A young boy was found by the old hermit, wandering in the forest, naked, as thin as a reed. The hermit took him further into the trees to his cave, hidden from sight, nestled by a small lake.
In all the years he had lived there, no one had ever found him. The boy would be safe with him here. The hermit fed and clothed the boy and laid him on a fur pelt to sleep.
The boy slept for five days. In the meantime, the hermit sat and conjured up a name for him. When the boy awoke, he sat and stared at the hermit, thinking him too old to be alive.
When the hermit spoke, his voice sounded like tiny bells ringing, coming from a distance. “Good morning, young man. I shall call you Merlin…”
And the legend was born.
The boy was about to say he had a name of his own, his tongue caught between his teeth as he looked through the mouth of the cave to the lake, where he could see a hand stirring the water and vanishing before he could catch his breath.
At that moment, he knew he would stay with the hermit. He would be Merlin, not knowing what that might mean. He ate the food offered to him and as he ate, he felt a strong stirring inside his mind.
Not quite a memory, more a feeling of things to come…
To be continued …