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 49: Best Medicine

The morning sun came in the small window of the room and woke Lancelot. He was still sitting in front of Gawain, who had fallen into a fitful sleep. Galahad nodded wearily to him as he opened his eyes. It was obvious that Galahad had not slept.

Bors was snoring, completely stretched out on the bed, his feet dangling off the end, his arms reaching either side of the cot, hands flapped out over the edges. It was the only sound in the room save the birdsong coming in through the window. Lancelot shook his head, thinking that this must have been the most room Bors would have seen in a bed for awhile.

He took advantage of it well.

Arthur was sitting, leaned against the wall, as was Perceval, both sound asleep. Tristan was awake and leaning against the far wall, cleaning his fingernails with a small knife, occasionally looking up towards the corner where Gawain was.

Lancelot's thoughts turned and he contemplated that this was perhaps the first time in a long time he had actually spent a night in these rooms, and they weren't his anymore. He grimaced and ran a hand over his face. They had needed to stay with him. It may have been the only way Gawain would have made it through the night without trying something stupid. He glanced about the room. Guards or companions? He was sure it was both, but which way would Gawain see it?

He realized with a start why Gawain would have chosen this room to be in, it had confused him last night why he would seek Brinn out. Gareth had shared this room with Lancelot for years.

It suddenly made sense why he was here now.

"He didn't have any nightmares once he slept." Galahad whispered.

Lancelot lifted his eyebrows and nodded. "Good." He stretched his arms out, yawned and rose quietly, continuing his stretch. Tristan stepped to his side.

"He," He murmured and pointed with his knife, "Needs a ride out or a good thrashing. We can't sit with him every night."

Lancelot blinked. Arthur shifted then and opened his eyes, looking right at Tristan.

"Take him with you."

Tristan turned his head and appeared to think on that. Galahad looked from Tristan to Arthur. He looked questioningly at Tristan. Lancelot watched this exchange and then realized what Arthur was thinking. Would Tristan want that?

He then turned to watch Tristan.

"Alright." Tristan said, nodding. "She might help, you think?"

Arthur shrugged and glanced at Gawain. "We don't have much else to go on."

They stood in silence. Galahad looked confused, Lancelot, Arthur and Tristan each had fur­rowed their brows. Lancelot knew Tristan referred to Rhia. Could she help? He had no idea. She had given him much to think on, it was possible.

A knock at the door a few moments later woke Perceval, and Dafydd poked his head in. Bors mumbled something incoherent and rolled over onto his side, the bed creaking. Gawain never stirred. Perceval looked annoyed and closed his eyes again. Dafydd surveyed the room.

"Cerys sent me over." He counted all seven men in the room. He noticed Gawain in the corner, and the haggard looks of Galahad and Arthur. So Gawain had finally snapped. He wondered when that would happen.

Lancelot held out a hand and pulled Arthur to his feet. Arthur tugged down his leather tunic and motioned out the door for he and Dafydd to step outside. Dafydd nodded. Lancelot followed them.

"Ahhhhh... Fresh air." He said as they grouped just outside the door, and stretched again. Per­ceval brushed past them and around the corner. "Must piss." He mumbled. A hint of a smile crossed Arthur's face. The Gods knew they needed some humour. Never doubt Perceval's abil­ity to bring a smile in the morning, Lancelot reflected briefly.

From inside the room they heard a loud snore come from Bors and the creak of the bed as he shifted again. More levity, Lancelot thought, and caught Arthur's eye, they both shared a smirk.

Someone was going to have to wake that sleeping bear at some point and send him back to his own cave. Lancelot wondered briefly if they should find Lorina for the job. She might jus throw a pail of water at him or some other form of torture.

She had a strange sense of humour when it came to her husband, Lancelot mused as he looked about the fort where they were standing. He yawned again and focused back on Dafydd and Arthur. There would be time for idle thought later.

"You stayed with him all night?" Dafydd asked, squinting in the morning sun. Arthur nodded.

"We did."

"Did he..."

"No."

"The dreams are every night, and he lost his temper in the common last evening." Lancelot add­ed. "Brinn came and got Cerys and I when he barged into his room."

"Tough call." Dafydd finally said after a few moments of quiet between the three men. They all nodded. Dafydd sighed and scratched his head.

"There isn't much I can do, you know. It's up to him to reconcile to Gareth." He said sadly. "When I was treating Cerys' hands, I saw the same thing in her."

Both Arthur and Lancelot stiffened. Lancelot still felt guilty for leaving her with the harvest, and he knew Arthur had felt it even worse, being the commander and king here, and her only blood relative. Dafydd noticed it and his face softened. The two men in this fort that loved her the most. He put up his hands.

They needed nothing else to worry about, especially something that had already past.

"What saved her was Brinn and the women, you know. They stayed with her, helped her, com­forted her." He said, then pointed at Arthur. "Your wife, and Bors' wife were Godsends to me while she was sick."

Lancelot relaxed a bit then. Yes, it was good that she was not alone. He wished he could have been here, but in the end, it had worked out. Dafydd was telling them, in his own way, that Ga­wain needed them more now than ever. It would be the best medicine, not some potion or herbal tonic that he could provide.

"He's going to ride out with Tristan on a coast run today." Arthur said, dipping his head.

Dafydd smiled and bobbed his head happily. "She could do some good there, get him thinking eh?"

Lancelot groaned. If Tristan knew that Dafydd knew about his runs, Tristan would want to strangle Arthur or Lancelot, since they were the only ones that Tristan was aware of knowing. He raised his eyebrow and looked at Arthur. Very confusing. He wondered how women kept gossip such as this straight so easily.

"Anyone else know about this that you should share with me?"

