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:
Calliann: He is very difficult to write for. And I am glad I got him. Sometimes I feel I understand him in everyone elses stoy but mine! (grin).
Gawain is hurting, he is blind to the family wanting to help him. It takes a monumental effort to see that. Like the addict, they can only seek help once they see the damage they do, instead of the high from whatever they are addicted to. Grief is like that as well.
ElvenStar5: I was never any good at volleyball.. too short. I hope your fingers feel better soon! I have arthritis in mine, so I can understand pain. I once froze my fingers riding racehorses in -30 weather in an indoor arena, they had to slowly heat them to get the reins out of my hands. Even with gloves. It was excrutiating! Someday. I know Ms. Roberts does not endorse fan fiction, but I think this website has really strenghtened my resolve to just do it. Get it out there!
lilstrummrgrl527: Don't worry, he;s not going to die. I love my characters too much to do that. I thought about the ability to kill off characters, and I just cringe at the thought. So no, he's not going anywhere.
I personally love red hair, I wish mine was (curses thin blonde hair). But every natural redhead I know hated their hair, so that bit was for them (grin).
I am glad you were surprised at Cerys' idea! I foreshadow obtusely about it when she talked to Lancelot and says that her god is Manawydan, which is a god of the sea, I believe. Since I have no Merlin in here, she's gonna do it. I can't wait to write that chapter, I have it so clear in my head.
Melosine: I have to tell you how much I am enjoying your Memoirs piece. It is so different, and really makes me think about the characters in an enjoyeable and slightly ahh... sexy, new way. You bring out parts of their characters that are familiar to us all, yet you give them a new twist.
I'm so glad that you are enjoying! This chapter is a bit lighter, I wanted to give some fuzzies out. I think Rhia is the right one to marry them. It's exciting! I'm almost there!
Sea Cucumber: You are a scallywag and I am honored at your new story. I could not get your email to work so I sent my reply to the story review board. I hope that was OK.
Thank you for reviewing. I am very happy that you are enjoying the story. Weddings are so much fun, and now I get to live vicariously through my favorite couple! (le sigh).
Ailis-70: Thank you for sending me to Tith'd ones! That is such an incredible story! I sent that authoress a review. SO rich.. makes me look at my stuff and wonder how I can get my work to sound so... so passionate and colourful. Ahh there I go again with my inner critic (beats at it with a club... DOWN BOY...) (Wink)
The scene where Tristan takes Gawain's cup was an echo of the "How do you do that?" scene in the movie. Same voice, same incredulity. So fun the way those two play off each other. I can see Tristan saying or mumblingsomething and Gawain giving him that "What are you on?" look. Priceless. Gawain does the "yeah right" look very well.
Wynn and Teagan would get along well. Perhaps she is not as learned in the ways of battle, but I think they would really understand each other well. Woman to woman. And I bet they would run a kickass bar together. Pehaps Wynn is a bit like Ceri as well in that sense. But I did pattern some of her traits after Teagan, since Teagan stands out in my head so much when I think of Tristan and what he would need/want in a woman.
Teagan plain ole rocks. Wynn, she's got a bit of a friend of mine that lives in South Carolina in her as well. Confident and sassy, with a really easy going way about her. I miss her, haven't seen her in so long!
As I think I mentioned in my email, Lancelot and Cerys do have plans for Brinn, but in another sense. I won't spoil it, but its really fun, I promise!
Ok folks, here's another chapter! Enjoy!
Chapter 59: Interlude on a Sunny Afternoon
"Hywel, hand me that hammer over by the bench would you?" Lancelot shouted above the sound of the bellows, whooshing behind him, the ring of hammer on iron from Hywel's assistant on the other side of them.
The hammer landed with a soft thud at his feet, sand from the floor shooting out over his boots. Hywel, red-faced from the heat of the forge, grinned at him.
"Thank you!" Lancelot shouted as he picked up the small round-ended hammer.
Lancelot held up the small bit of bronze he was fiddling with. He was attempting to make a thin strip of it into a round circlet, small enough to slip over a wrist. He held the piece down and whacked at the edge to smooth it. He swore lowly as sweat dripped into his eye, and shook his head to clear it, sending droplets flying out from his hair.
