Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the movie. (Do I have to repeat this over and over again? Hehe...)
Chapter 4: Helena
Before dawn, the seven knights rode at full speed to the gate. Silently, they rode on, basking in their own thoughts at the moment.
Tristan's hawk flew ahead of them, guiding their way. Soon, it flew faster and out of sight, as it did almost everyday.
She had risen long before daybreak. Glancing around her dim surroundings, she took a piece of bread wrapped in a small cloth from her leather satchel. Her dress was already partly dry as she nibbled on her food, her mind a turmoil of thoughts – thoughts about a certain knight.
Her face remained blank all the time, though the thoughts that ran through her head came with so much emotion that would have had her breaking into tears most of the time, had she been two years younger. Unconsciously, her right hand went to the tattoo on the back of her left hand, her gaze along with it. Taking out a long piece of clean cloth, she wrapped her wrist and forearm gently, as if lovingly, covering the tattoo. Finishing the last of what she called 'breakfast', she got up and saddled her horse, preparing everything she would need for yet another day after that.
Not long after, she was riding at an easy pace to the edge of the forest, quiver full and bow within reach. She waited patiently until the heavy iron gates finally opened, and Arthur and his knights rode out.
They rode hard until midday, yet the sky remained dark and the fog, thick. They had reached Woad territory
"Woads. They're tracking us." Tristan, arriving from his duty as scout, informed Arthur.
"Where?" Arthur replied, glancing around.
"Everywhere." The words barely left Tristan's mouth when the horses became uneasy. Out of nowhere, an arrow was shot, barely missing his head. More arrows were shot at them, a number of Woads appearing from behind the trees.
"Get Back!" Bors yelled. "Get back!"
Arthur took a sharp turn to another path, and the rest followed. Still, the Woads pursued them. Three more attempts they made, all to no avail. Out of desperation, all drew their swords, preparing for another gruesome battle.
An arrow grazed Tristan's left cheek as it passed by him and struck down the Woad who tried to smite him from behind. His eyes immediately snapped to the direction from which the arrow had come from. His gaze was met by a slight ruffling of the thick leaves of a large tree. He finally turned to look at the dead Woad, and wondered who had released the arrow that saved his life.
Anger was evident in the eyes of each rebel. They advanced on the knights, weapons raised high. Tristan strung his bow, and took aim. He was ready to take the shot; only he wasn't given the chance. The sound of a horn was heard, and the rebels immediately held back. They were loath to turn, but they had no choice. Slowly, each took their leave without further ado, except one. He shot an arrow to the direction from which the arrow that saved Tristan's life had come from. The leaves rustled loudly, and from the tree fell the body of a person. The Woad quickly took his leave and followed his other companions.
The knights stared after him, making sure he was gone. Then, Tristan went down from his horse and walked over to the fallen stranger. Cautiously he bent down and what he saw confused him. It was a woman. What would a woman be doing in these parts of the land? He wondered. She lay on the ground unconscious, and the silent knight took her into his arms.
"She needs help." He said, turning to Dagonet.
"Ugh, I can't wait to get off this island. If it's not raining, it's snowing. If it's not snowing, it's foggy." Gawain muttered, leaning on the trunk of a large tree.
"And that's the summer?" Lancelot added.
"The rain is good. Washes all the blood away." Bors commented.
"Doesn't help the smell." Dagonet retorted.
"Hey, Bors. Do you intend on taking Vanora and all your little bastards back home?" Lancelot asked.
"Oh, I'm trying to avoid that decision. By getting killed." He answered, gruffly.
Gawain laughed at that comment; Lancelot smiled. The others joined in the conversation, and as usual, Tristan kept quiet. He stared at the woman whom they had found earlier. She had a deep cut on her arm, which Dagonet had fixed up earlier. She had not yet gained consciousness, but the gentle giant assured him that she would surely live.
As if right on cue, her eyes slowly drifted open.
Her eyes took in her surroundings. Her arm was sore, yet she paid no heed to it. Finally regaining some of her strength, she slowly got up, only her arms did not support her weight. She was certain she would have hit the ground had not a pair of arms caught her on time.
