Intro: Long ago in a time of great need, the world was in darkness. Nothing was right, everything and everyone was askew in their minds. Then a man appears, bringing the only thing that can save them, hope and freedom. He believes in everything that has been forgotten, and starts off his life in a remarkable way. Meeting close adivsors and friends along the way till the he becomes what he is destined to be. King Arthur and his Knights of the round table.


"Fetch the water son! Your mother is coughing up again!" Sir Climsy called from only a foot away.  

Being only ten years of age, Arthur was still man enough to take care of his family. For the last three months his household had been beset by a plague, which killed his three year-old sister, and was now killing his mother. In fact, they no longer lived in their old home. It had become too decrepit for his father's liking. Now they resided in a "cage" within their barn, with nothing but cots of straw and a water pump conveniently located within.  

Arthur hurried to the corner of the farm-house stall, rain drizzling in mists around his face, and the wind implying a harsh whisper of death. He shivered, knowing that something was not right, whether it be a gut feeling or instinct, something was off indeed.

He grabbed the worn bucket that had been filled so many times and ran just a few feet towards the corner water pump. He had made many trips like this in the last three months, but this one was different. If he did not hurry it would be the last time he would see his mother alive.

A single tear fell and soaked into the straw-covered ground as Arthur placed his callused hands on the pump's handle, and forced it up and down with all his might, willing it to produce SOME kind of liquid. If things kept going this way he would lose his father too.

Arthur tripped to his father's side, not worrying about his bloody toe that had scraped on a long worn rock placed haphazardly in the stall. His father snatched the bucket away from his hands, slowly tilting it over his mother's mouth. But to Arthur's disapointment, the water just ran down her cheeks, onto the grass pillow, making a dark, dull, brownish stain.
     
Slowly her lifeless hand slipped from its place at her stomach, and dangled at her side into the prickly depths of straw. She was gone, was the hard realization that Arthur now faced.

His father fell to his knees, begging for mercy that the plague would not take him and his son too. Arthur's eyes welled up with new-made tears, he wished so badly to hold his mother's body close. But just as his sister, he could not dare touch it, or he too would be overcome by the sickness.
    
"DON'T COME NEAR US!!!" His father yelled, calling Arthur back into reality.

"You can't get close, I'm not going to lose you too. STAY AWAY!!!" Sir Climsy screamed, frustrated and angry. "MOVE!!!"

Arthur was pushed towards the wooden wall, seperating this stall from the others. He felt just as bad as his father, but Arthur was more rational. He carried himself in a slow-like motion towards the far corner of the "cage", bringing himself closer to what could be said to be, the last horse in the valley. He climbed onto the wall itself, standing on his tip-toes, trying desperately to stare at it.

The horse leaned its head in also, as if wanting a return view of Arthur, and the horse WAS a view to see. It had black as its prime color, but on its stomach was a white that shown brighter than evening lights. On its forehead was a white spot, clarifying the speration of his eyes, making him even more dazzling.

Just two weeks ago, this horse came galloping up to the house pleading to be let in from a storm that was occuring. Arthur's father could have cared less, but Arthur himself went out in the storm and lead the horse to the barn, and there Arthur stayed for the rest of the night, watching over him as his father watched over his late sister.  
     
Now Arthur stood, trying to find a way to occupy himself while keeping his dead mother out of his mind. A name for the horse. What would he call it?

He had never had an animal to name, because his family was too poor to care for any creature, hardly themselves. He thought for awhile, wanting it to be unique, for that was what the horse was, unique, not only in color but in spirit.

When a human would stare at a horse most of the time it would either do two things: One, it would get nervous and lung at the onlookers, OR just stand there and be admired. But this horse stared back, as if it too were choosing a name.

Arthur then thought of something to call the horse, that to him, combined the horses' spirit and beauty within it. "Merlin," he said,"I will call you Merlin." Merlin noticeably smiled, dazzling Arthur once again, and seemed to whinny in agreement.