"Curse this!" Gawain's voice rang though the small camp the knights had made away from the rest of the travellers. "What?" Tristan inquired from his side of the fire.
"The knife I take extra care to pack gets lost, that is just my luck isn't it. Don't look at me like that Galahad! "
"What this knife?" Tristan held it up form across the fire "Nice knife, I like it," he said flippantly pocketing it. There was no arguing with an experienced killer like Tristan, besides Gawain thought, he did not want to risk injuring the scout further, otherwise he would have lunged at him. He glanced at his friend's leg, which was badly mangled after the last battle. "Tristan how do you feel?" Tristan glared at him "Gawain" he began skirting the question well "I will not ride with you on the way home"
" Sorry Tristan, the feeling's mutual, but you have no choice" Gawain didn't particularly want Tristan behind him. Having a cursing, injured Tristan wielding a knife on your horse was not a pleasant experience.
"You can't ride by yourself Tristan," said Arthur from the back of the group "Oh yes I can" he replied, turning the remainder of his attention to the food in his hand.
Galahad had woken by this point and was listening to the knight's conversation with amusement.
"Additionally Tristan, you have no horse," Arthur added dryly. Tristan had been ignoring Galahad's chuckles, but now his temper had snapped and quickly drawing it from the fire, he threw a burning twig at the young knight. Its fire was soon dead, but not before it hit Bors between the eyes. "What the…." He leapt up sword unsheathed. Tristan chewed interestedly on his food before slipping away into the darkness.
"Tristan come back here" Tristan broke into an unsteady run limping along quite well. Lancelot by this time had woken up and was laughing at the scene in front of him: Gawain was holding his axe in front of his face to prevent an very angry Bors from permanently disfiguring it. Tristan was still sliding into the darkness. Dagonet moaned in his sleep and rolled over, almost crashing into Galahad who now got up to go after Tristan. Arthur had gotten up too and soon began to put an end to the bickering, firstly breaking up Bors and Gawain, then aiding Galahad in returning Tristan, who was struggling like a wildcat, to his spot by the fire. Dagonet still slept, Lancelot got up and helped Gawain restrain Tristan, who had already given up any hope of escape, but was still half-heartedly fighting just to annoy Gawain. Lancelot broke them apart; Gawain glared at Tristan, the archer returned the cold look and threw himself back onto his bed roll, then yelped as he his head hit the hard ground
"Ha! Serves you right Tristan" Lancelot chortled. An accurately thrown knife flew past Lancelot's head.
"Whoa!"
He ducked and threw it back at Tristan, who rolled to avoid his weapon. The knife stuck quivering next to him. Tristan was becoming quite violent now; he threw it back at Lancelot in a deadly game of catch. Only when Gawain threw his blanket, quite forcibly, at Tristan did it end.
The fire was starting to look quite sad now, Bors grunted and fell back to sleep. Arthur looked at the fire pityingly, while Galahad blew on it hopefully. Tristan snorted from his tree resulting in another volley of flaming sticks.
"Alright that's enough, we still need some strength to fight off the Saxon's" Arthur scolded.
"We can fling sticks at them," said Tristan inspecting the assorted tiny burns he had received from Galahad's "Rain of fire "
"Yes and if you're as accurate with a flaming stick as a bow the Saxons will be running for their lives" said Galahad giving up on the dying fire. He sat down against a tree and flipped an apple into the air. Before he could catch it again Tristan had pinned it to the tree with a well-aimed arrow. Galahad growled at him, but made no move to attack, though his hand twitched slightly.
"You know Tristan". I'm glad I'm not one of you practice targets, the last one I saw had so many holes in it there was no space left in which to lodge an arrow" Gawain chimed in over the top of Galahad's grumbling.
"It is not my fault that I am skilled," Tristan said a little smugly. A few more flames were flung through the air.
"Hey! I'll be too full of holes to fight tomorrow if you don't cut it out," Dagonet growled, apparently awake.
Gawain dislodged Tristan's arrow from the tree and tossed it back to him.
"You shouldn't maim the innocents Tristan," said Galahad dramatically caching his apple as Gawain threw it to him: Apart form the muddy hole in the centre it seemed unharmed.
"I'll maim you" Tristan hissed back, and in a split second there was a well-aimed knife just above Galahad's head. "Another tree learns never to be in range of Tristan when he is in a bad mood" said Gawain. There was a blur of white and a slight chink as one of Tristan's knives lodged itself in the bark above him. "Are you intending to kill the entire woodland of Briton Tristan?" Gawain asked exasperatedly.
Arthur had given up on calming his knights down "There is going to be one very gleeful group of Saxons here soon" he said wearily.
Tristan stood up and limped over the unfortunate trees, wrenching his knifes out. He sat down again, cursing in his native tongue. Galahad looked concerned for a split second, and then resumed his fighting attitude.
He was about to throw another flaming stick at Tristan when his hawk landed forcefully on its master's arm. Tristan ducked the ammunition and quickly removed himself from the firing line, taking refuge on his somewhat safer bedroll.
"Well now we know how to pick Tristan off in a battle" said Lancelot dryly "Throw a large bird at him and he'll lose all interest in fighting"
Tristan who had been talking softly to his pet looked up and glared at Lancelot through the sad embers of the dying fire. Galahad could have sworn they faded a bit further under Tristan's icy gaze.
" Tristan, leave the poor fire alone. It's having quite enough trouble heating me up without one of your cold looks" Galahad spoke in the fire's defence. Tristan snorted and Gawain, who seemed to have accepted that the fire wasn't going to get any bigger, retired next to Tristan and soon fell asleep, leaving Lancelot and Galahad.
"Well good sir it seems our men have fled," said Galahad in mock chivalry.
"It does, but however no amount of men can repel my excellent fighting" There was a loud snort from Gawain, who was previously believed to be asleep. "Lancelot a sick Woad child could repel you" Tristan commented dryly from the sidelines. "Tristan" Lancelot called, choosing to ignore his comrade's comment rather then impale him on one of the many weapons that were lying around.
"Are you alright? Your leg" he supplied when the brooding archer remained silent. It was not unlike Tristan to forget an injury. The knight in question slowly pulled himself up and glared at Lancelot "I am fine" he said lethally. Tristan was not one to admit he was sick or wounded beyond walking or fighting.
" Fine enough to fight"
"Yes," said Tristan with an air of finality "Any way my little lordlings hadn't you better get some sleep, your fighting is bad enough when you're awake."
" Lordling?" said Galahad incredulously. Lancelot however had skipped this comment, as the rest of the statement had been directed at him.
" I can fight just fine, thank you Tristan"
"Yeah, yeah" he said, "We'll see who gets killed first tomorrow and then we'll decide"
"Tristan" Gawain said, "You have a strange acceptance of death". Tristan chose not to answer and had reverted to stroking his hawk.
Lancelot had decided to heed Tristan's sage advice and turn in. Tristan grimaced slightly and inspected is leg. He flinched as he applied pressure to it, but seemed satisfied and laid back, his hawk circling the trees above. Galahad was alone by the dying fie now. "Come on" he said poking it with a sick which promptly caught fire then died again, dashing Galahad's hopes "fine" he muttered then threw himself next to Gawain also intending to prove Tristan wrong the next morning.