Hello folks. I'm back with a new chapter. Actually it's only part of my intended chapter, because it was ending up unbelievably long so I had to split it. I know I haven't stuck to 'perfect' rhymes, but for part of this chapter I'm relying on them (or rather a lack of them). Just go along with it please ;)

I can't believe all the amazing feedback I've had so thank you all so so much, especially anyone who reviewed and I couldn't reply to. You're all amazing! :D

There's a slight serious undertone creeping in, to facilitate the plot, but hopefully it'll work. I've written the last two chapters already and there's still humour to come.

Enjoy!

(Much trudging later)

Arthur and Merlin continued to follow the trail of abnormalities that Bryce had left for them. For the last couple of miles or so, they had been following discoloured flowers, malformed trees and a strangely anthropomorphic hare. The latter was against Arthur's better judgement but Merlin had pointed out, as Arthur had done earlier, that they had nothing better to go on. Fortunately for all concerned, that particular animal had now vanished, and Arthur was confident that if he'd had his crossbow about his person, it would have been dispatched a whole lot sooner.

Now the two of them were separately foraging in the immediate area of a small wooded valley for anything resembling the next clue. Arthur overturned a rotting log with his foot, but it revealed nothing more than detritus, a colony of woodlice, and other assorted creepy-crawlies. Nothing was out of the ordinary there. He casually flicked a spindle-legged spider off the tip of his boot. This was getting silly. He wasn't sure how he managed to get himself into these scenarios, but he persevered. It would have helped if he had known what he was looking for though.

"He could have written us directions in plain text. What's next?" Turn right at the pig in flight?" Arthur grumbled to himself, not realising he was still within earshot.

Distracted by his complaining, Merlin looked up through the gaps in the treetops as a large grey bird with impeccable timing soared high overhead.

"That's a goose," Merlin observed cheekily.

"Don't be obtuse!"

They continued to search. A short while later, A bush with Merlin's voice called out to him.

"Arthur! I think I've found something! Over here."

Arthur hurried over, brushing aside the foliage to reveal his servant's hindquarters.

"Your rear?" he queried lightly.

Merlin's head emerged, grubby-looking and dishevelled, from a spot where the grass and shrubbery disappeared and a long dark hidden tunnel burrowed down into the ground.

"Oh yes, Merlin, very droll. Your little stroll has produced. . . a hole. Do I look like a mole?"

But Arthur knew, even without the scrawl that scribed itself mockingly in the dirt by his feet indicating "this is the way" in an ironic answer to his earlier ramblings, that this was indeed the route he must take. Add to that, the fact that Merlin had already taken the very inappropriate and frustrating initiative to vanish, ferret-like, and he really had no choice.

Determined to get to the bottom of this and fix his problem once and for all, he crouched down and clambered into the hole on all fours, head-first. It was just large enough for a fully-grown man to crawl through, but it was a tight fit. The hilt of his sword dug into him and the shirt he was wearing tore on a stone protruding from the earth. The shirt didn't matter; it was Merlin's after all and Merlin could mend it.

Scrambling onwards, he finally caught up with a pair of feet, when they found themselves thrust into his mouth in a most ungainly fashion. Arthur coughed up a mouthful of dirt.

"It crossed my mind that in a space so confined, it would have been better for you to go behind," he spluttered.

"Frightened you'll need a push if the tunnel gets too narrow," came Merlin's muffled voice.

"Not all of us are built like an ill-fed sparrow," Arthur jibed. "But what you seem to have failed to comprehend is what could be waiting for us at the other end. When it comes to fighting skill, your abilities amount to nil."

In the dim, fading light from the tunnel entrance Arthur saw the dark shape of Merlin's shoulder's twitch, to give the closest approximation possible in these cramped conditions, of what was presumably intended to be a shrug.

"Funny. The way I remember it, your skills didn't count for very much the last time," Merlin said. "You want my advice?"

"No, that will suffice."

"Your surly, burly and sword twirly brand of tact may not be the best approach."

"Any more words of reproach? My negotiation skills are first-rate, yours I expect are far from great. He's a sorcerer so you can't relate. To him you're little more than bait."

"I didn't know you cared?"

"Then your judgement is impaired. Clearly. And if you make me say this again, you'll be punished severely. You may be unskilled and far too strong-willed, but your role is not one easily re-filled and I'd be less than thrilled if you get yourself killed."

"Thank you for the sentiment," said Merlin sincerely, "but if he was a killer he would have done it by now."

