Disclaimer: do not own King Arthur
Summer: this was not orginally written for King Arthur, it was written for Creative Writing and i thought it fit
The wind whispered in the willows, the sky was cloudless, and for the first time in weeks I let myself relax. Without looking into the mirror like water I knew that my skin was covered in dirt, that my hair was a greasy mess, and that I had bags under my eyes. It felt like had not slept for days, weeks even, which was true if you didn't count dozing off in restless slumber for an hour or so as sleep. However, no matter how tired or worn I was, I still shook with anger when I thought about the reason for my restless days. Not three weeks ago the village I lived in was attacked. It was a fierce, brutal attack for no apparent reason other than the enjoyment and pleasure of those demonic creatures that dared call themselves human. We had no warning; we were devastated. Our quiet little village had no warriors other than those who served every year as some of the Empire's soldiers, and they were beyond the Everstone Mountains, more than a days ride from where they were truly needed. I sighed and crouched by the glittering water, three weeks, three weeks since that terrible, bloody battle. Those who survived, whether by hiding, or fighting back as I had done, had spent the last three weeks burying the dead and rebuilding what we could of the village. I didn't remember most of the battle. I had been knocked harshly on the back of the head during the first 15 or so minutes, or at least that's what I was told. All I could remember was the screams of women and children, the yells of the attackers, and the smoke and flames as the village burned.