Title: Forever More
Arthur Author: I really need to stop that. Oh and it's by me. Red
Pollard. If you haven't noticed.
Author's Note: Chapter 6 is up! Once again I must repeat myself and
say that since this is kinda a fanfic/my own thing I'm using lines and
stuff from the movie itself and the book based on the screenplay of
the movie so don't sue me or something. I'm giving them a whole lot of
recognition. I went and saw the movie the day it came out and I cannot
say how happy I am. It was wonderful!!!!! I was practically crying... ok
I was crying by the end of the movie. Did I hear it was to be a
trilogy? Thank god. But I'm really angry since my dad threw away my
ticket stub. But seeing Ioan Gruffudd more than made up for that. J
Disclaimer: I don't own King Arthur or their wonderful ideas but I do
own Kera whose about to wake up from her unconsciousness. Whoops.
Shouldn't have said that. You'll find out anyways. She can't stay
sleeping forever if she and Lancelot are supposed to get together.
Chapter 6:‡Saving the Bishop‡
The gaudy and lavishly ornate coach moved laboriously over
the forest path. Every so often, the coach would bump over a rock or
tree root sending the passengers instead careening into the wall and
sometimes, each other. The wheels strained against the deep ruts made
by wagons and carts that normally passed through this area. Yet this
coach had nothing to do with those "common" vehicles. This coach was
guarded by a handful of Roman legionnaires. Each soldier scanned the
forest trees that crowded in on the road on both sides.
Inside the coach, Horton, the bishop's secretary stared
out the small window nervously. The area in the carriage seemed to
close in on him as he tugged at the top of his stuffy robe. He was a
very little man, with beady, distrustful eyes and an overall rodent-
like appearance. It was an amazement to both the bishop and him how
far he had gotten in life already, seeing as he probably still would
be stuck back in the village as a gardener without the Bishops help.
Yet Horton had set his eyes on a higher prize, with the hope of
someday becoming bishop himself. He might as well have been
daydreaming.
Outside, the Roman horses' bouncy gait never failed even
though their senses sensed otherwise. Perceptive of the surroundings
around them, their nostrils flared as they heard the vibrations of
hoof beats even before their air headed riders ever did. A Roman guard
patted his steed on the neck sensing its agitation. unexpectedly, he
felt as if he were being watched. Looking upwards he spotted every so
often a head disappearing into the trees. Everywhere he looked, there
were more pale creatures peeking out to look at him. And as soon as
they came, they vanished, stepping back and melting as one into the
brush. Shaking his head he feared he was hallucinating.
Suddenly, a formation of knights charged onto the plain in
a tight single file. Even at a quick glance it was clear that these
were no simple Roman cavalrymen, who were impossible to tell apart due
to their identical armor. Each of these men was extraordinary, clad in
different types of Sarmatian gear. At the head of the line rode a
rugged, handsome man with a poised look plastered on his face. To his
side was his best friend and right-hand man, Lancelot. Arthur's life-
long friend, Lancelot had dark eyes that shined with the eagerness on
the fought of an imminent fight. Though Arthur bore the weight of the
responsibility, Lancelot worried about responsibility last.
Drawing the legendary sword Excalibur from his sheath,
Arthur raised it in his right him and thrust it towards the sky.
"Dragon formation!" he cried.
Immediately, the knights maneuvered into their position.
The dragon formation was formed with one rider to move out in front of
as the head of the beast to lead all the other riders. The rest of the
knights fanned out to the sides to form a V shape. The flank was
protected by the dragon's two wings—the stocky and muscular Bors, and
the tall and sardonic Tristran. The wings were all armed with
composite bows, crossbows, axes, and swords all drawn and ready.
At the same time, the blue creatures jumped from their
hiding spots in the trees, roaring and growling. They appeared from
every angle possible, swarming from the forest with their weapons
brandished and rushed towards the coach. Arthur and his knights
quickly moved in front of the coach, surrounding them and getting
ready as the blue creatures – Woads – drew nearer.
The ugliest and largest of the Woads, clearly outdoing his
fellow warriors with the most tattoos, his body almost completely
covered in green ink, ran towards the leading Roman officer. The
officer's conceited head got in the way as he spurred his horse toward
towards the Woad, so confident that on horse he could trample the Woad
to death. Ducking low, the Woad rolled over to the side just before
the horse's legs kicked out at him and slashed upwards, cutting the
horse's front legs off. Screaming, the horse crashed into the ground.
The Roman officer was flung from the horse and rolled several times
before his neck made contact with the Woad's short dagger.
The Woads angled their bows up towards the sky, firing
their arrows so that they flew over the Sarmatians' heads and found
their target. Arrows rained down from the sky and barraged on the
Roman officers, slaying them one after another. Even though the Woad's
weren't so good at aiming, their cloud of arrows was bound to do some
damage. Soon the coach was stuck with arrows, resembling something of
a pincushion.
