A/N: Here it is: the multichapter Tristan-centric I announced on my previous fic, "Footwork".

So, like I said, this story centers on a canon aspect of the Arthurian myths, but not in a "canon" way since it's impossible to fit the story into the movie. I decided to tackle the romance between Tristan and Isolde; I thought it'd be a nice thing to write as more practice when writing Tristan. This fic also features non-movie knights such as Gaheris (Gawain's brother), Percival and Dinadan (Tristan's closest friend), and it takes place two years before the movie (making the date circa 465 AD). Not much else to add other than I will take a bit of liberty when writing Isolde's character; don't worry, I'll loyally stick to Tristan's.

Anyway, here it is. Enjoy the read!^^

If Only For A Moment
A King Arthur fanfiction

I

Between dreams and reality

Speed. Soaring the skies.

The wind, hard and icy, pushes him forward, teases him to continue. He's overcome his fatigue, and the only thing that's left is running, faster than the mightiest animal. He leaps into the air and he's flying, arms stretched wide, mimicking the hawk that flies overhead. The horizon seems easy to reach, the sky an endless ocean that called to him with vigor, making his heart swell with excitement. He's close, he's happy, he's free-

-until his feet touch the ground once more, harshly pulling him back to reality. Confusion takes over as he lands, and so he trips and rolls down the hillside. From under disheveled locks, he watches as the hawk disappears in the distance. Frustration strikes him, desperation putting him through denial. He'd been so close; the sky had almost been his. He'd felt it: he'd truly flown, no matter what his mind was saying against that simple fact.

It was of no importance. He clenches his teeth, gets to his feet and chases after the animal.

"Wait... come back! Come back!"

x-x

Again, the same dream, the same feelings of delight, frustration, anger and determination, all mixed into one hard strike to his heart that left him breathless. He couldn't stop dreaming about his home and childhood, and it was starting to get to him. As much as he longed to return, he did not let his desires interfere; but it was at night that he could no longer control them, and so memories ran rampant through his mind, pulling him back into a world he had long ago left behind.

Tristan shifted his position atop the tree branch he was sitting on, then rubbed his eyes with a sigh. He looked down at his sleeping comrades, then up at the sky. It was clear and cloudless night and that, coupled with the strong wind that was blowing, did nothing but remind Tristan of his imaginary adventure. Curse his vivid imagination that had made everything feel as real as the world around him; well, Sarmatia had been and was real, contrary to what one might think after thirteen years of endless battle and an unfamiliar lifestyle. Some knights like Gawain were starting to forget -if he hadn't already- but others like Galahad and Tristan had their memories of home anchored to their minds, unwilling to let them go. That way, they could take solace in them whenever the world became bizarre and disturbing.

That was exactly what Tristan was doing now. It had been an odd and restless night, and he was sure he wouldn't be able to sleep again, so Tristan relaxed and reminisced.

His moment of peace was short-lived, for a rustle of movement under him jolted Tristan back into full alertness. More movement, light grunts and shaking branches; Tristan eased back in his seat when he recognized the climbing figure as Dinadan who, halfway through, snickered and flashed Tristan a wide smile.

"Figured I'd find you here," he whispered, then pulled himself up onto Tristan's branch and sat in front of him. "What keeps you from sleeping? You've had an exhausting day today, and we've got a worse one up ahead tomorrow. You should get back down there and rest."

"I've tried, but just couldn't. Besides, somebody had to keep watch," said Tristan with a half-hearted shrug. He was in no mood for talking, so he kept his answers short and to the point, hoping Dinadan would soon catch the hint. His friend did sooner than later, much to the scout's surprise, and they both fell into a comfortable -but cold- silence. Tristan pulled his cloak tighter around him and brought his knees up to his chest.

"Tristan, what is it?" Dinadan suddenly asked, fixing his bright green eyes on the scout. "I know you're not gonna say a damn thing, but I just have to ask. Something's getting you down, and I'm actually worried. Whatever it is, you can't hide it for long; you should've known I would have noticed."

"I'm dreaming of home, Dinadan," Tristan said weakly after the pause, "and I don't like it. At the same time, I don't want to forget; what else would I have if I did? And it's been the same dream for days now."

"Forgetting's the last thing you want to do, aye. Take the dreams as proof that you still remember."

