merci beaucoup to all reviewers! thanks for sticking with it so far.it means a lot.
chapter 6.hope its up to par flows with the rest (that's one of my biggest issues as a writer...making sure events all tie together from chapter to chapter and that the style stays consistant throughout a whole story-trying to work on that). any other suggestions, comments, constructive criticisms are most welcome! they only help me become a better writer.
same disclaimers warnings...
Chapter 6: Thank gods for a watching friend
Never before had she awoken with such an excitement in her heart. That kiss with Tristan has played time and time again in her mind—she couldn't have imagined it being any different or better. Of course, she wasn't going to publicly parade it around—she knew that wasn't what she wanted, and as closely as Tristan kept things guarded, she was sure he didn't either. So today had to be lived as every other day, except today she had every reason in the world to keep smiling, despite the glaring stitches in her forehead.
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Being able to carry ten mugs of ale around a crowded tavern was always something Mirran prided herself on. Most other barmaids she'd worked with could barely carry six without spilling or dropping, and Mirran could carry ten and hardly ever spill a drop. 'Well after fifteen years of such work anybody would be able to.'
"HURAH!" A large man leapt up from his seat, causing Mirran to stop dead in her tracks, almost dropping a mug. She sidestepped around the celebrating man and delivered a few of the mugs to a group of thirsty, lusty-eyed men who had just entered. Smiling gracefully at them all and ignoring their offers of companionship, she made her way with the remaining mugs to the table where the knights were gathered, laughing, eating, and drinking.
"You have no woman on your lap, Lancelot…don't tell me you're losing your touch?" Mirran said teasingly as she approached.
"Nay, dear lady," he responded, smirking seductively, "I was waiting for you."
"Then you can just keep waiting." She said, brushing past him towards Gawain and Galahad who were engaged in a knife throwing contest as usual.
"Mine is closer to the middle than yours." Galahad protested.
"The point is to hit the middle…we both lost." Gawain calmly said.
"We can't both lose," Galahad said exasperatedly, "then what's the point of the game and contest?" The soft sound of a knife piercing the air and thunk, a third knife was now on the stool, having landed squarely on the tiny handle of Galahad's knife. Both looked equally surprised and they turned and saw Tristan, nonchalantly eating an apple.
"Tristan…how did you do that?" Galahad asked dumbfounded.
"Easy…I aim for the middle." He quickly said. Mirran couldn't help but laugh. Gawain shook his head unbelieving as he pulled his knife from the stool and rejoined Lancelot and Tristan at the table, leaving Galahad to study the two knives still in the stool.
"Ah, a fresh mug of ale—Mirran, you bring the ultimate consolation prize." Gawain said lazily as she placed the full mug in front of him, smiling.
"You make losers feel like winners." Galahad said sweetly as he slid Tristan's knife down the table to where he sat, before welcoming a full mug from her.
"Your charms are wasted, Galahad. She already graces another's bed." Lancelot knowingly said, watching Mirran to gauge her reaction. He thought he saw her smirk ever so slightly as she walked around to Tristan.
"Don't you just love apples?" She asked him, meeting his dark eyes. His mouth full of the juicy, fruit, Tristan shrugged, an indifferent look playing across his handsome face. "I love apples," she continued, "I try to eat at least one every day." She walked past him, smiling and winking. Tristan turned and watched as she wove her way through the bustling, noisy ruckus of the tavern.
"She may grace someone's bed, but that doesn't necessarily mean that man has her heart. She does work in a tavern after all," Galahad was speculating, "so that means she is able to be swayed." Tristan turned, a small flame igniting in his eyes, much his surprise. Somewhere in his heart, he felt possessive of Mirran and knew he had her heart, just as he was admitting she had his. And hearing Galahad speak of her as being so common sent waves of anger through him.
Mirran continued to weave her way through the crowded tables, careful not to bump into any of the men, for fear of starting trouble. Two thick, rough hands seized her waist and she fell backwards onto a flabby leg, her back pressed against a warm chest.
"You have brushed past me all evening and failed to notice my loneliness," a hot breath, laden with alcohol, said in her ear, "however, maybe after some thorough goings over, you won't fail to notice me again…." The man whispered suggestively in her ear as his rough hand began sliding up her thigh, bunching up her dress. She wheeled around in his lap and slapped her hand across his thick cheek, leaving a stinging, red mark in its place.
"I am not yours to be had." She softy, angrily said before the man could recover and immediately flew off his lap, walking for the bar. She dared not to look back at the man, for fear he would see the tears of anger and fright forming in her eyes. But Tristan could see them from where he sat, as well as Gawain, whose eyes had been following her ever since she'd left their table.
"Mirran! These mugs belong out back with the rest of the broken ones." Magda called out, shoving a box of broken mug and jar pieces into Mirran's open arms. She pushed the door to the tavern open and walked into the brisk, dark night air. The moon's cycle had just finished, leaving only the faint light from the stars to light the world below. She walked to the back of the tavern and emptied the box of broken pieces into the barrel of other broken pieces. She thought the whole idea pretty clever really, reheating and reworking the broken pieces to make new mugs and jars. Slinging the box down by her side and sighing, she turned back towards the tavern, anxious to get back to where it was warm. A massive shadow of a man suddenly loomed in front of her, blocking her path.
