A/N: This is a rather short chapter, because I didn't want to include the next part. The next one should be pretty long, though, to make up for it. I'm not sure when I'll update again, as I need to rework the middle bit of the story, but hopefully soon!

Warning: violence! Yay, we're off to a busy start!

Disclaimer: see chapter 1.

.*.*.*.*.*.

That night, they camped in the woods. They were all grateful for a lack of rain as they made their camp and settled in for the night. Tristan, Bors, and Galahad were selected to keep watch through the night, and they settled down to sleep.

It was during Galahad's watch in the wee hours of the morning that they were attacked.

The bandits—Roman deserters or criminals, they weren't sure which—streamed out from the trees as silently as if they had been Woads. They nearly slit Galahad's throat before he knew they were there and let out a strangled cry.

Across the camp, Gawain woke to a scarred, grimacing face leering down at him. With a shout, he grabbed the axe he had laid at his side before falling asleep and swung it up into the Roman's head, splitting the skull an splattering himself with brains and blood. He rolled out of the way of the falling carcass and was on his feet in an instant. One of his knives went flying across the campsite to bury in the face of Galahad's assailant. That was his first mistake.

As his attention was drawn towards Galahad's plight, Gawain failed to notice the man creeping up behind him. It wasn't until a sword was thrust through his shoulder that he realized someone was behind him. As soon as the sword was gone, he swung around, the axe in his hand whistling through the air until it met his foe's neck, severing the man's head from his body. Wincing in pain, he transferred his axe to his left hand and let the right hang limp; he could hardly move it thanks to the wound. His next opponent found Gawain's axe buried in his skull before he could even raise his sword against the knight.

Gawain glanced again towards Galahad, but could no longer see his friend through the melee. He swung his axe around just in time to catch a blow from another Roman, tangling the man's sword under the blade of his axe. He planted a foot in the man's crotch and kicked hard, sending him reeling backwards and directly into Tristan's sword. The two nodded to each other, then turned to find new opponents.

Gawain found himself face-to-face with a savagely-grinning man with a shaved head and wild beard. Gawain brandished his axe and growled ferally at the man. Instead of blanching at the animalistic action, as many of his opponents did, this man grinned wider and growled in return, brandishing a pair of long knives held in a reverse grip. Gawain swung his axe hard and fast at the man's head, but he blocked with one of the knives, the other one speeding towards Gawain's stomach. The knight spun out of the way, pulling hard on his axe in an attempt to wrest one of his opponent's knives away, to no avail. Instead, the man twisted his wrist skillfully and managed to rip Gawain's axe from him. With slight difficulty, the knight drew his sword, glaring at his opponent. He growled again, and sprung towards the man, who dodged easily.

Gawain staggered slightly, trying to keep clear of the man's wicked knives, and brought his sword about to meet a knife with a clash of metal. The other knife came flying again towards his stomach but he jerked out of the way. The knife missed his stomach, but buried halfway in his left thigh, eliciting a roar of pain from the injured knight. His opponent jumped away as Gawain brought his sword swinging around towards his neck, leaving the knife buried in Gawain's thigh.

Keeping his eyes on his opponent, Gawain reached down to remove the dagger from his thigh. He managed to slowly work it out without dropping his sword and, as he dropped the knife to the ground, his opponent leapt forward again, a foot speeding towards Gawain's injured leg. It met his thigh just above the knee and the bone popped, crumpling Gawain to the ground. The man shoved him backwards and tossed his sword away, then pinned him with a knee on his chest and the other on his good arm. He raised his remaining knife to drive it through Gawain's chest, but before he could bring it down, an arrow through completely through his neck. The man's face registered complete shock, and he fell to the side.

"Thanks," Gawain gasped, blinking up at Galahad. He was beginning to see spots, and the knee the man had dug into his chest had cracked at least one rib.

"Dag!" Galahad shouted. "Come quick!" he dropped his bow and fell to his knees beside Gawain, attempting to staunch the flow of blood from the wound in his friend's shoulder. Dagonet appeared at the edge of Gawain's vision, a worried look on his face. Wordlessly, he handed Galahad a piece of cloth, and Galahad pulled Gawain up to place it against the back of his shoulder. Gawain moaned in pain as Dagonet explored the wound in his leg.

"How is he?" Arthur's ever-worried voice came from somewhere around Gawain's head, although he couldn't see his commander.

"Lost a lot of blood," Dagonet replied. "The leg is broken and will need a splint. This arm's dislocated. The shoulder will need sutures, and the leg might. Probably a cracked rib or two as well."

"So, not good," Bors summed up grimly, peering over Galahad.

"Don't worry," Gawain croaked. "I'm not going to die and cost you your only decent sparring partner." The dark spots in his eyes started to grow, and a roaring in his ears drowned out Bors's reply.