Chapter 18: Speaking to the Darkness

On top of a hill was a lone hut. Skins covered the door and an empty fire pit was outside. A girl of no more than three or four rushed outside. A radiant woman followed behind her. Her skin was the color of ivory and her sea-green eyes twinkled in the early afternoon sun. Her brown hair was knotted up behind her head and several pieces fell down and framed her sweet face. The only thing that marred this almost perfect youth, was the bloody welt along her cheek.

"Don't run too far ahead," she yelled to the young girl who barely made any notice of her.

She shook her head and picked up a swift run and chased after the youngster. Clouds began rolling in overhead, but that was nothing new. The little girl had plopped herself down in a patch of grass and was twisting the shiny green pieces in her fingers.

"Mama, do you think that we'll always live here?" the little girl asked in a voice not yet sure of so many words.

The woman smiled at her and softly kissed the fluffy gold hair that hung wildly about the girl's face. She grinned and held the circlet of grass up to her mother who made a fuss and put it on her wrist. Small drops of rain began to fall and a low rumble of thunder came from overhead.

The grasses around the woman and child began to sway in the growing wind. The grass rubbed together, whispering secrets only they could hear. The little girl laughed as they tickled her face. She stayed low to the ground and watched as a small ant hurried to safety with a grain of food. She looked up and watched as people in the village rushed around trying to secure loose items and close up their homes in anticipation of the storm. The girl giggled. Her mother looked up at the sky with worry.

"Come, child. We need to get inside," the woman said.

The girl just looked at her, confused.

"Why?" she asked.

Her mother just shook her head and took the small delicate fingers within her own.

Overhead, another menacing rumble of thunder sounded. The woman quickened her pace, almost dragging the young girl behind her. They reached a run down hut and quickly rushed inside. A fork of lightening came down from the sky and hit a tree close to the open area where they had once been. The girl's eyes were wide as saucers as she watched the spectacular display.

"Where have you been? There are still chores to be done!"

The woman turned abruptly at the loud voice behind her.

"I went to fetch Elizabeth. She had run off," the woman said in a half whisper.

The man snorted and took her arm. He threw her on the bed and brutally kissed her and tried to untie her dress. She slapped him and ran to pick by Elizabeth.

"Wench!" he roared.

She was out the door in a moment. She ran blindly through the open fields until she ran out of breath, her legs cramping with every step. She turned around and realized she had not brought Elizabeth with her. That monster could be touching her. Worse, he could be beating her. Fear filled her, but nothing could make her return to that hated hut.

Back at the village, a little girl screamed. Elizabeth stood in the middle of the hut, her father's angry face above her. Her clothes had been ripped and tears spilled over her cheeks, pooling on the dirt floor.

"Just like your mother!" her father yelled.

He slapped her face, knocking her to the floor. Blood spilled from her nose and she slowly put a hand to it. At the side of the red, she screamed and tried to get up, but her father kicked her down. She looked up at him fearfully.

"Get to bed!" he ordered her.

She hurried off into the separate room of the hut that had been made for her.

Outside, the woman quietly approached the hut. Her husband's anger was nothing new. He despised her and Elizabeth, the offspring of a man nobler than himself. A knight. He had met his fate from her husband's sword and she had been whipped. Elizabeth had been branded as good enough for a cripple or would be sold a slave. The tears came quickly as she thought of her daughter's future.

She stayed outside the hut for the night. The storm blew over after midnight and the birds began their song right before sunrise. She knew what she had to do. She snuck into the little girl's room. She slowly stroked her head and when the Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open, she held a finger to her lips. Elizabeth smiled gleefully and quietly followed her mother out of the hut. It would have worked too. Once outside, they were met by a strong pair of dirty hands. The woman was dragged over to the fire pit and beaten. Elizabeth was held and made to watch. She cried out as her mother was slapped and kicked. She wriggled out of the man's grasp and ran into the forest. She slumped down against a tree and cried freely.

