The Return of Magic   von konpaku
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                          Kapitel 1: A Different Path
                          ---------------------------


At the beginning of the  day

It was early in the  morning when Keileigh made her way up the stairs, clutching
a small  box in her hand. She didn't really care about being quiet as only his 
room and her own on the first floor lay close enough to hear  anything. And as
she was about to wake him anyway, she might as well  give him a head-start. He
could be quite grumpy when woken too early  after all. Every other day she would
avoid that if possible, but  today she would make sure he was up and about in no
time.
Grinning  mischievously she opened the door to his room. The curtains were 
still drawn and the morning sun had little chance to enter the  darkness. After
she closed the door behind her she made her way to  the bed where he was still
deeply sleeping and snuggled into his  covers, not even noticing her presence.
Her grin widening even  further she placed the box on the desk beside the bed,
so she would  have her hands free to wake him. But before that she made her way
to  the other side of the room and opened the curtains. Though not even  the
sunlight managed to wake him. Deciding to just do it herself she  stood in front
of her sleeping friend and put her foot where she  suspected his side to be and
slowly shoved him.
“Rise and Shine,  Birthday Boy~” She called out in a sing-song voice.
Jolting  awake he nearly sat upright without warning, flinging lanky limps in 
the air and giving her barely a chance to remove her foot. When he  had adjusted
to his surroundings he growled and sank back into his  pillow, spitting out a:
“What the hell, Keileigh?” before  grabbing the sheets to cover his face.
“Oi! No getting back to  sleep!” She interjected and grabbed the sheets to
pull them into  the opposite direction.
After a little struggle for the cloth they  both broke out laughing and she sat
down on his bed, while he sat up  straight. Looking at each other, the laughter
still in their eyes,  the young woman closed the distance between them and
hugged him  tightly.
“Happy Birthday, Michael.”
Returning the embrace,  he just mumbled a “Thank you” into her hair.

Breaking the hug she then  fished for the little box on the table. Dropping down
to the floor  she held it out and told him with a grin: “I got you a little 
something for your collection.”
“Didn't I say you don't have  to get me anything?” He scolded her but took
the present with a  smile.
Even though he tried to repress his excitement for what was  in the box, he
didn't manage to do so completely. The collection this  would become a part of
was one he had acquired over the years and  over time it became harder and
harder to find new things for it. Each  piece depicted a person with magic:
wizards and witches, druids and  warlocks and several others that seemed like a
combination of either.  Keileigh knew his interest in everything Magic-related,
though she  didn't know the real reason behind it. Knowing her tendency for 
silliness he was quite curious what this new addition would be.
“It's  an important Birthday after all.” she complained in 
mock-disapointment.
“Yeah, you told me all week about this  'Coming of Age' stuff...” He quoted
sarcastically.
“Oh, shut  up and open it already!” She urged, her own curiosity plainly 
visible.
To annoy her a little more he took his time unwrapping  the small box. Before he
actually opened it he looked at his friend:  Her fingers tapped his mattress in
anticipation and a smile was  plastered on her face. Grinning himself, he than
lifted the edges of  the box and flipped it around to remove what was inside.
The figurine  that landed in his hand however was not what he expected. It 
portrayed an old man with a ridiculously long beard and a silly  moustache right
under a very round nose. He wore wide blue robes that  reminded him of some kind
of cross between night-gown and dress,  completed with a long bent hat and
crakows in the same colour.  Looking the figurine up and down again he snorted
and asked: “What's  that supposed to be?”
Confusion on her face, Keileigh wasn't  sure if she heard him correctly.
“That's Merlin.” She declared  in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Who?” He asked not any less  confused.
“Merlin? The Sword in the Stone? Most powerful  sorcerer to ever walk the
Earth?”
“Nope. Doesn't ring a bell.”  He flatly told her.
“You're kidding!” She exclaimed and stood  up.
“Are you seriously saying YOU of all people don't know who  Merlin is?!” She
demanded to know, not believing this one  bit.
“Yup. I seriously never heard of him.” He calmly replied,  looking up at
her, the figurine still in his hands.
After  contemplating this information for a moment she sat down on his bed 
again.
“How can you not know Merlin? Everyone knows Merlin and  the Athurian
legends...” She wondered.
“Arth-what? Seriously I  have no idea what you are talking about.” He
repeated.
“Arthurian  legends, King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table?”
Keileigh  tried a different approach.
But all she got was another shake of  her friends head, as he did not recognize
those things either. After  another long look of confusion and contemplation she
started  laughing, earning a confused look in return.
“You are the only  person I know with such a profound knowledge about every
little  detail about different magic users in all kinds of media and you have 
no idea who the most important one of them all is...” She explained  herself.
“But I bet you are more then willing to teach me  everything I need to know
about him.” He proposed grinning.
“Not  on an empty stomach.” She returned and stood up again.
“Get  your self decent and get down for breakfast.” The young woman then 
ordered.
“Yes M'am” He agreed jokingly.

