Ten

Dawn was breaking, a light shown through the cracks of the boarded up window. The last storm had caused so much damaged to the inside of Galahad's quarters, that he had put up boards to give the window frame some support. From some added decoration, he had tied a maroon colored cloth over the top of the window. The rest of his room was so...ugly...that he thought he should have at least that much color abroad.

Sounds of women doing their chores and children playing a game of knights outside roused Galahad from his peaceful slumber. He opened his eyes, slowly adjusting his gaze until his vision was clear once again. He felt rejuvinated, like he had been asleep for a year. His body still ached somewhat, especially around his left flank. He pressed his fingers lightly over the newly wrapped wounds, but to his astounishment, the holes did not bleed or hurt much anymore.

A broad smile crossed the youngest knight's lips as his sparkling gaze shifted to the corner of his room. In the wooden chair Tristan lay sleeping, his legs and arms sprawled out in an uncomfortable position. His knotty dark hair was messy on either side of his face as his head rested on the wall behind him. His deep eyes were still closed, his face and body seemed to be relaxed in his sleep. It was a most pleasant sight for Galahad to see the scout at such peace when he was usually stressed and tensed. He watched him in wonderment, like a child would look at a horse for the first time before riding it. It was simply beautiful.

Galahad rose from his bed slowly, giving his body the chance to keep up with his sudden movements. The candle beside his bed was now nothing but a pile of melted wax. The room was now light by the brilliant rays of sun that pryed its way through the looser window boards. It was nice to see the sun out again after so many days of clouded darkness. Galahad bent down carefully while retreiving his tunic from the floor. He slipped it over his head and noted the dried blood on one side. Perhaps Vanora would mend and wash it for him. It was one of his last shirts, and with the still oncoming winter months, he knew he would need it. Slipping on his boots and cloak, Galahad went to the door. He did not wish to disturb Tristan, so he left quietly.

Crossing the courtyard to Bors' and Vanora's quarters, Galahad was practically knocked backward as the door flew open and many small children came rushing out. Galahad honestly didn't know how Bors could fit so many persons in his small place. Then again, he couldn't understand how he could have so many children either. The last child, small girl of about six, bumped into Galahad's leg as she exited the place. She peered up at him with her large brown eyes. She looked more like Vanora than Bors, but that was probably a good thing. A moment later she was gone, chasing after her brothers and sisters.

Entering the couple's quarters, he saw Vanora sitting near the fireside with Bors. On Bors' lap was a baby, cooing and giggling at the bear-man. Bors chuckled heartily and looked up when he entered.

"Galahad! Good to see you up and about, boy!" Bors exclaimed. "Come to pay ol' Bors a visit, eh?"

"You got the old part right," Vanora smiled, tickling the baby as he bounced on Bors' knee.

"You didn't say anything last night!" Bors laughed.

Vanora gave him a look that sent him into a fit of laughter. Galahad rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smiling.

"So, what brings you to my humble home, knight?" Bors asked.

"I actually came to ask Vanora if she had the time to mend some of my clothes," Galahad replied, glancing over at the woman.

Vanora was a fairly short, slim, and handsome woman. She was still quite young compared to Bors, only a few years older than Galahad. Her eyes held such enchanment within them, and her smile was one that caused men to smile back. Vanora often flirted with the other knights and they flirted back. This often sent Bors into a jealous rage, checking each of his children over for any sign they could belong to Lancelot or another.

Smiling warmly, Vanora stood and walked over to Galahad. He handed her his worn out, stained tunic and exchanged few words of thanks to her.

Bors said, "Come on back later tonight. Dag and me are going to have a few drinks. If you see the others tell them to make an appearance if their royal majesties wish it."

His voice was mocking and his words ended in chuckles. Vanora sat down on the floor in front of the fire with a needle and thread and Galahad's tunic.

"Come back later and you'll find your shirt finished," she promised.

Galahad nodded his thanks again to the couple and exited their quarters.

As Galahad crossed the courtyard again, he met up with Lancelot who happen to be crossing the same path at the same time. He stopped his midnight black steed in front of the youngest knight. The horse snorted and neighed softly, awaiting his master's next command. The knight himself was in an upbeat mood as he clasped hands with Galahad for a moment.

"Glad to see you feeling better," Lancelot said. "We were beginning to worry about you, knight."

"No you weren't," Galahad said with a smile.

Lancelot returned a grin and said, "You're right, but I am still glad you are feeling better. How are your wounds?"

"Healing nicely, I hope. Where were you off to this morning, then?" Galahad wondered.

"I was just thinking about riding out to the wall. Arthur is to return this day," the first knight answered. "Bors and Dagonet are to join me when I leave later. I suppose Gawain and Tristan as well once they roll their lazy arses out of bed."

Galahad was confused. "You didn't ask me?"

Lancelot frowned and rested his hands across his lap. "I would think you would still be in too much pain to ride. Wouldn't want to cause yourself exertion, would you?"

"I thought we were going over to Bors' tonight for drinks. That's what he told me at least."

"We are, but then we're riding out afterwards. We can ride out to meet Arthur and return before darkness to avoid woad activity if possible."

"I can ride as well as the rest of you, wounded or not. You're not leaving me behind to miss all the fun."

"Good, then I'll see you this evening. Tell Gawain and Tristan, too, if you see them."

"My guess is Gawain's still passed out from the drink yesterday."

Lancelot laughed at the comment, images of amusement popping into his mind.

"Well, he'll be up for tonight; I know he wouldn't miss this for the world," Lancelot added before riding off.

Galahad returned to his quarters to check on Tristan. When he entered his room, though, the scout was no where in sight. Galahad sighed contently, for he did not expect him to be there. Tristan could slip in and out of shadows like wind through a fence. He then took it upon himself to look in on Gawain. He found the long-haired knight outside chopping wood outside his place. If he would have been in Gawain's place, he'd still be in bed. He approached the slightly older knight as he bent down to pile up wood beside the bricks.

"Mornin', Galahad!" Gawain said with a smile.

"Gawain, how's that hangover treating you?" Galahad asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I wouldn't know," the knight shrugged and added, "I'm still drunk."

"Perfect for tonight, then," Galahad said. "We're riding outside the wall to meet Arthur on his return. Afterwards we're going back to the tavern for some drinks."

Curiosity struck Gawain. "You're not well enough to ride, knight. It was not a day or so ago you received those nasty arrow wounds."

"Lancelot was the same way towards me, but I'll tell you the same thing I told him. I'll not be having you all treating me like an infant. I have rested and am well enough to ride."

"Don't do so much so fast, Galahad. You'll end up killing yourself one of these days."

"I'm just following your lead."

"And, my body's taking the aftershock from it."

"I'll live, I'm a fighter. You taught me to be that way, no matter what the situation, right?"

Gawain let out a snort and reluctantly nodded. "Just take it easy out there tonight, all right?"

Galahad nodded, for he had planned on it.

End, 'Ten.'