Author's Note; Yay! My first ever fan fic. w00t! It's not my bes, but I hope you enjoy it. Please RR so I can improve.
Disclaimer: I don't own King Arthur, or any of the movie characters.
"A gentle breeze flies through the trees,
Whispering sweet lullabies.
Into the West the sunlight takes it's rest,
Like closing of weary eyes…"
How many times had she sung that sing silently to herself as she worked, or hummed it softly whenever his memory grew strong? The number had surely surpassed the thousands mark by now.
It had been their song; hers and her eldest child. He had been a fussy stubborn thing, with the curls of his mother and the temperament of his father. The old tune had been the sole thing that would lull the infant to sleep each night.
O! how that memory was dear to her now!
Even as he grew older, and was fast approaching manhood, the song had remained their special bond.
Had she sung it to him that night? The last he had spent at home? She couldn't remember now, for that recollection was mixed with so many others in the clutter of her mind.
Fifteen years had passed. Fifteen years of restless slumber and feverish hoping for the safe return of her child. After all this time, the flood of tears that had been set free with his departure still flowed relentlessly. It had been more so these passed weeks; the weeks during which the boy should be traveling home.
Is. Is traveling home; not should be. She must remain optimistic. It would do no good to wish ill-fortune upon her offspring.
Snapping the bedding in the still air outside her cabin, she gazed longingly toward the blue sky. Was he watching the same clouds drift by, thinking about her, too? She would know soon enough.
For it was then that she heard it. The beating of hooves nearing the area around her village; so like thunder that a few of the young ones fled to the safety of their homes.
A smile lit her face as the caravan peaked the crest of a hill in the distance.
It was now, after so long, that her restlessness would be set aside. As the company rode slowly toward the village, she searched their grim faces, and little by little, her smile faded.
He was not among them. She was certain of it by the way they continued on their path homeward, not casting her forsaken little home a second glance.
So it would be then, her worst fear come alive. Lancelot would not return. No matter what he had promised her fifteen years ago.
Even as she turned, the river of tears that had plagued her for what seemed like enternity now finally dry, she closed her eyes a lifted her spirit to a strong wind flying from the West.
While she pondered her son's fate, the wind playing through her hair somehow set her soul at ease. She opened her ears to it's whispers, and was surprised at what she head…
"I've come home at last…"