Chapter Seven: Ferfnelb

It was always a difficult thing, to visit this particular old friend. Merlin was used to that. He knew all the things he needed to do to keep the cranky old bastard from refusing to help. This morning, however, his biggest obstacle was turning out to be Nimue. The look she'd given him, when he'd told her that she would need a dress for this visit, would have been enough to turn a lesser man to stone. Now Merlin found himself outside her door, half past the hour at which she was supposed to have started getting ready. A very frightened lady's maid was waiting outside.

"Come on, Nimue," Merlin called through the door. "My friend gets quite surly if he's kept waiting. And he's not terribly pleasant to begin with."

"Go without me!" Nimue's voice was slightly muffled by the door. "I.I'm having some difficulties this morning."

Merlin sighed. "He's already expecting us both. I can't go without you, that will make him surly too. Do I have to come in there after you?"

"I'm not coming out!" Nimue shouted. "Go away!"

Merlin paused and glanced at the door to their rooms, wondering if perhaps this was a situation for the lady's maid to handle. No, he thought, Nimue's old enough to have been dealing with that for a good long time. Sighing, he reached for the door, and found that it was at least unlocked. There was no way to keep him from getting through a locked door, so it was pretty much without point. We're going to be late, Merlin thought, as he pushed open the door. This is going to be frustrating enough as it is without.uh oh.

For a moment his mind couldn't make sense of what his eyes were seeing. Nimue was sitting on her bed, her knees tucked up to her chest, trying to figure out what to do with her hair. The problem was that there was so much of it. It was true that it had been growing faster since she'd awakened to her power completely, but this.What had been, last night, not even touching her shoulders, was now past her knees. Merlin was struck by that image of her; it was frighteningly familiar. He'd only seen one other woman with hair quite that long, but she was no longer among the living.

"I don't know what happened," Nimue whimpered, peering up at him through her hair. "You told me that this sort of thing might happen, but you never mentioned this!"

"That.that's because 'this' is.is a bit much," Merlin stammered, struggling to regain his composure. "I've never seen this before."

"Well, that's lovely," Nimue said, her voice sharp with sarcasm. "Now what?"

"Now you sit there while I do something about this," Merlin told her, trying to keep his voice firm. As strange as the situation was, it was hard not to be amused.

He supposed he could have gotten the lady's maid, but for some reason he didn't want to. Merlin retrieved the silver-backed brush on the vanity in Nimue's room—it had been a gift from Arthur—and a scissors, as well. She wriggled a bit as he worked to cut her hair, at least enough of it so that she could move. This could be troublesome, he thought wryly, letting some of it slide through his fingers. It was soft and cool, reminding him of silk. Merlin already found Nimue to be exquisite, with her pale skin and her hair like fire. Thank God she's a woman, he thought, as he brushed out her hair.

"It's still long," Nimue said, touching a wayward strand. Her hair still fell to her thighs.

Merlin cleared his throat. "Yes, well.that will be to our benefit today. I'll have to look through his archives and see if I can't find some information on this matter."

"You've really never seen this before?" Nimue asked, frowning. "It's frightening, Master. Like I'm becoming someone else."

One more problem to address, Merlin thought, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. I hope this doesn't continue. Even his time with Morrigan hadn't prepared him for this. She had been his teacher, after all, not the other way around. Whereas she had long ago come fully into her powers, Nimue was new to hers. The truth was, Merlin knew nothing about the ways a female wizard's powers first manifested. This could be perfectly normal. Morrigan had always kept her hair long; perhaps it was for this same reason.

"Now, allow poor Marielle to assist you," Merlin said, turning towards the door. He smiled fondly over his shoulder at her. "And don't scare her too much this time, yes?"

He was reassured by the smile she flashed in return. Nimue was dealing very well with her new station in life. Merlin left her in Marielle's capable hands and went down to the stables to have their horses prepared. She isn't going to like this, he thought grimly, watching as a stable lad cinched a sidesaddle onto a little gray mare. Of course, the old bastard will probably give her any information she asks for, but she still isn't going to like it. Merlin remembered the way his old friend had allowed Morrigan to wrap him around her little finger.

