Note: It has been slow going and again, thank you all for your support and patience. Thanks to Freakazoid for the correction and Szhismine for the suggestion. Thanks to everyone who gave such inspiring reviews and I hope this chapter is worth your wait.

Chapter 3- New Found Friend

Corpses of Woads were scattered across the once clear and flourishing plain. The mess and the murky weather made for an impossible maze through the foggy battle field. Muttering of knights tending their scabs and scratches was the only audible noise for miles round. It hadn't been a confrontation in their favor, amazingly there had been no casualties on their side. Had reinforcements not arrived when they did, many would not be alive. Lancelot and his new found companion weaved in and out carefully trying not to disturb the dead. Already, as if they knew each other very well, the boys walked together in a perfect rhythm. Following the mumbles, they met up with the melancholy crowd. At a glance, Lancelot could see that some of them had been terribly maimed. Bloodied limbs were not uncommon. Cringing at the sight of war and the absolutely repulsive smell, he glared the young man at his side who didn't seem to be troubled by it and appeared fairly cheerful.

"Arturious!" a large man wrapped in red cloth shouted, holding up his sword. "Well done. Still breathing eh? Haha!" Auturious? That was certainly a name he'd never heard of. Awfully suspicious he wondered if the man had meant Arthur. He turned to ask when the beaming boy put a hand on his shoulder. Forced to hold his tongue, he held back and looked to the man who happily bounded toward them.

"I'd be here in bits and pieces if it weren't for Lancelot's work also." Arthur told the man, nudging him forward. Maintaining eye contact, he nodded politely. Though he felt he was not deserving of such credit, a bit of him was pleased. It was a very generous action on Arthur's part and for that he was thankful.

"Lancelot! Two future knights. Wonderful." The man yelled gleefully looking as if he had just left from a grand feast instead of a skirmish. "Sarmatian aren't you?" he asked examining the boy and noticing his way of dress. Peculiar question.

"Yes Sir." Lancelot said proudly. Chuckling heartily, the man took one of them in each arm and sat them down. He provided them with a bit of clean water to wash in and strolled off.

Pouring some water on his hands, Arthur rubbed them vigorously then passed the container to Lancelot who looked disapprovingly at his own. Dirt had embedded itself underneath his cracked fingernails. Both palms were swollen and blistered with a large scrape on one of them. Although they looked terrible, it wasn't that bad. Rinsing gently, he saw that his cuts were healing.

"How long have you been serving?" Arthur asked him.

"I left two days ago." He answered shaking off access water.

"Two days only? Very impressive, what you did today." Arthur said amused.

"Nothing compared to you." Lancelot said returning the praise. Now that the jolly man had walked off, he thought it was a good time to pose the question that he had suppressed earlier. "How long since you left?" He asked slowly, not knowing what to expect.

"I never left," Arthur answered, "I'm Roman." Romans, the very people who had indebted generations of his people to fight for a country that was not theirs. Rather, the people who had taken their land from them. The city that spilled the blood of fathers and sons. He could be angry but at this moment, none of it really mattered. Judging from what he'd seen, this boy was different. He had a gift which demanded respect, yet he was very kind. They could be rivals but Lancelot wanted to be friends and it seemed they had both reached that conclusion.

"Well I'm glad you came to save me from certain death." He said at last.

"You're very welcome." his friend said, on the edge of laughter.

At that instant, a bolt of lightning shot across the sky. The low growl of thunder followed. Drops of rain began to fall lightly on the ground.

"Well that was certainly a waste of clean water." Lancelot commented putting down the empty container as a fresh droplet splashed on his nose. The gloomy day had stretched on and finally the clouds burst. The pattering of single raindrops falling here-and-there grew into a roaring downpour. Staring ahead, he stayed motionless as rain dribbled into puddles forming at his feet. His fatigue seemed to be swept away along with the grime. With every breeze, his sprit got lighter.

"It'll be a shame to waste this too." Arthur said tipping his head skyward, "Come on." With that, Arthur got and dashed off. Mud spattered as they ran sloppily through the wet marshland. Not a care in the world, Arthur sought the largest puddles and leapt in. Unable to stop in time, Lancelot flung out his hands and turned away. A fantastic spray of muck drenched the pursuing boy who now stood with sludge plopping off.

"You want to get me? Going to have catch me first." Arthur taunted as he took off. Shaking his head mischievously, Lancelot darted after. Bridging the gap between them, he sprung over the obstacles as they sped away from the company of knights. Stealing a quick peak, Arthur saw him at his heels and tensed up. Searching frantically, he gave a shrill whistle. A vaporous silhouette cantered out of the haze. Pale and entirely blended into the pallid backdrop, all that could be seen of the ethereal horse was but a little round black marble bobbing in midair. Without breaking stride, Arthur seized its mane and climbed on as it passed by. Dangling over, he grabbed a portion of a frayed cord and whipped the animal, encouraging it to go faster.

