Five
The follwing day proved strenuous indeed as the group trekked onward toward their posts. The problem wasn't that the day was not fair, or that their rides were not fine; it was the company that was troublesome, plain and simple. Although the continuous riding made everyone irritable, it was the mesh of rotten attitudes that added to the group's ailments. By the afternoon, the boys were practically ignoring one another. At least, Tristan, Lancelot, and Arthur seemed to be on that same level.
Gawain rode up beside Arthur, who had been riding with his head down all day.
"How are you, my friend?" Gawain asked the younger boy.
Arthur looked up at Gawain with his huge green eyes. "I am fine."
"You don't look like you're fine. Sure you don't have something?" Gawain wondered, with raised eyebrows.
"What I have cannot be cured with any amount of rest or medicine, let's just leave it at that," Arthur answered coldly.
Gawain licked his wind-burned lips and nodded. "Wow, you sound more like Tristan now."
"Tristan?" the boy asked.
Gawain nodded to the silent young man with the hawk on his arm. "Yes, he always seems to have the same morbid attitude towards everything and everyone."
"I'm not being morbid," Arthur retorted.
Gawain chuckled, sitting forward in his saddle more. "Sure, and neither is he."
"Well, maybe we are both alike, then," Arthur said proudly.
"I doubt it, my boy. Tristan IS only like that, he's never been any different. Now you, on the other hand, have just shown a less morbid side of you," Gawain identified, and this brought a slight smile to Arthur's lips. "Methinks you are just adjusting to changes, and that's good, because there are many more to come."
"You seem so very confident in yourself," Arthur said, his voice cracking and deepening, and then cracking again.
"Well, let's just say I've had time to think about it and let it all sink in," Gawain replied cooly. "Don't worry, we all went through it, as you are. It'll get better, you'll see."
Arthur nodded and clasped hands with the older boy with the long, golden hair. "Thank you, my friend."
"Of course, all us young men have to look out for one another, don't we?" Gawain added with a smile.
Arthur glanced over at the other quiet boy with the dark, curly hair. He watched him from afar until the boy stared him down. Then, Arthur focused on his riding, and turned away from the other boy again.
Later that day, the soldiers allowed the boys to take a break and rest themselves and their horses before moving on. They were to make camp at their new outposts in the evening.
Tristan raised his arm high in the air, so to see if Illiana could attempt to fly. He had removed the crutch around the bird's wing, for her injury was more from the initial shock then an actual wound. He clucked softly to the hawk, who turned around on his arm, but not yet letting go.
"Come on, Illiana," Tristan said. "You know you want to go out."
The hawk turned its head sideways and cooed at Tristan. He stroked Illiana's feathers from reassurance, and again raised his arm for her. Moments later, the hawk had regained its confidence, spread its wings, and took flight. Tristan, as well as the other boys, watched the hawk as she disappeared into the forest trees. Tristan turned around, and caught sight of the dark haired boy, Lancelot, staring at him again for the longest moment. Then, Tristan left to go to the river near the others to wash up.
Soaking his dirty hands in the large stream, Tristan's fair colored skin finally shown through the caked on filth. He cupped his hands and allowed water to flow into them. Quickly, he splashed the water onto his face and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Standing, he walked over to his horse and began to tend to it as he was approached by Bors. At first just standing there, but then spoke when he saw the glimmer of Tristan's sword on the horse's saddle.
"Nice weapon you have there," he said to Tristan, who didn't even bother to look up. "Ever use it?"
"Once or twice," Tristan replied.
"Well, let's see then," Bors said, and was soon joined by Galahad and the others.
"What's going on?" the petite boy wondered.
Bors placed his large forearm on the boy's shoulder. "Tristan here's going to show us his moves with his sword."
Tristan clicked his tongue and turned to the others. "He is?"
"He is?" a mocking voice, belonging to Lancelot, called out.
The medium built boy was about Tristan's height, but still was younger. His fierce, determined eyes peered into Tristan's. Folding his arms in front of his chest, Lancelot chuckled to himself.
"Well then, let's see," there was a pause. "Or, is he just full of it after all?"
