The crowing of a rooster penetrated her sleep. Groaning, she rolled over and tumbled free of the mat and blankets she used as a bed. The sun had not fully come up yet, and the attic room she shared with her sisters was dark. They were all moving around, slowly pulling on plain, homespun dresses and aprons. Of them all she was the youngest, barely twelve summers.

"Ygraine!" A voice bellowed from downstairs. "Elsa! Branwen! Achefluer! Nimue! Get to work!"

"Yes, sir," They all chorused in response.

It was their daily routine, except for Sundays. On Sundays they all went to church like good girls. Now they filed down the stairs one by one. Chores had to be done before they could eat breakfast; collecting eggs, milking the cows, feeding the chickens, bringing water up from the well. It was a hard life. Five girls, all orphaned, living under the care of a fairly kindly Friar.

"Nimue," Ygraine, who was eldest, spoke. "It's your turn to fetch the water."

"I know," Nimue rolled her eyes. "Tuesday is always my day to fetch the water."

The long braid she wore her thick, red-gold hair in swayed as she made her way to the barn. There she found the two wooden buckets used for hauling water up from the well. It wouldn't be such a bad thing, if the well weren't close to a mile walk from the main building. Stupid chores, Nimue thought, scuffing at the dirt with her bare toes. She knew she ought to wear shoes, like the other girls, but she was always in such a hurry that she forgot to put them on.

"Knights!" Someone, one of the girls, shouted suddenly from the wall. "The King's knights are riding past!"

Nimue let out a squeal of excitement, dropping the buckets as she raced to the low wall surrounding the property. Ygraine and Branwen were already there, and the other girls were quickly racing to join them. A thrill of excitement rushed through her as she saw the horses approaching in the distance. The Knights of the Round Table, she thought, sighing dreamily. Nimue propped her chin in her hands and watched intently as the horses and riders approached.

She didn't know which was more magnificent; the men or the horses. Both were decked out in royal livery. Early morning sunlight glinted off helms, shields, and armor. At the front of the group, one of the knight's pulled off his helmet to smile at the girls. He was a square-jawed man with straw yellow hair and no beard. Not handsome, perhaps, but when he smiled at the girls, near all of them swooned. The man next to him removed his helmet as well, revealing dark auburn hair, a bushy mustache, and a smile that bordered on lecherous.

"That's Lancelot up in front, the blonde one," Ygraine whispered. "And next to him is Gawain."

It isn't fair she knows so much! Nimue thought as her eyes trailed to the back of the group. One knight had caught her eye. Unlike the others, he wore only leather armor, and no helmet. His hair was black as a raven's wing, and long, blowing free and wild in a gentle spring breeze. Long, gray eagle feathers dangled among the dark locks. On his shoulder perched a hawk, black as his master's hair. Nimue stared, entranced, as the knight rode past her.

"Who is he?" Nimue hissed, glancing briefly at Ygraine.

"Merlin," Ygraine murmured. "Most say Lancelot is the king's finest knight, but Merlin is something extraordinary! He's both wizard and warrior, and some say he's more than a hundred years old!"

"Impossible!" Nimue scoffed, waving her hand idly. "He doesn't look a day over twenty."

"But he's been about since the king was a boy," Ygraine reminded her. "And he's older than King Arthur but he hasn't ages a day in years!"

Nimue stared after the knights, her eyes following the streak of black hair until he was too far away for her to see. She sighed heavily, her pale gray eyes taking on a dreamy cast.

"I want to be a knight!" She breathed.

"Don't be ridiculous," Elsa snorted. "You're a girl to begin with, which is bad enough, but a peasant, too! Peasants can't become knights, nor can girls."

"It could happen!" Nimue shot back, glaring at the older girl. "It could! I could become a knight, I know I could!"

The girls' laughter grated on her. Nimue turned on her heel and stomped back to where she had left the buckets. She picked them up and started away from the buildings, down the dirt track towards the well. I'll show them someday, she thought, scowling down at her bare, dirt covered toes. One day they'll be sorry they laughed at me. After all, why couldn't women be knights? Nimue could fight just as well as any of the peasant boys living nearby. She'd just have to show that to all of them, one day.



