"Untitled King Arthur Project"

We knights are blessed in that we do not run from it. We seek it, grasp it by the throat and demand honor in our passing.

-Tristan

Chapter 1

"Tristan, do you have any water left? I just seemed to've run out."

The silent knight threw his water pouch over to Bors without a word.

"Tristan, are you ever going to tell us your mystery?" Galahad inquired looking everywhere but at the man he had addressed.

"How do you mean?" The older man asked, looking straight at the trail ahead of him.

"I don't know... Your past maybe? Do you have one? Do you have a story for us? Do you even have a past?"

Lancelot laughed out loud suddenly. Galahad looked over at him. "I'd tread lightly with Tristan if I were you Galahad. Very lightly."

All were quiet for a few beats before the young knight opened his mouth again, courage in hand. "Well, I'm not you Lancelot, thank the Gods, or whoever, and I'm genuinely curious. We've never asked him and he's never said otherwise, so I'd like to bring it to light now." Everyone quietly and curiously eyed the scout whose stare never wavered from the road in front of him.

"Arthur?" Tristan asked the commander looking for a means of escape from their blatant curiosity. A few of the men sighed, disappointed. Arthur smiled and nodded to his scout who proceeded to ride ahead. Tristan's scouting capabilities were unrivaled in all of Britain. Or anywhere else for that matter. They had just come from a village that they had heard was having trouble with Woads, but upon arrival they found out that the problem wasn't Woads but merely deer moving through the forest. They had been called out by an overly anxious Roman who clearly had no sense to investigate before making them travel three days from their home at the Wall, and Arthur shook his head and couldn't help but smile thinking about it now. His men were not so amused. Lancelot and Gawain would have happily relieved the Roman of his worried little head were it not for his immediate intervention. He had been meaning to send Tristan out on a mission to make sure all was well before the scout had asked. They would be home by dusk if everything was fine ahead.

Once the quiet knight was gone Galahad spoke.

"Of course not. Why I even bothered to ask, I have no idea." The other men laughed. Arthur just shook his head still smiling. As a leader he couldn't be more proud, or impressed for that matter, of the men in his care. And he often in theirs. He could recall how he owed his life to every single one of them at one time or another.

Meanwhile, already far up ahead, Tristan let out a calming breath. He could only dodge Galahad's questions for so long. The boy was like a woman-always pestering one of them about one thing or another. He should have seen that line of questions coming sooner. Now that he did think about it, he wondered why they had not come sooner. Not that he was complaining. Then he heard it. A shrieking call not so far off. He whistled shortly once. He heard the graceful fluttering of wings and managed a half smile when his hawk appeared. For fifteen years it was the only thing that could evoke such a reaction out of him. It never ceased to surprise him how he could care for one creature so much. It just wasn't in his nature. In his eyes, it made him weak. But as his faithful hawk, and scouting partner, landed on his arm, he was happy to make the exception.

"Seen anything I should know about? Hm?" He said as he chucked the bird playfully on its beak. The hawk quietly shrieked at him playfully back at him. Tristan found himself half smiling again before he could realize it. Then two things happened simultaneously: the bird shrieked and took off just as he heard screaming in the distance. Without thinking he rode off after his faithful friend. As the screaming grew louder, Tristan urged his horse faster. Why he felt the need to rush to the aid of someone he did not know escaped his understanding but still, he urged his horse even faster. Just as he rounded the bend he came upon an ugly sight. Yards from the scene he drew his horse sharply to a halt. Taking care not to be notice he went with his scouting instincts and stayed silent so he could gather information before intervening. A woman on the roadside was being beaten. His first reaction was that the two men that stood over her meant to do her more harm than just a sound lashing, but then he heard one speak up.

"If ye wish to make it to our destination alive ya best start walking!" The owner of the voice was indeed the smaller of the two, very large for his height, with a bald, shiny head. The young woman having her head down during the abuse did not look up when she answered.

"Surely, you mean to kill me when we get there, so why drag it out?"