"They do nothing but remind me of what I've lost; they only cause me unnecessary pain."

"That goes without saying," said Dinadan with a shrug. "I've also dreamed from time to time, Tris, and it's never pleasant. You just have to accept it."

Tristan frowned in frustration. "But it feels so-"

"-unfamiliar? You've never felt that sort of pain before?"

At Dinadan's knowing smile, Tristan blushed and looked away; he was thankful it was dark enough for the redness of his cheeks to go unnoticed. Dinadan snickered again, this time clapping a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from laughing out loud. Tristan kicked Dinadan's leg, making his friend wince and raise his hands in defense. Tristan had to admit, though, that Dinadan was right. He was familiar with all kinds of pain, especially that of loss, but not the one associated with nostalgia and longing. For him, missing home had become something natural, something he had accepted and was now living with, but it had never hurt as much as it did when he was dreaming.

Tristan sighed in defeat. "You're making me feel like a kid, but you're right."

"Everybody's a kid every once in a while, Tristan; it just doesn't happen to you as often as it does to others," Dinadan offered, the kindness in his voice palliating Tristan's unease. "You might be fifty years old or twenty-four -as is your case-, but there's always something to learn. You just discovered the pain of longing; unfortunately, the hard way."

"That's how things are; no way around it. It's always the hard way."

"You're just sulking."

"I'm not. Why don't you go back to sleep and leave me alone?"

Dinadan shook his head. Though annoyed, Tristan had to admit that his short talk with Dinadan had left him more at ease. That damn knight, always hitting the right spot. That was how well Dinadan knew him; he would always say the right thing.

"How long have you been up here?" Dinadan asked out of the blue.

"A while."

"Well, I've been here for mere moments and my butt is already sore."

Tristan bit back a laugh, but he nevertheless smiled widely. "What says we get down?"

"You don't have to ask."

Dinadan reached for the first branch and started climbing down with a grimace and an audible 'ow'. Tristan, still smiling, followed suit. Both knights headed to their respective sleeping places but no sooner Tristan had laid down, Dinadan was next to him. He laid on his stomach, his eyes on Tristan, who lifted a curious eyebrow.

"Just in case I have to hug you after another one of those bad dreams of yours."

Tristan smacked Dinadan on the back of his head with a scowl. With Dinadan around, though, he could stay mad at him for so long, so Tristan eventually smiled and, with one last look at the sky, he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

x-x

The next morning, everybody was up at dawn. It was their intention to return to the Wall by midday, so they decided it best to pack and set out immediately; along the way, each knight would take care of his own stomach, though that earned them Gawain's light-hearted complaints. This time, Percival was riding up front, so Tristan could ease back and ride along the rest of the knights. Save for Dinadan, the others were surprised to see Tristan join them, and even joked with being 'honored with his presence'.

"Ah, go easy on 'im," said Gaheris, riding up to his brother Gawain. "The scouting's got to get lonely. Every man needs a bit of company from time to time." He smiled widely. "Even you, Tristan, I'm sure."

"The company has got to be good; otherwise, it's not worth having it," Tristan replied. His words had the desired effect on his companions; most of them, having got the hint, were staring at him slack-jawed. "Now, now, get yourselves together. I didn't say anything out of the ordinary."

"Somethin's gotten to ya," Bors said from behind. "Here I am, 'earing everythin', and you're just makin' jokes. Is Dinadan finally rubbing off on you or what?"

Dinadan threw his head back with a bark of laughter. "Gods forbid he takes after my sense of humor, or else you'd be the loners and not him!" he exclaimed after sobering a little. Tristan looked down at his horse's reins in an attempt to hide a smile. There he was: Dinadan, getting Tristan out of situations he knew would be uncomfortable for the scout. Tristan couldn't thank his friend enough.

"Hey, ain't that your bird, Tristan?"

The knights looked up and indeed, the animal was circling them overhead. Tristan whistled and the hawk immediately swooped down to perch itself on Tristan's shoulder, where it proceeded to pick at its wings. "Aren't you the vain bird, eh?" Tristan teased, poking the hawk's beak to distract it. The animal countered with a fierce peck at the scout's finger. "Easy, girl." Tristan looked at his finger and shook his hand. "Damn, any fiercer and you'd be worse than Gaheris on a bad day."