"His sorcery is something I can't allow," Arthur reiterated, but was mostly for his own benefit. What if he was forced to? Arthur thought deeply for a moment, weighing his options and his mixed feelings towards magic as he shuffled along in the darkness. "I'm willing to adopt a flexible stance. He gets ONE chance," He decided aloud. "If that's not enough, then I'll be forced to get tough. That's more than fair." The back of Merlin's head nodded in accord. "But I still think you should beware," he added.

Arthur huffed and fidgeted slightly. "Sorcerer or not out there, I'll be glad of the fresh air," he said as his head bumped suddenly into Merlin's backside. His companion had unexpectedly ground to a halt and he remained stationary for quite some time. "Any reason for your unwillingness to move, because I'm forced to disapprove?"

Merlin made a strangely distorted moaning sound, let out a sigh, then gave up.

"Erm, I don't suppose you remember what I was saying about you getting stuck," Merlin said nervously.

There was one thing Arthur could utter in a situation like this, but he refrained from doing so. Such language was inappropriate for a knight, not to mention a prince. More importantly though, Merlin had sharply booted him in the chin in another effort to free himself, so besides an incoherent grunt, any uncouth exclamations were out of the question.

"Just. . . my. . . luck!" He mumbled, rotating his bruised jaw. "In a hole, completely stuck, trapped with you and covered in muck."

"If I can just. . . twist myself. . . a bit. . . I think I can. . . work myself free," said Merlin. "You should be careful though, sire. It tightens quite. . . a lot."

"It's the only route I've got," Arthur observed; reversing wasn't very feasible and he refused to go back the way he'd come anyway. Merlin drew an intake of breath to speak but Arthur interrupted him. "And don't you dare say I'm 'fat' because I won't stand for that."

"You are larger than me," groaned Merlin whilst trying to force his way through the tunnel.

"All right, all right, I agree. You're taller but smaller," sighed Arthur. "I've heard your cautions, I'll take precautions. You're blowing this out of all proportions. Just get on with your contortions. I'm sick of this view of your lower portions."

"You're doing this on purpose now, aren't you?" Merlin's strained voice teased him. "Trying to see how many rhymes you can cram?"

"Maybe I am," he said deviously, but with only a hint of truth. "I'm barely coping but there's no use moping. If I have to put up with this diction affliction, then it's my view you should suffer too. You're skinny so this should be a breeze. You can fit through with ease so just squeeze. Please.

"Ahead, I think I can see daylight," said Merlin.

"I think you're right. That would imply this tunnel's end is nigh. But stop digressing, how are you progressing?"

"I think I've managed it. Just one. . . more. . . push." Merlin forced his way forward. "Aha!" Merlin exclaimed triumphantly, but Arthur was less happy, as a cloud of dislodged earth rained heavily down upon him and his view of Merlin disappeared. He choked on the falling dirt which had suddenly enveloped him and he was just about to cough something about how such a moronic action would result in Merlin being the stocks' newest attraction, when a rock struck him squarely on the back of his head.

For the umpteenth time – he'd long since lostcount and he worried for his cranium – Arthur's vision began to blur. He was very grateful of his thoughts' lack of restrictions at that particular moment; as the word spun around him, the entirety of his feelings towards Merlin expressed themselves in a tirade of unparalleled eloquence. Then everything went black.

"Arthur!" Merlin coughed once the dust had settled. "Arthur?"

He struggled to twist his head backwards. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed Arthur slumped out cold behind him. Oops!

Merlin was torn what to do next. He didn't feel comfortable leaving Arthur like this but neither could he easily carry him – not in this position. He shuffled forward a few feet in the direction of sunlight's pale glow then, with a golden flash, Arthur was roughly pulled along behind him by unseen hands. He continued like this for a short way – crawl, crawl, magical tug, crawl, crawl, magical tug. Merlin didn't have a clue where they going to end up; his sense of direction wasn't great at the best of times. He did notice that the tunnel was becoming more rocky under hand and knee, or in Arthur's case, his chin. Merlin winced to himself. The unconscious-prone prince was definitely going to be sore when he woke up.

"Whilst we're still young!" An elderly male voice echoed from the tunnel's end towards him taking Merlin by surprise. It was Bryce. Merlin glanced back at Arthur. "Oh, just leave him. I expect he'll wake up soon enough."

"What do you want?" Merlin shouted back.

"I know you're not scared of me, so why don't you come out of that hole and find out?"

Reluctantly, Merlin scrambled out of the tunnel. He squinted against the sunlight which revealed his unexpected surroundings. It appeared to be an old quarry, though long abandoned judging by the low-lying vegetation which was poking its way out of the rubble. Bushes had replaced the trees of the woodland and there was a small brown pool of water nearby. The tunnel had emerged at the foot of a rock-face, now quite weathered. Merlin knew of no such place within a day's walk of Camelot and certainly not within half-a-day's crawl.

