Five
It was late when Galahad managed to steal himself away from Gawain's quarters. The older knight had fought sleep as long as possible, before drifitng peacefully into a deep slumber. Galahad exited his friend's room and drew in a breath of crisp, fresh air. The sun had been set for at least an hour or so, for the soft pink rays were no longer visible on the horizon. He made his way to the tavern then, only to find it pretty much deserted. Everyone was out taking care of some sort of business. Galahad sure felt like the slacker of the group at the moment.
Making his way over to the bar, Galahad treated himself to a mug of ale. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, only then noticing it had a cut over top of it. He turned his hand over so the palm of it was on the side of his face. He took a drink of ale and set the mug down again.
"You look like a bloody toad," a voice came from behind him.
Galahad turned around in his seat to see Tristan playing with his knives in the corner of the room. He looked around the room and then back at Tristan. He wondered if he had just come in, or if he had been there all along.
"Yeah?" Galahad said lazily. "Well, I feel like one."
His tone of voice was sluggish, as if he were completely exhausted. Galahad's eyes narrowed as he took up his ale again and drank.
Suddenly, his mug flew from his hands as it was struck by one of Tristan's throwing daggers. The mug crashed to the floor loudly. Galahad lept off his barstool and started for Tristan. A look of disbelief and angst played upon his face. Tristan, who looked half bemused, shrugged and stood once Galahad reached him.
"What the hell do you think you are doing, knight!" Galahad asked. "First you stalk me, then, you deny me the drink? What's wrong with you? Why can't you just leave me alone?"
Galahad had Tristan backed into the wall, his face now less than five inches away from the scout.
"Just returning the favor, boy," Tristan returned in his lispy sort of words. "If I recall correctly, you denied me the drink and then followed me afterwards for two days, like a little lost dog. What's the matter, Galahad, can't think for yourself?"
Without another moment's notice, Galahad bent inward and pressed his lips against Tristan's. His hand came behind the scout's head so not to let Tristan pull away from him. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, their lips parted. The two knights looked at one another with disbelief and confusion. Galahad still had Tristan pinned to the wall. One of his hand's was behind the scout's head still, as the other lay across Tristan's collarbone.
Tristan breathed sharply against Galahad, his defiant gaze upon him. Galahad was not intimidated, for he did not back down, as silence stayed between the two knights.
"What do you think you are doing, knight?" the scout managed to ask.
"You told me I couldn't think for myself. Well, I just did," Galahad replied.
Tristan managed to raise his hands enough to force Galahad off of him. Galahad backed away slowly; Tristan would not look at him again. He watched as the scout grabbed his weapons and fled the scene. Galahad was left alone; he walked back to the bar and poured himself another drink. As he brought the ale to his lips, he puased for a moment, before smashing the mug against the wall in front of him. He ran down the bar, knocking all its condiments off in the process. Then, he turned his anger to the single tables and chair, pushing them all over until the entire tavern was a complete mess.
Galahad was angry with Tristan for taunting and then denying him, but he was more upset with himself for his foolish actions. He went into his quarters and slammed the door, forgetting that Gawain slept in the next room over. Galahad paced across the floor.
"How stupid could you be, Galahad! You always act; you never think anymore! How could you do that! You knew what Tristan was like; you knew it was too soon! You knew, you knew!"
"Knew what?" Gawain's calm voice came as he wobbily stood at the door.
Galahad couldn't face Gawain now; he couldn't face anyone. He was both hurt and confused. He didn't know what was wrong with him or why he was acting like this. He brushed past Gawain quickly and rushed back out into the open night.
"Galahad!" Gawain called after him.
Stupidly, Galahad turned back when Gawain called out to him. The knight was on one knee now, trying to catch his breath. Galahad had momentarily forgotten Gawain's arrow injuries. He saw his friend crumple to the ground in pain and rushed back to his side. He placed Gawain's arm around his shoulder and helped him back to his quarters. As Gawain lay back in his bed, Galahad's head stayed lowered.
"Forgive me, Gawain," he whispered. "I had forgotten."
Galahad pulled a cover up to his chest; Gawain gasped as Galahad's fingertips brushed over his wounds. Gawain's long, beautiful hair was spread across his shoulders. His arms lay close to his side, his palm turned upright towards Galahad's hand. Galahad gently pushed the knight's tunic up enough to inspect his wounds. He ran his fingers softly over the two wrapped punctured wounds. He heard Gawain moan quietly as his eyes closed from exhaustion.
"Damn those woads, damn Tristan," he thought. "And, damn me, too."
Galahad began to stand to leave, but his arm was caught in Gawain's grasp. He looked down to see the older's knight's blue gaze staring back at him.
"Don't leave me," Gawain said.
Galahad's first instinct was to leave as planned, but when Gawain spoke to him as he did, he found he couldn't refuse him. Somehow he couldn't recognize before hand how much Gawain really meant to him. Sometimes it takes something terrible to happen for one to realize life is often taken for granted. Galahad suddenly realized exactly how Tristan felt towards the late Percival.
Galahad stayed with Gawain until near dawn. He sat up and stretched, realizing he must had fallen asleep for some time. He went to the door and walked outside. He sighed deeply, knowing that it would be on his mind until he went to speak with Tristan. He wasn't sure if Tristan would be out scouting or at his place. As he started towards Tristan's quarters, Galahad ran into Lancelot half-way.
"Hey, Galahad, how's Gawain doing?" Lancelot asked.
"Last time I saw him, he was sleeping," Galahad answered. "Any of you guys ee Tristan around here?"
Lancelot raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you heard?"
Galahad shook his head. "No, heard what?"
"Arthur's put Tristan under house arrest. Some of the boys saw him hurrying away from the tavern just before it was discovered destroyed on the inside," Lancelot replied.
Gulping hard, Galahad managed to say, "Are they...are they sure it was Tristan?"
"He was the only one they saw, then it was reported to Arthur. Arthur confronted him."
"Did he confess?" the younger knight wondered.
"No, he didn't say anything. Didn't think he cared," Lancelot replied. "I've got some things to take care of. I'll try and go see Gawain later. Take care, knight."
Galahad nodded absentmindedly as Lancelot left him beside himself.
"What have I done?" Galahad said to himself.
End, 'Five.'