"Beg your pardon, Braids?" Gaheris intervened, leaning forward on his horse to shoot Tristan a murderous glare. The scout shrugged, ignoring said glare. "You're gonna get it once we get back to the Wall," he threatened, aggressiveness seeping into his tone.

"I rest my case."

Gaheris shared a look with Gawain, then both brothers laughed. "Aye, I suppose you can, Tris," said Gaheris, smiling widely. "Anyway, let's just focus on riding and getting back home. We've got things to do back there."

"Like celebrating the success of this mission?" offered Galahad from next to Bors.

"Somethin' like that, yeah," agreed Gawain.

Things to do... Tristan's list was quite short, and among his duties would be sleeping. His mind momentarily drifted back to last night's dream. Tristan looked away from his companions, unease blooming within him once more. As if reading his thoughts, his hawk nuzzled its head against Tristan's cheek, offering the comfort he could only get from an animal like her. "It's okay."

Tristan was then called forward by Lancelot, who was riding up ahead next to Arthur and Percival. It was the latter who spoke in a slightly hushed tone.

"I'm getting a bad feeling we're being watched."

It wouldn't be surprising, though Percival was known for being a bit paranoid when it came to riding through the forest. The Woads were everywhere; the forest was their home, so only somebody who had lived in the forest -like Tristan, which was why he was the most trusted knight for scouting- could spot them before anything bad happened. Arthur and Lancelot were on high alert. Tristan noticed his hawk was growing restless; she, too, was sensing something.

"Now it's not just you, apparently," Lancelot said, casting a look around himself. Tristan signaled to Arthur to keep on riding, then strained his ears to pick up any sound that might give away their trackers' position. Aye... Trackers, five or six at the very least. Hunters with bows and arrows. We're prey once more.

The hawk took flight all of a sudden and before Tristan could stop her, she disappeared into the trees. Almost immediately, a loud painful yell echoed through the forest. That was their cue.

"Ride! Hurry!" Tristan commanded Arthur, who was off in the blink of an eye, followed swiftly by the rest of the knights.

The scout went along last, just in time to avoid an arrow that whizzed past him. The Woads were now coming after him, at least those who hadn't had their eyes poked by the fierce bird. Tristan noticed said Woads running alongside; he quickly whipped out his bow, took aim and released his first arrow. He took out his remaining enemies, then searched the skies for his hawk, which he soon saw flying some distance ahead of him. Tristan kicked his horse and the animal ran even faster, taking him away from danger at an impressing speed. He heard a familiar yell -Bors'- coming from the distance, and Tristan soon caught up with the knights, who were engaging several more Woads by the limits of the forest.

"We're getting all the fun now!" exclaimed Lancelot as he dodged the attack of an enemy. Tristan swiftly scanned the area for the Woad that seemed to be, in all probabilities, the head of the group. Having located him running towards Dinadan -who clearly would not expect the Woad-, Tristan spurred his horse, then drew his sword and dismounted simultaneously. He caught the ambush leader completely by surprise; Tristan was on the Woad in an instant, his sword piercing his enemy from side to side. Dinadan pivoted, eyes wide in shock, then nodded at Tristan.

"Damn Woads!"

The skirmish was over before any knight noticed it. The Woads withdrew into the forest, using the shrubbery as cover, but the knights remained alert, listening for any other movement. Once they were sure, Percival spoke up.

"There was something weird about them," he said between pants. "I'm not sure... but it seemed as if they were returning from somewhere. Some were already wounded, most of them bloodied, and they're not the usual number Merlin sends after us." He looked worriedly at Arthur. "They've been somewhere."

Tristan didn't need to hear anything else: he swiftly got on his horse and without waiting for orders, rode ahead of his companions. His hawk joined him soon afterwards, and so did Arthur and the rest. Tristan saw a column of smoke raising up into the air some distance away; so that's where the Woads had come from. The scout yanked at his horse's reins and stopped. He looked at Arthur.

"I'm guessing it's been an attack on a village up ahead and most likely, those who have escaped are already on their way to the Wall," Tristan told their commander. "Ride north and get there, see if you can intercept them. I'll go and see if there's anybody left."

"We'll go with you," Gawain said, gesturing at himself and Dagonet. Tristan nodded, satisfied.