Soon the Roman guards were in immediate danger of being
overwhelmed by the Woads. The leader of the Woads picked up a severed
head in his bloody hands and raised it high above his head, grinning
in the most disgusting manner as his fellow warriors cheered him on,
acknowledging his bravery. Suddenly, the Woads' cheers turned to
frantic yells and hand motions. Turning around, the Woad saw Arthur
swing his sword towards his face.
Inside the coach, Horton cowered low in his seat,
whimpering and covering his head. As an arrow flew in through the
window, Horton threw himself to the floor of the coach shaking, while
the arrow flew over his head and imbedded itself into the opposite
wall. A man sitting next to Horton slumped over in his seat, his mouth
gaping wide as an arrow struck his chest. Grasping at his brightly
colored robes, he let out a grunt and slumped over.
Although the Roman guards were falling from their horses,
dead and lifeless as the Woads came and slashed at their bodies,
Arthur and his men remained very much alive in the fray. Two carefully
aimed arrows from Tristran and Bors brought down a pair of Woads
standing near each other. One Woad leaped up onto the driver's seat
and with a quick swipe with his knife blade, he opened up a large red
gash at the driver's throat. Lancelot wheeled his horse around after
trampling over several dead bodies. Leaping off his horse, he drew his
two short swords from their sheaths in one single, perfectly
choreographed motion and hacked into the Woad's back. Arthur charged
into the scene, intent on protecting the bishop, and chopped the Woad
off the carriage with a flawless swipe of his sword.
Bors and Tristran arrived at the coach. Tristran gave a
swift glance at the coach turned away only to be confronted by a weak
Roman soldier. With his legs shaking and his arms wavering as he
lifted his sword, he stood ready in front of Tristran to fight.
"Lay down your sword," Tristran said.
The Roman guard raised his sword slightly and narrowed his
eyes suspiciously at Tristran and Bors.
"Who are you?" he said.
"We are knights, you fool," sneered Bors.
"You care to kill your escorts?" added Tristran with a wry
smile.
Before the guard could answer, Bors and Tristran peeled
away, swords held out in front of them as they searched for more Woads
to kill. Near them, Dagonet powered past the gaurds on the opposite
side of the carriage. Yanking back the canvas door he confronted a
weeping Horton. A Woad arrow slammed into the side of the carriage.
Horton shrieked and pulled back the canvas as if that would stop an
arrow or sword. Dagonet shrugged and backed away from the carriage,
charging back into the blood fest.
A Woad hopped inside the carriage in attempt to try and
kill the bishop, but was followed by Arthur who rammed Excalibur into
the Woad's stomach. Horton, at this point, had had quite enough. Eyes
wide with terror, he leaped from the carriage and ran around with no
particular destination in mind,. Arthur gazed at the Woad with a sense
of satisfaction as he drew his sword out from the limp body.
Amid the fighting, Horton turned around and dove under the
carriage, seeking invisible safety there. He could see horse's and
men's legs running around. Every so often a body would drop down to
the ground. A Roman legionnaire fell toe the ground beside the
carriage, his lifeless face peering at Horton, who could only stare
back and whimper.
A Woad jumped up onto the back of Galahad's horse and
wrapped his brawny arms around his neck. Galahad yelled out and
wrenched his body to the left, elbowing the Woad in the stomach.
Unbalanced, the Woad fell from the saddle and rolled directly
underneath Galahad's horse. Releasing a short scream, the Woad covered
his face as the horse brought down its large hooves onto its head.
Several more Woads came at him, trying to push their swords into his
back, but Galahad was quicker. Swinging his sword in an arch behind
his back, he severed all the attacking Woad's heads from their bodies.
Their headless bodies remained standing for a moment before crumpling
to the ground.
As Woads and Romans were killed one after another,
Tristran and Bors let out a fury of arrows just as fast. One arrow
from Tristran went straight through a Woads forehead and drove him
back with such a force that the arrow hurled into a Roman guard
standing behind him.
"Whoops," Tristran said shrugging.
Bors let out a hear laugh before letting out a quick arrow
as a Woad lunged at him. The arrow propelled into the Woads chest so
far that only the feathers could be seen. Pinned to the carriage, the
Woad let out a piteous squeal before dying.
Many of the Woads had been slain now. What had seemed to
be an impossible task had merely been a bit of fun for Arthur's
knights. One Woad tried to escape towards the river, his short legs
powering beneath him. Hearing hoof beats, he turned around to spot
Bors bearing down on him on his horse. Since he had run out of arrows,
Bors shouldered his bow and pulled out his ax. With a quick whack,
Bors knocked the man onto his stomach, the large red imprint of the
head of the ax buried in his back.
