Title: Forever More
Author: Red Pollard
Authors Note: SPOILERS! Well at least in reference to the King Arthur
Movie I think. This is something that I wrote up with my strange
obsession with King Arthur, knights, medieval-ness, Guinevere and so
on. It's my little version after reading the book King Arthur based
off the movie coming July something. Oh, so for all of you that are
either going to see the movie or have read the book, I'm going to try
and incorporate my own ideas in with theirs. Except in mine... well I
haven't decided whether Lancelot and all those other people should die
like they do. And since I have an undying love for Lancelot, I found
someway to incorporate my own little made up character into this
story. No doubt there is a Lancelot/my character thing coming up no
matter how much he loves Guinevere. I love Guinevere too but she has
Arthur and Lancelot is mine! God I want to live in that time...
Disclaimer: I sadly own none of these characters except for maybe my
lovely little Kera and some of the horses and what not. My thanks to
Frank Thompson.
Chapter 1: ‡Returning to the Castle‡
Ignoring the glistening sweat streaming into his dark
eyes, the lone knight leaned forward slightly and urged his dark bay
steed into a faster canter across the field. The endless expanses of
green rolled on for as far as the eye could see. In the far distance,
the harsh jagged edges of the mountains protruded from the horizon,
slowly turning from their hard stone gray to white. Just above, the
sky was foretelling rain... or snow... or both.
The sun was beginning to set, its rays of light slowly
stretching out over the land one last time as it slowly sank down
behind the range of mountains to wait for a new day. Quickly brushing
a roughened hand to his brows, the knight wiped away his sweat and
hoped that he would return back to the castle before Mother Nature
took out her wrath upon him. Before him lay the path that lead
straight to the dark depths of the forest. Not even the villagers that
lived near its outskirts dared venture down that path without fear for
their own life.
For it was known that many of the fiercest warriors lay
hidden within the trees' protection. They fought ferociously, not
fearing for their own lives, but with only the sole purpose to fight.
They knew the forests like the back of their hand, better than any
man, knight, or simpleton could. But even more frightening about them
was their skin was painted various colors. Sometimes earthen colors,
and at other times a blue. Their bodies would be riddled with tattoos.
These were the feared Picts or Woads as many other preferred to call
them, named after the plant they used to make the dye of their
intricate tattoos.
Arthur would be waiting for him, the knight thought. Soon,
after many long and hard years of resentful dedication towards
fighting for the Romans, he and his other friends would soon be freed
from their labor and be released to their own lives once more. The
reason for their 'enslavement' began long ago when the strong and
nomadic Samatians could not withstand the crushing power of the
Romans. Losing to them in battle, they were forced between treasuring
their lives more, or their freedom. They were then forced to dedicate
themselves to fighting for Rome for a decade and a half, giving up
their sons, any above the age of 10 to the same type of grueling work.
The knight smiled at the thought. He would soon be free.
For many years now, he had known Arthur as not only a
childhood friend but a truly devoted and talented knight. Arthur
himself had joined the Roman army at the young age of 10 not long
after his mother, Ingraine, was killed. Arthur had then made his own
small army, choosing out one hundred knights, all with their own
special reason of being worthy. The round table was the main thing
that no one forgot. With no beginning or end, Arthur had always been
one for equality yet everyone knew that he was their rightful leader.
Another thing was that Arthur was most likely the only knight among
them that was Christian. He for one refused to worship all the various
pagan gods there were to worship from. He believed in the one true
God.
The knight laughed once more to himself. He wasn't as
'orthodox' as Arthur was and preferred to worship in his own gods. One
for every occasion. You could never go wrong.
Large white billowing clouds had begun to form overhead
and after not long, the knight felt the first drops of rain splatter
onto his cheeks. Slowing his horse to a slow lope, he carefully took
of his helmet and placed it in his saddle bag. Without it on he would
be able to see where he was going better. He still had a long way to
go and after a short moment, he nudged his steed into a faster pace.
He had no other choice but to cross through the forest; it was the
shortest way to getting back to Hadrian's Wall.
The towering trees loomed up ahead of him and even as he
entered that path, his horse slowed down to a walk. It took all of his
own charismatic demeanor to get the bay to move on forward. He
couldn't blame the horse. He didn't want to be there either. The path
itself was no wider than two horse lengths across. Keeping one steady
hand on the reins, the knight drew out one of the two of his swords.
Resting it across his lap he got a firm grip as he and horse traveled
slowly deeper through the forest. Every so now and then he would
glance behind him and above just for reassurance.
