Sesquipedalian by Emachinescat

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

SUMMARY: A collection of one shots/drabbles, each inspired by a different big, weird, or obscure word, funny, angsty, modern, serious, depending on the word of the day.

A/N: Quick note before I begin the story: This is the first time I've ever attempted something like this (a collection of random one-shots) and it goes completely against my OCD nature to have a bunch of stories in one big story that aren't connected. That being said, I happened to think of this and couldn't let it die. So I'm doing it. I've got 25 other one-shots/drabbles (well, two of them are three-shots) planned out so far, with more to come. Each one will be about something different, and each will be inspired by a different unusual, BIG, or obscure word. Some will be stories with plots, some will be reflections, and some will be drabbles. Funny, sad, stupid, dramatic, angsty… depending on the word of the day. Also, I'll say this now – none of the one-shots will be slash. Not my thing. :D Please REVIEW! And Enjoy!

Oh, and a sesquipedalian is a person who loves to use big words! :D This one is set sometime in season 3. May be slight spoilers, but only to witty banter. XD


Chapter One: Logodaedaly

logodaedaly, n.
The clever creation of new words; the clever use of words

Merlin glared at Arthur, who was currently laughing as his servant bumbled down the stairs, arms loaded down with equipment for training. "Glad to see that my struggling is amusing you, sire," Merlin moaned sarcastically as he very nearly tripped over his own feet. He winced slightly, knowing that if he were to have fallen, it would have not been pleasant, since he was still only halfway down the steep stone staircase.

Arthur simply snorted at Merlin's remark, not at all bothered by the unorthodox tone his servant was using with him. He was used to it by now, even if most nobles would have already fired or strung the servant up by now. Arthur liked Merlin's surly retorts – he had once told Merlin that they were his only redeemable feature. While Arthur didn't actually believe that was the case (although he'd die before he admitted it), it was true that he enjoyed Merlin's witty banter. It helped humble him, and almost never failed to cheer him up.

"Come on, Merlin!" he urged far too cheerily. "Put your back into it! I'd like to start training before the sun goes down, you know." It was just a few hours after dawn.

When Merlin finally dismounted the last step, his head barely visible behind the load of stuff he was carrying, Arthur burst into laughter. "Well, now, that's an improvement," he joked. "I should have you carry this much of my equipment more often, Merlin. No one can see you this way. If only we can find a way to make you shut up as well…"

He grinned at his servant – his friend, although he wouldn't acknowledge it – to let him know that he was jesting.

Merlin, it seemed, already knew that Arthur was teasing because he had a comeback already rolling off the end of his tongue. "Prat."

Arthur rolled his eyes exaggeratedly as the two walked out of the castle and in the direction of the training field. "Honestly, Merlin, you would think that you'd have come up with some better names by now. If I had a gold piece for every time you called me a prat, I'd be as rich as the king."

Merlin shot back, "Well, that's not saying much, Arthur, because you are the king's son."

Arthur nodded. "You have a point Merlin. Which means that it's Prince Arthur to you, idiot," he remarked affectionately.

They reached the training field and Merlin dropped Arthur's equipment – shields, swords, knives, lances, armor – in a heap at his feet. "Besides," Merlin pressed on, "I don't always call you a prat. There are much more creative words to call someone of your supreme pratness."

Arthur crossed his well-muscled arms across his strong chest. "Oh really, Merlin?"

"Sure," the servant replied cheerily, bending down to fetch Arthur his sword. "I believe I've called you a 'clot pole' before." Arthur opened his mouth to respond but Merlin barreled ahead, "Oh, and 'dollop head' – that was one of my personal favorites."

Arthur harrumphed. "'Dollop head,'" the crown prince of Camelot repeated in a stern voice, his lighthearted undertone betraying how much he was actually enjoying this conversation. "I don't believe that you've ever told me exactly what a dollop head is, Merlin. Care to embellish?"

Merlin grinned cheekily. "I've told you – Prince Arthur."

Arthur shook his head, taking the sword from Merlin and letting it hang loosely from his hand, not ready to train quite yet. "No, Merlin. That's not good enough this time. You can't just say that I'm a dollop head and let that be your definition. Tell me. What is a dollop head?" He blinked in a seemingly innocent manner. "Or did you just make it up?"

Merlin laughed nervously. "Of course I didn't," he scoffed. "Dollop head happens to be a word coined by the…" he thought for a moment, "…the, er, French."

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. "The French?"

Merlin nodded. "Yep. It means, uh, pompous. Narcissistic. Prat-like in manner. Over-bearing. Patronizing. Annoying. Obnox—" He broke off when he saw the look on his master's face, a mixture of bewilderment, amusement, and annoyance.

"I never knew that one word could have so many definitions, Merlin."

Merlin blushed. "Yeah, well, I don't make the rules," he muttered.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Fine, fine!" Merlin snapped good-naturedly. "If you want me to continue calling you a prat for the rest of your life, fine by me! I'm sure there are plenty forms of the word so that I won't get bored… hmmm…" He grinned devilishly. "Let's see… Prince Prat, The Pratmaster, Sir Prat, Prat, Arthur Prat-dragon…" Merlin trailed off, smirking.

"And I'll have a new nickname for you," Arthur growled, his eyes twinkling, showing Merlin that he wasn't being serious. At least not too serious. He fell silent.

"Well?" Merlin prodded and jumped back as Arthur hefted his sword, swinging it a few times to warm up.

Arthur looked over at his servant blankly. "Well…what?"

"What's the nickname?" Merlin asked impatiently.

Arthur smiled wickedly. "That's it."

"What, silence?" Merlin asked, confused.

Arthur nodded. "There's no need to call you anything if you suddenly and mysteriously disappear, never to be seen again, is there, Merlin?"

Merlin gulped. "Alright," he gave in. "Dollop head it is." Arthur lifted the sword threateningly and Merlin took a hasty step back, laughing. "Clot pole?" Arthur advanced and Merlin retreated another few steps. "Okay, alright, Arthur!" Arthur continued to glare and Merlin sighed dramatically. "That's as good as you're going to get, Arthur, so you may as well kill me for calling you by your birth name!"

Arthur lowered his sword. "As appealing as that sounds," he drawled, "if I kill you now, who is going to clean all this equipment you dropped in the dirt later?" Merlin groaned and Arthur laughed, motioning for Merlin to pick up the shield.

"Dollop head," Merlin muttered under his breath. Arthur shot him a look.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing…" Merlin murmured soothingly, a small smile beginning to form on his lips as he plotted his revenge on his friend and master.

Five minutes later, Arthur was at a loss to explain how his feet had just slipped out from under him right when he was stepping over that giant mud puddle…

A/N: Please review and let me know what you thought of the first one!

NEXT TIME – Woolgathering - Arthur can't stop daydreaming about Gwen long enough to get anything done and Uther is starting to get suspicious!

Please review, because reviews are what inspire me to write more! :D

~Emachinescat ^..^