Not about to give up so willingly, Lancelot summoned his own steed whose shady coat contrasted against the ashen scenery. Also getting on with ease, they were now on a fair terms. Romping merrily, the two were persistent on knocking the other off with the most inventive of means. Looking faint, he acted as if he were all of the sudden becoming ill, drawing Arthur's attention. Face riddled with concern, Arthur hurried over. "Are you alright?" he asked, all ideas of the game out of his mind. Lancelot brought his elbow back hoping to strike him in response to his serious attitude but instead makes contact with nothing but air.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, waving madly trying to retain his balance. Taking advantage of this, Arthur broke away then doubled back to deliver a punch. Within seconds after recovering his stability, Lancelot leaned backward as the blow whisked by, missing him by a hair. His vision was blurred with a watery film stretched over his eyes making him nearly blind as to where everything was. They scuffled with great liveliness as the stinging rain constantly pelted them. After a drawn out competition, neither prevailed but both were plastered with mud and soaked to the bone.

"We'll call it even." Arthur suggested as they slowed brisk walk. The rain had tapered off, letting the sun have its few moments as it descended. They were far away from the rest now. Here, it was serene. Not even the slightest inkling that there had been gruesome battle near by.

"No chance." Lancelot said snickering.

"Oh come now, I've only stopped because of you! Look at you, you're a mess! You're slouching and your hair! No, no, no my good Lancelot, were you not so tired I would be able to go on for hours easily." Arthur shot back.

"I could hold out just as long as you could." He answered even though he knew he was exhausted. What he wanted more than anything at the moment was to be able to lie down on a soft cot and sleep to his hearts content. Muscles were sore and bones ached, but no one needed to know that.

"Alright, we'll finish it later but can we just watch the sunset?" said Arthur who was equally drained. "Breath-taking isn't it?" They surveyed the fiery, orange dusk in silence. For the first time since he left, Lancelot thought of home. It would be supper time now, everyone would meet for a meal and spectacular tales. He'd often sit spellbound with his mouth wide open in awe as elders tailored brilliant stories before him. As much as he tried his hand at making up a story of his own, they were never any good. When he does return, he would almost certainly have something to share. Hardly two days have gone and he has had exhilarating experiences enough to last a life-time.

"Fine"

The sun had long since gone when they sauntered back to rest of the group. An improvised camp had been set up complete with a small tent. Things were tidied up though all were still groggy. Soldiers huddled around chatting away about something that was out of an earshot. Their arrival went overlooked even as they got off their horses and set them to graze. Joining the throng, they started to pick up on the conversation.

"We should be expecting more people round dawn."

"That reminds me, how did you find us here?" said one of Lancelot's escorts

"What worries me is that, it's not the first time we've come across those Woads. They've attacked us once before. We were tracking them on our way to Hadrian's Wall and they led us to you." A Roman officer replied.

"What are they doing south of the wall in the first place?" another yelled

"My guess is that they want something and they're not about to give up."

It was without doubt disheartening news. What could an insignificant portion of an army possibly have that was of value to them? If the guess was right, it would no doubt make their trip that much more arduous. Lancelot's imagination got the best of him as he pictured what they wanted and what they would do to get it. Trying to repress the notion, he sought Arthur who was beside him but was now nowhere in sight. He walked around in no particular direction half hoping that he'd run into Arthur and half hoping that he could just go and doze off. He found the boy kneeling under a pine tree murmuring.

"I thank thee for guiding us through the peril so that we may live to appreciate all you give us..." Creeping up quietly, he waited. "..Thank you also for sending my friend, Lancelot, and I ask that you to protect him." Arthur said as if he sensed his presence. He held his breath in shock not wanting to disturb him. Who was he talking to? There was no one there, or at least that he could see. When Arthur stood up, Lancelot asked him what he was doing at this hour under a tree. "Praying." Arthur said dusting himself off.

"To whom?"

"To god." Oh yes, the famous God. Now why didn't he think of that? Maybe it's because he doesn't exist. He thought resentfully.

"And does it ever work?" He snapped

"Of course it does." Arthur answered calmly, he understood why Lancelot was so mad.

"Well not for me." Angrily kicking the dirt, he knew that he shouldn't be acting like that but he couldn't help it.

"Lancelot, I do not question your beliefs."

"You don't but your people do!" He interrupted

"But I ask you not to question mine." Arthur continued firmly. This was the earliest of many quarrels that would eventually take them to a level of friendship that would make them inseparable. Religion would ever be a dispute for as long as it lasts. Putting up his hands and shaking his head, Lancelot unwillingly apologized.

"Alright, I'm sorry. I don't like anything that puts a man on his knees." He concluded. Becoming milder, Arthur grinned.

"It's ok. Now let's get some sleep shall we? I think we can both say that we're tired."

"I'm not tired." Lancelot said, mid-yawn as they plodded back towards the camp.

Note: Sorry! I though I'd give them a chance to get to know each other so I didn't bring in anyone new this chapter but I'll promise some for the next one. Thank you all! Best.