"How did we get here?" Merlin asked.

"Old gnome hole," Bryce answered, matter-of-factly. "Not the most comfortable means of travel but pretty efficient. I've never liked transportation spells since I ended up waist deep in a bog, somewhere in the North Pennines. Newfangled nonsense anyway – what's wrong with feet?"

"There are gnomes around here?" said Merlin.

"Not now, not in decades. Wouldn't find me here if there was. I value my ankles. But I needed somewhere to go."

"Why did you put that spell on Arthur?" Merlin demanded, returning to the point.

"Why not?"

"That's not an answer."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. Would you rather me have killed him, maimed him, cursed him with a plague of unsightly boils?" Bryce leaned forward as he spoke, his weight supported by a gnarled wooden staff he was gripping tightly with two hands. His long, thinning hair hung limply, framing both sets of bony fingers. He appeared a lot frailer, a lot more in-keeping with his age, than he had done on their previous encounter.

"Of course not." Merlin frowned at the wizened old figure. "Why did you lead us here?"

"I clean up my own mess, when I feel inclined to do so."

"Then do it now and leave."

"Prince Arthur has a tongue in his head, let him ask me himself," Bryce said, smiling at Merlin's impetuousness – his grin lacking several teeth. "His distrust of magic is the problem."

"Why should he trust you? Magic should be used for better things than payback and cruel jokes."

"A poor reputation is preferable to leaving behind no reputation at all."

"If you hurt Arthur–!" Merlin warned.

"I give you my word I will not. But whether or not I lift the magic upon him is up to him. And I'm sorry about this, but I wish to pass judgement on the prince myself."

"You're sorry about what?" asked Merlin with a wary sense of confusion.

"Wyrttruman gebind hine!" Bryce ordered.

"What are you–?" Merlin took a defensive step backwards. The roots of a small hawthorn bush nearby sprang up out of the ground with whip-like speed. Spewing up earth, they wrapped around his arms and legs and he found himself securely bound to the floor with the base of his back pressed up against a small rock. "Oþþéode!" he shouted and one of the roots snapped, but two more took their place.

Bryce lowered himself down on another rock opposite. "Don't take it personally," he said.

"It's a little tricky not to," Merlin muttered, and then they sat in silence, waiting for Arthur to arrive.

Arthur groaned as blackness brightened into poorly illuminated grey. Not again. He began to push himself up from his lying-down position, hitting his head on the roof of the tunnel. Ouch! At least this time he remained conscious. As his vision swam mockingly about in front of him for the second time that day he blinked his thoughts back to him. His chin was grazed and by the feel of it, so were his chest, arms and knees. He was also further along the tunnel than he was before. Merlin must have dragged him.

Merlin? Where was he? That boy would be the death of him.

He crawled along the remainder of the tunnel towards the pale sunlight and scrambled out of its end, leaping to his feet as soon as he possibly could and drawing his weapon from its scabbard. He didn't recognise this place.

He gasped silently. Merlin! His eyes fell on the restrained young man and his insides recoiled.

"He's playing! He won't hurt me, Arthur," Merlin called out. "Don't provoke him!"

"Stop being dim," Arthur muttered. He advanced on Bryce who was sat motionless, watching his every move with intense curiosity.

"He just wants to rile you. Don't rise to it. He wants to provoke a reaction."

"I'll not just stand by in inaction!" argued Arthur assertively. Not wanting to be caught off-guard, he fixed his sight on Bryce like a hawk, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword."

"Arthur!" Merlin shouted, but the stubborn prince refused to listen.

"Do you always solve your problems with muscle and steel?" said Bryce .

"I don't feel we could ever cut a deal," Arthur told him.

"And why is that do you suppose?"

"What you stand for, I oppose. . . . And even if the chance arose, what sort of plan would you propose? I imagine you'd want freedom, release – yet your actions threaten Camelot's peace. That's why I must ensure they cease."

"Let us resolve this like civilized persons"

"Then give yourself up before the situation worsens."

"Alas, that's an option I shan't be choosing," Bryce uttered with a smile

"Why do you find this so amusing?"

"You're threatening me and yet there's fear in your eyes."

"Underestimating sorcerers can be unwise."

"Yet I'm a doddery old fool, well past my prime."

"Age does not excuse your crime."

Bryce heaved out a raspy chuckle, which developed into a laboured cough, which was unexpected by Arthur and which clearly unsettled the old man. But it could be a ploy, a play for sympathy, and Arthur wasn't about to fall for it if it was.

