Well, here's the next chapter. It's short again, they all are, because originally this was supposed to be shorter than it turned out. But I like it divided into small segments the way it is. It's all ready entirely written so like I've been doing, there will be one chapter a day. So, here's the next one :D

Part 3

It rained for three weeks, and every morning Lancelot woke up to the soft sounds of the singing coming from the sanctuary down the covered path. It reminded him that there was peace here, but it also seemed haunting as well as beautiful. He had stayed in the room, leaving any further exploration to the others.

During the second week, the wound on Arthur's leg had become infected. He was feverish and at times delirious. The news Lance had received from Tristan concerning Gawain is that the other knight was not faring well either. The monks had been doing the best they could to help as well, and finally Arthur seemed to be getting better.

Lance sat on the edge of the bed next to him, looking out of the window next to him at the soggy landscape and listening to the singing voices again. There was something about it, he hadn't grown tired of hearing it yet. A soft voice broke his thoughts, "Lancelot?"

The knight smiled, looking down at his friend's tired grey eyes, "Good morning, feeling better?"

Arthur nodded slightly, "Are you listening to them?" Lance also nodded in return. "They sound like angels," the Roman said softly, closing his eyes again for a moment.

"Uh huh.." Lance said and furrowed his brow slightly, "That doesn't mean that you can go up to your heaven any time soon though just because you hear angels."

Arthur smiled, laughing weakly, "I'm not going anywhere."

With a sigh, the knight turned his brown eyes again to the window. "Do you know what they're saying?" he asked after a moment.

There wasn't a reply for a time and Lancelot thought that perhaps Arthur had gone back to sleep. "It is a song of thanks to God," Arthur said at last, then paused again, "And now they ask for healing..for us."

"They're praying for you?"

"Us, Lance, all of us."

He looked back at Arthur again, "Why are they praying for us, we don't believe this. They shouldn't have even let us stay here, we don't belong."

"Why is that a reason not to pray for you?" Arthur asked softly, "Christ taught to love thy neighbor, that means everyone. So they pray for all of us." When he was finished speaking, he winced slightly and closed his eyes.

Lance stood up and walked around to the other side of the bed. "I thought I told you not to get wounded again," he said in a light tone after he pulled back the blankets to change the bandages on Arthur's leg.

"No, that's what I told you," the Roman smirked, then promptly flinched when his leg was moved.

"So maybe I got the order wrong, but one of us was not supposed get wounded," Lance replied, using a method that Arthur had often employed for him, and distracted the other man's mind from the pain as he gently put the herb paste the healer had left on the leg before wrapping it again. "There, all done now, you can stop biting a hole in your lip."

"Very funny, how about we do this to you next time."

"No thanks, I like having my legs work," the knight replied and sat down on the bed again, "You should go back to sleep." When there was no protest before Arthur went back to sleep, it left Lancelot slightly worried, but he knew that this probably would be the best place for him to heal now. It would be all right.