Disclaimer: I do not own any of the character names, save my own original creations. I do not wish to be compensated for this work, nor do I wish to infringe on any copyrights held by any stakeholders of the movie King Arthur. This work is an original creation, based on the legend of King Arthur and his knights.


Scribe Notes:

Sokorra Lewis: Thank you for your review! I am glad you are enjoying the original characters. Cerys has been a large work for me, and she lives and breathes, in my dreams.

Winged Seraph: You bet! Let the healing begin. Hands and hearts may heal, but truly we can only heal ourselves of our internal conflict. Thanks for your continued support.

History2: I have been delving more into the characters, and I am glad that you now have a better understanding of Cerys. You caught the symbolism of Brinn so well, and I am glad you saw it. Thank you again for your insight!

Babaksmiles: YES! Cerys is every woman. I want to show that even then, we were the caretakers, the healers, the lovers, the cook and chief bottle-washers. But, not just because we were told to be and because the men wouldn't do it, but because we WANTED to care for everyone. That is my weakness as well as Cerys. We care so much we can't say no to helping or trying to please everyone.


Chapter 18: A Pebble For Your Thoughts

Lancelot was throwing pebbles at his battle helmet, upturned on the ground a few paces in front of him. Each time a pebble landed inside, it tinged loudly in the silent stables. He shook the peb­bles remaining in his hand and frowned.

It had been four days since the Saxons had massed. Each day they would mount a new attack, each day the arrows would push them back from the edge of the bog. He was growing tired of this routine. He wanted to ride out, slash those forsaken animals to bits and ride for home. What was making Arthur wait so long? He threw another pebble angrily, misjudging the distance. It hit Tristan square in the knee as he walked up to where Lancelot and his helmet were sitting.

"Practicing for when we run out of arrows?" He said dryly, sitting down beside him.

Lancelot gave his friend the best withering look he could and threw another pebble. It bounced off the rim and into the soft dirt beside.

"Your aim will need to get better."

Lancelot grunted and threw pebbles to the floor, jerking up from his seat and walking over to the helmet. He turned it over and a small pile of pebbles formed on the ground at his feet.

"I see. You have been working hard."

Another dry remark. Lancelot could see Tristan trying very hard not to grin from behind his wet straggly locks, his blue eyes dancing with mirth. Lancelot then too realized that he was being an idiot and he grinned, letting out a chuckle.

"Sorry friend. Been so bloody bored of this waiting to leave. We don't have to go to Dewyr, but yet we wait here. We could easily march out and..."

Tristan held up a hand to stop Lancelot's rant. "Arthur is waiting for scouts to return."

Lancelot nodded, realizing. "And he won't leave until he finds out if Octus does still live."

Tristan nodded once, and then his eyes caught Cerys' roll of linen, spread out on the bench be­side where Lancelot had been sitting. Lancelot quickly walked over, rolled it up and stuffed it away. He sat down again, clearing his throat, and stared out the door. His eyes went hard; trying to hide whatever else it was that had been bothering him.

"You love her."

Lancelot snapped his head up to Tristan. The quiet knight looked calmly to him, his hands fold­ed, arms resting on knees. They stared at each other for a moment. Lancelot kicked at the dirt under his foot and turned his gaze to the floor. He swallowed slowly, his mind working on some­thing to say.

"I've tried not to think... She doesn't deserve... oh Hells!" He exploded, getting up once more from his seat and pacing, his hands through his hair, his jaw bouncing as he tried to contain his frustration at being made, at Tristan's observation.

"You stare at that every night. It is hard not to see."

"I know. I'm being a bloody milksop fool." He muttered, his hands flying up.

Silence followed for a few moments. Tristan watched Lancelot pace, seeing the man's temper slowly simmer.

"No." He said finally.

"No? What do you mean, No?" Lancelot asked.

Tristan turned his head sideways and pursed his lips. "No, you aren't being a bloody milksop fool, whatever that is."

Lancelot shook his head and laughed. "I am. I torture myself with this... this stupidity."