"That's not for you to be deciding fer us, lady; we have orders to carry out. And those orders say bring you to our master alive or be killed ourselves. Now I can't speak for my friend Bray here but I plan on living long enough to make it off this godforsaken island!" The taller one clearly was not aware that death was only a stone's throw away from him.

"Aye," the one known as Bray spoke up. "I'm to be agreein' with Elden here that I too should like to live. Now you, misses, will kindly get yer ass up or you'll be beat all the way to Colne."

Tristan knew that Colne was indeed under Roman rule as was most of Briton, and these two men were British themselves. It wasn't uncommon for citizens of Briton to turn against their own for money or, in these men's cases, empty promises. The scout sighed and surrendered himself to the inevitable. If the girl was being taken there against her will then the outcome she faced couldn't be pleasant. He made the decision to engage these men that, clearly, had no problem beating on helpless innocents. Besides, it's been a bit boring lately, he thought as he dismounted his horse, this holds the promise of some excitement. As he had made the smallest amount of sound hitting the ground the halfwits were still unaware to his presence. Clearing his throat to get their attention he waited for them to turn around. The two whirled around to face the knight. He could see a scratch on the face of one that looked curiously like nails had been dragged down it. He stared them both down his eyes full of the promise of a slow, painful death, but spared no glance for the woman, for he saw no reason in frightening her as she was already frightened enough. He could hear her shallow breathing, and could've sworn also, her rapidly beating heart. It was only a matter of time before one of them forgot their own strength and delivered a fatal blow to the already half-dead creature at their feet. It would be a surprise to him if she even had the strength to stand.

"This is no business of yours," the one known he knew as Elden huffed.

"Yeah, so you best get back on your horse, lad. Off with ya now," Bray waved his hand towards Tristan's horse in an ineffective attempt to intimidate him. The scout would have laughed had it been in his nature to do so. Not worrying anymore about frightening her he took a moment to assess the poor woman. As soon as he looked her way, she tore her eyes away from him quickly staring back at the ground once more. His keen eyesight had taken in a face that was dirty and battered. Feeling some stirring of what may have been sympathy for her, he quickly tore his eyes away from her pitiful state. Caring was a mistake. Caring would get him killed. He cursed himself internally and brought his pestilent stare back to the two oafs. He could smell their rotten stench from where he stood mere yards away. With the ease of a man who killed for a living and enjoyed every joyful second of it, he unsheathed his sword. The two men took pause. They looked at one another and then back at lethal scout. The taller took a step forward, thought twice, and then took a step back while shoving the smaller one forward in his place. The fat man stumbled, not once taking his eyes of the dark knight's blade.

Tristan didn't move. He knew men like these. They usually ran in the face of danger only preying on the weak. But he could think of nothing better than slaying the two where they stood as to save any other hapless souls they may come across. At least, that's the reason he tried to rationalize in his mind.

The short man took out a rusty blade causing Tristan to raise an eyebrow. Bray gulped audibly which made him more than satisfied about what he was about to do. He liked his prey scared. It made the slaughtering so much more fun. He moved forward so fast the man only had few seconds to react. He raised his feeble blade, but only just, and before he had time to do anything more Tristan had struck twice. With one blow to his arm with the knife, then his torso sliced to ruins, the man was dead before he hit the ground. Elden didn't even stay to watch his comrade hit the dirt. But Tristan also did not waste time. His sword was sheathed replaced in his hands by his bow, arrow already set. Like the exceptional archer that he was he took only a few seconds to judge the wind and aptly he took aim. Releasing the smallest of breaths, his arrow flew straight and true to its intended target. The man fell, an arrow lodged in the back of his neck, before the knight even lowered his bow. Taking no time at all, he dragged both men as far into the woods as he thought necessary. Let whatever creatures lurk in these trees have a fine feast tonight, was his last thought for the foul wretches.

Tristan approached the woman without taking care. Sensing his coming towards her but still looking down she scurried back off the road. When she hit a small boulder she cowered and whimpered thinking herself trapped. This gave him pause. He realized she must not yet know how safe she was. How very safe indeed, for he wasn't about to touch her. Then he caught her barely audible whisper.

