Chapter Text
What happened? Arthur blinked at a tilted view of treetops against a clear blue sky. His head was throbbing. The beat of his heart sounded loud in his ears, overwhelming him. He turned his head slightly. Oh. This was his father’s Cessna. Out the window he saw a wing lying a little ways off. That didn’t look right.
Plane crash, then. Arthur blinked, trying to remember what had happened. But he couldn’t seem to grasp where he’d been going, never mind what went wrong. And now he was hanging sideways in a broken plane.
Slowly and meticulously Arthur unstrapped himself. He dropped painfully to his left, having misjudged which way was up. Pressing a shaking hand to his forehead, he wiped the stream of blood back from his brow.
Damn! There was smoke. A flash of flame. Arthur scrambled to pull himself out of the broken windscreen, falling a short distance to the forest floor. His breath was knocked out of him once again, but he nevertheless forced himself to his feet and staggered away from the aircraft, as far as he could manage. He slung an arm around a tree and gasped, eyes closed.
“Just breathe, just breathe, just breathe,” he told himself, sinking to his knees. “You’re okay.”
It was a good while later Arthur muttered, “Better see if you can get the medical kit,” before lifting his head to see his father’s plane thoroughly engulfed in flames. He stared at it like it made no sense. “But I needed that,” he argued to the plane.
He felt the top of his head gingerly, where the bleeding had slowed. He hissed and pulled his hand away from the shocking pain.
Using the tree, Arthur pulled himself to his feet. “Gotta go, you need help. Head in one direction,” he said. “You’ll come to a road.” After a few steps he amended, “Eventually.”
Arthur knew he was going very slowly. Having to pause every dozen steps to hug another tree was definitely slowing him down. “That’s fine,” he said in his most reassuring voice. “Search parties will find you.”
“This is stupid, talking to myself,” he told the next tree. “I might just as well talk to a tree!” He regarded the tree critically. “Well, that’s even more stupid. The tree can’t answer. And it can’t come with you.”
A few more trees. “I wonder where the search parties are?” Arthur asked himself. “How should I know, dummy?” he answered himself. “Hey, you can’t call me that!” he said. Arthur frowned, displeased with himself still talking to himself. It was getting out of hand!
“What I need is an imaginary friend, that’s what. Talking to him wouldn't be weird. As much.” Arthur pondered, his head a jumble of incoherent thoughts swirling around.
“Okay, then,” he said. “How do you do, my friend? I’m Arthur. I’m pleased to make your acqaintance!”
“Hi.”
Arthur glanced to the left. It sure sounded like someone was there. But no.
“So…,” he ventured to say, “I could sure use a little help here.” Pause. He shuffled along, touching some trees, and leaning on others.
“What can I do for you?” came that faint whispery voice again. Arthur gripped the latest tree painfully. He took a breath. He could do this; an imaginary friend to talk with.
“Who are you? I mean, what should I call you?” Arthur winced. “Sorry, hypophorical question. I shall call you…” He cast his eyes about the forest to think of a name. Some birds were flitting through the trees. Birds were nice. Not a sparrow, or a wren. The thought of a merlin popped into his head out of nowhere. “Merlin. Your name is Merlin.”
“Right. So. What do you need?” The voice was clearer than before. Arthur thought about it. As much as his addled brains could manage. He rubbed at the crusting blood on his face. What he wouldn’t give for a wash. Come to think of it, he was quite thirsty as well.
“Could you find water for me?” There was a sudden little swirl of wind past Arthur. “Merlin? Merlin!” Arthur sighed, and headed for the next tree. Even his imagination had left him.
A short while later, from behind him on the right, he heard that same subtle voice once more. “This way!” Arthur blinked.
“What?”
“Water, dollophead. It’s this way. A stream.”
“No, no, Merlin. I have to go straight ahead, so I don’t get more lost.”
“Arthur! You asked me to find water,” the voice said with an aggravated tone. “Don’t be a cabbagehead. It’s this way.” Arthur felt wobbly, and a good sit-down wouldn’t be a bad idea.
“Fine. But we come back and continue from here afterwards, right?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever you say. Now, this way!” Merlin’s voice directed Arthur, and he picked his way around logs and over roots, following the sound. “Over here. Now go up this bit. Hang on, I’ll see if there’s loose dirt down this part. Okay, just grab those branches so you don’t slip.”
Arthur was beginning to think delirium had taken over, and he was destined to walk himself to death in these woods, when suddenly he heard gurgling and splashing ahead. Oh! Arthur’s eyes teared up in relief. He stumbled a little and nearly took a spill down the last stretch of the slope. He hoped Merlin hadn’t noticed. Before he remembered Merlin wasn’t real anyway.
“So, Merlin,” Arthur said, conversationally, between drinking water from his hands and splashing his face, “How come I can’t see you? I should think that would be helpful.”
“I’m working on it,” Merlin explained. “There’s magic in these woods, and it’s coalescing to create me.”
“What? That’s like, crazy.” Arthur sat on a mossy rock out of the sun. He considered taking back his comment immediately. He didn’t have any legitimate reason to accuse someone else of a mental affliction. “I meant to say, how fascinating! I’ve never heard of anything like that.”
“Hmph.” Merlin didn’t seem to be buying his insincere words. Arthur grimaced, then winced when that pulled on his wounded scalp. “So, what else can I help you with?” Merlin asked.
Arthur gave it some consideration. His brain was foggy, and he rested his face in his hands. Then a thought hit him. “Can you find out where the search parties are? Then I can walk in the right direction.”
“Yup! You stay here, I’ll be back in a jiff.” Wind swooshed briefly through Arthur’s hair, blissfully soothing his battered scalp for the moment.
“Hey! You can’t tell me what to do!” he protested feebly. “I’m in charge.” He blinked and looked about the little clearing by the stream. There goes his imagination again, running away with itself!