The air around him cooled progressively as soon, the tall
forested area blocked out what little sunlight could penetrate through
the thick canopy layers. The trees around him seemed to sway gently as
one. Yet the odd thing was there wasn't a breeze to be felt. Gritting
his teeth, he suddenly heard a snap of branches behind him. His horse
immediately stiffened and jerked to a stop, tossing his head and
letting out a fearful snort. Wrapping the leather reins loosely around
the saddle horn he lifted his sword slowly with precaution, all the
while keeping a sharp eye on the trees around him.
Suddenly, with a loud scream and yell, four creatures
emerged from the brush, eyes glinting malevolently. Their skin was
covered in a deep brown dye and in their hands they held various
weapons. Letting out a loud cry, they rushed by foot towards the
knight, swords, knives, and axes a waving. Their lips were pulled back
over their teeth in a threatening and angry snarl. Leaves and small
pieces of twigs and dirt matted their hair giving them an overall
savage look.
"Woads," the knight hissed.
With one swift arm movement, he drew his second sword
diagonally from its sheath. Kicking his horse into a gallop, they
charged headlong towards the small band of Woads. Swinging his swords
above his head, he brought them down hard across his body. As metal
clashed upon metal two decapitated bodies fell limply to the earth.
Rearing up, the large bay screamed out towards the sky and came down
hard on one of the carcasses. The two remaining Woads backed up
slightly, their weapons still held up in front of them, and let out
several more unearthly calls. The knight cursed and wheeled his horse
around just to see four more Woads jump out and block his hope of
retreating.
The knight brought both swords to his right side and with
extreme strength, pierced yet another Woad throat. Yanking his swords
back out he cantered towards the rest of them, his brows furrowed in
concentration. Blood spattered upon his armor yet regardless to this
he fought on. Two Woads rushed towards him, their axes raised. One
drew back his arm and with a muffled groan aimed it directly at the
knight's head. Dodging quickly, the knight leaned down low barely
avoiding the ax. It whistled dangerously near his ear and embedded
itself in the Woad behind him's chest. Holding both his sword out to
either of his side he slashed viciously at both the attacking Woads,
cutting both their heads clean off their shoulders.
The few Woads that remained hissed out towards him. An
arrow flew from the trees and slammed into the knight's shoulder
guard. It went straight through the metal and planted itself shallowly
in the area between his collar bone and his shoulder. Taking in a
quick breath he gritted his teeth and with a ferocious yank, pulled
the entire arrow out. Dark red blood covered its stone head. With
messy aim, he chucked it back into the trees and was satisfied to hear
a body fall from one of the lower branches and hit the ground, dead.
One Woad on horseback yelled something incomprehensible
out. He seemed to be the tallest of the Woads at that moment and
obviously their group leader. With a wave of his hand he motioned for
the rest to go after the knight. Wheeling his horse around, the knight
resheathed his swords and pushed his bay into a run. They sped down
the path, narrowly missing speeding arrows and pieces of metal thrown
towards him or his horse. One small piece of debris deflected off the
horse's lower right leg and for a moment, he stumbled. A small stream
of blood welled up at the new cut. But as soon as it seemed as if they
weren't going to make it, everything suddenly stopped. All motion and
noise just ceased. The trees stopped swaying and were deadly still.
Throwing a glance behind him, the knight saw that the
trees had cleared away and he was now in the wide open of the
countryside once more. The two remaining Woads stared at him from the
edge of the woods. It seemed as if they dare not go out into the
sunlight or the rain at least. The shadows of the forest casted a
gloomy darkness over their faces. Yet the knight could tell they were
hissing and jeering back at him. Pressing a rough hand against his
wounded shoulder, he slowed his horse to a walk. One daring Woad
stepped out from the trees shelter. Squinting his dark eyes, the
knight saw that he was not dressed like all the others. He did not
have a savage look to him but rather, an all knowing appearance. His
messy hair reached a below his shoulders and was a stunning snow white
contrasting to his tanned face. A beard of the same color covered much
of his face. He seemed to be robed in rags but he held himself in such
a way that made you think twice about crossing him. In left withered
hand, he held a tall, thin, and crooked staff which he held himself up
with. If the knight hadn't been mistaken, he swore that the man nodded
at him.
"We shall meet again..." the man whispered to himself. "If
not very soon."
Turning around, he drew his robes and cloak closer around
his emaciated body. Nodding towards the two other Woads, they took off
back down the path, soon to disappear into the darkness. His bright
green eyes lingered on the knight for a second longer before he too
vanished, as if by magic, into the trees.
Author's Second Little note thingy: So what do you think? It's not
much now but I'm working on it. Please R&R!!!! I need all the
constructive criticism I can get. And if I make some serious
historical mistake feel free to correct me. I'm welcome for
suggestions. I'm not much of a writer and I've already got writer's
block. THANKS!