"So, if you're not mine to be had, then where is this man to claim you now?" Fear seized her heart. The rough man from the tavern earlier had her cornered, and alone.
"There isn't anyone to claim me." She spat, her voice sounding more confident than she felt. Her eyes widened and the box fell from her hands as the man moved towards her.
"Then there will be no one to miss you." Before she could think, the man's hands grabbed her wrists and pressed her arms to her side as he slammed her against the wall of the tavern. His mouth crushed against hers, effectively cutting off her screams of protest. He let go of her hands as they were now trapped between him and wall, and began ripping away at her dress, wanting her more and more.
"No—sto—" He slammed his lips against hers again, silencing her scream. She felt her dress falling away and his hands traveling lower and lower on her skin. 'Oh gods not like this! Please, not like this!' Her mind was screaming, her heart was breaking. Instantly she felt free from his powerful grip and she saw him fall to the ground in front of her. Overcome with fear, shock, surprise, terror, rage, she cowered against the wall, tears streaming down her cheek.
"Mirran!" a familiar voice asked concernedly out of the darkness as a figure walked slowly towards her, a gentle, strong hand on her bare shoulder. Through her tear-filled eyes she saw the long dirty-blonde strands of hair, and two pale worried eyes.
"Gawain…" she whispered relieved, through her tears as she flew to his arms with every ounce of her strength. He held her ever close, a hand resting against the back of her head as she cried against his shoulder. His head rested atop hers as she clung desperately to him, feeling safe and secure, letting go the fear that consumed her.
"There …sshh." He whispered comfortingly, inwardly damning the man to hell and beyond for hurting a woman, Mirran, so. Neither tried to pull away from their tight embrace. Somewhere in his heart, Gawain had always felt an affinity towards her and seeing her treated as she was tore at his heart. Always he wanted to be there for her, to help her in whatever way she might need help. He raised his head and looked down at her, noticing her completely ripped dress and torn shift, revealing a shoulder and good portion of her back. 'She must be freezing,' a voice in his head whispered. Moving an arm from her for just a minute, he pulled his cloak around so that it fell lazily across her back, and then returned his arm to wrap caringly around her. Her tears had grown silent, yet still she clung to him as though letting him go would bring the man back to life.
"Mirran, we should get you inside…it's too cold to just sit out here." He softly said, feeling her reluctance at raising her head from his shoulder. Her tear rimmed eyes were pleading with his to not leave her, before her eyes traveled down to the remains of her clothing. The front of her dress was completely ripped off, and her shift hung in several torn pieces, revealing more of her chest than deemed decent. Gawain quickly averted his eyes and reached to unclasp his cloak, before pulling it fully around her shoulders. Unwillingly she released her hold on Gawain and pulled his warm cloak tighter about her, feeling a blush creep to her cheeks.
"Please…I don't wish to go back to the tavern." She said, sniffing back her tears.
"That wasn't where I was going to take you," he softly, knowingly said. She rose shakily to her feet as his hand remained on her arm to steady her. He wrapped his other arm around her shoulders and guided her down the dark street as she leaned into him. "Your quarters are this way I believe…." He softly said, much to her surprise.
"And how would you know?" She asked, trying to sound surprised and smiling, but failing miserably. He didn't answer for it was quite obvious—she lived along the row of rooms that the other barmaids did, and this information was common knowledge amongst the men of the fort.
"Tristan would have come instead of me had he not been called away by Arthur just now, for he too saw that man grab you so in the tavern." She turned and looked at Gawain, surprise and confusion registered on her face. 'How does he know? No one knows but us!' Gawain smiled knowingly at her, for it was quite obvious to him that the mystery knight who had Mirran's heart was Tristan, for he could see her love returned ever so subtly in the actions of the silent, stoic knight.
"Thank you." She softly said, leaning her head against his shoulder, content with his knowing and his openly offered care. Within no time they had reached her quarters and stood just inside the threshold, welcoming the warm air of the tiny room to the bitter cold of the winter night. He sat her down on the edge of the bed before moving to light a small candle and instinctively looking the place over for signs of possible intruders. Satisfied she was indeed going to be alone one he left, he turned back to her and saw her sitting, head down and arms crossed about her chest, still wrapped in his cloak.
"I'll come for my cloak tomorrow," he softly said, walking over to her, "now you need to rest. It's been a trying night for you." Slowly she raised her head and looked at him with heavy eyes.
"Please don't leave me alone." She meekly asked him, pleading with her eyes. Gawain silently sighed and reluctantly nodded, though somewhere in his heart he was glad—he hadn't felt right just going off and leaving her.
"But you will sleep." He said firmly as he pulled back her quilt, watching her slide under the covers before moving to blow out the candle, plunging them back into darkness. He walked back to the bed and sat with his head propped on a pillow against the wall as she scooted over into his secure arms, resting her head gently against his shoulder. Feeling her cling to him, he heard her breathing grow steady and even, and then fell asleep himself.
there ya go. may seem like kind of a random event (maybe not...that's what one friend said when they were reading this...) but the relationship between Mirran Gawain ties in a little later (hopefully not in an overly cliched way...but we'll see when we get there). thanks again to reviewers! review if'n ya want. next chapter hopefully up soon.
