This was inspired by a hurt and comfort askmeme on Tumblr-en-shaedn, aka Dalekwizard, requested Gawain and Terence with "That's not supposed to bend like that" and a monster happened instead of a simple drabble. Thought I'd stick it up here in case there's anyone who isn't following me. Thank you again for the prompt!
They were in the Other World for the second time, the first time Terence experienced one of his other duties as a squire, one he hadn't had a chance to think about properly since he first joined up with Gawain. Perhaps it wasn't even something other squires had to worry about. Some knights traveled around with full escorts and trains and more attendants than Arthur himself required; some just went out questing with friends and servants, maybe the odd cook. Some knights brought priests along, just in case, but Gawain always insisted that the knights who did so weren't the kind of knights who'd be getting into enough trouble to need last rites. Perhaps the same knights carted around physicians in their trains.
But they were in the Other World, and unlike their previous crossing through the river of shaughuses, this one had been calm and simple and even a bit dull. Terence was the first to notice the way the wind was blowing from different directions on one side of the river to the other, how the trees were just a bit wider and just a bit taller than they had looked to be before they made the Crossing, how the grass was looked softer and the sky brighter and the horses seemed to hold their heads up higher despite weariness from their travels. He noticed and pointed it out to Gawain, who was immediately torn between wanting to explore their sworn home and wanting to set off in search of Ganscotter's palace and Lorie.
"Can't we do both?" Terence asked, rolling his shoulders and leaning back in the saddle to catch more sunlight. It wasn't that he didn't want to see the Enchanter and his daughter. It was that he knew Ganscotter was his father now, and wasn't sure what to do with that. He considered telling Gawain—he was sure the knight would take his discomfort into consideration when picking a direction to ride—but decided to keep it to himself for now. The time didn't seem right.
Gawain considered the proposal, however, and shrugged his agreement. "It's not like we know where we're going," he admitted. "I suppose if the castle wants to be found, we'll find it. Which way are you feeling right now?" Terence pointed downstream close to the river and off they went.
For a while, it was almost boring. The faery side of the river wasn't that much different than the human side, except it smelled faintly of apples. They rode alongside the water's edge, part in hope that it would connect to Ganscotter's moat, part out of fear they'd lose the crossing back to the World of Men if they wandered too far. Both were new to this sort of thing, and painfully aware of the possible incongruities in time from one world to the next. Neither wanted to return to find Arthur's court disbanded centuries ago.
Then Gawain pulled up on Guingalet's reins and stared quizzically at something hanging from a nearby tree. "Hullo, what's this?" he asked, reaching a hand up and tugging the cloth from the branches.
Terence trotted his horse alongside the big aughiskey. "Are you certain it's a good idea to go grabbing things hanging in faery trees, milord?"
He snatched his fingers away. "…Do you…I don't know…sense anything about this place?" Terence gave him a withering look, and the knight blustered. "You've clearly got more faery blood than I. And you did so well last time. Shouldn't you just be able to feel these things?"
"I don't know," Terence said. "I don't suppose I feel anything. What is it, anyway?"
Gawain reached out and grabbed at the cloth again. It fell almost into his lap with a single yank and he turned it this way and that. "It's a box of some kind, wrapped in red cloth."
"Wonder what's inside."
"I'm not stupid enough to open—"
"MINE." Something the size of a small bear bounded out of the forest depths, leapt clean over Guingalet's head, snatched the box out of Gawain's hands, and began down the riverbank.
Terence's horse startled at the thing's sudden appearance and whinnied harshly, rearing its head back. "Hey," Gawain shouted as Terence wrestled with his reins. The knight kicked Guingalet into a full gallop after the creature.
"Milord—" Terence shouted, and sprung his own steed in pursuit when he realized it was hopeless. They raced after the thing, somehow always staying a few leaps and bounds behind. It ran on its legs and one arm—or paw?—the other clutching the red box close to its chest.
Terence, not yet accustomed to chases at a gallop, gave the horse its head and watched Gawain ride on. It was for this reason, and this reason only that he was able to cast his eye on the river up ahead and see something very peculiar. A sharp twist in the waterway ahead, almost a right angle, and a shift in the way the trees stood loomed in front of them. If that wasn't odd enough, the way the bank sloped right before the angle should have made such a thing impossible…Rivers simply weren't supposed to bend like that…
He drew back on the reins, forcing his horse to a reluctant halt. "MILORD," he shouted. "Milord, STOP!"
The warning came too late. The thing, whatever it was, didn't turn with the river but kept on bounding straight ahead. Gawain galloped after it—and at spot where the river turned, ran headlong into an invisible wall. Guingalet screamed as his front hooves were forced into the mud and he nearly flipped forward entirely. Gawain fell from the saddle as the aughiskey, still screaming and now pawing at air, toppled over on top of him. "Milord!" Terence cried, having already slipped from his own steed. He jogged toward the faery horse climbing to its feet, fearing his master would be trampled as he rose.
He hadn't even made it to Gawain's side when he heard the knight call out in a raspy growl, "Catch Guingalet!" He turned without a thought and sprinted toward the run-away horse. He made a jump for the trailing reins and caught them, sliding along the ground and digging his elbows in to slow the run. Guingalet neighed and kicked at him. He avoided hooves and rolled to his feet, still clutching the reins.