Author: Red Pollard
Authors Note: SPOILERS! Well at least in reference to the King Arthur
Movie I think. This is something that I wrote up with my strange
obsession with King Arthur, knights, medieval-ness, Guinevere and so
on. It's my little version after reading the book King Arthur based
off the movie coming July something. Oh, so for all of you that are
either going to see the movie or have read the book, I'm going to try
and incorporate my own ideas in with theirs. Except in mine... well I
haven't decided whether Lancelot and all those other people should die
like they do. And since I have an undying love for Lancelot, I found
someway to incorporate my own little made up character into this
story. No doubt there is a Lancelot/my character thing coming up no
matter how much he loves Guinevere. I love Guinevere too but she has
Arthur and Lancelot is mine! God I want to live in that time...
Disclaimer: I sadly own none of these characters except for maybe my
lovely little Kera and some of the horses and what not. My thanks to
Frank Thompson.
Chapter 1: ‡Returning to the Castle‡
Ignoring the glistening sweat streaming into his dark
eyes, the lone knight leaned forward slightly and urged his dark bay
steed into a faster canter across the field. The endless expanses of
green rolled on for as far as the eye could see. In the far distance,
the harsh jagged edges of the mountains protruded from the horizon,
slowly turning from their hard stone gray to white. Just above, the
sky was foretelling rain... or snow... or both.
The sun was beginning to set, its rays of light slowly
stretching out over the land one last time as it slowly sank down
behind the range of mountains to wait for a new day. Quickly brushing
a roughened hand to his brows, the knight wiped away his sweat and
hoped that he would return back to the castle before Mother Nature
took out her wrath upon him. Before him lay the path that lead
straight to the dark depths of the forest. Not even the villagers that
lived near its outskirts dared venture down that path without fear for
their own life.
For it was known that many of the fiercest warriors lay
hidden within the trees' protection. They fought ferociously, not
fearing for their own lives, but with only the sole purpose to fight.
They knew the forests like the back of their hand, better than any
man, knight, or simpleton could. But even more frightening about them
was their skin was painted various colors. Sometimes earthen colors,
and at other times a blue. Their bodies would be riddled with tattoos.
These were the feared Picts or Woads as many other preferred to call
them, named after the plant they used to make the dye of their
intricate tattoos.
Arthur would be waiting for him, the knight thought. Soon,
after many long and hard years of resentful dedication towards
fighting for the Romans, he and his other friends would soon be freed
from their labor and be released to their own lives once more. The
reason for their 'enslavement' began long ago when the strong and
nomadic Samatians could not withstand the crushing power of the
Romans. Losing to them in battle, they were forced between treasuring
their lives more, or their freedom. They were then forced to dedicate
themselves to fighting for Rome for a decade and a half, giving up
their sons, any above the age of 10 to the same type of grueling work.
The knight smiled at the thought. He would soon be free.
For many years now, he had known Arthur as not only a
childhood friend but a truly devoted and talented knight. Arthur
himself had joined the Roman army at the young age of 10 not long
after his mother, Ingraine, was killed. Arthur had then made his own
small army, choosing out one hundred knights, all with their own
special reason of being worthy. The round table was the main thing
that no one forgot. With no beginning or end, Arthur had always been
one for equality yet everyone knew that he was their rightful leader.
Another thing was that Arthur was most likely the only knight among
them that was Christian. He for one refused to worship all the various
pagan gods there were to worship from. He believed in the one true
God.
The knight laughed once more to himself. He wasn't as
'orthodox' as Arthur was and preferred to worship in his own gods. One
for every occasion. You could never go wrong.
Large white billowing clouds had begun to form overhead
and after not long, the knight felt the first drops of rain splatter
onto his cheeks. Slowing his horse to a slow lope, he carefully took
of his helmet and placed it in his saddle bag. Without it on he would
be able to see where he was going better. He still had a long way to
go and after a short moment, he nudged his steed into a faster pace.
He had no other choice but to cross through the forest; it was the
shortest way to getting back to Hadrian's Wall.
The towering trees loomed up ahead of him and even as he
entered that path, his horse slowed down to a walk. It took all of his
own charismatic demeanor to get the bay to move on forward. He
couldn't blame the horse. He didn't want to be there either. The path
itself was no wider than two horse lengths across. Keeping one steady
hand on the reins, the knight drew out one of the two of his swords.
Resting it across his lap he got a firm grip as he and horse traveled
slowly deeper through the forest. Every so now and then he would
glance behind him and above just for reassurance.
