Time Ago
To Lancelot, it seemed to be more than fifteen years since he had last seen the meadows of grass in his homeland, or even breathed the sweet air of home. Home was vague to him. With each passing day he forgot a little bit more of his past, for war and bloodshed took its place. At night, in his dreams, Lancelot dreamt not of trivial pursuits, but of the time when he would at last be freed to return home. Home. The word was like a refreshing cup of wine after a skirmish with the Woads.
Lying back on his bed, Lancelot sighed and closed his eyes, trying to remember what his home was like. All that came back were the meadows of grass, stretching from horizon to horizon and the never-ending sky. He could not remember the faces of his father, mother or his siblings. He fingered the charm that his sister had given him, hoping that it would grant his memories back. But none came no matter how hard he tried. In the dark recesses of his mind Lancelot knew that he would die in battle, hopefully after he was freed and hopefully after he returned home. The longing was so terrible that he could not rest in peace and Lancelot spent the night by his window, staring off into the distance.
On that fateful day at Badon Hill, Lancelot fought for his life and the life of his friends and commander. One by one, he cut down the enemy and in doing so secured his thoughts of returning home alive. But the belief vanished as an arrow went through his heart, through his armor. With rage, Lancelot slew the one who shed his blood. Clutching his chest, he knew he was dying, and his only regret was not that he became a knight, but that he would never feel the cool grass beneath the soles of his feet, hear the songs of the birds nor taste the sweetness of freedom.
But before Lancelot closed his eyes for the last time, he looked off into the distance, past the smoke and past the clouds that veiled the sun. There, he saw his beloved home, and a feeling of longing rose up within him. He blinked, and his homeland was gone, replaced by his friends and family who have gone before him a time ago. Surrounded by the visions of his loved ones, Lancelot sighed and let death take him.