A cold cloth dripped water down her face and for a moment, Elizabeth opened her eyes. But the light was too much and she slipped back into her dream world.

Leaning against the tree brought small comfort to Elizabeth. Her tears fell on the dirt, making dark circles. She placed her fingers gently on them. Her father stormed into the forest and lifted her out of the dirt and threw her over his shoulder. He dumped her on the ground in the hut and slapped her cheek as hard as he could. Elizabeth felt like her face had broken and everything blacked out for a few seconds and all she could see were those dark spots in the dirt. Her mother was unconscious by the door, blood dripping from her mangled cheeks. A finger suddenly appeared before her face. It was soon accompanied by a snarling face that belonged to her father. She sneered right back at him.

"You wench. From now on, you do as I say. One toe out of line and you and your mother will both get what should have happened the day I killed the damn knight. You hear?"

Elizabeth ignored him and continued tracing in the dirt.

"Witch!" her father screamed.

He took her hand and held her up in the air by her dirty fingers. In one deft movement, he flung the fragile girl across the room and she rolled on the floor right into her mother. Her father, after barking out orders to make dinner, stormed out once again. Elizabeth believed nothing could have been worse as she set about the task that was intended for a woman older than she.

"Elizabeth. Open your eyes. Please, open your eyes."

"Won't make no difference if ye say please or not, you big oaf," Gawain grumbled.

Galahad gave him a withering look and continued to squeeze Elizabeth's battered fingers. The very blood within them seemed sluggish and lifeless. He held back tears as his eyes roved over the dirty gold hair and the shut eyes that had once sparkled with adventure. He knew that Lancelot would be here right now if things had only been different. Everything in this life that he led seemed to end in sorrow. Gawain handed him a cold cloth and he pressed it to Elizabeth's burning forehead.

"What did the healer's say?" he asked.

"She burns with the fever. Her wounds made her vulnerable to it. She might not pull out of this," Gawain replied, his voice cracking.

They both looked down at their friend. Lancelot was in pretty much the same state. Galahad jumped slightly when he felt Elizabeth's fingers give slight wiggle.

"Elizabeth!" Gawain said excitedly.

Elizabeth's eyes slowly opened and she gave a weak smile at her two friends.

"I've found myself in a right bad state haven't I?"

Both men laughed, ecstatic to have Elizabeth back.

Everything was silent for a few moments, Elizabeth with a frail smile on her face. A thought suddenly occurred to her and she looked up at them.

"Where's Lancelot?"

Gawain and Galahad exchanged nervous glances.

"Well, he's um...he's alright. He's still asleep," Gawain said gently.

Elizabeth's face paled and Galahad quickly offered her water in hopes of preventing her from passing out once more.

Meanwhile, in the other room, Lancelot still remained oblivious to the world and its occupants. The healers in their white garments rushed around his bed, scrambling to come up with an idea to revive him. The situation was beginning to look more and more desperate as the time passed.

"The mistress next door will be much distraught if he passes," one said worriedly.

"Well, we won't allow it to happen then. I think Raphael may have some extra herbs and medicine downstairs of which we can find some use."

The other nodded and they quietly left the room.

The door slid open once again and Arthur stepped over to the chair by his friend's bedside. He took Lancelot's hand in his own, some stains of blood still upon them. He had already gone through this once before and another time would more than likely be too much. He had yet to walk next door to see how Elizabeth fared. He slowly stood up, still clasping Lancelot's unmoving hand. He slowly leaned over and gently kissed Lancelot's forehead, curls brushing against his face. He let go of his hand and walked to the next room. What he found surprised him. Elizabeth was sitting up and the look in her eyes was enough to tell him she was angry. Gawain and Galahad both had exasperated looks upon their faces as they kept watch over her.

"They won't even let me go see him for a moment. If it is as bad as I am presuming then I wish to be there one last time, " she said, her voice quaking with emotion.