He was busy inspecting the girth of his horse's saddle when someone behind him cleared their throat. Merlin turned around and froze, stunned. There was nothing simple about the gown she was wearing this time; dark sapphire velvet that left her shoulders bare, with sleeves that hung halfway to the ground, and silver knotwork embroidery at the hems. Guinevere's design, no doubt. Nimue's hair was only partially braided, so that some of it rested on her shoulders, and a netting of silver and sapphires was draped over it. She reminds me so much of Morrigan, Merlin thought. The only difference was that Nimue's hair was the red of autumn leaves, whereas Morrigan's had been the darkness of garnets.

"Who is this friend of yours, anyway?" Nimue asked, as she stepped up to her horse and stared speculatively at the sidesaddle.

"Ferfnelb," Merlin answered distractedly. He was trying to figure out just how, precisely, to get her into the saddle.

Nimue turned her head and raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that his name or what he is?"

"You know," Merlin said, flashing a crooked grin, "I really don't know."

Nimue laughed softly. She was looking resigned and yet determined at the same time. She's a pupil that will make me proud, Merlin decided. She comes more and more into her own with each day that passes. He ended up having to lift her into the saddle and help her rearrange her skirts. Hopefully she'll charm ol' Ferfnelb down to his toes, he thought, so she won't have to worry about doing this next time we need his aid.



Riding sidesaddle, Nimue decided, was simply the most miserable activity anyone could have possibly devised for women. It was terribly uncomfortable, twisting her body like that, and worse with these damnable heavy skirts she forced to wear. The only thing that made it bearable was the way that Merlin had looked at her when she'd appeared in the courtyard. For that, Nimue thought, I can even deal with these awful shoes the queen insisted I wear. For Guinevere had taken it upon herself to see to the wardrobe of the realm's first lady knight.

Odd as it seemed, she found it a much simpler task to become 'Lady Nimue' than it had been to be 'Nimial the Page'. Disguised as a boy, she'd been uncomfortable in her own skin; now she found her confidence growing, at least outwardly. Inside she was nervous, afraid of this new power that flowed within her day in and day out. Trust in Merlin, Nimue told herself, glancing over at him. He knows what he's doing.most of the time. And even when he doesn't, he's willing to admit it.

The ride was a long one, made exasperatingly so by the wretched saddle. It took them out of the city, through the widespread farmland, and into the dense, lush forests on the outskirts of Camelot. Merlin knew the way and so did his horse, for the beast picked out the path as if he'd walked it a thousand times. The further in they went, the larger the trees became, until some were so large around that it would take several men to reach around the circumference. Merlin stopped his horse before one such tree; an old, gnarled looking thing with an abundance of silvery-green leaves.

"Here we are," Merlin said, as he dismounted. He stepped up to the tree and pressed his hand against the bark. "Come out, you old bastard! There's someone I want you to meet!"

He turned back to Nimue, smiling at her skeptical and slightly bemused expression. She kicked her foot free of the stirrup and let Merlin reach up to help her down. He lifted her easily, but when he set her down she tripped over her skirts, clumsy in her unfamiliar shoes. She felt his hands on her back, steadying her, and found that her cheeks were heating. It was actually easier when I was pretending to be a boy, Nimue thought, looking up at Merlin through her lashes. Now he knows I'm a woman and sometimes when he looks at me.

"Well now," a sharp, gravely voice spoke. "what have we here?"

Startled, Nimue pulled away from Merlin and turned in the direction of the voice. She stared. The man—at least, she thought he was a man—standing in front of the tree was shorter than her and.furry. He only came up to her stomach. His hair and beard were so thick and wild that she wasn't sure where one left off and the other began. Even his eyebrows seemed a part of the whole. He had a huge, bulbous nose, small, squinty eyes, and long ears tipped in what looked like fur. Even the back of his hands had thick hair on them and his fingers, stubby and gnarled, were capped in long, blunt fingernails.

"I'll be damned," he wheezed, grinning at her through his beard in a way that was decidedly lecherous. "Merlin, my friend, you've outdone yourself this time. I hope she's for me."

"As soon as hell freezes over," Merlin told him, fighting a grin. "Ferfnelb, this is my apprentice, Nimue. Nimue, this is Ferfnelb."

Ferfnelb's bushy eyebrows rose. "Apprentice, are you? Ah, now, as soon as I saw you I thought.well, never you mind, it's none of your business what I think. I suppose you'll be wanting my help, then?"