Merlin trailed behind the others as they rode back for Camelot. It had been a short trip; almost distressingly so. He stroked the dark feathers of the hawk on his shoulder, staring morosely ahead. He'd been restless of late, and none of these small skirmishes, driving out bandits, had done anything to ease it. So he took his time heading back, while the others went ahead. Merlin wanted time to think. He took the long way, through the property of an old Friar and his orphaned moppets.

A well, he thought, staring into the distance. Good. He was thirsty, and his horse was covered in sweat. Merlin noted a small figure by the well, distinguishable by bright, red-gold hair. As he rode closer, he recognized one of the girls that had been leaning on the wall when he and the others had ridden by. She was a small thing, slender, with a braid that hung down her back and, he noted with amusement, bare feet. She had already hauled up one bucket of water and was hooking the other up onto the crank. As Merlin rode up to the well she looked up.

The girl gasped, nearly losing her hold on the rope. She quickly wound it around one of the well roof's supports, and then dropped to her knees in the dirt. Must they? Merlin thought, sighing heavily. He swung down from his horse and reached for the first full bucket. It was surprisingly heavy. She carries these all by herself? he wondered, setting the bucket beneath his horse's muzzle.

"Rise, girl," Merlin commanded. "There's no need to kneel."

The girl stood. A smudge of dirt graced one pale cheek. She might be lovely, after a few years time, but at the moment she was awkward and plain. He judged her to be nearly twelve or so, almost of marriagble age. Watching the flutter of her lashes over pale blue eyes, Merlin found himself hoping no suitor would be found for this little bird. She wasn't the type to be pinned down by marriage.

"I'm thirsty, girl," Merlin said. "Fetch me a drink."

He caught a spark of defiance before she turned to the well. Merlin watched her curiously, studying her as she dropped the bucket, than hauled it back up. Although he couldn't see much in the way of muscle, she was definitely strong. I sense power around her, he thought. Too bad she's a girl. The girl hauled the bucket up and, using a tin cup that was left at the well, offered him a drink. Merlin took the cup from her and drank, easing the dryness of his throat.

He drank three cups of the water, refilling it himself the second and third time. Merlin took the bucket, nearly empty, from his horse, and set it on the well's edge. The girl wouldn't know it right away, but he'd cast a spell on her buckets. A little something to repay her for his kindness. He turned and mounted again, the hawk remaining firmly in place on his shoulder with its talons through the leather of his pauldron. Merlin glanced down at the girl.

"Thanks, child," Merlin murmured.

"Nimue," She whispered.

"What?" Merlin asked, peering down at her.

"Nimue," The girl repeated, louder this time. "My name is Nimue, sir."

Merlin chuckled. He tapped his horse's sides with his heels, and the beast started off, faster than before. The hawk on his shoulder fluttered his swings and turned his head, nipping Merlin's ear gently with his beak. Chuckling, he reached up to stroke the hawk's feathers, smoothing them.

"You're right, Tristan," Merlin agreed. "That one has spunk."



For a long time, Nimue could only stare after the retreating knight. Merlin, she thought, sighing dreamily. I can't believe that was really him! And he'd talked to her. Feeling light-headed and a bit confused, she turned back to the well. The buckets needed to be refilled. She went about the task, paying little attention to what she was actually doing. Nimue's mind was miles away, in the mysterious city of Camelot.

One day she would travel there! She would find a way to become a knight, and then she would be a hero. It was a lovely thought for a young girl with a very dull, boring life. Nimue picked up the water buckets, both now full, and turned to head back to the main buildings. It was going to be a very dreadful walk back, with two heavy buckets full to brimming with water.

Except.except they weren't heavy at all! Nimue lifted the buckets up high, easily. Ygraine said.Merlin knows magic, she thought, staring down at the buckets. Did he.make these lighter? She was pretty strong for a girl her age, but she wasn't this strong. Nor had she been last Tuesday. The only explanation was that Merlin had cast a spell on her buckets. I'll have to thank him someday, Nimue thought. When I go to Camelot, I'll find him and thank him. How hard could it be? He was, after all, a Knight of the Round Table.