"Will you end my life now, too?" She said it as though she expected nothing less. There was so much resolve in her tone, that while he understood it, it still unnerved him. Too young to welcome death so calmly.

"No, it is not my intention to kill you." He saw her shoulders slump visibly in relief at his statement. Hopefully she realized she was no longer in danger from him.

"Uh..." He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with having to communicate so much. "Yes, well, you are safe. So..."

Having nothing else of value to say he started towards his horse.

"Wait!"

He heard her cry out but made no move to turn around.

"Please. Please wait," she said more softly now, but still as fervently. Her voice held regret, like she wanted nothing less than to be calling him back to her.

Against everything he knew, he found himself pausing. Turning around, he merely stared at her with a bored expression waiting for her to say more. She was staring at him clearly at a loss for words. He was used to this sort of reaction. From women, as well as men, any who were unfortunate enough to see him kill, save for the other knights. But even they thought him a bit scary, though none would admit it; he could always tell by the way they all rarely looked him in the eyes after a battle. His silence, he knew, was what made them uneasy. He never felt the need to shout out futile battle cries, preferring to save all his strength for slaying whatever enemy crossed him.

The lady before him had seen better days. Her face was smeared with blood and dirt and what would have once called a dress was now reduced to rags. Her hair was an utter mess, going in all directions. He couldn't be sure what color it actually was, because at the moment it too had fresh blood mixed with some dried, giving hint that this was not the first time she had been at the mercy of her captors blows. She wore no shoes, and her feet were covered with cuts. She sat hunched over as if it was painful for her to sit up straight.

Before he realized it he was standing directly in front of her not two feet away. And all the woman could do was stare at her saviour. What an unlikely saviour this man made. He was tall for she had to crane her head up a bit to look at him. His stature, she could tell even with all the layers of armor and clothes, that the man was muscular. His unkempt hair was dark and came down to his shoulders with braids scattered throughout. His skin was tan and rough. What parts of his face, that weren't hidden by his unruly hair, were rough as well, but surprisingly good looking. His cheeks were sharply cut and defined. His nose was cut straight but just the right length as to not ruin his face. She could see his strong chin through his thick beard. But all that was nothing. Nothing compared to his eyes. Dark. Brooding. Haunted. Nearly lifeless. Surely this man's eyes weren't the window to his soul, she thought. If that were true it was as black as night; if even he had one. She could have kicked herself. This man had just risked his life to save her and she was worrying over his soul! He did save her, but she couldn't help but wonder why? What were the motives behind the act? Then she as soon as those questions crossed her mind she came to the conclusion that if he had any intentions to cause her harm he would not be in such a hurry to leave. Making a decision that she hoped would not be a mistake, she made a move to get up; her legs were not having it. She cursed as she fell back on her rear. She looked up through her lashes at him. Tristan made no move to help.

"It seems I'm having a bit of trouble getting myself in order," she appealed to him without actually asking for help. Tristan looked around uncomfortably. Courtesy was something he was least familiar with. Resolve taking hold of him, he stuck his hand out for her to take. She started to reach for it then quickly gasped as she caught sight of the hand she was about to take. She eyed the other one, just as bloody, and then widened her eyes fearfully as she looked back up at him. All out of patience he snapped, "It's either get your hands a little dirty or sit there on the ground and wait for some nice men, like the ones you just parted company with, to come along. You choose."

He saw she was clearly taken aback at his sudden outburst. But instead of disgustedly refusing his hand, like he had assumed she would do, he caught the sudden resolve and determination in her face right before she grabbed his hand. Not thinking twice, he hoisted her up. She was lighter than he had judged, and therefore put a little too much strength into it, causing her to fall into him. He looked down and saw her eyes widen frightfully at having their bodies in contact so intimately. Not liking it one bit either he quickly remedied the situation. With a hand on each of her upper arms he moved himself arms length away from her.

"Yes. Well. You're up now. And you seem to be standing on your own. So... just..." he motioned for her to be on her way and turned back toward his horse, which he saw was now starting to get impatient in its wait for him.