"Rest. You took a hard fall back there." He whispered into her ear, easing her back down the cot.
She dared to look up, and a pair of dark, mysterious orbs met her gaze. She remembered quite well when she had first seen him, and now, being so close to him was a different thing. Her heart raced, and she could not shake away the feeling that she had known him once before.
"Don't worry. You are safe." He assured her. "Dagonet fixed your arm. You will be fine, just rest a bit."
She nodded, at loss for words. She studied his face, noticing that it had remained void of emotion since the moment he had first spoken to her. She wondered why, though she had not dared to ask. Tearing her eyes away from him, she scanned her surroundings for a brief moment, and then her eyelids drifted shut. She badly needed rest, yet her dreams did not let her, for they were much troubled.
"Mother!"
"Go! Leave, Alyna. Save yourself!" Her mother yelled in the midst of the panic that had now fallen over their village.
"I will not leave you, mother, never!" she yelled, fighting amidst the crowd to get to her. She knelt by her side, grasping her mother's hand.
"Did you not say that you will leave to find Tristan one day? You will never get the chance if you will not do as I say." The dying woman answered.
"It has been long mother, he will not remember me. But I will not leave you when you need me most." She answered, tears flowing down her face.
"It will not be long till death will come to take me, Alyna. Yet you, you are young. Eight years may have passed, too long has it been, yet he will not forget you, my daughter, and he will not have you forget him also." She touched her arm lightly.
"How can you be so sure, it has been eight years as you say, and neither of us has seen him? How can you be so sure that he did not forget me, and that he made sure that I should not forget him?" more tears came now.
"When he made sure that you bore his mark, Alyna, he made sure that you would not forget him." She replied, growing weaker with each word.
"What mark, mother? Forgive me if I am draining your strength, but I need to know." She said urging her mother to go on.
"Did you not know? The hawk, Alyna. It has been a very old tradition of our tribe that if you bore one's mark, you belong to him, and as you bear his, he bears yours." Her mother was very weak now, her voice dropping to a whisper, and Alyna strained to hear her voice.
"I never marked him, mother. What mark of mine does he bear?" Her heart was racing now.
"A raven, Alyna, a raven." Her mother reached up to cup her face. "Find him, my daughter, find the one who owns your heart." She stroked her cheek and smiled. She looked at her only daughter lovingly one last time, and her breath came shallow.
Alyna watched in horror as life drained out of her mother. Her chest twisted painfully as the hand that held her face became limp. At first, her reaction could not be read. But as reality sank in, she broke down, tears flowing down her face uncontrollably. So it was that her mother had past, only a year after her father. Since then, she had hated to go back to their own land, for it held painful memories for her. So she had roamed the southern part of Sarmatia for five years, learning how to heal, then finally, she made her decision to find Tristan in Britain.
She suddenly woke up, sitting up in her makeshift bed. She looked around the dark forest, and her eyes finally rested on the roaring fire, and on the knight who sat beside it.
He was staring at something at the back of his hand. For many seconds she sat, watching him, until he spoke.
"It's rude to stare." He spoke curtly, though not lifting his gaze. She had no real desire to sit in bed for the rest of her life, so she got up and walked over to him. Although a bit wobbly, her legs still supported her. She came up behind him, and looked down. What she saw rendered her speechless, as her eyes remain glued to it. It was a raven – a beautifully drawn raven.
Tristan noticed this, and he greatly wanted to break the silence that surrounded the two of them.
"We ride early tomorrow." He said simply.
"Tristan?" she had not intended to say it aloud, but it was too late.
His head suddenly jerked up, his gaze meeting hers. "I did not yet give you my name."
At first, all she could was stare back at him, looking for the right words. "I-I've heard so many stories of the famous Arthur and his knights. Did you think you would have been excluded from those tales?"
"What's your name?" he asked, eyes narrowed.
Alyna had yet wanted to prove, if he indeed did not forget her. She longed to tell him her name, but thought better of it. At least she would not have to face his rejection if he did not welcome her presence, knowing who she truly was. Not yet.
"Helena."
AN: There! Chapter 4! Hope you liked it! Thanks for the reviews. Please review. It's that little button on the bottom left of the screen. :-)