'What the hell is that clicking noise!?' Arthur thinks angrily to himself. Its still the middle of the night and the moon is barely rising. He's only been asleep for about an hour. His nose is numb from the cold, but the rest of him is comfortably warm beneath a mound of furs and blankets. He huffs in frustration and leaves his warm cucoon to go investigate. He immediately misses the warmth and grits his teeth in discomfort.

His hand flies to his sword when he hears the noise again. Its somewhere near the horses. He makes his way over, careful to avoid twigs that could snap under his weight. He's soon passed the horses and hasn't heard the noise again. He relaxes and puts his sword back in its sheath. He gives the forest one last scan just to be sure. A set of rapid clicks come from behind him and he swings his sword toward it.

The tip catches Merlin just above the eyebrow and makes him wake with a startled cry. He holds a numb hand to the wound as Arthur quickly resheaths his sword.

"W-w-what in the b-bloody hell was that f-for?" Merlin asks while trying to apply pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding.

"Sorry Merlin I thought I heard a weird noise so I went to investigate. You ok there?"Arthur answers while subconsciously trying to put the sword behind him.

Merlin sighs and gets up to retrieve the medicine bag that Gaius had sent with him.

"Y-you've got to be more c-careful Arthur." Merlin says while unstrapping the bag, "If y-you had been j-just a little lower it c-could have taken out m-my eye."

Arthur watches as Merlin begins taking out the suplies he needs. His hands are a bit blue in the fingers and his jaw is quivering of its own accord. Arthur frowns and turns back to inspect merlins bedroll. It's just two layers of wool with another woolen blanket on top. Not nearly enough to keep someone warm in this weather. He thinks back to the way Merlin's jaw had been shaking and finally figures out what the noise has been. Merlins teeth had been clacking together in his sleep. The boy must have been so busy with his chores that he forgot to take a proper bedroll. Typical.

Merlin is still trying to staunch the bleeding, but to little avail. The cut is deep, and head wounds bleed profusely. When it finally begins to ebb Merlin spreads a mixture of plantain and distilled liquor over the wound and winces as it stings horribly. In the wise words of the court physician, "if it hurts, then it's working."

He places a plaster over it and decides to inspect it tomorrow when they stop for water and use the pond, or lake, or what have you, as a mirror. He packs all of his supplies back up and ties it to his sleeping horse.

Arthur is still inspecting Merlins bedroll when he turns back around.

"S-sire, may I return to bed?"He stutters.

"Hmm?" mumbles Arthur, still preoccupied with staring at the bedroll, "oh, yes, I'll just uh.."

He backs away and begins walking back to his spot by the fire. Merlin sighs after him and tries to get as comfortable as possible on the hard, cold, ground.

Arthur listens as Merlin's breathing evens out. Once he's sure that the boy is unconscious he gathers a few of his furs and approaches as quietly as possible. He gently lays the furs over his friend and them turns and goes back to his own bed. Can't have a sick servant on an important quest such as this.

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Morning breaks clear and sharp in the mountains of fjordil. Powdery snow drifts dust the peaks and foothills. If it weren't for the arid nature of the place, the snow would make it impossible to pass no matter what time of year.

King Arthur wakes to the smell of smoke and pork. He turns to see his servant cooking the meat in a pan over a large crackling fire while trying to warm his hands.

"Oh, sire," greets the boy, "you're finally awake."

His stutter from the night before is gone, but he still shivers every now and again When the wind comes through the clearing. Merlin sets the pan on some rocks that he had warmed and goes to ready the horses.

Arthur slowly stretches and rises. He helps himself to the majority of the meat in the pan and then wanders down hill to see if he can find a stream.

Sure enough, a snow runoff stream cuts a path over the boulders and gravel that has replaced the rich topsoil of the valley. Arthur dips his hands into the Crystaline waters, but recoils in shock at the coldness.

"Merlin!" he shouts impatiently.

"Coming sire!" echoes from the top of the hill.

Soon a stumbling Merlin comes into view carrying a pail. He nearly makes it, but a few feet from Arthur his foot catches on a stone and he stumbles past his king and into the stream.

"OH MY GOD THAT'S COLD!" Merlin shouts while scrambling away from the freezing water, "BLOODY HELL!"

Arthur laughs at his misfortune while the now-soaked servant glares at him. If looks could kill, Arthur would be six feet under.

"Yes Merlin, that's why I needed you, I'd like you to warm some for me to wash with."

Marlins mutters something involving tying Arthur to the back of his horse and how much of a clot pole the king of Camelot is, but Arthur just laughs and walks back up to camp. Merlin is left, shivering and wet, at the bottom of the hill.