A/N: I don't own King Arthur and all related characters. Enjoy!
Arthur slowly fingered the cold smooth metal of the twin blades that sat before him, glinting in the moonlight. It had been a month since their master had been parted from them for the last time, and Arthur had insisted on retrieving them from the battlefield, but had been unsure for quite some time what he should do with them.
For once cleaned and polished, they did not lie upon their master's grave; their master had no grave. They were to remain with Arthur it would seem, and serve as a lasting memory, forged in steel...
He tentatively picked them up, and attempted to wield them, as had once been so expertly done. He sighed; half in admiration with the realisation of the skill needed to handle both weapons; and half in wistful sorrow as the swishing of the blades as they cut through the air, almost seemed to whisper the name:
'Lancelot' He spoke with them now, swinging them harder and faster, until finally his strength left him and he fell to the floor, the blades clattering beside him, irrelevant.
As he sobbed hot tears of pain, all alone in the darkness, he recalled holding the ashes, knowing that soon the last physical remains of his closest friend would be lost to the wind.
And how he had first been tempted to defy his knight's wishes, and bury him, clinging on to the comfort of knowing his friend was just there whenever he wanted to see him, or feel close to him. He wasn't ready for Lancelot to be, well, gone. Not yet. Not ever.
He had been sad that those gleaming twin blades could not lie beside their master, a final lasting tribute to his courage and honour...
Now he just felt shame and anger at himself for thinking these things. He knew deep down how selfish he had been, and realised now that he had given Lancelot his greatest wish: to be free of those blades, and all they represented: so long had they been his servants, yet also his captors.
Still sobbing Arthur was slowly allowing himself to realise that he had given Lancelot the greatest gift he could, a gift he could never have given him in life: freedom. And in turn he knew Lancelot would always be with him, that he would go wherever he went...
The darkness of the room suddenly lifted, and Arthur blinked in surprise, realising that the sun was already beginning to rise. It cast a milky yet comforting light onto his thoughts, and he wiped away his tears and smiled, as he felt a gentle breeze playing around him...
He knew he would always cherish the sound of the wind in the trees, knowing at last he would never truly be alone...