"We shall see," said Bryce once he had recovered and stood up to face him. "There is very little you can do to me now. I led you here to offer you my help whilst the opportunity still exists. In return, I ask that you let me leave this place a free man."

"I don't think I can. If it wasn't for your persistence and insistence on a criminal existence, I'd have no need for your assistance. I have a responsibility that comes with my position and refuse to barter with any magician. Reverse this curse. If my demand is ignored, my speech will be restored by the tip of a sword."

"Don't forget what Gaius said; we can't be sure that'll work!" Merlin shouted out urgently. Arthur paused at his friend's words and Bryce eyed the exchange between the two men with keen interest.

"It's a duty that I cannot shirk. If it were for me to decide. . . ," Arthur said hesitantly, "but the law must come before my pride."

"But if you kill him now, you could be stuck like this good. He's offering you a peaceful solution. Surely that's best for goodness' sake."

"He's a sorcerer – it would be a mistake!"

Arthur watched Merlin slump backwards with a groan. Why was Merlin being so insistent in this matter when he'd seen for himself what damage magic could cause, when he was being held captive by a sorcerer now? Merlin wasn't the sort to be coerced. And neither was Arthur.

Yet Arthur got the uncomfortable sensation that he was being backed into a corner. He loathed this feeling of helplessness, but he wanted to avoid turning this into a fight if possible. He'd been a soldier long enough to know that fighting wasn't always the best solution. Nevertheless, was he willing to go against his own principles and the laws of Camelot for his own convenience? Ordinarily no – but now?

"Evidently our senses of justice are at odds," Bryce said. "Pity. Given who you are, I was hoping you had more potential."

"Who I am is inconsequential." Arthur took a deep unsteady breath. "However. . . if I am required to be influential, my normal speech is essential. You led us here and you have my ear. Unveil what this will entail in every detail." The warrior lowered his sword slightly as a gesture of marginally less ill-will.

"No!" responded Bryce stubbornly and Arthur was taken aback. "I have changed my mind. You have already shown yourself to be too much your father's son."

Quickly he adopted a defensive stance with a fleeting 'I told you so' glance at Merlin, who wore an expression of betrayal, but not directed at him.

"Ic diefe þé tó héafodwóþa. Híere áncyn mé," the sorcerer chanted in Arthur's direction. Arthur steeled himself and prepared for a magical blow which never came. Other than a slight buzzing in his ears he strangely felt no different.

"In case you get ideas above your station," Bryce added to Merlin, who had begun fighting against the roots that bound him, glaring back at his captor with a look of anger mingled with. . . disappointment? Arthur refused to stand for these kind of games. He strode purposely forward with the point of his sword thrust furiously in Bryce's direction.

"I demand an explanation of that incantation and reversal of my debilitation. Your sorcery is an abomination and completely outlawed in this nation, making you worthy of condemnation. But despite my overwhelming reservation, I may yet concede mitigation in exchange for complete termination of all acts of magical application and the liberation without hesitation of my servant whose competence is in disputation."

Bryce raised an eyebrow. "I sense irritation at your situation."

"Cease mocking my articulation!" The tip of Arthur's sword nicked Bryce's neck, but still the old man didn't flinch.

"Hæte," Bryce commanded and Arthur grimaced in pain as he was forced to relinquish hold of the glowing hot metal he had been clutching, white knuckled, in his fist. The sword fell to the ground with a harmless thump.

"Are you angry?" Bryce asked in a slightly strained voice, as Arthur pushed his frail frame against the sheer rocky hillside. ""Or perhaps anxious?"

Arthur made to respond but found he couldn't. He stopped, gaping, but he could not find words that could leave his lips. Fury bubbled up inside him. It was only then that he noticed Merlin who had been strangely silent during all of this. Despite this his mouth was clearly moving but Arthur could hear nothing he was trying to communicate. Either Merlin was mute or he himself was deaf to his voice. He remembered Bryce's spell that had been directed at him. Most probably the latter then.

'Magic!' He wanted to spit. He wanted to say something, to demand answers, but try as he might he could not. His grip on his taunter's robes tightened.

"You're out of your depth," Bryce choked.

The prince scowled. The sorcerer was toying with him, Arthur could see that. He'd also taken steps to ensure he couldn't hear Merlin say anything that would interfere with his imposed silence. That hadn't stopped Merlin trying though. What Merlin was doing mumbling with his eyes shut however, he couldn't hazard a guess, but he doubted it would do any good.

"You must forgive my little foibles," Bryce taunted. Arthur's jaw set hard. All he could do was wait for Bryce to tire or slip up. Damn this stupid spell!