Lancelot rode down an aisle of Woads, slashing first with
his left hand, then his right. Dagonet jumped from his saddle and
jostled his way through a group of Woads slashing and slicing away
with his sword. Many turned and ran into the river but Dagonet just
followed and continued killing until he was standing waist deep in
blood. Galahad and Gawain used their horses to round up the Woads in
between them, then closed in around them and hammered down on them
with their sword.
For Arthur and Lancelot, it seemed almost like a childhood
game to them. Arthur would race down the field after a Woad, driving
it towards Lancelot, who then would drive his sword into their chest,
not even bothering to pull it out. The body would drag along the
ground for a couple meters before sliding off the blade. Then
Lancelot, returning the favor, would chase after another blue warrior
until it came into Arthur's deadly sword range.
A Woad ran blindly towards Tristran, though his face had a
large gaping gash spurting blood. His short dagger was directed in
front of him as his other hand tried to stop the flow of blood
coursing down his face. Tristran let loose a well aimed arrow that
smashed into the Woad's chest so hard that it changed its course of
direction and propelled it into the river.
The killing was almost over. But not before Bors shoved a
Woad under the water and stepping onto its back. On the shore, Dagonet
hurled a Woad across his knee, breaking its spine, before tossing the
body at Bors. Bors caught the flying Woad on his sword and waited
patiently for the body beneath his feet stopped writhing. Just beyond
him, Arthur chased the final Woad into the river. The other knights
all surrounded the Woad lieutenant. Turning around, the Woad stopped
defiantly as Excalibur came extremely close to his throat. Forcing the
Woad down to his knees, Arthur was wary still for the hideous creature
would and still could attack him with his bare hands though he had
dropped his weapon.
"Spill my blood on this ground," the Woad jeered, "and
make it holy!"
Arthur ignored him.
"Who sent you?!" Arthur asked his breath labored.
The Woad looked reluctantly into the forest. Arthur
followed his gaze and spotted a tall, spindly figure standing at the
trees' edge. 'Merlin' he thought.
Arthur turned his stare back onto the Woad. His hand
trembled for he wanted nothing more than to kill him. But Arthur was a
noble man. He still held his honor, and refused to kill an unarmed
man, even a Woad. Choking back the growl forming in his throat, he
managed to speak.
"Pick it up," he hissed pointing to the sword laying on
the ground.
The Woad's eyes opened in surprise. He had not expected
this.
"Pick it up!" Arthur said again, but this time louder.
The Woad's eyes never left Arthur as he bent down
slightly. Though furious from humiliation, the Woad shook with fear as
his fingers closed around the sword's handle. Tightening his grip on
the sword, he closed his eyes, hoping for death to come quickly.
But instead of killing him, Arthur lifted his sword away
and above the man's head. Not sure what was happening, the Woad
lieutenant did not understand if he was being released or if he was to
be killed. When Arthur made no further motion, the Woad scrambled to
his feet and splashed away into the forest, disappearing among the
dark vegetation.
At the border of the trees, the tallest and wisest Woad
stood. His once long, white beard was now cut short and replaced by an
earth copper. Flanked by several very imposing Woad warriors, he
watched without emotion as the Woad lieutenant clambered up the hill
to him. Breathless, the Woad fell to his knees before the man.
"Merlin, I did not negotiate to live!"
Merlin did not respond but only looked past the Woad and
down to the battle field.
"Artorius..." he whispered.
The Woad was almost beside himself with relief for he had
been spared twice: once my Arthur and once by Merlin.
Merlin and Arthur locked eyes for a moment. But just a
moment. Confused and utterly tired, Arthur turned away and broke the
spell not knowing what had just happened. Shaking his head, Arthur
regained his composure. Turning his horse, he rode away to join his
knights. As Arthur diminished from site, Merlin turned to the Woad
lieutenant.
"Gather up what is left of your men," he commanded. "We
are leaving this place."
Merlin's eyes softened as he looked at what was left of
the Woads. Maybe he had made a mistake. But what was done was done.
Turning, he sighed and led what was left of the Woad race back into
the darkness.
Author's Note: I'm so pissed at myself. Frank Thompson is such a
freaking good writer! Arg. And Most of my ideas were from him so I
feel useless. Oh well. This chapters done. I'm really bad at battle
descriptions so I mainly used his. But this is a fanfic so shut up.
Many many thanks to him. OH and almost forgot.
wonderful wonderful line and description. Really needed to give this
credit over the rest. Oh but this chapter is pretty much just
describing what was already written down so don't kill me with
copyrights and stuff. This whole chapter is just me adding my own
stuff to what actually happened.