He glared at Merlin, then turned his back on them both, approaching the tree trunk. Nimue watched, stunned, as he stroked the bark gently with his stubby fingers. The tree seemed to shudder, leaves rustling as its branches shook. The ground beneath them trembled so faintly it was easy to miss. She swayed on her feet, dizzy, as the tree's roots lifted, and the ground opened up to reveal a staircase leading down. Nimue had been so intent upon Merlin before that she hadn't noticed the ground open like this—if indeed it had. Magic, as she was coming to understand, was extremely eccentric and finicky in its nature.

"Come on, then," Ferfnelb grumbled, starting down the stairs. "And don't you dare fall on me." He paused and looked back at Nimue, grinning. "On second thought, lass, feel free."

Nimue scowled. Merlin took her elbow gently and lead her down the stairs, which were dark. The air was also cool and moist, thick with the strong sent of soil. I hope there aren't any insects, she thought, huddling against Merlin's side. The last thing I need is some bug crawling down into my dress. The stairs went down a good, long way, and Nimue was relieved when she finally saw light flickering up ahead. It was the warm, dim light of candles or lanterns, but it was a relief all the same.

The room they came out into was like a larger version of Merlin's, which had been stunning enough. Although Nimue supposed a.creature like Ferfnelb couldn't be expected to live like other people, or to have the things other people had. He must have some information on this thing, she thought. The hourglass was hidden in a small pocket sewn into the inside of her sleeve; Guinevere's invention, apparently. It was convenient. Nimue wasn't so sure she wanted to wear the thing around her neck.

"Now then," Ferfnelb said, turning to them. "Kneel down, lass, let me get a better look at you. My eyes aren't so young as they once were, you know."

Feeling a little uncertain and self-conscious, Nimue knelt, sweeping her skirts out around her. Ferfnelb studied her, mumbling to himself in a guttural language she did not know. She watched his stubby fingers hover just below her chin and frowned. What is he going to.? Nimue wondered. When Ferfnelb plunged a hand down the front of her dress and grabbed one of her breasts, giving it a squeeze, she reacted on instinct. She didn't think her slap hurt him; indeed, he reeled back, laughing uproariously.

As she stumbled to her feet she felt Merlin's hands catch beneath her elbows, bracing her. Much to her consternation, Nimue could hear him chuckling softly. She tilted her head back and glared at him.

"I fail to see how any of this is amusing," she snapped, glowering.

"It's like I've been saying for so long," Ferfnelb said, his voice still rough with laughter. "Lass, you must allow someone as old as I am a little fondling from time to time."

Merlin laughed. "That line never worked on Morri," he said, "and I doubt it's going to work on Nimue. I suggest you keep your grubby hands to yourself from now on, old man."

"I still don't find this amusing," Nimue grumbled. "He'd better me able to aid us, Master, or so help me God I'll—"

"Quiet, lass," Ferfnelb growled. "Careful as to how you invoke the name of any deity, lest you might anger Someone. Now, show me this thing that has given you such trouble."

"Go on," Merlin whispered in her ear. "He's not so bad, once he's down to business. I promise."

Sighing, Nimue stepped forward. She reached up into her sleeve and produced the hourglass, dangling it by the silver chain Merlin had given her to replace the broken leather. Ferfnelb took one look at it and his thick, wild eyebrows shot up. He turned and disappeared among the bookshelves, and was back so quickly that it amazed her. The tome he carried was thick and heavy, and it made a loud thump as he set it down on a low table. It's like he knows every page of every book, Nimue thought, watching Ferfnelb flip to a page with a picture of the hourglass. Wow.look at this thing.

"The Hourglass of Aphrodite," Ferfnelb announced gruffly. "Can't imagine how your sorceress managed to unearth that thing. Thought it was lost with those stuffy, overbearing prigs calling themselves wizards, when their little continent sank."

"What is it for?" Nimue asked, running her fingertips ever so gently over the picture. It was full color, painted with the richest pigments she'd ever seen.

"Well, that's what the book is for," Ferfnelb answered, scowling at her. "Lass, you can read some at least, can't you?" He sighed, as if she were the most foolish and exasperating creature on earth. "You'll have to read it to understand it all, but the gist of it is basically a love charm. Or perhaps lust is a better term."

"Which is why Master Merlin was acting like such an idiot," Nimue concluded, smiling. "So then.well, I um.I don't think I could really use such a thing."

