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The Scholar

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Summary: ..the briefing room door opened, admitting an old man with pure white hair that fell half-way down his slightly-stooped back and a beard that came down to his waist and clutched a tall wooden walking stick...

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Non-BtVS/AtS Stories
Television > Merlin
morenaFR72641,1821020855,1159 Sep 1212 Feb 13Yes

Chapter One

Hello all and thanks for tuning in to the latest bit of insanity that my mind has come up with. It's also a challenge to myself. As anyone, who's familiar with any of my other stories, knows, I have a tendency to start small and then watch as my muse takes over and expands my stories into a minumum of twice the size they were originally supposed to be. With this story, I'm determined to prove that I can write succintly and to the point. So, I've given myself a wordcount cap of 1,000 words per chapter. Wish me luck!

Thanks to theGlastiag for betaing this story and assuring me that, no, this was not a crazy idea. I'm glad she did, because, so far, I'm having lots of fun. =D Enjoy!
No real spoilers for Merlin (provided you know, who Dragoon the Great is); takes place some time before Heros in SG1.

Disclaimer: I own neither Stargate: SG1 nor Merlin.



The Scholar
Chapter 1

Wordcount: 996

A brown paper bag plopped down onto the paperwork in front of Daniel, disrupting his line of sight. He blinked at it, his sleep-deprived brain's first instinct being to wonder why there weren't any hieroglyphs on it. Eventually, his brain cells kicked in and he realized he was supposed to open the bag, not translate it. He looked inside.

His head shot up and he grinned at Sam, who was sitting across from him with her head resting on her hands, watching him. She grinned back.

“Thanks Sam,” he said.

“You're welcome,” Sam answered him. “Cassie helped with those, by the way.”

Daniel nodded as he reached in and grabbed a cookie, devouring it with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn't eaten anything since a three o'clock lunch the day before. Although, to be fair, Daniel was always enthusiastic about chocolate walnut cookies, especially Sam's. Anything else his friend made in the kitchen was eaten at one's own peril, but cookies she was a pro at.

Teal'c and Doctor Fraiser entered the briefing room several minutes later. Daniel offered, but they both refused the cookies – Janet said she had a bag of her own tucked away inside her desk.

“Goood morning campers!” Jack exclaimed as he entered. Daniel immediately snatched his bag of cookies off the table and hid it underneath. “Hey, hey, what's that you got there, Danny?”

“Nothing, Jack,” Daniel answered, plastering on his most innocent expression. Jack narrowed his eyes at him.

“You're not fooling me, I definitely saw something! And it crinkled.” He walked up behind Daniel and sniffed. “And it smells like chocolate... cookies! You have cookies! Daniel, now you know it's rude not to share with the rest of the class.”

“No I don't. They're mine. All mine. You can't have any.”

“B-but, Daniel, I thought we were friends,” Jack whined.

“Good morning,” a new voice cut off Jack's whine. General Hammond looked over the briefing table before nodding. “Oh good, you're all here.”

“All except for Doctor Hunithson,” Daniel pointed out as Jack sat down in the seat between him and the general. “He was just double-checking a few things on the translation. He should be right up, sir.”

The general nodded. Jack frowned in confusion.

“Uh, who's Doctor Hunithson?” he asked.

Daniel sighed.

“He's the new expert in medieval European languages. Which you'd know if you'd bothered to read the memo that got sent out two days ago.”

“I read it. I was just, uh, testing you.”

“Uh huh.”

“How is Doctor Hunithson settling in, Doctor Jackson?” General Hammond asked.

“Oh, he's doing fine,” Daniel answered, looking past Jack to the general. “He definitely has a better grasp of the medieval Germanic and Celtic languages than I do. In fact, he did most of the work on the MALP images from P2G269 for this briefing.”

“Great!” Jack exclaimed. “So, which SG team gets to break him in offworld?”

“None, sir,” said Janet. “He won't be going offworld except in very special circumstances.”

Jack frowned. “And why not? Is there something physically wrong with him?”

“Not as such. In fact, he's in excellent shape for someone of his age.”

“Well then what's the- wait. What do you mean for someone of his age?”

“I thought you said you read the memo,” said Daniel. “There was a personal record attached to your copy, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I might've only skimmed it and, you know, it's not like it's obvious or-”

“He's 78 years old, sir,” Janet interrupted him with a pointed look.

Jack blinked. Then he turned to his CO.

“Sir, are you sure hiring some half-senile old grandpa is really such a good idea? I mean, the marines'll eat him alive!”

Janet snorted and exchanged an amused look with Daniel.

Just then the briefing room door opened, admitting an old man with pure white hair that fell half-way down his slightly-stooped back and a beard that came down to his waist and clutched a tall wooden walking stick, which was topped with a light purple glass ball. He was also wearing civilian clothes instead of the standard BDUs.

“Daniel, I thought you said he was an expert on Medieval Europe, not an expert from Medieval Europe,” Jack muttered.

Daniel just rolled his eyes.

Meanwhile, the old man stood back, holding the door open.

“Well, hurry on then, young man,” he barked with a British accent. “The clock's ticking and some of us have considerably less time left on it than others!”

A young airman hurried into the briefing room, his arms laden down with papers and books. His eyes were wide and his face at least one shade paler than Jack had last seen it standing guard in the gateroom.

“S-sorry, sir,” he stuttered. “Where do you want this?”

“Next to Doctor Jackson, I should think.”

The airman placed his load down. Daniel grabbed one of the books to keep it from toppling down. The airman smiled weakly at him in gratitude, before turning to the old man.

“Was that everything, sir?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, thank you young man. You're a credit to your parents. Willingness to help the elderly is always a good sign. So many young people these days don't understand that.”

“Th-thank you, sir.” Suddenly, he seemed to realize the general was sitting at the table and came to attention. “Sir. If I may, um...”

“Dismissed, airman,” General Hammond waved him off, looking amused.

The airman turned tail and ran out of the room. Jack gaped after him.

“Somehow, I don't think the marines are going to be a problem,” said Daniel smugly.

Jack just nodded. He discovered very quickly over the course of the briefing that, unlike Daniel, Doctor Hunithson didn't suffer dozing officers in silence.
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