Eight

Galahad was dreaming. He couldn't recollect of what, but he knew he was dreaming nonetheless. His sudden awareness of this was brought upon as he awakened from sleep in pain. Galahad had turned onto his side; seering pain jolted through his left flank temporarily until he opened his eys and lay his back against the bed again. Examining his surroundings, Galahad realized he was back at his own quarters.

"What happened?" he asked lazily.

A voice responded. "Galahad, you're awake!" It was Gawain. "Thank the Gods!"

The long-haired knight, whom had been watching over Galahad, sat on the bed beside him.

"You had us all scared there for a moment!" Gawain said in a cheery, upbeat voice. "It was a good thing Tristan caught you as you rolled off your saddle!"

"Tristan?" Galahad was slightly in shock.

"Yes," Gawain continued. "Lucky too, otherwise you might have caused yourself further injury. You should have just said something, Galahad!"

Letting out a yawn, Galahad replied, "Our duty was to get the Bishop back, so I thought I could wait."

Gawain frowned slightly. Galahad sparked interest in his facial expression.

"Well, unfortunately the Bishop didn't make it," Gawain said.

Galahad ran his fingers through his curls. "Gods...we failed...how could we fail?"

"Well, I don't care much about that bloody Bishop. His secretary, Horton, was sent back to Rome this morning with a letter from Arthur explaining the unfortunate accident," Gawain answered.

"But that means that we don't get our papers, doesn't it?" Galahad was angry. "And, I risked my life for nothing?"

Gawain lay a hand on Galahad's shoulder. "We did our duty; Rome cannot overlook that much."

"What did Arthur say?" the youngest knight wondered.

"He told us not to worry, to relax for a few days while he sorted everything out. Don't worry, Galahad; you know Arthur will not lead us astray," the older knight responded.

Galahad blew out a deep sigh and ran his fingers around the outline of his lips. He chuckled lightly, feeling the stubble upon his chin. Gawain noticed as well and laughed cheerfully.

"Two days and you are all ready growing a beard!" Gawain teased. "What happened to our Galahad?"

Galahad's bluish-green eyes twinkled, a speck of life within them yet. "He's still here, Gawain. He's just grown up, that's all," he breathed out.

There was a moment of silence between the two men, as Galahad's hand still lay atop of Gawain's. He suddenly felt a strange sensation within himself, yet he did not understand it. Before he had time to think about it, Gawain's lips were upon his, and they were engaged in a long, meaningful kiss. When their lips parted, the two stared at one another again while trying to catch their breath. Galahad's stomach muscles tightened, causing him more pain then pleasure, yet he did not care. He was unsure of what feelings he felt for Gawain, yet in the midst of their kiss Galahad had forgotten about Tristan.

As Gawain leaned over Galahad to kiss him again, the young knight let out a soft groan. The long-haired knight immediately sat back.

"I'm sorry, I hurt you," Gawain said.

"No, it's not that," Galahad replied, sitting up somewhat against his pillows made from feathers and cowhide. "It's just ackward, that's all."

"I should go," Gawain stood, but Galahad grabbed onto his arm.

"No, stay," Galahad pleaded. "The timing is just not right for me...you understand?"

A thin smile played across Gawain's lips. "Of course."

Later that night after Gawain had gone, Galahad lay restless in his bed. His feelings toward Gawain and Tristan were overwhelming. He had thought he was in love with the scout, but now Gawain had shown deep emotion towards him. Should he keep chasing Tristan, this mere phantom whom he loved, or should he allow Gawain in? Gawain had always been there for Galahad, which made him more like a natural brother than any of the other knights. That thought weighed heavily on the knight's mind. Then again, Galahad remembered what Gawain had said about Tristan catching him when he tumbled off the horse. Why would Tristan do that for him? What did that mean? These questions haunted the young man for the remainder of the night.

Dawn came soon enough as the sun's rays poured through the cracks in his quarter's and blinded Galahad. He raised his hands to cover his eyes until he sat up, out of the reach of the bright light. His hand cupped his side, which had been freshly wrapped, he guessed by Gawain earlier on. The pain was not so much anymore, except for the soreness and bruising that is.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Galahad feebly stood. He stretched out his stiffness carefully, so not to irritate his wounded flank. Quickly dressing himself, Galahad tied his cloak around his shoulders and headed outdoors. Taking in breaths of fresh air, Galahad noticed it had snowed during the night. It was only pure fluff, hardly making any crunching sound under his feet. He wandered over to the tavern, guessing that the others would be there now, even at dawn. Perhaps, they might have never left the previous evening.

When he entered, the first person Galahad saw was Gawain. The second was Tristan. Galahad felt the color leave his face. How ackward could this get! Tristan seemed to be in a serene state, plainly playing with his weapons on the side. Gawain was obviously drunk.

"Galahad! Come join us!" Gawain shouted.

The young knight was glad that he and Tristan were the only other knights in the tavern, but he was also uneasy. Galahad nodded to Tristan and sat at the bar near Gawain. The older knight slung his arm around Galahad gently and laughed.

"Where are the others?" asked Galahad.

Gawain said: "Arthur is taking care of business with the papers. The others just left not oo long ago. They were both almost passed out!"

Galahad let out a nervous chuckle. "Perhaps you should be getting back as well."

"Nonesense, I'm fantastic!" Gawain replied, pulling Galahad's face close to his.

The youngest knight's heart lept into the bowels of his stomach as his eyes wandered over to Tristan. The scout kept his face downward, but Galahad could feel his gaze upon him. He knew Gawain was going to say something eventually; he knew he had to get him out of there before he could.

"You know, Galahad, I've always admired you," Gawain led on in his drunken state.

"Let's talk about this later," Galahad suggested.

"Nope, I need to say this now...before I forget," Gawain chuckled.

Galahad continued to watch Tristan. He could feel the tension between the three of them. Holding his breath, Galahad braced himself for the inevitable that was to come.

End, 'Eight.'