Tristan sighed and got up from his seat. He ambled over to Sky and unsheathed his dagger to pick out the horse's hooves. As he bent over to lift the first one, he lifted his head up to look to Lancelot. Blue eyes were hard, piercing. It made Lancelot stop and look to his friend once more.

"She is worth twenty of your flings. I think you see that. Don't throw this chance away. " He shook his dagger end at Lancelot to emphasise his point.

Lancelot was stunned. What? Don't throw what away? He watched Tristan return to his task, slowly working around the horse's frog, paring off bits of excess, digging stable dirt out of the grooves. He let the hoof fall back to the ground and moved to pick up a hind. Lancelot shook out of his stupor and marched out of the stable swearing.

Tristan shook his head and held back a laugh. That man was as bull-headed as Cerys. They were perfect for each other.

Lancelot was sulking up on the inner wall when Arthur stepped up beside him.

"Looks like we have put a dent in their numbers." He said, crossing his hands behind his back, staring out to where Lancelot's gaze seemed to be concentrating. Only a hundred or so men were left, and scouts sent out, Tristan among them, had reported no more masses waiting in the wings. This was a small army, and it was indeed the thorn that had been in Octus's side up the coastline. These men milled about, most lying in the grass drinking, or slowly working on new siege en­gines. A few men had raided the local villages and they could see women now mingling with the troops. They were not leaving anytime soon.

Lancelot flicked his eyes to Arthur then back out. Great. Here it goes, he thought. The deal would be "Octus may yet still live and we have to go rescue him." Honour and all that horse ma­nure. He was tired of honour, let Octus get home on his own.

"Don't you ever tire of this?" Lancelot said peevishly as he put one boot up on the wall and leaned onto his leg. He sighed heavily and moved his tongue over his teeth, "This waiting... it's ridiculous."

"Of course... You feeling well?" Arthur asked, turning to his friend. Lancelot turned his head and they regarded each other for a moment.

"I'm fine, just restless."

Arthur nodded his head and they both looked out again towards the far bank of the bog. Arthur unclasped his hands from behind his back and looked down to them, meshing his fingers and twisting.

"Lancelot, we..."

Lancelot cut him off with a hard look. "Let me guess... We have word that Octus and a small band of men are somewhere out there…" He stabbed a finger out over the wall. "And we are going to have to fight our way out of here…" more finger stabbing in towards the compound. "and go rescue his Roman arse."

Lancelot took his foot off the wall and put both hands out over the stone. He exhaled loudly, shaking his head, his frustration evident by the muscles working hard through his jaw once more. Damn this man and his honour!

"You know me too well, don't you, old friend." He placed a hand on Lancelot's shoulder, pat­ting softly. "Yes. I have the men gathered in the stables, but we couldn't find you. Care to join us?"

Lancelot grimaced and nodded. He turned without a word and started down the stairs, but Arthur had not moved.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Yes, but... first you have to tell me what has got you as foul tempered as a bear with a bee-sting."

Lancelot ran a hand over his face. Didn't anyone see? He just wanted to be left alone, and Tris­tan, now Arthur, were poking their noses into his thoughts. Damned annoying it was. Thank the Gods they would be getting out of here. This place had made his head turn to mush, sitting and waiting in the damp.

"Nothing of consequence right now. We need to get out of this horrible, stinking, grey place, don't you agree?" He said as he turned again to continue down the stairs.

Arthur shook his head and chuckled. He followed Lancelot down the stairs towards the stable. He would find out yet just what was eating at that man, but perhaps after a day of stretching legs and sword arms on horse he would be more talkative. Truth, they all needed to get going again, sitting in a dingy, war-torn Caer was not exactly the best thing for any of the knights.


Dear Reader:

I apologize for the delay in posting. I have been under the weather and just now getting back to being able to type and write without feeling horrid.

Thank you for your patience, your kindness and above all else, your continued journey with me onthe idea of writing this piece! May your thoughts be worht more than mere pebbles, and remember that no matter how deep you hide things, sometimes others can see what you least expect them to!

Cardeia