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:

LovelyHeidi: I am glad I was able to brighten your day! Lancelot does have a hobby, which I will elude to soon. It's kind of fun what I decided to do. Enjoy these next two chapters!

Winged Seraph: Gawain is interesting to me from his bitterness in the movie. He is bitter about home, bitter about religion. what has made him so? I thought about him tormenting himself over something, and the best way for it to come out is for him to suffer through something not of his control. These men control their own lives every day, but they cannot control their dreams. Gawain drinks to forget when he is concious, but cannot forget in his dreams. More will come to explain Gareth soon, I promise!

And yes, Tristan's quietness meshes with Lancelot's "loudness". Oil and Water can be shaken to make a marinade for appetizing meat. Such is a metaphor for their relationship, both complementing each other to make one heckuva team.

Sokorra Lewis: I wanted more interaction in the movie. I said in another review today that I think this is why we love writing about these men and their ties to one another so much. The movie didn't develop the secondary characters enough, and focused more on Arthur, Lancelot and Guin, as a good movie should. But, I thought the potential was there for so much more. That was why I was suprised when David Franzoni killed off Lancelot. He likes doing that in his screenplays. Interesting to get his ideas on why he did kill so many of the original "magnificent 7". I digress... Thank you for your encouragement and I am glad you are enjoying this interaction. Here is two more chapters!

Ailis-70: Apples... in the scene where Tristan delivers his "I aim for the middle" he points with an apple in his hand, while chewing and slightly drunk. That showed his dry humour, and made him so arrogant that I think the two are now linked. I gave him apples since a man so fixated on quietness, nature and his own spirit would also be fixated on his food. Rhythmn means everything to him, in life, in killing (hence his fluid movements in battle) and in food. So if apples are what he likes, then that fits in the rhythmn. I'm glad I make him sexy eating an apple. Better that than him smoking or something eh? Did you know that Mads was a professional dancer for 8 years? That would explain his light feet in the movie. he held himself like a dancer would. I see it now that I know that bit of trivia.

The next two chapters will be very interesting for you, especially the second (29). I wrote this one with you in mind, and to be completely honest, I had Teagan in my mind too. Please forgive me grin.

And lastly, was it Cerys on the wall? wink

Calliann: thank you for your perseverance! Yes, the site was down and very annoying it was. But it did give me a few days to just write and I have some wonderful creative stuff to share. I hope you enjoy these next two chapters!

Babaksmiles: Oh yes I think so! I wanted to give Lancelot a more human side. He can be cocky and arrogant and a complete boor, but suddenly this woman has him unhinged and he's not quite sure what to do. I am relishing the chance to change him from a "ne'er do well" ladies man to realizing that there is more to a woman than a warm place to lay your head for a time. There is completeness when the right one comes along. he just has to get past his own doubts, that are masked by his cocky, arrogant, and boorish humour.

lilstrummgrl527: thank you for your review! I very much appreciate your words. I LOVE Bernard Cornwell. The part of the story when Ceinwyn and Derfel finally declare that they love each other brings me to tears every single time. He has such an original way of telling a story, and such a masculine way of describing battles that the two meet into one excellent tale. Have you read StoneHenge yet? It is fantastic as well. Hywel, I discovered, means "Goodbye", but can also mean "greatness". So I think that is what Bernard may have meant when he named Derfel's sword, but I still think my original idea is more fun.


Chapter 28: Cloaks and Swords

Cerys stood in her rooms, flustered. She was trying to decide if she would wear the fox lined cloak or the ermine one. Why was she having such trouble deciding? She closed her eyes and pointed.

Upon opening them, she was pointing at the edge of her bed, nowhere near either cloak. She sighed heavily and sat on the bed, locking her fingers together.

Last night had been so very intense. She should have known better, yet she was not sure she would have not let it happen if given another chance. But...

She didn't want to be one of his trysts. She didn't want to lose him as a friend, and it was not an appealing thought that if he moved on after, she would be "one of them".

This was ridiculous. Ever since his kiss in the baths she had been undone around him, and now she had lost her control and kissed him. He had been willing enough, that was sure. She had also been willing, she had wanted his kiss. She had wanted more... and that was new. She had never felt that way before.

She loved him. She was going to have to eventually tell him and let him decide, no matter how much it would hurt her to hear him say no. She would get no peace about her until she got it out in the open.

A hand went to her stomach. It growled. She had not eaten last night at all.

Hunger won out and she threw on the closer of the two cloaks, her fox fur. It was warmer any­ways.

She stepped out into the sunlit morning, and waved to a few people. Lorina was behind the bar in the common, stacking horn cups. Cerys wandered over and leaned on the bar.

"Hey."

Lorina looked up and a huge smile came across her face. "Hey! Hold a moment. I have some cheese and bread, would you care to eat with me?"

