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.


Chapter 22: Galloping and Laughing

The terrain was becoming more familiar, and it was lightening everyone's mood considerably. Lancelot felt the excitement of the men around him as they neared home. It had been a full day's ride from their last camp, and it was late afternoon, but they would be to the fort before nightfall. The wagons, slightly behind, would come in just after dark if all went well.

He was never so glad to be home. He could not wait to get off Klyndd, greet Brinn and then get into the hot baths and soak for eternity. He knew that view was shared by most of the knights around him. Hot baths and good drink would be the order. Many good drinks, perhaps.

"I am going to drink myself stupid this night." Bors suddenly proclaimed as they rode along, breaking a stretch of silence.

"It takes drinking to do that?" Gawain asked, twisting in the saddle to regard his companion.

Bors shot him a look, with his face half twisted in a smile, knowing full well he walked into the barb. "You bugger." He laughed.

The rest of the group joined the laughter and they picked up their pace again at Arthur's signal, the horses rested well enough to canter the remainder of the way home. Lancelot pulled up be­side his friend and they looked to each other as their horses matched strides.

"Guinevere will be beside herself, with Ganis having brought word ahead." He mused. "But she will have had time to clean up our rooms twice fold. She throws books at the wall when I am away."

Lancelot laughed at that "And I suppose Cerys has worked herself to the bone to prepare, and the empty barracks will be a palace for our new guests." He added, his hand gesturing.

"I just hope she has taken a few moments to rest. I am sure the harvest was not easy. She works herself too hard sometimes."

"I know."

They rounded a corner and the fort came into view. Galahad, feeling much improved, whooped loudly and spurred his Terryn forward, Gawain right behind him with Demetia, thundering off. Perceval gave a yell of surprise and he too joined the mad dash, mud churning up behind Apol­lo's heels as he passed Arthur and Lancelot.

"Come on then! Let's ride!" He yelled as he passed them.

"Well, Meritus will only fret if you hold him back, you know." Lancelot said, his eyebrows wig­gling, his smile from ear to ear, Klyndd shaking his arms as he rooted at his bit.

"I should think Klyndd would throw you off if you did not join them." Arthur responded, his smile matching Lancelot's, Meritus pawing and bouncing.

They each let out their own yells and sped forward towards the group, now a bit spread out on the road, Tristan and Bors behind them in hot pursuit, their own horses determined not to be left by their companions. As they neared the gate, each pulled up and threaded through, one by one. Lancelot pulled Klyndd to a slow trot as the others bunched together again, and they made their way through the alley towards the inner compound.

"Home!" Galahad yelled happily to the sky, "We are home!"

Perceval laughed out loud, bent over and kissed his horse's neck. Gawain clasped his brother's good shoulder, patting it as he smiled and looked about. Arthur beamed outwardly. Children fol­lowed the group along, yelling and laughing, their play swords clacking behind them. Women and men greeted the knights with hails and excitement. They had been gone too long.

Even Tristan showed relief, slowly showing a smile at the joy of being home again after so long on the road, his body relaxed in his saddle, his hands crossed over the pommel. Lancelot slapped his back as he passed him, Tristan nodding his head as their eyes met.

"It is good." He said. From his shoulder, Isaac let a soft twitter escape, and shook out his feath­ers. He could smell home as well, and agreed with his master.

Lancelot realized that this was the first time he had truly and deeply missed this place. He won­dered how much of that had to do with the scent of mint still emanating from the roll of linen behind his armour, and Cerys. He was looking forward to seeing her. He knew she would be happy to see everyone again too, and how tired she would be. He tried not to picture her in his mind; he waited to see her in the flesh. He suddenly felt excited, and it was strange. He was nev­er excited, like this at least, to see her before. This love, it was a strange beast, and he was still not sure what to do about it.

They made their way through the alleyways and into the inner compound. The stable men came running out to grab horses as the knights dismounted. Lancelot looked for Brinn and saw the dark head bobbing its way through the throng.

A face then beamed up to him as he dismounted. Brinn had filled out in the month or so he had been gone. He looked a hand taller too. Lancelot regarded his young squire.

"Brinn! Klyndd is a bit winded, could you walk him a moment before we untack?"

Brinn nodded. He stuck out a hand and grasped Lancelot's arm, then quickly brought it back to his side, his face sheepish for the show of emotion.

"Good to see you... Sir." He said, jostled as Klyndd pushed at Brinn's pockets for bits of apple.

Lancelot smiled again and ruffled the boy's hair before turning to look through the crowd.

"And you Brinn."

Where was Cerys? She should be here with their towels by now. He couldn't see her at all. Arthur was already striding away, Guinevere attached to his arm, their eyes locked to one an­other. Bors was deluged by children, and Lorina. Lancelot raised a hand to her as she saw him, and she returned the gesture. She then pointed towards the entrance to the stable, a knowing smile coming to her face. Bors turned too and laughed to his wife, his arm going around her waist as they both turned towards where Lorina had been pointing.

Lancelot looked at her quizzically then turned. Standing, wearing the same day cloak, with the same dress as when he left, an almost empty basket of towels in her hand, was Cerys.

She was looking through the crowd herself, her lower lip between her teeth, her head bobbing as she hopped up and down in the air to see above the backs of horses.