When she had left the room  he swung his long legs out of the bed and sat there
for a moment,  looking at the figurine in his hand. He briefly wondered why he
did  not know a thing about this person. This 'Merlin'. But he put the  thought
and the figurine aside and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He would  learn about him
soon enough, but before that he needed to find  something to dress. Growling he
looked at the different shirts and  trousers that lay on his floor or hung over
chairs or other  furniture. Remembering the last time he and Keileigh had an
early  breakfast, where he just sat in his sleeping shirt and pants, he 
shuddered. Yes, dressing up before getting to the kitchen was  unfortunately
mandatory. Their other flatmate would otherwise get  into another of her fits
about hygiene and he didn't want one of  those today. Not on his Birthday.
Sighing he stood up to pick up a  pair of trousers, just to sit down again as he
remembered that he  wouldn't need to walk there in the first place.
Concentrating on a  pair he allowed the 'Magic' within him to lift the trousers
and bring  them to him. Unfortunately he wasn't awake enough to control their 
movement so the cloth hit him square in the face. Grumbling he  untangled the
legs from his shoulders and put them on, before heading  out of the room.

Later that day

As it was a tradition for  them he spent dinner on his birthday with his
parents. It had been a  long day of studying and learning all kind of things
about that  sorcerer and he was glad he could now relax a bit while spending
time  at home. His mother had prepared an extensive meal and he couldn't 
remember when he was last this stuffed. One of the perks of coming  home from
studying was after all the free food. Grinning at the  thought he rubbed his
belly and thanked his mother for the delicious  meal. Brushing it aside the
elderly woman stood up to take out the  dishes. As he moved to help her she just
put her hand on his  arm.
“Not today my dear.” She told him with a warm  smile.
Michael returned the gesture and leaned back into his  chair, watching his
mother. That was until his eyes landed on his  father that sat on the other side
of the table and was looking rather  worried.
“Somethin' wrong?”
“Don't worry my boy, I was  just lost in thoughts.” The old man tried to
reassure him.
“Yeah,  but those thoughts don't seem to be too pleasant.” Michael remarked 
unconvinced, watching his parent carefully.
“Always so  observant...” His father commented with a small smile.
Before he  could ask any more questions his mother returned to clean the table 
and asked her husband to help her in the kitchen. He could feel their  anxiety
and was more and more suspicious of their behaviour.  Something was wrong and
they didn't tell him. In times like these he  knew they were hiding something
from him to protect him. Regardless  if he thought he was old enough to learn
what was going on. For a  moment he considered trying to use his Magic to
eavesdrop, but that  would have been rude and distrustful. If they were ready to
tell him  what was going on, they would do so or he would simply ask and hope 
for an answer. Still he couldn't help himself but to move a bit to  see his
parents in the kitchen. It seemed as if his mother was  pleading to do or not do
something while his father had already made  up his mind. Slightly his hopes to
understand what was going on rose.  His mother was indeed the one to treat him
more like a child, not  wanting him to grow up too fast, while his father gave
him challenges  and responsibilities to help him progress as person and also to 
control his gift. Whenever he thought about this he was more than  grateful for
his parents acceptance and support of it. Even though  neither of them could
explain where it came from in the first place.