"I don't need to grovel before you to prove that I can wield a sword," Tristan replied gruffly.
"I wasn't asking you to, I was telling," Lancelot replied.
Tristan peered down at Lancelot. "Well, then, since now I have Lancelot's permission, I guess it is ok."
His hand slid over the saddle and retrieved his sword. He held the shiny piece of curved steel between Lancelot's face and his own. Lancelot scowled at him again, and decided to fall back. The others watched Lancelot retrace his footsteps back to his horse, and in a matter of seconds, he had returned with twin blades in his hands.
Dagonet tried to step in between the two, but was completely ignored as the others followed Tristan and Lancelot out into the open. Bors laughed and nudged Dagonet in the side; he was quite proud of his handy work.
Tristan raised his sword to his waist. "I hope you can fight better then you can speak, for your sake, that is."
Lancelot smirked and raised his swords by his sides. "Don't worry about me, worry about yourself there, grandpa."
The two began to circle each other.
"Better hurry up, you two," Galahad said from his position where he kept watch. "The soldiers are coming back."
"Don't worry, there will only be two hits here," Tristan said to Lancelot. "Me hitting you, you hitting the ground."
Lancelot laughed, his eyes were ignited as if they contained fire within them. Suddenly, he lashed out at Tristan. Tristan dodged his move and countered it. Then, Tristan swung his sword around and tried to strike Lancelot from the side. Lancelot crosses his swords in front of him speedily, and locked Tristan's sword in hiw own.
"Had enough yet?" Lancelot asked.
"You wish," Tristan answered.
Dagonet rolled his eyes and said to Bors, "Really, Bors, why do you always have to open your big mouth. You've got them acting like children and fighting for no reason!"
Bors didn't take his eyes off the fight, but answered. "No, not nothing. They're too proud to back down from a challenge. It's their honor they are trying to win by fighting."
He slapped Dagonet's shoulder.
"Come on, Dag, you going soft on me already? Don't act like your weak!"
"It's not weak to value life, Bors!" Dagonet answered, angrily.
"Aww, come on, it's all fun and games here!" was Bors' response.
Back at the quarrel, Lancelot had charged Tristan three more times, and failed. Tristan swung his sword at Lancelot, and he ducked and rolled, and got up on his feet again. Then, Galahad ran back to the group.
"Break it up, those soldiers are coming this way!" he warned.
All the boys, save for Tristan and Lancelot, quickly remounted their horses and awaited whatever the outcome was going to be for this outrage.
Tristan and Lancelot had abandoned their weapons, and had begun to engage in a fist fight. Lancelot struck Tristan around the cheek, and Tristan knocked him back, making him fall onto the ground. Suddenly, the quarrel was over. Lancelot, still on his back, looked up at Tristan and laughed.
"You're alright, Tristan, you know that?" Lancelot asked.
"So I've been told," Tristan answered as Lancelot rose to his feet.
The Roman soldiers had not seen the entire fight, but only the final blows. The leader looked down at the two.
"What is the problem here" he asked.
Tristan and Lancelot ignored him for a moment, as they walked to their horses and mounted them. When settled in his saddle, Lancelot walked his horse over to where his weapons lay on the ground. He scooped them up and replaced them on the side of the saddle. He also retreived Tristan's weapon and tossed it to him. Tristan caught his sword, wiped it clean, and resheathed it. The looked once again at the soldier who awaited their response.
"Nothing happened, just fixed a little misunderstanding, that's all," Lancelot replied slyly.
"Let's go," the squared-face soldier said. "We will reach your posts by dusk."
The rest of the boys chuckled lightly to themselves as the rode past Lancelot and Tristan. Lancelot shrugged, smiled, and rode on after the others. Tristan lifted his arm in the air as he began to gallop, and whistled to the skies. In a matter of minutes, Illiana was once again by his side. He ran his calloused fingers under the bird's neck.
"You have a good time?" he asked the hawk. "So did I."
He sighed heavily and smiled slightly from behind his braids, before catching up to the others that had made their way into the foresty hills.
End, 'Five.'