Cerys nodded, her stomach again making noise at the thought of food.

Lorina finished her stacking and grabbed a cheesecloth bundle from a shelf behind her. They sat at an empty bench and she broke the cheese and bread in two.

"I think your lover found his way into my wine last night. Nimli woke him this morning stinking drunk under a table." Lorina said between bites.

"He's not my lover." Cerys said defensively.

"Then what were you doing up there? Discussing pasture rotations or store room shelving?"

Cerys grimaced at Lorina's teasing tone. The whole fort would know now. Perfect. She sighed and put her cheese down.

"It was not what you think." She said as she pointed and shook a finger at Lorina.

"Crud. You and he have been dancing around each other for some time now. It's good to finally see you both figuring it out!"

Cerys' brow furrowed. "What do you mean dancing around each other?"

Lorina patted Cerys' hand. She took breath to speak, but a large hand on her shoulder stopped her and she swivelled her head up.

Cerys watched Bors reach down and kiss his wife on the top of her head and take a bit of her bread. Cerys immediately remembered Lancelot's lips on the top of her own head the night be­fore and she felt rather in the way at that moment. She wanted to be alone. She got up to leave.

"Don't leave on my account." Bors said as he came round and gave her a squeeze of her own. "I came to join you lovely ladies, was just at the stable seeing to Raven's shoes."

Cerys sat again as he joined them, his arm about his wife. Cerys looked at them, so happy to­gether. What made them so happy? She knew that they loved each other, but Bors was not an easy man to be with. He was loud, he was obnoxious, and he was...

Very gentle with Lorina, she noticed, as he put a big hand over her hair and stroked down as if it was silk, whispering in her ear to make her giggle.

Cerys put her food down. Suddenly she felt lonely, and realized she missed Lancelot.

"You going to eat that?" Bors asked as he pointed to the remains of her breakfast. She shook her head. She sat back as he grabbed it and wolfed it down. She half listened as they talked about the day to come, and Lorina told him to find Lancelot so he could pay for the wine he took from her barrels. Her thoughts turned to him, and she put a hand to her mouth, thinking again to the kiss, and what it had done to her. She stared off into nothing.

"Lancelot left with Tristan this morning for a coast run." Bors said as he chewed.

That lifted Cerys' head. "He left with Tristan?"

"Your lover decided he needed a gallop I guess." Bors laughed.

"He's not my lover!" Cerys said again, frustrated.

Bors looked at her, an unbelieving smirk on his face. He grunted and looked to his wife. She shrugged and they both smiled.

Cerys stood up, her hands on the table. She needed to leave now. It was a bit much to think from one kiss, and she truly didn't want to impose on Lorina and Bors having quiet time without a child in tow.

"I really should go." She said, her voice wavering. "Thank you for the breakfast."

She rushed out of the common as fast as her walking could take her. She didn't know where to go. She wandered up to the kitchens, and all was well in hand there. She wandered past the stores. They had been inventoried yesterday, and she had no need for more to be brought up until tomorrow. She thought about baking some bread, but the women were already well into that task. It seemed she had the morning off unless someone came to her with crisis. She half expect­ed Octus, or one of his men at any moment.

She wandered to the armoury; the men were out working, save Gawain, and Bors who was back with Lorina. Galahad was spinning a new blade in his hand, trying to find its balance; Arthur and Perceval were working with wood staffs. Jols was working on the wooden practice dummy with his hand blades, and other men, whom Cerys vaguely knew, were either sparring or work­ing with their own weapons.

Cerys stopped and watched the melee for a moment. They worked so hard, and were so good at what they did. It was not surprising that many of them were not married. Being a knight meant dedication to being a good warrior. That was a demanding mistress in all things, including time away from family and home. She was still amazed at how they were able to cope sometimes.

She thought of Lancelot again, and how he had greeted her when he came home. It brought her hand to her lips again. She truly was not herself thinking of him this way.

Gawain stepped up to lean on the wall beside where she had stopped. She turned to him and smiled. Gawain smiled back and tweaked her arm through her cloak.

"How is my Cerys today?" He asked, lifting his frame off the wall and putting an arm around her shoulders. He played with the fox fur edges as they watched the men work.

"I am well Gawain. And you? A tad hung over?" She said as she sniffed. He had an odour of wine coming off him, and he looked a bit pale.

He laughed softly. "Getting better now. Fresh air helps."

Galahad saw them and walked over, the blade now sitting even across his palm in the centre, dipping slightly to either side as he walked. He was smiling, and his step was light. Cerys thought to Dory. She hoped that he didn't hurt her in the end if she was just a tryst, she liked the shy girl.

"Brother! Good of you to join us! Test this new blade out. Hywel's new apprentice is getting better at finding the centre I think." He turned the hilt towards his brother.