After a few more moments  he saw his parents hug and saw this as a sign that
their conversation  was over. Trying not to not make his chair topple over he
returned to  a proper seating position at the table. Putting on an innocent
smile  when his father entered the living room, he earned a suspiciously  raised
eyebrow from the old man. Looking down at the table he tried  to hide his
embarrassment of being half-caught for spying on them.  With a sigh the elderly
man sat down opposite of him.
“Michael,  you are aware that you posses a unique gift?” He asked his son in
a  serious tone.
“Of course. Just this morning I was reminded to  not use it when I am only
half-awake...” The other replied  sheepishly, earning a questioning eyebrow
this time.
Growing up  with them it was easy to see the differences in his father's 
gestures. But it had took him a while to not see every variation as a  scolding.
“I kind of got tangled in my own trousers after I had  made them fly towards
me...” He explained with a slight smile and  rubbed the back of his neck.
“Michael...” Was all the old man  needed to say to make sure his son
understood the meaning.
Before  they could say anything more his mother returned with something that 
was wrapped in blue and red clothing.
“Didn't we agree you  shouldn't get me anything?” He half-complaint, as
again his wish of  not getting a present seemed to have been overlooked.
“We  didn't. Everything we would have gotten you would seem but a farce if 
you had a look at this” His father replied solemnly, a hinge of  sadness in
his voice.
He then switched back to the other chair, so  his wife would be able to sit as
well.
“Than what is this?”  Michael asked in confusion, gesturing at the bundle.
“This...”  The old man tried, but couldn't bring himself to continue.
His  wife placed a hand on his in a reassuring gesture. Exchanging a look  of
encouragement he began anew.
“This is the reason, why you  have your gift and we don't.”
“What? How? What?” Michael  wasn't really able to properly comprehend what
the other was telling  him.
“Here my dear. Read this and you will understand.” His  mother told him and
handed him an old letter she had just removed  from the wrapping.
Where the letter would have been closed he  could see the remains of an old wax
seal. But before he could open it  his mother put her hand on his.
“But remember: We love you.  You're our little angel and nothing is ever going
to change that.”  She pleaded, tears brimming in her eyes.
Worried and with a  strange feeling in the pit of his stomach he nodded. She
withdrew her  hand and let him proceed. The anticipation of what he was about to
 learn was overwhelming, but so was the pride that they finally  thought they
could confine in him with this. The reason he had his  gift. His Magic. He could
feel his parents eyes on him when he pealed  open the letter. Closing his eyes
he braved himself for what he was  about to read. All kind of different theories
floated in his head.  Had he been born with a disease that resulted in his gift?
Was he  experimented on as a child? His parents after all were both  physicians.
Sighing he opened his eyes to read. In a neat and fluent  handwriting he could
finally learn the truth.

Dearest Mr. and Mrs.  Leach,

I have learnt about  your troubles and you have my deepest sympathy for your 
predicament.
Though you have not noticed it, I have been observing  your life for the past
few months.
What I saw gave me hope and  allowed me to take the final step of a decision I
have been putting  off for far too long.

The child's name is  Merlin and I would be honoured if you raised him as your
own. I could  see that you will be good and loving parents to the boy.
Be  however warned: He has a unique gift that might seem frightening to  you at
first.
He does not wish to harm anyone and with the love  you share with each other I
am certain you will be able to share it  with this boy as well and show him the
right path, to use his powers  for good.

As strange as this may  sound to you: This boy is a Warlock. This means that he
was born with  Magic and capable of using it with a mere thought.
Therefore, do  not be alarmed if your furniture is redecorated while you are not
 watching him. It is nothing to be afraid of and is as natural to him  as
breathing is to you.

This boy is destined  for great things and while I wish to prepare him for that,
I also  want him to have a normal childhood. A childhood filled with love and 
understanding. The only way I can see to make sure of this is to  grant you the
child you could have never had otherwise. To ensure  that even further I would
like you to not tell him of any of this  until he turns Twenty One. This age
might seem irrelevant to you, but  in my time, it held great significance on a
child's way to  adulthood.
If that time has come, please give him the bundle, as  it will lead him further
down the path he needs to take, to ensure  his destiny to be fulfilled. It
contains a scroll with everything he  needs to know, but it will only open when
his mind is ready to accept  it.

