《Flyleaf》Trollhunters/Merlin

《 Chapter Fourteen 》

"Never get stuck between two people who hate each other; you'll be breaking a sweat."

Personally, Merlin is completely against this plan.

For one, Camelot is not on good standings with any community of magical creatures, and he knows that this specific area of the woods is notorious for supposed 'bandit' attacks. In fact, he has had the pleasure of encountering one of the creatures that live just beyond Camelot's borders, and he has no desire to see them again.

There is also the fact that it had been Esmerion who had come to him, grabbing his arm and dragging him into the nearest empty room. Of all the things Merlin had anticipated during the Princess Elena's visit to Camelot, he had certainly not expected the girl to be outed as a Changeling. Nor had he foreseen that Esmerion would claim to have recognised the princess' scent as that belonging to a faerie. Or a creature of stone, as Esmerion had corrected. Apparently, Changelings are not the creatures that poets write about during drunken bouts of inspiration.

"Did you just say that you don't know how to kill a Changeling?!" Merlin whispers harshly, snatching a handful of the male's red shirt. "You told me you could get rid of it!"

"Anyone can kill a Changeling," Esmerion argues, firmly removing Merlin's hand from the fabric of his shirt. "But if Elena were to go missin', there would be a kingdom-wide search. To kill 'er would be more trouble than it's worth."

"Then what are we doing?" Merlin swats him this time, ignoring the part of him that tells him to not touch the male. "Because I had to tell Gaius to come up with a reason for why I'm missing. Do you have any idea how often he claims I'm at the tavern getting absolutely sloshed?!"

"Often enough, I would say." Esmerion looks at him as though he's eaten something sour, silently vowing that Merlin would regret it if he touched him again. "We need to speak with someone who 'as experience with Changelings. I don't know 'ow to work with them, but I know that their presence is a very bad omen."

"So," Merlin presses, giving Esmerion a desperate look, "who is it?"

"'Ave ye ever 'eard of a Rock Troll?"

Merlin stares at him with a look of bewildered disbelief, having stopped walking entirely to process the news. "A Troll. You want to get help from a Troll."

"That is what I said, is it not?" Esmerion manages to keep his voice level, although his patience is not.

"Are we just going to completely ignore that the last Troll in Camelot tried to take the throne or?" Merlin nearly drops his satchel in his distress and hurriedly fumbles to grab it again.

"Different species," the male says simply, as though that explains everything. He starts walking again, unhindered by the darkness clinging to every leaf and branch on the trees. "Hurry up."

"Do they collect rocks, then?" Merlin continues, jogging to keep up with his long strides. He starts sifting through the items in the satchel Esmerion gave him earlier. "Or... plates?"

"Rock Trolls do not enjoy the thin's we eat, therefore a treat should do nicely."

"Is-" Merlin draws off in surprise and pulls out a boot. "Is this Arthur's?"

"'E's long outgrown it," Esmerion waves him off. "The prince won't be needin' it."

"Why is there silverware in here?" Merlin presses, not really expecting an answer. He pauses for a moment and pulls out a small weatherworn book. After a moment, he recognises it as one of Gaius' and pockets it, shooting the other male a pointed glare.