Cerys touched the pommel of the hilt with her fingers. "It's very nice carving he did. It reminds me of my father's sword."

Galahad moved the hilt towards her. He motioned to her to pick it out of his hands. She shook her head and put up her hand. She would not even be able to lift it an inch!

"Come on Cerys, just try." Gawain urged. "It's a lovely blade, you'd enjoy giving it a swing."

Cerys looked from one brother to the other. It was tempting. She had held smaller swords be­fore, and Lancelot's Gladius swords were quite light. He used to let her play with them in the barracks when they were young, slicing in front of her, pretending to be a swordsmaster. Play was all it was, Cerys knew nothing about weaponry save her bow. But it was fun to grasp a han­dle in one's hand and swing the weight about.

She thought of her father's sword and how heavy it was, and how she had carried it to his some­times as a small child, dragging the end of its scabbard through the dust to give it to him as he was preparing to leave. He would always crouch down and tell her she was a good girl, and she would try and put her arms around the armour across his huge chest. She never could and she would giggle, and he would heft her up and carry her on his shoulder plates until they were due to leave, whinnying and jumping about, pretending to be her very own knightly steed. She could still hear her mother's laughter, and her father's noises as he would paw and pretend to rear.

Cerys felt a pang as she remembered her father. She still missed him, even after all these years.

"No, it is much too heavy. My hands are not yet ready for such a weight." She lied.

Gawain nodded and lifted the blade out of his brother's hands. He swung it out a few times, turn­ing his wrist to make smooth arcing swipes. The blade whooshed quietly through the air.

"This is a nice blade. It must have lightened your coin purse?" Gawain asked, now inspecting the blade itself, finger along the waisting.

Galahad shrugged. "Not much, considering."

Cerys smiled as she watched them each test the sword out, swinging it, parrying, flipping it. They really did make a blade look like an extension of themselves, their bodies so used to the movements. It was a nice sword, and worth a sum, she assumed. Practice was the only time she could watch them, and try to understand what they would look like on the battlefield. These knights always looked so happy when working, and she marvelled at their passion sometimes. Did they look this way when arm to arm with a Saxon? She doubted it. Part of her was curious to see that side of her knights; part of her didn't want to see the side that was true hardened killer and warrior.

She stood with her arms crossed and took in the scene for a few more moments. She didn't hear Brinn come up beside her.

"I'd give anything to own a sword like that." He sighed, his eyes wistful.

Cerys started and then smiled. Soon he would need one. Perhaps she should talk to Hywel and find out how much one of those would cost for Brinn. He would need a light one to start, he would never be able to lift that heavy weight. Should she buy one for him? She debated the thought for a moment or two. She would have to ask Arthur what he thought.

"Someday you shall have all the swords you could ever want." She said as she put an arm around his neck and pulled him in, pretending to throttle him. He laughed and squirmed out of her grasp.

"Lancelot left this morning?" She asked quietly as he came back to her side.

Brinn nodded. "He left with Tristan. He wasn't feeling well; I think he got drunk with Gawain last night."

"No doubt, judging from Gawain's pallor this morning." She giggled.

Cerys was sad that she did not get to see him before he left. But it was just a coast run, they would be back tomorrow. Perhaps a day out would be good for he and Tristan. She knew Tristan coveted the coast run. Sometimes she thought he might have a lover out that way that he visited, but she never asked. He always came home refreshed, and sometimes even a bit more talkative.

He would tell if he wanted it known. She thought of the two of them riding together, Tristan's silence meeting Lancelot's exuberance. They were a pair, and it made her smile.

"Winter solstice is in three days." Brinn said suddenly, his hands finding folds in his undertunic and shoving them in. He looked cold, and Cerys furrowed her brow. Did he not have a cloak for winter? She would have to see about getting him some better clothes for the cooler weather.

Cerys turned her thoughts about dinner and the gifts she had to make ready. The usual large feast and dancing was planned, and she had stashed small tokens for everyone under her bed mattress for months in anticipation. Small trinkets, but she couldn't wait to give them.

She decided that she should find some heavy wool and make a cloak for Brinn, since he seemed without. That would be a wonderful gift for him for winter solstice! She brightened, and as Brinn sat and watched the men work; she snuck away, a new purpose to her stride as she made for the clothrooms.


Dear Reader:

Cerys gives before she thinks of herself, which we already know from her behaviour. Winter solstice should be a fun affair, a good break from the dreary weather. More excitement must come beforehand though!

Thank you for your continued enjoyment of my story, and your kind words that keep me so motivated. I hope that I am able to do the same for your stories. I am humbled sometimes as I read other works and think "That's so much better than mine!" But we are our own worst critics, and I must stop that.It is easier to see my work in a good light with your kind praise.

Thank you.

Cardeia