The air around him cooled progressively as soon, the tall
forested area blocked out what little sunlight could penetrate through
the thick canopy layers. The trees around him seemed to sway gently as
one. Yet the odd thing was there wasn't a breeze to be felt. Gritting
his teeth, he suddenly heard a snap of branches behind him. His horse
immediately stiffened and jerked to a stop, tossing his head and
letting out a fearful snort. Wrapping the leather reins loosely around
the saddle horn he lifted his sword slowly with precaution, all the
while keeping a sharp eye on the trees around him.
Suddenly, with a loud scream and yell, four creatures
emerged from the brush, eyes glinting malevolently. Their skin was
covered in a deep brown dye and in their hands they held various
weapons. Letting out a loud cry, they rushed by foot towards the
knight, swords, knives, and axes a waving. Their lips were pulled back
over their teeth in a threatening and angry snarl. Leaves and small
pieces of twigs and dirt matted their hair giving them an overall
savage look.
"Woads," the knight hissed.
With one swift arm movement, he drew his second sword
diagonally from its sheath. Kicking his horse into a gallop, they
charged headlong towards the small band of Woads. Swinging his swords
above his head, he brought them down hard across his body. As metal
clashed upon metal two decapitated bodies fell limply to the earth.
Rearing up, the large bay screamed out towards the sky and came down
hard on one of the carcasses. The two remaining Woads backed up
slightly, their weapons still held up in front of them, and let out
several more unearthly calls. The knight cursed and wheeled his horse
around just to see four more Woads jump out and block his hope of
retreating.
The knight brought both swords to his right side and with
extreme strength, pierced yet another Woad throat. Yanking his swords
back out he cantered towards the rest of them, his brows furrowed in
concentration. Blood spattered upon his armor yet regardless to this
he fought on. Two Woads rushed towards him, their axes raised. One
drew back his arm and with a muffled groan aimed it directly at the
knight's head. Dodging quickly, the knight leaned down low barely
avoiding the ax. It whistled dangerously near his ear and embedded
itself in the Woad behind him's chest. Holding both his sword out to
either of his side he slashed viciously at both the attacking Woads,
cutting both their heads clean off their shoulders.
The few Woads that remained hissed out towards him. An
arrow flew from the trees and slammed into the knight's shoulder
guard. It went straight through the metal and planted itself shallowly
in the area between his collar bone and his shoulder. Taking in a
quick breath he gritted his teeth and with a ferocious yank, pulled
the entire arrow out. Dark red blood covered its stone head. With
messy aim, he chucked it back into the trees and was satisfied to hear
a body fall from one of the lower branches and hit the ground, dead.
One Woad on horseback yelled something incomprehensible
out. He seemed to be the tallest of the Woads at that moment and
obviously their group leader. With a wave of his hand he motioned for
the rest to go after the knight. Wheeling his horse around, the knight
resheathed his swords and pushed his bay into a run. They sped down
the path, narrowly missing speeding arrows and pieces of metal thrown
towards him or his horse. One small piece of debris deflected off the
horse's lower right leg and for a moment, he stumbled. A small stream
of blood welled up at the new cut. But as soon as it seemed as if they
weren't going to make it, everything suddenly stopped. All motion and
noise just ceased. The trees stopped swaying and were deadly still.
Throwing a glance behind him, the knight saw that the
trees had cleared away and he was now in the wide open of the
countryside once more. The two remaining Woads stared at him from the
edge of the woods. It seemed as if they dare not go out into the
sunlight or the rain at least. The shadows of the forest casted a
gloomy darkness over their faces. Yet the knight could tell they were
hissing and jeering back at him. Pressing a rough hand against his
wounded shoulder, he slowed his horse to a walk. One daring Woad
stepped out from the trees shelter. Squinting his dark eyes, the
knight saw that he was not dressed like all the others. He did not
have a savage look to him but rather, an all knowing appearance. His
messy hair reached a below his shoulders and was a stunning snow white
contrasting to his tanned face. A beard of the same color covered much
of his face. He seemed to be robed in rags but he held himself in such
a way that made you think twice about crossing him. In left withered
hand, he held a tall, thin, and crooked staff which he held himself up
with. If the knight hadn't been mistaken, he swore that the man nodded
at him.
"We shall meet again..." the man whispered to himself. "If
not very soon."
Turning around, he drew his robes and cloak closer around
his emaciated body. Nodding towards the two other Woads, they took off
back down the path, soon to disappear into the darkness. His bright
green eyes lingered on the knight for a second longer before he too
vanished, as if by magic, into the trees.
Author's Second Little note thingy: So what do you think? It's not
much now but I'm working on it. Please R&R!!!! I need all the
constructive criticism I can get. And if I make some serious
historical mistake feel free to correct me. I'm welcome for
suggestions. I'm not much of a writer and I've already got writer's
block. THANKS!