"We'll see you at the Wall."

With that, Arthur took the rest of the knights up the road towards Hadrian's Wall; Tristan and his companions headed south. Upon arriving, Tristan had suspicions thrown out the window: there was nobody there... and they few that were had suffered death at the hands of the Woads. The source of the fire was a house in the middle of the small village. Dagonet dismounted first and knelt by the nearest bloodless body; even so, he shook his head with grief. They were all dead.

"Gods, what a mess," Gawain said in an undertone loud enough for Tristan to hear. "Savages, the lot of them."

"Did you expect anything less?" Tristan bit back, cold. He searched some of the houses that were yet standing, but still found no sign of life. Dagonet was luckier: he'd found a boy and a girl, the two of them unharmed and safe. They were scared out of their skin, but Dagonet managed to put them at ease enough for the children to trust them. Gawain glanced at Tristan with a smirk; the scout, while impassive, had to agree with his fellow knight: Dagonet was the gentle soul. Once they were sure nobody else remained, the knights set out to join Arthur.

As Tristan had expected, Arthur and the others had intercepted the fleeing villagers; what came as a surprise was the supply wagon they were escorting. Tristan left Dagonet and Gawain to their devices and rode up to Dinadan, who welcomed him with a relieved smile.

"What's this about?" asked Tristan.

"The Woads attacked this supply wagon as it was leaving the village, but they managed to escape," Lancelot -who was riding in front of them-, answered in Dinadan's stead. "Did you find anything in the village?"

Tristan shook his head. "Save for two kids Dagonet found, there was nobody else alive."

"Damn," cursed Dinadan. "Bastards... Why don't they massacre themselves for a change? I'm no supporter of Rome, but they could at least leave the villagers alone."

"But they won't," said Lancelot. "From a strategic point of view, it's the villagers whom the Woads are more interested in. They supply the Roman soldiers that then run raids against them."

"Doesn't it get to you that this village in particular was completely unprotected, though?" asked Dagonet, who came up next to Tristan. "I saw no Roman soldiers lying around."

Tristan nodded. "I noticed, too. But the Romans only protect what interests them."

"Are you suggesting they just left the village out?"

"When he puts it like that, he's right," said Dinadan with a frown. "If they were of no use to Rome anymore, then why spend soldiers -and the most important thing, money- on protecting them?" He shuddered with a grimace. "Can't help but get the chills when I think about it. It reminds me of the code of conduct of our tribe, something I never particularly agreed with."

The knights then rode in silence. The Wall appeared in the distance soon enough, a sight which lifted their spirits: after four days away, they were finally back. After passing the first gate, Arthur was thanked by the convoy leader and told they could handle themselves from that point onwards, so the knights headed for the second gate and the square that connected the rest of the fort. Upon arriving, Bors greeted Vanora; and Dinadan, much to Tristan's own surprise, the girl he had been told about during their four-day expedition to the south.

Tristan got off his horse and patted his muzzle in approval. "Jols will take you to the stables. You've earned your rest." The animal neighed as if saying thanks, and that's how Tristan took it. He started toward the door, then stopped dead in his tracks as a flicker of white to his left caught his attention.

And he saw her.

It was only for a moment, but Tristan would recognize that face everywhere. His heart sped up and his eyes widened, something Dinadan noticed and brought to the scout's attention. He wasn't listening, instead watching as the woman got lost within the crowd. Either it was a dream or-

"Hello?"

Dinadan's loud voice was enough to snap Tristan out of his daze. He darted after the woman, following the hem of her white dress as she strode up the street towards the supply warehouses. Tristan felt his stomach knot in nervousness, even more when he finally called out her name.

"Isolde?"

She whipped around, her distressed expression morphing into one of shock when she laid eyes on him. Tristan was more disconcerted than relieved when he finally ascertained that yes, the person standing before him was Isolde. Isolde. She seemed to have reached the same conclusion as him, only inverted. Her dark eyes bore into his, and two tears rolled down her pale cheeks.

"Tristan?"

A/N: So there it is, the first chapter. Tell me what you think of it: pros, cons, anything; that's what reviews are for. I'd like to think things are gonna get a bit funnier -especially if the knights find out about Tristan and Isolde, but we'll get to that in time.

Reviews are appreciated!^^