Guingalet reared, almost yanking the leather out of Terence's hands and leaving deep welts in his palms. He still hung on, pulling to reach the horse's head. Guingalet tried to run again, and Terence, so much smaller than the great horse, fell to the dirt. He hit a stone buried in the mud and felt his lip split. Guingalet dragged him for a few feet and managed to kick his side once, before Terence managed to stand again. He pulled and pulled until the spooked aughiskey was close enough that he could catch the bridle and drag his head close, whispering calming nothings. He got bitten for his troubles, three times, until he finally managed to pull the horse back under control.
He limped as he gingerly lead the huffing horse back to wear he'd left Gawain, alarm leaping up and catching him by the throat as he saw the knight hadn't moved since he'd left. "Gawain!" he said, roping Guingalet's reins over a low hanging tree branch so the beast couldn't run off again and running toward his master as fast as he could manage.
Gawain groaned when he heard Terence's voice. "I was hoping it would take you longer to catch him," he said as the squire approached. "I'm not ready to move yet." He blinked when Terence's face drifted into view. "…Well. Did you catch Guingalet or try to wrestle him?"
"Your horse is evil," he insisted, swallowing his panic. If Gawain could crack stupid jokes, he wasn't as badly hurt as all that. "What's wrong?"
"My evil horse fell on me, that's what's wrong," he insisted. He started to sit up, then groaned and fell back to the ground. "What did we hit?"
"I don't know. Your—" he swallowed heavily, going a bit green as his focused on Gawain's left arm. "Your shoulder's all—funny."
Gawain took a deep breath through his nose and held it, his nostrils flaring. He was pale, and the worry returned. "…It's dislocated, at least. I think that arm might be broken, too."
"Dislocated?"
"Yeah. Help me up, lad." Terence grabbed Gawain's right arm and levered him up with a groan. The knight's back audibly popped and he groaned again, in relief this time. "Oooh, glad that went in without any fuss. I was afraid for a moment it was serious."
Terence's eyebrows went up. "…Are you sure moving you is a good idea, milord? I don't know much about medicine—"
"You can call me Gawain while we're alone, you know. And I know, I've been meaning to teach y—" He shuddered and closed his eyes, his hand tightening around Terence's arm. After a moment, he released the breath he was holding. "…I suppose now's as good a time as any."
"Milord?"
"You need to put my arm back into place."
Terence's mouth went dry. "Milord, I don't—"
"I know, but I can't do it on my own. You're clever, you'll catch on fine. Just do exactly what I tell you to do." He winced and went paler. "And quickly, please. This is rather painful."
"Wh-what do I need to do?"
"That's a good lad. Help me onto my stomach. The squire carefully rolled Gawain over. "Now, grab my arm and put your foot in the middle of my back."
Terence hesitated in the middle of grabbed Gawain's arm. "But if your back's injured—"
"Don't worry, it isn't. Just landed wonky on it. Go ahead, you're doing well." He talked Terence through where to put his foot and where to put the other one and where to hold his arm—although Gawain's speech during those particular directions become stilted and slurred. He told Terence twice what he was to do, the way he was to pull the limb and how long he was to hold it, and made Terence repeat the instructions once.
The squire's hands were shaking as he finally yanked Gawain's shoulder back into its socket. The knight screamed through gritted teeth, bucking beneath Terence's foot, and he nearly dropped the arm in fright at the sound. At last, Gawain's frantic hyperventilation faded into controlled breaths and Terence let go of the arm. Gawain winced and curled in around it, still counting his breaths.
At last, the knight gave a shuddery sigh and opened his eyes completely. "Help me up," he muttered, and Terence helped him sit up and knock some of the dried mud out of his hair and off his clothes. "You did well, lad," he said softly, and Terence smiled in response.
"D'you think it's broken?" he asked when Gawain hesitantly flexed his arm.
"…Nay, maybe a sprain, but it's not so bad." He closed and opened his fist several times, flexed his wrist, moved his elbow, and winced. "Though I probably should be careful in case that shoulder starts swelling. You set it clean, but sometimes they like to swell up anyway. Help me up."
Terence started to kneel and help the knight to his feet, but when Gawain wrapped his good arm around Terence's shoulders, the squire's skin felt like fire and he cried out. Gawain yanked his arm back and took another look, much clearer look at his squire. "Gog's blood, you look awful, Terence," he muttered, holding the squire's bloody chin in his hand and tilting his face this way and that. "Hold your arms up."
Terence obeyed with a hard wince as the kick to his side made itself evident. Gawain lifted Terence's tunic and whistled. "Your shoulders and back are shredded in a couple of places and your side here's going to be more bruise than anything else. Hold still, I need to prod at that a bit." He poked at Terence's skin, and the squire nearly bit his tongue trying to hold back a shout. Whatever Gawain was worried about he didn't seem to find, because he grunted and dropped the tunic.
"You'll live," he said, trying and failing to lever himself to his feet with one hand on his knees. "No internal bleeding, just some bad bruising. You'll have to take it easy for a while. I do believe you got the worst of our little adventure."
Terence wrinkled his nose and winced again at the pull on his split lip. "I told you, evil."
Gawain chuckled, and the squire stood and offered him a hand up. "How about we head back across the river and find some nice English tavern in which to lick our wounds in peace, hmm? I don't think we're quite ready to explore the great wilds of home yet."