I wish you all the best  and will be forever indebted to you and grateful that
you will help  this child grow up to be the man he needs to become.
Forever  yours,

Emrys

Michael read  the letter over and over again. No, this couldn't be true. It just
 couldn't. He was their child, not some random baby they somehow got a  hold on.
No, this wasn't right. His heart in turmoil he stood up and  slammed the letter
on the desk, the chair clattering on the floor  behind him.
“This...this is the truth?” He all but muttered,  not liking the words at
all.
“Yes, my boy. That is the truth.  Twenty One years ago we found you on our
doorstep, covered in old  clothing and laid on this bundle, the letter lying
beside you.” The  old man explained in a calming voice.
“So...I'm...I'm just a  random doorstep baby then? Everything else you've kept
from me?” He  spat out, his anger rising.
“Merlin...” The old man tried to  calm him.
“Now you're even using the other name! You gave me the  name Michael, so you
might as well use it!”
“Darling, please  calm down...” His so-called mother pleaded, as the dishes
in the  dresser rattled ominously.
“You should have told me! I had a  right to know!” He yelled, ignoring her
plea.
Accompanying his  words something crashed into the wall above the table, causing
the  old couple to jump. Staring at the fragments Michael was surprised at  what
he had done. Hanging his head low he hurried out of the room,  ignoring his
wannabe-parents calls.

“Oh dear...”  His mother repeated about to follow him.
“Give him a moment,  Alice. I will talk to him, once he has had time to think
this  through.” Her husband assured her, placing his hand on her  arm.
“This went better than expected after all.” He then  concluded when she had
turned to him.
“How can you say that?”  She asked him in disbelief.
“Well, he only broke one vase and to  be honest: A quite horrid one at
that...” Was his attempt at  lightening the mood.
“Gabriel!” She scolded him and gave him a  light hit on his arm.
“You are right. We should get this cleaned  in the meantime.” He decided and
started picking up the pieces.

When they were  nearly finished their son – be he adopted or not – returned,
his  backpack in hand.
“Michael?” Gabriel asked looking at the  bag.
“I...I'm sorry.” He mumbled, lowering his head  slightly.
“Don't be. You have every right to be angry at  us.”
“I...I need time to think.” Michael declared after a  moment, looking at his
parents for a reaction.
When they both  nodded in agreement he proceeded to the table and opened his 
backpack. For another moment he looked at the bundle and the shard  that still
lay between the foldings. He slowly picked up the fragment  of the vase he had
destroyed, regret at his earlier outburst filling  him.
“Let me get that.” His mother broke him out of his  thoughts and carefully
took the shard from his hand.
When he  turned to look at her she gave him a warm and understanding smile. He 
might not be their own flesh and blood, but she said that they would  always
love him. Seeing her like this he didn't mind believing that.  But he had made
up his mind and with a small nod continued to stuff  the bundle and the letter
into his backpack before slinging it over  his shoulder.
“Take care my boy.” His father requested and  placed his arm around his
mother's shoulders.
“Take all the time  you need.” She in turn offered and put one of her arms
around her  husband's waist and her other hand on his chest.
Nodding Michael  left the room and his parents home. It was weird to think of
them as  his parents, as he now knew that they clearly weren't. There was a  lot
he needed to think about.

