Author's Note: Yes, this is a sterotypical girl from our time get's sent (or fetched) back to King Arthur's time. Yes, I realize it's cliche and has limited oppertunity to be origional. However, when the muse strikes who can deny it. This is more of a trial chapter than anything else. If it goes well, more will follow. As always, read, review, critique.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I am but playing with someone else's toys.

"But I don't know anything about horses!" Clara shrieked, backing away from the demon animal with the clinking of armor.

Come to the reenactment, they begged. Okay, she could do that and it would be useful when writing her thesis. Dress in armor, the demanded. That was pushing it, but hey, everyone else was dressed up, and she was feeling rather naked in her street clothes. If they wanted to armor her up, she could deal with it. Fight with us, they crowed. Clara considered it for all of two seconds, no, not happening, never. Yet here she was, standing in the stables looking at a very expectant warhorse while her equally bedecked friends begged.

"Clara," Sam began her dark eyes glistening with mischief, "you really want this. Trust me. Tristan won't let you come to any harm."

And the horses name was Tristan, as in Sir Tristan? This was getting to comical; Clara couldn't help it she laughed. The very affronted Tristan snorted, calling her back to the present where she was currently being herded into Sir Tristan's stall by her friends.

With much grumbling Clara mounted up, rather ungracefully being as weighed down as she was by her armor. "So does he do any tricks?"

Sam looked at her in confusion, "Tricks?"

Rolling her eyes Clara continued, "You know, tricks. Like how horses in the circus bow, or prance. Tricks."

"Tristan bows to no one, not even Arthur." Sam replied in all seriousness, checking over her friend and the horse again. "Be careful, have fun."

Then Sam turned to the horse and whispered softly, "Take care of her my friend, she does not belong here."

Lightly slapping his hindquarter Sam sent the stallion out of the stable and into the battle. The rider did not hear her whisper her goodbyes.

"Think she's going to come back?" Deveon queried, looking after the pair with a small smile. Sam looked at her brother, shrugging softly, "They don't have coffee."

Deveon turned towards his sister, for the first time seeing her distress, "That's not an answer."

"I know." Sam replied turning to grab her small bag before heading out into the fray.

-X-

"So you're Tristan, huh?" Clara mused, stroking the horse's neck softly. "They say that fallen knights return as great horses, though forgive me if I'm having difficulty believing it."

The horse beneath her snorted as though affronted by her remark sending Clara into another fit of childish giggles. "So what shall we do while the other's play war?"

Tristan shook his head as though it was an obvious answer prancing slightly as the sounds of the mock battle reached the clearing where they were hiding. Clara pulled at the reins slights, "That's not an option. I'm afraid, dear Sir, that you are stuck with a coward of a rider and we are most defiantly not going into battle."

Tristan, however, seemed to have other ideas as he galloped towards the clanking of armor with obvious delight, leaving Clara to cling to the pommel and swear at her well meaning friends.