creature airborne.

The two boys watched as the white Pegasus blended in with the clouds above them.

"Really Arthur?" Merlin said petulantly, throwing his arms in the air, "Is it necessary to scare everything within Camelot's border away with all that racket?" and proceeded to stomp away as loudly as possible.

…

Merlin is a lazy sod.

Or that's what Arthur thinks. He's always late. He's late to wake him up (although Arthur doesn't mind that, he's definitely not a morning person) always late with his dinner, always late with delivering messages… and that barely scratches the surface.

Arthur has come to the conclusion that it is because Merlin is so slow. More often than naught he finds Merlin loitering in the kitchens or meandering through the corridors with not a care in the world.

When asked, Merlin usually replied with a, "When I run, I trip over things. You know. Clumsy me." With a smile before sauntering away at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Arthur was proven wrong the day before his twenty fifth birthday. Every year he has a dinner celebration, which, if he was being completely honest, bored him terribly. But every year (since Merlin), he received a gift from the servants and knights and every year it was something… well something he would actually want.

The gifts ranged from ornate daggers to his favorite exotic foods and this year, Arthur waited patiently to receive his gift. Well, he tried to. Arthur is not known for being patient (Merlin knows, having been the target for flying dishes almost every day).

The day before his birthday Arthur walked to Gaius' chambers to talk to him about a tonic he would surely need for before the feast, lest he fall asleep.

Knocking on the door, Arthur said, "Gaius, its Arthur. May I come in?" He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard some shuffling and a muffled curse before the old man himself opened the door with a strained smile, "Arthur, I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"I was wondering if you have the tonic… for tomorrow." Arthur said, suspicions rising when he heard a slight snicker from the corner of the room.

"Ahh... Of course. I am sorry Sire but I don't have it made yet." Gaius said hesitantly, still blocking the doorway.

Narrowing his eyes, Arthur replied, "Right. Then I suppose I'll come later."

"I suppose Sire." Gaius did not budge from his spot. Arthur decided it was time for him to employ a different tactic. Spotting a beaker on one of the tables smoking, he gasped, "Gaius! Is that beaker supposed to overflow and bubble like that?" Gaius' eyes widened as he turned inside to look at the beaker, noticing too late when Arthur slipped in. Looking around he saw Gwaine huddled in one corner and Leon, Percival and Elyan in another. Gwen was standing by the door behind him clutching a cloth parcel to her chest with all her might.

"What… is going on?" Arthur asked slowly, eyes lingering on the package in her hands. "Is that my birthday gift?"

"No…" Gwen said unconvincingly, in a dash Arthur reached toward the small package. Panicked, Gwen threw the package toward Gwaine who threw it to Elyan and soon they were playing a rather odd game of monkey in the middle.

It was when Leon overestimated Percival's height that the package landed behind him, away from everyone's reach, at the base of the door. And of course, that was the moment Merlin decided to grace everyone with his presence. Taking in the scene around him and the package at the door, Merlin picked it up.

"What's this then?" He asked no one in particular, holding the parcel in his hands and looking it over.

"Merlin! I order you to give that package to me!" Arthur said, in his most royal voice. He then realized that that wasn't the best thing to say, because Merlin, ever the useless servant, never listened to Arthur's orders. Flashing a grin (an evil grin, Arthur would insist) Merlin turned on his heels and ran. Arthur was out the door in a second, leaving the protesting voices behind him.

Arthur thought he would catch Merlin rather quickly, he was clumsy after all, and incredibly slow. But he was surprised at his manservant's deftness. Merlin took quick strides and twirled around servants walking down the halls. Arthur, less elegantly, ran after him, pushing people aside, apologizing profusely as he went along.

As they approached the upper village, he saw Merlin jump over baskets and weave through stalls and Arthur did everything he could to keep Merlin in sight. When they finally reached the edge of the lower village to the open field, Arthur knew that Merlin meant to go to the woods. What he didn't realize was that Merlin would sprint the entire way across disappearing into the edge of the forest minutes later.

By this time, Arthur was already out of breath and his lungs felt as if they would explode. He waved Merlin off and turned back to the village.

He didn't want his birthday present early that bad.

…

Sometimes Arthur wondered how it was possible that he, the finest knight in Camelot, had managed to knock himself out more often than Merlin. Arthur had been doing the math in his head all day—Merlin went with him on every hunting trip and every quest. Not to mention that Arthur had made it a habit to haul as much silverware at the manservant's head as possible.

It really was impossible that Merlin had never been knocked out.

Merlin says it's because he's good at ducking—he has had years to master it after all. Gaius believes that Merlin is just plain lucky.

Guinevere says it's because Arthur has bad aim.

Arthur then decides that he subconsciously doesn't want to hit his manservant (friend), and therefore misses every time.

But when he tries to intentionally hit Merlin with a water pitcher the next morning, Merlin deftly moves out of the way and Arthur is at a loss to explain the anomaly that is Merlin.