On the train

As soon as he  had entered the train he had hunched down on the bench. His head
in  his hands and his backpack between his feet.
“You alright?”  Came a voice from his side.
Slowly he peeked between his fingers  at the young man sitting there. He guessed
him to be just barely  older than him and had a concerned look on his face.
Lowering his  hands he muttered a mere: “Yeah” and proceeded to stare at the
 floor. He wasn't really in the mood for a conversation right  now.
After a moment of silence the stranger spoke up again.
“You  know, it sometimes helps to tell people you don't know and probably 
will never meet again of your problems.”
“You some  kind of psychiatrist?” Michael asked raising an eyebrow in a 
manner, he had picked up from his father, adoptive father, he  reminded himself.
“No, but I can see that you are struggling  with something and I couldn't
forgive myself if anything would happen  to you because of that and I wouldn't
have at least offered you  help.” He told him sincerely.
Studying the other man with a  small smile at his honesty Michael shook his head
in amusement of his  own decision. For some odd reason he trusted this guy.
“It's my  birthday today.” He started and stopped for the anticipated 
interruption.
“Happy Birthday then.” The other congratulated  as expected.
“There is nothing 'happy' about it...” Michael  snorted.
When he earned a confused look he continued: “I just  learnt that I was
adopted.”
He hoped saying it fast would make  it hurt less, but it didn't. He still felt
the pain in his heart and  for some reason he also felt betrayed. Even though
his parents,  adoptive parents, were only doing what his actual parent had asked
 them to do. That is if that Emrys was indeed his relative.  Maybe even his real
father.
“That is not necessarily a bad  thing.” The other tried.
“Not necessarily, but it still  hurts.” Michael replied without second
thought.
“And it  probably will for a while, but if your folks love you then it wont 
matter. They have loved you all your life, knowing you were not their  own. Why
would that change now?”
Michael contemplated those  words for a moment. Why would this change anything?
It was a good  question. But before he could find an answer the other pulled him
out  of his thoughts again.
“I'm Lance by the way.” He said and  offered his hand.
“Merlin.” He replied taking the hand, before  shaking his head adding: “I
mean Michael.”
He had spent far  too much time thinking about the name in the letter that he
had just  used it instead of his actual name. Although the other one seemed to 
be his real name. Slight embarrassment on his face for the misused  name, he
hoped the other, Lance, would not dwell on it.
“It's  nice to meet you Michael Merlin.” Lance declared before shaking 
Michaels hand and letting go of it.
“No, it's Michael not Merlin  or both, just the one.” He tried but was only
met with a small  laugh.
“It's alright. But I'm afraid I have to leave you  already.” Lance told him,
disappointment in his voice.
Standing  up when his stop was called out he grabbed the handle above them.
“I  wouldn't mind seeing you again, Michael.” He bit his  farewell.
“Yeah me neither, Lance. Thanks a lot.” The other  replied a grin on his
face.
Waving at the stranger when he  departed Michael was left with his thoughts once
again.

Back at the flat

As he  was too tired to search for his keys, which he might have forgotten  at
his parents place anyway, he rang the bell for the first floor.  Lost in his
thoughts he only noticed that he was still ringing when  his hand was swatted
away from the button.
“The hell you're  doin' here?” His friend asked him in confusion.
Without  answering he moved to step inside, his head hanging low, barely 
registering the change in her attitude.
“What happened?” She  demanded to know in a serious tone.
Slowly he lifted his head to  look at her, showing her the pain he had managed
to hide on his way  here. Seeing sympathy in her eyes he wrapped his arms around
her  waist and buried his head in her shoulder. He wasn't crying, he  couldn't,
not even back when he had first learned about it. He just  needed someone to old
onto. Someone he knew would still be the person  he knew when this day had
started.
Awkwardly she patted the little  space of his back that was not occupied by his
backpack. She knew he  deserved better than that, but he knew of her anxieties
when it came  to touching people so she just hoped this would be enough to calm
him  a little.
After a few more moments he straightened and let go of  her, mumbling a faint
“Sorry”.
With an “'s alright” she  stroked his arm lightly before she reached around
him to close the  door that had been ignored after his entrance. In the meantime
he had  started to remove his shoes and his jacket. His clumsy actions made  her
snicker lightly as she waited for him to finish, leaning in the  doorway to the
kitchen.