Arthur chuckled. "Dafydd was the one that told me."

Lancelot shook his head, the humour in the evolution of this secret not lost on him. " I am going to go find Cerys. No doubt she will want to know what happened."

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Gawain shoved his saddlebags onto Demetia's back with a scowl. He didn't want to go for a ride, but Arthur had not made argument possible. Tristan was calmly backing Sky out of his own stall. Jols was holding Cerys' small chestnut mare, who was also saddled and ready.

"What're you taking her for?" Gawain asked grumpily.

Tristan regarded him. "Pack horse."

"You've never taken a pack horse before."

"Well this time I am."

Gawain shut his mouth then. It seemed that all his friends were not letting him argue on any­thing. He really was itching for some sort of fight. He strapped his axe and mace onto the front of his saddle and sighed. Last night had been bad enough, being babysat. He was feeling horrid, and wanted nothing more than to let out some frustration. His thoughts turned to Gareth again, and what Lancelot had told him. He felt very stupid for flying off the handle.

He really was torturing himself, barging into Gareth's old rooms. It wasn't like he would be there. In fact all he'd done was scare the life out of Lancelot's squire.

Cerys walked into the stable as the men were leading the horses out, a set of tallies in her hand. She looked at her mare surprisedly, being led out, a pony rope from it to Tristan's saddle.

"Why are you taking Cei?" She asked Tristan as she reached his side. He grimaced at her and turned to adjust her tack.

"He says he needs a pack horse." Gawain snapped.

Cerys turned to him. She was so mad at him, and so worried about him, and it was making her want to smack him and hug him at the same time! Damned men, she thought as she marched over. She glared up at him, her hands balled into fists. She unclenched one and smacked him hard across the arm.

"Don't you ever do what you did last night again, do you understand? You have the lot of us worried. The women were up all night." then she lowered her voice. "You are lucky Dory found that damned green scale before Galahad saw it on his bed. She was very upset by it."

Gawain lowered his head. He felt bad enough as it was. He raised his eyes to her. Dory had found the scale? He wondered why she didn't tell Galahad. He fiddled with the one still tied to Demetia's mane. He had dropped it when he was looking for the links he kept in his chest, and forgotten to pick it up. They must have thought he...

He groaned. Now they would think he was being daft as well as tortured.

"I'm sorry Cerys. I should not have flipped the table like that."

Her face softened and she then grabbed his hand. "Don't. I am fine. I am more worried about you."

Tristan interrupted them. "Time to ride."

Cerys turned and put her hands to her hips. "And just why do you need to take my horse, we have the others." She pointed over to where a brown horse rump stood out of a stall, swishing at flies, cocked on one hip.

"Aren't you testy this morning?"

Cerys pursed her lips, knowing full well that was the only answer she was going to get out of him. She tilted her head to look at Tristan. He had certainly been acting differently of late.

What was he up to? She would have to ask Lancelot when she had a chance.

"Well then be safe, brother, and if you lame her or hurt her..." She said quietly, with a hint of humour. She leaned up, brushing his hair to the side and pecking his cheek.

"Empty threats as well, sister?" He jested, a small smile coming to his lips as he tweaked her nose. "You aren't pregnant are you? Such moodiness from a woman..."

She stuck her tongue out at him and he smiled, tugging at her hair before he turned to continued to check his tack. Perhaps she was being testy. She'd had no sleep. They were used to it more than her, at least now, given that she wasn't up most nights worrying when they were gone anymore.

So be it, he could take her, it would do Cei good to get out and run a bit.

The men mounted up, and she stepped back as they moved out of the stable yard. Her mare rolled an eye back, not used to being led, waiting for Cerys to jump on.

"Cei, go with him. The Gods know what he needs you for."

She laughed as the mare squealed and humped her back, then trotted forward as Tristan pulled on the pony rope. The mare gave another shake of her head and nipped Tristan's leg.

"Bloody mares." he grunted, coiling the rope up a bit more and snugging her head to Sky's shoulder. The mare let out a big sigh and resigned herself to him.

"Hey!" Gawain said. A bit of humour was in his voice then, patting Dementia's shoulder. Cerys smiled. He would do well with a ride out to the coast and back. Perhaps clear his head and give him a chance to think on things. A ride always seemed to bring Lancelot's humour back when he was in a stew over something.

Jols dropped an arm around her shoulders as the men made their way from the yard. She patted his hand and looked up at him. A smile was on his face.

"Three less to muck out for a day." He said jovially.Cerys giggled.

"Why did he need Cei? he could've taken Prynawn, your pack horse, just as easily."

"Wouldn't tell me. Just said he needed a quiet horse. Prynawn can be stubborn."

Gawain stopped his horse before they rounded the corner by the kitchens and looked back. Cerys waved at him, as did Jols. He sighed and raised a hand back.

When he got back, he would have to make it up to her. He was being a daft fool with this brood­ing and tantrums.

Gareth would have decked him by now, for being such an ass.

He clucked to Demetia, his face set. He missed Gareth so much right then that he lost his thoughts to memories as his gaze settled to watching Tristan's back while they rode out of the fort.


Dear Reader:

What do you think? Can she help him?

I leave you with that thought and look forward to reading them. It popped into my head that perhaps this would be a neat way to help Gawain, and let him get out at the same time. As well, Tristan may have some cryptic way of telling him he's being an ass. He needs someone to give him a belt, as Tristan well knows. Hmm.. interesting combination, and I am having fun with it.

I leave you as well with a thought. When you think back on the sad times in your life, remember that they make you who you are today. Take those sad memories and write them down, put them in a character, get them out of you and you may see them in a different light!

May your pens move swiftly as you remember,

Cardeia