"Anything can be a tool, lass," Ferfnelb told her. "Besides which, it doesn't have to be used for such purposes. Yes, its power has long been turned to seduction and sex, but such things do not always have to be about the physical. The legend says that the Hourglass holds the beauty, wit, and charm of the goddess Aphrodite. Certainly she could do more than just spread her legs."

Once more Nimue found herself gaping in outrage. To hide it, she stared down at the pages of the book. Being able to read wouldn't help her here; the words were in a language she had never even seen before. She felt, more than heard, Merlin approach behind her. His fingers hovered near hers on the page and she could hear him murmuring. He, apparently, had no problems reading this language. Maybe if we can find out more about its origins, Nimue thought, we can figure out how Sebille got it.

"While you're doing that," Ferfnelb said, "I've got something that belongs to you."

Nimue watched him disappear again. How odd, she thought, frowning. I don't own much of anything. Then she felt Merlin's breath on her neck and suddenly she couldn't think at all. She turned slowly, lifting her head to look up at him. His hand settled on her shoulder, turning her completely to face him.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Merlin asked quietly. "He can get carried away sometimes."

Nimue swallowed hard and shook her head. "N-no, Master. I'm fine, really."

"Thank you for your patience," Merlin said. He leaned down and gently kissed her forehead. "You've made this all the easier."

"Would you two stop cuddling? It's absolutely loathsome, I tell you!"

Nimue jumped away from Merlin and winced as she ran into the table. She looked at Ferfnelb and saw that he was carrying a sword. Compared to him it looked larger, but it was actually just a longsword. The scabbard was leather with runes etched in silver threading up and down its length. The hilt was simple enough, accept for a small, faceted, dark red ruby set into one side. Nimue reached for it with fingers that trembled, but Merlin got hold of it before she could.

"Etherea!" he exclaimed, holding it aloft. "You old bastard! You never told me she gave this to you!"

"Well, it didn't just disappear, you know," Ferfnelb grumbled, glaring at Merlin impatiently. "Foolish boy, give the lass her sword back, would you?"

"Hers?" The sword lowered and Merlin frowned at Ferfnelb. "Why would she wish Nimue to have it? Did she have a vision?"

Nimue watched Ferfnelb's face, fascinated. Beneath his bushy brows his squinty eyes opened wide, until they seemed as though they might pop from his face. He glanced back and forth between Nimue and Merlin, his expression quickly changing to one of puzzlement. Muttering in a language—another one—she didn't know, he scooped up the book and shoved it into her hands. Startled, Nimue clutched it to her chest. It was heavy.

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually," Ferfnelb said. "Else she would have told you from the beginning. Now, you two should probably be on your way."

"Hold on, just a moment!" Merlin protested, as Ferfnelb began pushing them back towards the stairs. "What is going on? And you never allow anyone to take your precious books from your home!"

"First time for everything," Ferfnelb grumbled. "Look, boy, I have some research of my own to do."

With Nimue at the front, Ferfnelb forced them back up the stairs. Perhaps it was her imagination, or because she was distracted, but the trip up seemed shorter than the trip down. She stumbled out into the forest, clutching the book, followed by Merlin, who was holding the sword. Both of them turned immediately.only to find that the opening in the earth was gone. Merlin swore—Nimue found herself nearly fed up with languages she didn't know—and turned away from the tree.

"I hate it when he does that," Merlin grumbled. He sighed heavily. "Well, I suppose there's nothing else for it. And we did get what we came for."

"Here," Nimue said, holding out the book. "You should probably hold onto this."

"And I guess I should give you this," Merlin said, taking the book and handing her the sword. "I can't understand.but Etherea was made for the hand of a female wizard, so perhaps that's why she wished you to have it." He paused, as if thinking, as he secured the book in a saddlebag, then continued, "That is more than likely what Ferfnelb meant.that she wanted another woman to have it. Although why."

"She?" Nimue asked. She looked up from the sword. "Who is 'she'?"

Merlin hesitated. "My.mentor. The one who taught me. That sword belonged to her, before."

He went silent and Nimue was afraid to pry for more. Merlin helped her into the saddle, securing the sword beneath the cantle for her, but he didn't speak. I don't understand, she thought, watching him as they started back through the forest. My head is spinning.I didn't even get the chance to ask about the hourglass. At least they had the book, assuming Merlin would help her read it. I wish I knew who you belonged to before, Nimue thought, reaching back and touching the scabbard, which stuck out from beneath the cantle. Then I might know how to solve this mystery.