Title: A Woman Among Men
Author: sabor ice
Summary: Where did Vanora come from? How do she and the knights meet? How did she meet Bors and fall in love with him? This is their untold tale.
Disclaimer: I don't anything, etc, except for any orginal characters and this story.
Feedback: Yes, please.
To All the Reviewers: Thank you; your feedback is much appreciated.
P.S.: I'm not following the story in KA completely. It's true in the time period I've set, Bors and Vanora couldn't have 11 children. Therefore, they're not. Hope that cleared some stuff up.
Eight
The knights and Vanora stopped once they reached the oceans of grass upon rolling hills of majestic beauty. It was like a scene from a fairytale. Rollings hills with great green pastures of Father Earth reached up towards the serenity of Mother Sky. The lands seemed so pure, so untouched by the hands of Men. Why couldn't it always be this way?
"It's hard to believe that beyond our safe haven here there is war looming," Galahad said, gazing at the glorious blue sky.
"The poisons of war have just not reached Hadrian's Wall yet," Gawain replied.
"You shouldn't talk that way in front of Vanora," Dagonet minded the long-haired knight.
"Why shouldn't he? Why shouldn't they? Isn't it what we are all thinking at one time or another?" Vanora wondered, standing up for the other two knights.
"It's just something I'd rather not think about," Lancelot spoke. "We don't bloody have to talk about it on our time off, do we?"
Bors said, "Lancelot's right, let's just forget about that sort of stuff while we can. I'd much rather enjoy the view and the company."
His eyes ran over Vanora, making her cheeks flush slightly. The burly, bald man cocked his head back and grinned.
As the others started and tended to the fire back in town, Vanora took up a seat beside Arthur. She hadn't spoken much with him last time they met, so she figured she owed it to the both of them to pick up on a lost conversation. She folded her knees under her long dress and wrapped her arms around herself. The weather was fair enough, but a slight chill was amidst in the aura of the setting sun. The knight was quiet, his dark green gaze in the distance as he sat in deep thought.
"What are you thinking about?" Vanora asked, pushing her hair back from her face in the blowing wind.
"Better times, times away from here and now," Arthur replied.
"I think we all could relate to that," Vanora replied, watching the others in the distance. "We don't belong to this land anymore."
"Everything's lost its innocence. You wouldn't believe how refreshing it is to see otherwise, a blossuming flower, a new child being born. That may be the last innocence in this world," he replied, sighing.
"There is still good in the world, Arthur," she said. "You and your knights doing what's right, helping others in need."
"Yes, but, for a price," Arthur's eyes flashed towards her. "We are bound to our duties, bound to Roman rule. My knights are free-spirited and pay no heed to any God. They do what they must to survive; this little solitude from the crumbling world I can give them is paradise to us all."
Vanora lay her hand on his forearm. "The others would follow you no matter what, Arthur. I've seen the way they are around you. They love you and would do anything you asked of them."
"To me it's not enough," Arthur snapped sorely. "I am their commander, their leader, but what can I offer them besides pain or death?"
Vanora stood and looked down at the green-eyed knight.
"Compassion," she whispered in reply. "That is enough for anyone."
As Vanora walked away from Arthur, she was suddenly shaken by the fear in his eyes and words. Something stabbed at the pit of her stomach. It was the thought that these knights, her friends, could ride into a battle and none could return. She suddenly felt small, like the child that lived deep inside her soul. She suddenly felt cold, like a shriveled up body, dead on the ground.
The knights had dispersed into the far corners of town, probably to the taverns, Vanora reflected. She wandered to where Dagonet's quarters were, hoping that at least he would be in. Crickets played their strainful tunes in the tall grasses as the night life greeted darkness with open arms. The mellow look of the orange sun set comfortably behind the mountains to the east.
Low candle light flickered behind the curtained window of the small hut. Vanora entered and quietly shut the door behind her. She wanted to laugh at herself for not being as strong as she usually is, but found she could not. Her eyes had been opened to a whole different aspect of human life and she was frightened.
"Dagonet?" she called out.
No answer.
Vanora ventured over to one of the two beds that sat in the corner of the room. Beside the bed was a small stand with a single candle on it. The bed was still made, the covers neatly draped over the pillow. Vanora lay down as she watched the flickering light on the stand. She would just wait here for Dagonet to return. She didn't want to go anywhere else.
A short time passed as Vanora gradually fell into a light slumber. She was physically exhausted from working seven days a week; she was mentally exhausted from her sudden fear attack. She hummed to herself, a slow song, that lulled her into sleep.
The door of the hut slowly opened and closed again. Vanora's eyes fluttered open and she sat up halfway, leaning on her left arm.
"Dagonet?" she whispered.
The figure stepped forward into the candlelight. Vanora was surprised to see Bors, not Dagonet, standing before her. He set his things on the ground against the wall that he carried and crossed his arms.
"What are you doing here?" Vanora wondered.
"This is my place. Mine and Dagonet's," Bors replied. "What are you doing here?"
She sat up. "I was waiting for Dagonet to come back. I'm sorry."
Vanora stood and began walking to the door. Bors touched her shoulder lightly, turning her to see her face better.
"Have you been crying?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Who's done something to you, I'll kill him!"
Vanora grappled his large arm and shook her head. "No, it's nothing like that, Bors, but thank you just the same."
"Then, what is it?" he asked her.
She blew out a sigh and looked up at him.
"I was just feeling a little worried about everything we all talked about today. I'm worried about all you. What if next time you don't come back?" she said.
"We'll come back. We always come back," he assured.
"I'm afraid I'll be left alone again, like all those years ago. I don't want to lose you again, not any of you," she replied, a tear running down her cheek.
Bors wrapped his arms around her shoulders in a light embrace, allowing her to sob into his chest. She folded her arms around his thick neck, as if she wouldn't let go for anything. Her body trembled against his, though her skin was warm to the touch.
She looked up at him, her light brown eyes glazed over with tears. He stroked her high cheekbones with his thumbs. His hands were calloused with ten years of war scars, but his touch was light and soft. Vanora closed her eyes and lay her head on his shoulder, melting into him.
He picked her up with the greatest of ease, as if he was picking up a child. She was light in his strong arms as he carried her over to the bed. She let out a soft moan as she allowed her aching body to take in the pleasures of a large, soft, warm bed. Bors backed away, turning to leave, when she caught his hand. Her deep gaze peered up at him; he gulped, wondering if her golden orbs could see into his soul.
"Don't go," she said. "Stay with me, please."
She turned onto one of her sides, placing one hand behind her towards Bors. He gulped hard again as he took her hand in his and lay down beside her. Vanora smiled contently, turning over again and closing her eyes. She felt safe having Bors near her. Bors licked his fingers and put out the dying flame of the single candle on the stand beside the bed.
End, 'Eight.'
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