Six
Once he had heard the news, Galahad knew at once that he must speak with Arthur. What could he say, though, to make his commander it was him and not Tristan who destroyed the tavern out of rage? Galahad couldn't even understand how someone could accuse Tristan of such a crime. The knight never drank (save for one occasion, but that was out of grief,) and he saved all the anger and desperation inside for the battlefield. Arthur would have to believe him that Tristan was not guilty. Galahad went directly to Arthur's quarters, demanding to see the commander right away.
As he entered the large tent, Arthur saw urgency in Galahad's eyes and lay down his documents to stand and face the knight. Galahad, thought estatic, kept as calm as possible under the circumstances.
"What can I do for you, Galahad?" Arthur asked in his deep voice.
"Sir, I've come about the incident concerning Tristan," Galahad said bluntly. "I understand the tavern was destoyed, but what makes you believe Tristan would do this? He has no motive to commit such a petty crime."
The commander folded his hands behind his back. "Tristan was the only person seen coming from the tavern at the time."
Galahad swallowed hard. "Maybe that's because the guilty party was still inside the tavern."
"Continue," Arthur directed.
"Tristan was at the tavern, but only to try to talk some sense into my head. After he left, I became overly drunk and destroyed the condiments at the bar and turned over tables and chairs," Galahad confessed.
Arthur took in this information, but a sense of uncertainty still lied within him. "Is what you speak of the truth, Galahad?"
"On my honor, it is the truth. If anyone should be under house arrest, it should be me," Galahad replied.
"I'll not be putting anyone else under house arrest," Arthur said. "I must tell you, Galahad, that I had a feeling it was not Tristan. As you said, he had no motive to do anything of that sort. But, I would not have thought it was you, either."
Galahad knelt before his commander. "Forgive me, Arthur. It was a foolish mistake and it shall never happen again."
Arthur helped Galahad to his feet and patted him on the shoulders. "You are forgiven, brother. We all make mistakes and I'm glad that you came forward with the truth. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go make amends with my scout."
"Please, sir, let me go," Galahad said. "I, if anyone, need to make peace with Tristan."
Arthur agreed and Galahad nodded briefly to him his thanks before exiting the tent. Crossing the camp, Galahad found himself in front of Tristan's quarters. His hair blew into his face slightly as he stared at the door. Shuddering slightly, he turned the handle and entered.
The room was silent, deathly silent, for it sent chills up the young knight's spine. He quietly closed the door behind him and proceeded inside. The room was light by a single candle that sat on a nearby table. Tristan was sitting opposite the candle, sending his knife through the fire and then pulling it back out. He looked up at Galahad as he entered, his eyes dark with specks of the flames within them. Then, the scout began throwing his daggers at the wall. The first dagger hit the wood. The second dagger hit the first dagger, and the third dagger hit the second, splitting it in two.
Galahad chuckled nervously, "You never miss, do you?"
"What do you want, Galahad?" Tristan asked sharply.
"I've come to tell you that you are no longer on house arrest," Galahad replied. "Arthur has made it so."
"Why would he do that, I wonder?" Tristan said.
"Because I told him the truth. I told him you had nothing to do with the damage done to the bar; it was me," Galahad answered.
"Ah," Tristan grumbled. "Then, what are you doing here?"
Galahad took a step forward. "I've come to apologize."
"I don't want your pity," Tristan said in a low growl. His eyes averted towards the tabletop.
"Well, you have my apology, but never my pity," Galahad reminded. "Pity is for fools who have nothing better to do that mope about everything that has gone wrong in their lives."
Tristan stared up at him and snickered. "Such a definition you give pity, when I've seen you plenty of times being...pitiful."
"Not anymore," Galahad declared. "I'm tired of being a frightened boy."
Tristan stabbed his last knife into the table and stood. "And, what, do you believe will make you a man?"
Galahad took a few steps closer to the scout. "Taking some initiative and responsability for starters."
Tristan chuckled lightly. "Is that all? That doesn't make you a man."
"And fight for what I believe in. Fight for things in life that I desire," Galahad added. "And, what I desire, Tristan, is you."
Tristan shook his head and brushed past Galahad. "I'm sorry for your disappointment."
Galahad's heart broke in two and his blood ran cold. He had been denied by Tristan not once, but twice now. Perhaps he was wrong about him. Perhaps there was nothing he could do to help his damnable soul. He turned and followed the scout outside.
"Why do you run from me so?" Galahad asked. "Are you truly that afriad to let someone into your heart again?"
"I do not fear letting someone in," Tristan replied. "I only fear of what will happen afterwards if I do."
"Everything in this world is unpredictable," Galahad said. "That's why we must live. Here. Now."
Tristan paused for a moment, before leaving Galahad alone in the snow once again.
End, 'Six.'