When  both of them had settled down at the high kitchen table she waited  for
him to start speaking. Watching him carefully and playing out  different
scenarios in her head. She soon discarded the thought that  something had
happened to one or both of his parents. He wouldn't  have returned if that was
the case. Lost in her musing she barely  caught what he said, when he finally
began to speak.
“What?”  She asked, her tone a mix of curiosity, worry and embarrassment.
“I  was adopted.” He told her again, his voice calmer and steadier than  he
had thought it would be.
Maybe it had really helped to talk to  the stranger, Lance, on the way here.
“What?!” Keileigh  repeated, this time in a you-can't-be-serious-voice.
“Yup...just  a random doorstep baby.” Her friend half-heartedly joked, a
crocked  smile on his face and the pain clearly visible in his eyes.
She  looked at him for a moment, contemplating this new information. In a  weird
way it did made sense. Michael didn't really look like either  of his parents,
both being more round and not as skinny as him. She  couldn't remember what his
father's hair colour had been, but she was  certain it wasn't black, neither was
his mother's. Though that was  not really a good thing to judge heritage by.
Sighing she asked:  “What did they tell you?”
And he told her. Told her about the  day his parents had found him and the
bundle and the letter. He  hesitated for a moment before he pulled up his
backpack to remove the  items from it, placing them on the table. But he
couldn't tell her  everything that stood in the letter. Not even the name he was
given  at birth. She would just laugh at him and demand to read it. 
Absent-mindedly he stroked the parchment with his fingertips and  waited for her
to say something.

“May  I read it?” She asked nodding in the direction of the  letter.
Keileigh could see the struggle on her friends face.  Whatever his real parent
had written on the paper must be something  he wouldn't want to share, but she
tried nevertheless.
“I'm your  friend. I want to help you. But it feels like you are keeping 
something from me.” She told him honestly, hoping he would share  his pain
with her.
Michael studied her for a long moment before he  closed his eyes. As much as he
feared their friendship would be  ruined by her finding out about his gift, as
much did he fear it  breaking because of him shunning her off and keeping this
secret  longer than he already had. She was here to help him and having  someone
else to talk about this, other than his parents, would be  nice. Inhaling deeply
he let out a long breath and opened his eyes  again.
“You want a cocoa?” He asked then, a small smile on his  lips.
“There never has been a better moment for it.” She  accepted his offer and
waited for her friend to stand up.
But he  didn't. He just moved a bit to the side to look at the counter behind 
her. Looking at him in confusion she could see a shimmer of gold in  his eyes,
before she heard clattering behind her. Turning around she  saw two cups and a
kettle floating in the air above the stove. Her  mouth agape she faced her
friend again.
“Are you...are you doing  that?” She asked him in a hoarse whisper.
Carefully he landed  the three items and looked at her, nodding slowly.
After several  tries and tons of thoughts racing through her head she managed to
ask  “Is that telekinesis?”
“I prefer calling it Magic.” He now  fully grinned at her.
“Magic?” Keileigh asked for confirmation  in a quite disbelieving tone.
“Magic.” Her friend affirmed  grinning even more at the look she must have
had on her face.
Before  the thought had completely formed in her mind she had grabbed the  salt
shaker and threw it at him. She wasn't that surprised when he  caught it
mid-air, his eyes glowing again.
“Stupid Warlock.”  She joked, sharing his grin.
“You have no idea how true that  statement is...” Michael told her and
released the spell on the  shaker and let it fall into his outstretched hand.
“Do you still  want to read the letter?” He then asked without looking at
her  while he put the item back where it belonged.
“Now more than  before.” She told him, determination in her voice and eyes.
Seeing  the latter he handed her the parchment that held the truth about him, 
watching her closely when she started reading. A part of him still  thought she
would completely freak out or call him insane, but he  hadn't missed the awe in
her eyes when she had realized what he could  do. It wasn't long until she
snorted and looked up at him with an  even wider grin. He knew exactly what she
had just read and he wasn't  so sure anymore that her present this morning was
really just a  coincidence. Refraining from breaking into full out laughter she 
continued to read the letter to the end. When she had finished her  grin
returned and she looked up at him as she folded the paper  again.
“So you wanna be called 'Merlin' now?”
“No...I  still prefer Michael.” He told her, rolling his eyes.
She  snickered a bit more before asking another question, waving in the 
direction of the bundle.
“Have you looked inside?”
“No.”  Michael answered, his voice a mixture of fear and anticipation.
“You  wanna do it now?” The young woman slightly urged.
“You are  just curious what's inside!” He remarked with a laugh.
“Are  you not?”
“Of course I am...”
“So?”
“Fine...”  He gave in taking another deep breath.

