"The best kind of friend, really." Will keeps the smile on his face as he watches Frodo pick up the bulb. And the starts digging his hands into the dirt himself, This would go faster if there were two people digging.

But even as he does so, he can't help but remember his own closest friend. Bran. Oh, Bran. For a long time Will hadn't been able to imagine his life without having the the boy as his friend. As the Arthur to his Merlin.

But Bran had given up his heritage and his memories. He would never remember their adventures again. And even if they met again, Bran would never know Will as anything more than the English boy he had once met on vacation. That greater depth to their friendship was gone forever.