Lancelot gazed at her a moment, his heart beat suddenly racing, his thoughts a blur. He regained his senses and walked quickly to her.

She looked up to him, a broad smile coming to her face that made him swallow hard. He was home. Gods bedamned, but he was truly home at that moment. He must not be a fool, he must keep a grip on his emotions...

He lost his composure completely.

Before she could put her basket down, he gathered her up into his arms, buried his head into her hair and swung her about. Gods she felt good in his arms. He never wanted to put her down again. He breathed in mint, the freshness making his head spin.

"Cerys." was all he could croak out as he held her tightly.

"Lancelot... Lancelot! Put me down! Please!" She laughed, her arms going around his neck, her basket forgotten as it plopped to the ground. She held him just as tightly, despite her protesting. Her breath played on his neck, her right hand threading through the hair at his nape. He groaned as softly as he could. He would come undone if he did not put her down, he could feel himself responding to her touch.

He set her to her feet and loosed her from his grasp slightly, his arms settling around her shoul­ders. He looked down to her. Her face flushed, her hair dishevelled from his impromptu em­brace. Never lovelier, he realized.

Then he noticed her hands, propped up on his shoulders.

"Cerys, what happened?" His face now questioning as he gently grabbed up her left hand and turned it over. He saw the scars across her palms, the bandages lightly covering the middle fin­gers. He looked to her right hand and noticed more scars, now pink. His finger traced a healed blister wound.

"S'from the harvest." She mumbled, her face falling. She averted her eyes and pulled her hand away tucking it to her cloak. Damn... He had not wanted to make her feel uncomfortable, and he had succeeded within moments of coming home. He sighed.

He grabbed her chin and forced her head up. Their eyes met; his showing concern. He frowned.

"Are you well? Did the harvest go smoothly?"

"Fine Lancelot, really! The harvest was wet and we all blistered from working. Yes, we got it all in, we did not lose much." She smiled again, breaking his grasp and then linking an arm through his after retrieving her basket.

He relaxed. He would get the full story later; she was with him, which was all that mattered right now. They walked through the yard, Cerys gathering up towels, and handing a fresh one to Lancelot. He wiped his face happily.

"I am in need of the baths, but I should see to Klyndd first."

Cerys nodded and she released his arm. He stopped and turned to her. His thoughts were a mass of confusion. He wanted to spout off, tell her everything, or just look at her without speaking. He wanted to take her into his arms again, hold her close, carry her away and ravage her, and tenderly hold her until he could block the rest of the world out.

But he didn't.

"Thank you for your gift. The gauze was quite useful." He said instead, willing his control.

She brightened. "Did you need the needle?"

"No, see, it is still here." He said as he pulled out the worn roll, opening it.

"You didn't use the mint!" She exclaimed, smacking his arm with her basket.

"I was supposed to use it?" He said, confused, as he looked at the roll, then folded it back into his cuirass, rubbing his arm is jest.

She nodded. "You always put fresh mint in your wine, so I sent mint with you. The wine in the casks that went with the troops wasn't spiced."

He laughed loudly then, his hand out to her shoulder, his head down and shaking. Truly, he was mad.

"I kept that mint this whole time behind my cuirass, enjoying its fragrance... and it was for my wine?" He put his other hand to his belly as he laughed harder, his eyes closed, wrinkled in mirth as he attempted to hold in his amusement of what she had just said.

She looked to him, her turn to be confused, but then she too began to giggle. "You mean you kept it to smell it? Madness, dear Sir."

He nodded. The two of them giggled together for a few moments. He wiped a tear from his eye and breathed in to calm himself.

"Alright. I must see to my horse." He said merrily, his head bobbing. He looked to her and their eyes caught. He smiled to her then, a soft smile, as she wrinkled her nose in mirth at him, her eyes softly wrinkling as well. His chest swelled. Her smile gave him such comfort.

Without thinking, he put a hand to her cheek, bent, and kissed her lightly on the lips. Her eyes went wide for just a moment, locked with his. He broke away before he was tempted to deepen it, and scare her once again.

"I will see you at dinner, and we will both put mint into our wine to make up for my idiocy." He said, then turned and strode towards the stable, his step light.

Cerys stood a moment, her hand to her lips, a bemused and happy expression on her face before she turned to go, her step also light. Bors and Lorina had watched the whole thing, the children already running off to play again. Lorina shifted her baby on her hip and made a noise in her throat.

"We have some catching up to do, lover. Quite a bit has happened since you went off to be he­roes." She said.

Bors pursed his lips, his eyebrow raised to her. "I suppose so eh? Perhaps you can tell me over a drink. I am dieing of thirst."

Lorina laughed at that, hooked her free arm through her husbands, and they made their way to their rooms, eyes to each other, smiles wide.


Dear Reader:

The first homecoming was met by Cerys, this time I thought it would be fun to see how the knights fared. Did I show enthusiasm well?

I hope that the reunion between our pair went well, and that I did not disappoint. Intimacy is not easy to write, and I have much more exciting plans for them coming soon, I promise.

I should also warn you, my readers, that in future chapters, I may put more "description" of such intimacy into the situations. Please let me know if my rating of M is not strong enough. I would not want to offend anyone with more adult descriptions and language.

Again, thank you. May your own reunions be as sweet with laughter and unexpected kisses!

Cardeia