All the usual disclaimers...I own no one and nothing, etc., etc., etc.
As usual, italics indicate thoughts.
This is written with the thought that Galahad was brought to Britain later than the others and so is relatively "green" so to say. It did not turn out as creepy as I had wanted, but I can no longer keep pondering on this. Others are becoming increasingly annoyed... Please do enjoy.
Galahad heaved a sigh as he trudged down the path. The moonlight dimmed around him and he looked up to see the clouds passing across the moon, concealing its light. "Stupid clouds," he muttered, tripping on an exposed tree root. "Why me?" he whined his misfortune to the rustling leaves and cool breeze, "Why? If Arthur wants to see Tristran, then why can't he go find him? Why do I have to?" He shook his head and cursed his own stupidity. Arthur had come to the tavern looking for Tristran for some urgent mission or discussion or something. Unfortunately, the elusive one had yet to make an appearance. The other Knights had seen Arthur, but being better seasoned, they gauged their commander was on an "official" visit and avoided him altogether. Not me, I had to go over and talk to Arthur. Be friendly. Some advice, Lancelot. I'll get you back one day. That's how I get stuck out here searching for Tristran and they are all still at the tavern laughing and drinking...
Finally, after many kicked stones, countless sighs and mingled curses, Galahad was at the open doors of the forge. The last known whereabouts of the scout. Well, one of the last. The Knights had been so kind as to suggest the two most likely places to find Tristran this evening: the forge or the cemetery. He was beginning to wonder if he'd chosen poorly and should have opted for the cemetery.
Galahad shivered despite the heat rolling out the doors. This was Bedwyr's domain. The old smith made him almost as uneasy as Tristran. They seemed to share the same humor; pleased by seeing those around them squirm. Well...he was only here to see if Tristran was. If not, then he would be on his way. It was not as if he had to stay around and converse with Bedwyr. Or listen to the elder Knight cackle. That laugh was enough to make the hairs on Galahad's neck stand straight up.
Not going to find Tristran out here. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the doorway and spied Gawain working at one of the benches, most likely fixing something small for the locals or Romans. Bedwyr was not yet confident enough in Gawain's skills to assign him any repairs to Sarmatian weapons. Galahad moved towards Gawain, seeing neither Bedwyr nor Tristran anywhere. "Gawain..." He called to his friend but received no acknowledgement. He realized Gawain was deeply focused on his task and stepped closer. He opened his mouth to call again and felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. Galahad managed to stifle the scream but would have jumped the distance to Gawain's side. The hand on his shoulder not kept him in place. Galahad turned to see who it was.
"Bedwyr!" he yelped, disentangling himself from the grip of the highly amused Knight. "You scared me!" The cocked eyebrow and cackle told Galahad that had been the intent.
"What can I do for you, Galahad?" Bedwyr leaned in close so he could whisper; drawing out the boy's name, knowing it would make the younger recoil even further.
The effect was instant and exactly as desired. Galahad backed up quickly but cautiously, intent on keep Bedwyr in front of him. He was unaware that Gawain had finished hammering the heated metal and moved to a closer bench, directly behind him, in fact. Bedwyr, however, with his vantage point, was aware and rather delighted by this new turn of event. Even as Galahad continued back, heading straight for the man engrossed in work, Bedwyr said nothing.
"Galahad!" Gawain's voice boomed over the clatter of dropped tool, causing the former to turn and jump at the same time. Bedwyr howled in glee; Gawain cursed in an array of languages; Galahad tried to recover his breath and mind. Composing himself, Bedwyr stepped closer to inspect Gawain's work. He nodded approval, clapped the younger Knight on the shoulder and turned to Galahad. Taking the boy's arm, he led him back out the doors and into the cool air.
"You've provided quite enough entertainment for the evening," Bedwyr teased, "let us leave Gawain to his work and we can talk out here." He released Galahad and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Now, Galahad, what brings you here?"
"I am looking for Tristran." He hoped his voice didn't sound as shaky in Bedwyr's ears as it did in his.
"Tristran..." Bedwyr's voice trailed off and he scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Tristran..." he repeated.
"I need to find him for Arthur."
"For Arthur…?" Bedwyr sounded intrigued. "What could Arthur want with our scout at this time of night..." Again his voice trailed off as he scratched the back of his arm.
Galahad, not known for his patience in the first place, was tired of this already. All he wanted was to know if Bedwyr had seen Tristran and if so, which way the scout had headed. If not, then...well...then he just wanted Bedwyr to say so and he could be off to search elsewhere.
He cleared his throat in an attempt to get Bedwyr's attention. It didn't work. Bedwyr kept scratching, seemingly oblivious to Galahad's mounting impatience. Finally, he could take no more. "Bedwyr, if you know where I can find Tristran, please tell me. I don't want to spend all night searching for him. I just want to find him, tell him that he needs to go to Arthur and then..." Now it was Galahad's turn to let his thoughts trail off. He hadn't really thought of what he would do once he found Tristran. Shaking his head, he refocused on the task at hand - finding Tristran.
Bedwyr sized up the young Knight as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He knew deep inside it was wrong to toy with the younger like this, but he could never resist. He glanced over his shoulder to be certain Gawain wasn't coming to meddle in his fun. Gawain had taken the youngster under his tutelage, helping him adjust to life at the Wall and protecting him as best as possible from Woads, Romans and the occasional ill-intentioned local. Unfortunately, in doing so, Gawain was helping Galahad preserve the very qualities Bedwyr was seeking to rid the boy of. Galahad was so young and innocent...and gullible. Qualities that, though Bedwyr found them likable and even refreshing in the boy did not make for a great Sarmatian Knight. Things like that made one an easy target for Roman swindling…or death at the hands of a crafty Woad.