Turning  the bundle over and over again he finally  found  the knots that held
the blue and red cloths  together. Searching for reassurance he looked up again
and was  granted a nod to continue. Just  as  he had done in the morning he
slowly unwrapped the only  thing he had of whoever had placed him on that
doorstep. Only to be  confused again. The letter had talked about a scroll, but
this was a  book. A really old book in leather binding. Just as he was about to 
say something the door to the house opened and a female voice  introduced
another person into their place. Looking at each other  they both raised a
questioning eyebrow and wordlessly decided to  pause their conversation.
“And this is the kit- Michael! I  thought you'd stay with  your parents until
tomorrow!” The voice, belonging to their  flatmate, exclaimed.
“Yeah I kind of changed my plans...” He  answered the unasked question
sheepishly.
Crossing the room she  came up to him with open arms. Seeing that she wanted to
hug him, he  turned to let her proceed. But not without sending a humoured look
at  his friend. This woman was usually  not  too keen on friendliness.
“Happy  Birthday Michael and all the best.” She congratulated, shortly 
rubbing  his back.
“Thanks.” He replied and couldn't stop the grin and  amusement to slip into
his face.
When she had moved away from him  a second woman slowly approached him. She
smiled in a genuine way and  her eyes wandered from Michael to Keileigh and then
landed on the  book and she read the golden lettered title 'Le  Morte d'Arthur'.
“You  like the Arthurian legends? They are my most favourite!” She 
exclaimed with excitement in her voice.
“Uhm...I kind of got  into it...recently.” He answered slightly embarrassed
that all he  knew was the crash course Keileigh had given him during the day.
“My  name derives from the legends...” She mused slowly reaching out to 
touch the old book.
“Really?” The friends asked in unison,  curiosity and interest in their
voices.
“Oh, I haven't  introduced myself!” She then realized reaching out her hand.
“I'm  Gwen, that is a  short version  of  Guinevere.  I  might become your new
flatmate.”
Barely remembering that that  was the name of the Queen of Camelot, Michael
bowed his head with a  grin. He then shook her hand hand adding: “I'm
Merlin...I mean  Michael. Sorry.” He repeated the same mistake he had made in
the  train and shook his head in embarrassment. But she found it more  funny
than odd and her light laughter filled the room in an infective  manner. Gwen
had long since let go of his hand when they all settled  down again  and turned
to the other  female repeating the gesture.
“I'm Keileigh.” She introduced  herself, smiling at her.
“Like the girl from 'A Quest for  Camelot'?” Gwen asked her with interest.
“I think my name is  written differently. But I see that you will fit in here
quite well.”  She told her.
“You think so?” The young woman asked but before  the other could answer
Michael interjected: “What's that  Quest-thing about?”
“You don't know that cartoon?” Gwen  asked awed.
“He doesn't even know 'The Sword in the Stone'”  Keileigh commented
mockingly.
“What?  How is that possible?” The young woman couldn't really comprehend 
this.
“It's one of my favourite representations of the legend! I  don't even know
how many times I've watched the DVD” She  exclaimed.
“You have the DVD?” The other woman inquired, an  idea dawning.
“Yes. I also have the Quest and many others...”  She shyly admitted.
“Than your requirement for taking up the  empty room will be to bring the DVDs
and provide us with drinks and  snacks for the watching.” Keileigh decided.
“I haven't even  seen the room yet!” Gwen  declared, blushing slightly.
“Oh,  you're going to love it.” Michael assured her with  a wide grin.
“So  that's settled then? As soon as you get the room, that will be what  you
have to do to win our favour.” Keileigh more or less ordered,  earning
laughter from her friend and a warm smile from their soon to  be flatmate.
And of course the confused look of their other  flatmate that had hoped to
finally get someone normal into their  house. It seemed that those hopes had
been in vain. With Gwen, Merlin  as names from an old legend, the book and not
to mention Michaels  gift, this house would be even more strange now.

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