"Please-" she started, but this time he wasn't having anymore of her whining. He was supposed to be scouting for enemies after all. Not attending to maidens in distress.

"Woman, I've saved you from two men who would've had their way with you if I hadn't happened along, I've killed them so there's no worry there, I've even helped you off the ground! What now? Do you need me to brush you off and send you on your way? How inept are you?!" He felt himself flush. Never mind the yelling. This was the most he had ever spoken. He hadn't even spoken as much to his brothers in the fifteen years he had been with them.

"Yes, I mean, no but..." she was stumbling over her words clearly at a loss. How dare he make her feel more foolish than she already felt! And quite embarrassed. Having had quite enough of abuse from men verbal or otherwise she decided to yell right back, consequences be damned. Gathering herself, she sucked in a long breath. "If you feel it was that much trouble then why did even stop?!"

Her sudden change of attitude made his head spin. Where she got the strength, let alone the courage, to yell at him he had no idea. "Listen-"

"No. You listen. Lot of good your saving me will do if I can't even find my way home," she shot at him.

"And what is stopping you from finding your way home?" He saw her pause as she gathered her thoughts.

"Well... the men they took me from the river where I wash clothes in every morning for the village I live in and Ruth must be so worried-"

"For Hell's sake women would you kindly quit your blathering and say what it is you mean? Who is Ruth?" He found himself asking, immediately regretting it.

"If you would please stop interrupting me with your rude remarks, I'd be very happy to let you in on my predicament! Ruth is my nanny and-"This time she caught herself off from the disbelieving look he gave her at her last statement. Surely a woman her age didn't need a nanny.

"Well she is not my nanny anymore. She was my nanny when I was younger but now she's just my... Well, I don't know what she to me now! She's very dear to me if you must know and-"

"I don't believe I ever demanded to know your relationship with her." He said in a voice dripping with just how disinterested he really was with the conversation.

She cut her eyes at him and felt herself getting more infuriated by the minute, no longer taking heed of the repercussions that her attitude towards the seemingly sinister man might cause. "What I have been trying to unsuccessfully convey to you is that I have no bloody idea where home is!"

He stood there staring at her in such an uncaring manner that she took it as a sign that could only mean that he was waiting for her to continue. "Alright. They took me from the river. They hit me over the head quite hard when they took me. When I awoke it was still the morning light but the sun had just clearly risen, and before you happened upon the scene we had spent another night together. So you see, I am at least two days journey from my village, and I could not tell you in which direction it is. So how do you expect me to find it on my own?"

The whole time she was explaining herself Tristan and had not made a move. He stood stock still taking this all in. Finally he gave a most manly grunt and turned to leave again. She stared incredulously after him. "Now, knowing everything you do, you still mean to leave me on my own?!"

"Nay, girl, if you had any sense you'd do best to hurry up and follow me or you could get left behind."

Shaking her head she made her way over to him, where he stood by his horse, as quickly as possible. He pulled himself deftly up into the saddle and stared down at her. She stared boldly right back, her not hot temper making her recklessly brave. Sighing and rolling his eyes he offered her his hand. She narrowed her eyes at him and snatched his hand. Thinking he was going to yank her up as rough as possible she braced herself, only to feel him carefully pull her up placing her behind him where she fit perfectly. Releasing a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding she quickly, but begrudgingly, wrapped her arms around the scout when he nudged his horse into a trot lest she fall off. After a few minutes of silence she realized she was uncomfortable in not knowing their destination considering everything she had been through in the past two days.

"Where is it exactly that you are taking me, sir?" Minutes passed making her think he wished to ignore her. She daringly cleared her throat. At his sigh she flinched not sure what to expect.

"I'm taking you to my brothers," he said in a bored voice.

"Brothers?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I need to report what I have seen so that that they may know it is safe to continue on our course. And also to let them decide what may be done with you." At this comment she gulped audibly, not noticing the smirk he made at clearly making her more nervous than she most obviously was.