Another sigh and shift from Galahad brought Bedwyr back to present. "So, looking for Tristran for Arthur," Bedwyr chuckled, "you, my boy, need to learn commander avoidance." He scratched his chin again. "I'll have to speak with Gawain about teaching you how to recognize..."
"Bedwyr!" The shout broke into the elder Knight's chatter. "Please, I am begging you, I just want to find Tristran, tell him to go to Arthur and then I can get on with my night."
The youth was becoming increasingly agitated. Precisely how Bedwyr had been hoping this would progress. Now to push just a bit farther. Bedwyr had to duck his head to mask the gleeful smile he felt rising.
He cleared his throat and spat the lump at Galahad's feet. "And where, Galahad," he drawled, "where is our good scout to meet Arthur?" He raised his eyes with the question.
Galahad's mouth opened to respond and snapped shut. He thought for a moment and opened his mouth, only to close it again just as quickly. Looks like a damn fish on a line, Bedwyr observed. Goddess, I know it is wrong, but the boy is just too easy to have fun with. He could barely contain his laughter.
"Close your mouth, Galahad, before you find a hook in it." Galahad's mouth obediently snapped shut. "The answer to the question is impertinent...Tristran is a scout and should be able to find Arthur wherever our esteemed commander is waiting." Bedwyr neglected to mention that the most likely place would be at the round table, since that was where Arthur discussed anything of importance. There were some things the boy should be able to figure out on his own.
"Now, as to the whereabouts of Tristran, well...he was here. But now he is not."
Galahad's astonishment faded quickly into anger. "You could not have told me this before? When I first asked, you could not have told me 'Well, Galahad, he was here but he left'?" As Galahad's voice rose in anger, Bedwyr's amusement level rose in kind and he struggled not to let it show on his face, quite unlike Galahad's visage of frustration.
Galahad tried to compose himself but failed miserably. He was shouting now. "Where is he? I have to find him, Bedwyr. I have to send him to Arthur. You have wasted my time! You have wasted Arthur's time! You have to help me find him! Now!" The last word came out as the shrill cry of a child just been denied something precious. Bedwyr raised an eyebrow, waiting to see if the youth would resort to stomping his feet as well. Must tell Gawain to keep the boy further away from Lancelot.
"Well, Galahad, if you will cease your childish whining, perhaps I can point you in the right direction," Bedwyr commented as disinterestedly as he could manage.
Galahad ceased and looked expectantly at Bedwyr.
"Thank you." Bedwyr's sarcastic appreciation was apparent, but Galahad let it pass. Just get the information and deliver the message, he chanted over and over to himself.
"As I have told you, Tristran is not here. He was but now is not." Bedwyr leaned in and put his hands on Galahad's shoulders, pulling the boy forward so their foreheads almost touched. "I will tell you his whereabouts," the voice dropped to a whisper, ensuring he had Galahad's rapt attention, "but that is all I will do. You can ask nothing more. Deal?" Galahad was unnerved by the conditions on the answer, but he needed to find Tristran, so he vigorously nodded agreement.
"Good, good," Bedwyr seemed almost jovial now, sliding his arm around Galahad's shoulder and towing him alongside as he walked back toward the forge. Bedwyr's eyes were twinkling. "This night, as you are seeking Tristran, he is…otherwise occupied." His laughter was barely contained. Galahad's confusion mounted as Bedwyr's amusement grew. He was going to ask, but decided it was more important to simply be quiet and get the information. I'll get him...one day, I will get him.
By now they had reached the doors of the forge and Bedwyr turned to Galahad, leaning in close and dropping his voice once again to a whisper. "He is with a woman. Seeking...well...what all men seek from a beautiful woman." He gave those words some consideration and added, "Well, possibly excluding you, Galahad, since we are uncertain you know what to do with a beautiful woman...or any woman, for that matter..." he added almost as an afterthought. Bedwyr wheezed as he laughed, noting the fury in the youthful face. "They left here nigh on an hour ago. She was completely taken with him." He paused to scratch his chin and consider his words. Bedwyr shrugged. "They were cuddling right over there," he pointed to a secluded corner of the courtyard, "and whatever she whispered in his ear, Tristran seemed very pleased with the idea and, well, off they went...cuddling and kissing…" He seemed thoroughly pleased with his description, especially after sneaking a peek at Galahad. The lad looked rather ill and uncertain as to how to proceed.
Galahad swallowed hard. "You mean that Tristran left here, with a woman?" Bedwyr nodded.
"A real, live woman?"
"Well, what other kind would there be, Galahad?"
"And you want me to find him and deliver a message to him while he is...well...ummm..." Galahad's voice trailed off. Even in the dim light from the forge, Bedwyr could see the deep crimson rising in the youth's cheeks.
"Oh no, Galahad, I do not want you to do anything" Bedwyr corrected, emphasizing the 'I', "Arthur is the one who asked you to find Tristran and deliver a message, not me." He laughed as he slapped the boy on the shoulder, almost knocking him to the ground. "And you would not want to disappoint our esteemed commander, now would you, Galahad?" With that, Bedwyr turned and strode back into the forge, humming a Sarmatian tune, leaving Galahad alone in the cool night with his new predicament.
A/N: Thanks to Ysolde for letting me borrow Bedwyr...but you can have him back. Now. Really – I am not joking. Please...take him already...make him leave!! I should also point out that Bedwyr actually is quite fond of Galahad – he just enjoys teasing him like the big brother who teases and torments in affection…