Arthur sat next to her and was quiet. Gawain and Galahad slowly left the room, unsure of whether to stay or not.

"Elizabeth, come with me. You can walk?" he asked.

"Of course."

She stood up, only shaking a little, and walked to the corridor with the help of Arthur's hand. He opened the door and walked in to find the nurses bustling about with the new medicines. They bowed to Arthur. One forgot herself as she watched Lancelot's eyelids, which opened momentarily, and she quickly tapped the other bowing nurse on the shoulder. Arthur smiled and went out.

"Elizabeth, it seems things are looking up. Forgive me, but I think we should give them some time."

She nodded, a small relieved smile creeping onto her face.

"If that be the truth, I will retire to my room once more."

Arthur helped her back to her room and thanked the nurses for all their work before returning to Guinevere.

Several hours passed and dusk approached the Wall. Small candles flickered to life as servants ignited their flames. One candle moved haltingly across the dark corridor and stopped a few feet from a door that remained open just a crack. With a gentle push, it proceeded inside.

Elizabeth slowly moved towards the chair that had been placed next to Lancelot's bed and she set the candle down upon the night stand. Tears sprang to her eyes and she put her head down on the bed, holding Lancelot's pale hand. She wept freely, her misery fully consuming every fibre of her body. What would she do? She couldn't stay here. She'd roam out in the land and go from place to place. Living as a nomad would. But even that sickened her. More tears came and she wept how, just like her mother, she had lost the one person who had truly loved her. A soft hand rested upon her head and she looked up, expecting to see Gawain or Galahad standing above her. It was neither. Lancelot looked at her with a small smile on his face and a hand that slowly slid down and rested on her cheek.

"If you don't stop crying, you'll soak the bedding straight through and that will surely anger the healers," he said.

Elizabeth laughed and put her hand over his.

"You didn't think this was the end, did you?"

"I had no doubts," she replied, rolling her eyes as they sparkled with happiness.

He slowly, stiffly sat up and looked at her. No words were needed for the gratitude each felt at the moment. Just to both be alive. He leaned over a bit awkwardly and kissed her softly.

"That was all the healing I needed," he said, pulling away with a grin.

"Then they should have allowed me in earlier," she joked.

They heard footsteps below in the healers quarters.

"I'd better go. They won't be pleased to know I've interrupted your rest."

Lancelot laughed and, with his eyes, followed her out the door. How he had missed hearing her voice and looking at her face. He hoped she would steal back at a later time when nobody would be awake. The door creaked open and he pretended to fall back asleep.

Hours later, almost midnight, Elizabeth crept back in to find Lancelot already sitting up, waiting for her.

"You know me too well. The healers came and said I should be back to my old self in several months. Longer than I hoped, but what can I do about it."

"That's better than me. They are beginning to think it should be a year for me, although I see no logic behind that," he said, frowning at the prospect of not being able to freely move about for a year.

Elizabeth took his hand again and they talked for quite some time. The subject of their marriage not coming up once.

Several Months Later...

Two dark horses cantered through the long grass, their riders laughing openly as the fresh air whipped against their faces. The sky was bright blue with a few patches of white clouds scattered about. The horses were brought to a halt under a group of trees. Lancelot jumped down and before Elizabeth had a chance to dismount, he yanked her from the saddle and onto the ground, kissing her passionately. They lay there for a few moments, enjoying the silence.

"You didn't forget that I had asked you to marry me quite a long time ago? And I believe you said yes."

She laughed and pulled off her other riding glove.

"It is your choice as to when this special occasion may occur," she replied.

"Then I say we waste no time."

And he pulled her into his scarred arms and kissed her once again in the dying winter grass, happy his life had finally turned around. Happy they had found each other. Happy that they had each been saved.

An original King Arthur fanfiction by Gemini Shadow

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Sorry for such slow updates. Was very busy and it has finally closed. I may continue with Courage, or work on another fiction, or start work on my original. Thanks you to all my faithful readers and reviewers!

Shadow