Title: Stuck
Rating: PG
Summary: Another version on how Lancelot got his swords.
Disclaimer: no, I don't own them...any of them...I own nothing...
Author's Note: this was written for the challenge at the Yahoo group kingarthurfanfiction. It's not my only story but it's the first one to get done, lol. My next one is a longer and hopefully I'll get it out soon. Anyway, this one isn't my best piece of work ever but it sort of amused me, I wrote it while listening to Gaelic Storm, so, yeah. And I'll shut up now. Enjoy and please review!
"Damn it!" Lancelot cursed as he put his foot on the Woad corpse at his feet and attempted to free the long sword that he had been given to him from the Romans' limited armoury at the fort. It was no use; the sword was still stuck in the Woad's flesh. He cursed again, got a better grip on the hilt, and pulled as hard as he could. The sword clumsy came one of the corpse of the man he had just killed and Lancelot fell backwards into another Woad that was going to attack him from behind.
The Sarmation scrambled to his feet and swung the heavy sword around towards the second Woad. He despised the sword; it was much too heavy, too big and too awkward. It would be much better suited for Dagonet's style or one of the other much bigger knights. As the sword cut into the side of the Woad, pain shot up Lancelot's right arm and into his shoulder. He gritted his teeth as the dying Woad feel to the ground, taking the sword with him.
"Oh for the love of-.. not again!" he cried aloud. Putting his foot once again on the dead body, Lancelot bit his lip as his the muscles in his shoulder screamed at the strain to pull the sword out of another body. After three years in Britain, Lancelot thought that he should have gotten used to the sword but the fact was some days he had a smaller one and some days he had this massive one, which was much too big for him.
The sword came free and again, Lancelot fell back on his arse. He stood up again, the sword dragging by his side, and looked around. That was the last of the Woads. Lancelot dragged the sword back towards where his horse stood.
"How many d'you get, Dag?" Bors shouted from across the field.
"Twelve," the bigger man replied with a bit of a smirk crossing his normally serious face, "That's eleven more than you."
Bors snorted, "That's only two more than me..I think." He looked around at the other knights and nodded towards the younger Lancelot, "What about you Lancelot? How many?"
"I killed enough," Lancelot said sheathing the sword and jumping up on his horse.
Bors laughed, "I bet you only killed five!" Lancelot glared at him to no avail as the laughing continued.
Some hours later, Arthur wandered about the fort, checking on his wounded men and seeing that the others got rest. However, as he made his rounds, he failed to see Lancelot. The younger knight had shown a quality that Arthur had seen in only perhaps a handful of men before. Not to mention, Lancelot and Arthur had become friends very quickly upon the Sarmation's arrival, despite that Arthur was a Roman. Curious as to where Lancelot was, Arthur searched the barracks, armoury, the top of the wall, almost everywhere he could think of. It was finally in the stable that he found the young knight.
Lancelot was sitting on top of the spare bails of hay, grumbling to himself and throwing rocks from a pile next to him at a pile of dirt in the corner. Arthur watched the young man for a good while before coming closer to hear what he was saying.
"Damn sword...Damn Woads...Damn Britain...Damn Bors...Damn Romans!" Lancelot's voice grew louder after throwing each rock. Finally, he threw the last rock as hard as he could and grabbed his shoulder in pain, forgetting about the sore muscles, "GAH!! DAMN SWORD!!"
"Lancelot?" Arthur came over to him.
"What the hell do you want!" Lancelot shot back, glaring at the Roman.
"I didn't see you with the rest of the knights, I just wondered where you went," Arthur explained, "What happened to your shoulder?"
"Nothing! And now you know where I am so go away," the Sarmation grumbled.
Arthur sighed and climbed up on the hay bails. "I saw you during the battle today-..." he started but was interrupted by the knight.
"So you came to laugh at me too didn't you? Or are you just going to get mad that I can't fight with a damn!" Lancelot shouted angrily.
Arthur shook his head calmly, "No I did not. You're one of the best knights here, Lancelot. You're a natural warrior. But that sword from the armoury will never do."
"You can say that again..." Lancelot grumbled.
"Gawain, Bors, Dagonet and most of the rest of the knights have found their own style by now, and after watching you try to get that sword unstuck," Arthur continued, and then stood up and jumped down from where they were sitting, "I think I may know a weapon that would suit you better Lancelot."
Lancelot simply watched him, still fuming, and made no move to get up.
"Well come on then," Arthur motioned.
Sighing, the knight jumped down as well. "What kind of a weapon can you give me? I've tried just about everything in the entire armoury," Lancelot said, still in a bad mood.
"You'll just have to find out then, won't you?" Arthur smirked good naturedly, resulting in getting a slight smile from the grumpy Lancelot, "Come on."
Arthur's quarters weren't much different from any of the other knights'. It was a little bigger, but not by much and contained minimal possessions; a bed, small table, chair...etc. Lancelot stood just in the doorway as the Roman picked up a thin wooden box from next to the table and handed it to the knight.
Lancelot looked up at Arthur, then down at the box and slowly opened it with one hand to reveal two twin swords, beautifully made, and two back scabbards strapped to the lid of the box.
"They were given to me by my father when I was a boy a few years before he died," Arthur explained, "But I could never quite handle both of them."
"Arthur, I can't take these from you," Lancelot said after a moment.
The Roman smiled, "I want you to have them. I believe that they suit you more than me."
Lancelot nodded mutely and closed the box. "I don't know what to say...thank you," he said.
Arthur put his hand on Lancelot's left shoulder, "It is nothing for a friend. Besides, if one of these gets stuck in a Woad then you can pull it out later instead of falling on your arse in the middle of the battle."
Lancelot shot him a fake glare as Arthur laughed.