Alright guys so I was writing a paper about The lady of Shalott by Tennyson and ended up falling in love with Lancelot every time I read it. So I decided why not write a fanfic! We'll I love the movie as well, I love the de-mythicized version and I thought why not add Elaine of Astalot/The lady of Shalott to the mix….The story takes place after the film and though Tristan and Dagonet have fallen in battle, Lancelot survived
: )
I have no idea where I am going with this, R&R please : )
I felt the cool wind in my face and the stallion shift nervously under me. The stallion I rode was an ill tempered and territorial black animal whose inquietude grew upon catching the scent of other dominant animals in the area. We had to keep him separated from the other horses for fear that he might attack them. But surprisingly he was well mannered with me. My father had once said it was simply because of the Pict in me.
The stallion shifted under me, bringing my attention carefully to the forest around me. Then I heard the voice and the steady but unhurried march of hooves. I heard the hooves stop by the river. Without much thought I removed my arrow and bow from my back and took aim towards the sound and with my legs I urged the stallion forward quietly.
There was a dark haired man by the river; he knelt down by the water, washing his face. He wore armor that appeared to be have been given lots of use. But it was well made, and fitted him perfectly.
There was certain stillness to his figure, certain tenseness in his limbs that made me realize he knew I watched him.
"Gentleman." As if surprised to hear the voice of a woman his head turned quickly towards me.
"Lady." The man who spoke rose to his feet and gave me a small bow of the bead as greeting. The first thing I noticed was his height, the top of his head reached my waist as I was sitting on the stallion, a massive animal.
When our eyes met, I knew that I should've returned to the fortress, this man looked dangerous. I was wise when handling weapons but I was by no means a warrior. All that I had learned was not put to much use as I left the Picts and came to live with my father eleven summers ago.
Despite the uneasiness I felt in my stomach I could not bring my eyes away from him. His skin had the light golden tone acquired through constant exposure to the outdoors. His were piercing and impressive, a tone so clear and blue it reminded me of those few days in the summer when the sun chose to shine unabashedly.
A part of me wanted the danger he represented, I wanted to know more of him, to see if his shoulders were as powerful as the armor promised, to see if his skin was the same color as his face on his stomach. I wanted to feel his skin against mine.
As if sensing my fascination with his form he gave me a knowing smile and I felt the heat rise to my face. Stoically I managed to get myself under control.
"The lady rides astride." He said, his voice was deep and obviously male and it held amusement. But I was not amused.
"Who are you and what do you do in these lands?"
"I could ask you the same?" He replied. Angry and mortified because of this amusement at my expense I lifted my bow and pointed the arrow at his head.
"I could knock you off the ground in the blink of an eye-"
"Not fast enough to stop my arrow from spilling your brains, Sir. Now I've asked a question and I want it answered; who are you?"
"Lancelot." He said.
"Lancelot? Should the name mean something to me?"
"Put down the bow, lady."
"Or you'll what? Remove it from my hands. I think not, sir."
I was not expecting him to recklessly run towards me, grab me around the waist and knock me to the ground. I did not think he would do such a thing, and because of the surprise I did not fire the arrow.
When I fell to the ground the impact left me immobile, surely I would have bruises on the morrow.
He straddled my hips and I felt the cool armor against my legs, I felt his heavy body confining mine.
"Get off me!" He smiled, showing me his even white teeth. I managed to hit him on the chin with my closed fist. This simply caused him to laugh outright, the sound incredibly charming.
"Little hellion, aren't you?" He leaned over me, until our faces were but inches apart. He grabbed my chin with his large hands and I froze. I felt his warm breath against my face, smelling of apples and wine. His full lips were parted slightly. His blue eyes had taken a strange look to them.
He closed the small distance between our lips and placed a chaste kiss upon my lips. I had never felt a man's lips upon my own, despite being nearly twenty-two summers of age. And I had never expected it to be pleasant; his lips were warm and soft, creating a yearning within me that I did not understand.
"Get off her, Lancelot." The voice was hard and angry. And Lancelot lifted himself off me. Embarrassed I rose to my feet.
"I apologize lady." The new comer said. He sat atop his horse and three other men were with him.
"I don't." Said Lancelot.
"I am Arthur."
"Arthur of Rome?" I replied.
"Arthur of the Britons." He said. Which men of Britannia had not heard of how the great knight had defeated the Saxons?
"I am Elaine of Astalot and I believe my father is expecting you."
"I'll be damned, how the hell was I suppose to know?...She has a lovely face, the lady of Shalott." He murmured the last part and everybody chose to ignore him.
Gathering what was left of my pride I brushed away the dirt from the breeches and cloak. Then I got on my ill-tempered stallion.
"You are two leagues away from Astalot, cross the clearing and you'll see the fortress." I said and then I rode away from them as if the hounds of hell were on my heels.