He curled the end of the circlet over the round end on the anvil and continued beating at it. The edges were starting to blunt and scallop and he carefully worked his way around one, then the other, the hammer making tiny dents in the edges as he turned it.
There was a pattern to it. Every second hammer hit was to the circlet. The ones between hit the anvil as the circlet was shifted forward. He settled into the rhythm. The sounds of 'Ting, thunk, ting, thunk' became rhythmic and it calmed him for a few turns. His hand worked automatically, his eyes shifting, measuring as he worked the metal.
But soon enough, instead of helping him empty his mind, he became restless. He stopped for a moment and took a breath. It was bloody hot in here. He heard the bellows whoosh again. Why in Gods name did Hywel need to have the forge turned up more? Lancelot was sure that they could cook meat on the surfaces of the hearth just outside it.
He bent again to work the other side of the circlet and hit his thumb as he went to make the first strike.
"Damn, damn... DAMN!"
Lancelot put his thumb into his mouth for a moment and stopped, creaking up from his bent over position at the anvil. He twisted and popped his back, sighing.
He was tired, and he had, yet again, not slept enough as they had all taken turns to sit with Gawain. After he had stormed out of the hall that night, they had found him in his room, curled up and sleeping in the corner of his room.
He hadn't started screaming yet, when Lancelot had finished his watch and handed him over to Arthur. Gawain had waited until Bors' watch to do that. Bors had been woken from a dead sleep to Gawain wide-eyed and screaming, pushed up against the headboard, his hands outstretched in front of him, shaking like a leaf in the wind.
All Bors remembered him screaming was "Let him go!" as he had held him down and calmed him enough to return to quiet sleep from his nightmare state.
This was now going to be in its fourth night. Lancelot was ready to throttle the blonde man. He wanted to spend his nights with his bride-to-be in their rooms, ravishing her, letting her read to him, holding her close and then working her up so he could ravish her again...
He hadn't even been able to spend any time with Cerys in their beds for three days, and it was driving him to distraction. He had never felt the need for a woman like this before. And it wasn't just for a woman. It was for her. He growled then, and ran a hand down over his sweat-soaked face.
Lancelot put down the circlet and the hammer. He was entirely too randy this afternoon to keep his mind on his work, and he couldn't concentrate from the heat. He grimaced and wiped his forehead with his hand, then wiped his hand on his trews. It was too hot to be working in here today.
He pointed to the door as Hywel looked at him. Hywel nodded and turned back to the sword blade he had shoved deep into the coals of the forge. As Lancelot was leaving, he heard Hywel shouting at his assistant to give the bellows a push.
Hywel was insane to be working near that heat on a day like today. He was used to it though, perhaps that was the difference.
The air was sweeter just outside the shop, and Lancelot breathed in deeply as he walked. His stomach growled in response to the change in activity, so he changed his course towards the kitchens. He assumed it would be just as warm, but the ladies would not mind a quick visit and he could steal some nuts and bread, maybe a dried apple, and be on his way in short time.
He heard giggling coming from the kitchens as he ducked through the doorway, Inside, seated on the table, was Nimli, her dress top undone down to her navel, and Perceval's hands inside them, playing with her unbound breasts, now and again tilting his head down to kiss one of them.
Her legs were wrapped around Perceval's waist, her skirt falling over them to reveal tanned calves gripping his hips. She was feeding him bits of dried meat as she herself ate. He looked entirely too pleased to be her 'captive', as his laughter made evident.
"Never mind me, just here to get a bite."
Nimli let out a squeal as Perceval reached down and fished a bit of dried meat out of her cleavage. She slapped him lightly, and then pulled him towards her and kissed him. They paid him no attention at all, completely engrossed with one another.
His words had fallen on deaf ears.
Lancelot found some bread covered over by linen in a basket and he thieved two rounds out of it, plus some dried gooseberries from the pots above the stove. He poked about for some cheese, but had found none. He supposed the root cellar was locked. Damn...
Cerys was much too efficient.
He smiled as he listened to giggling turn into gasping. He hoped none of the other kitchen women came in before they were done. That would be a funny sight! He imagined a swearing Perceval high-tailing it out of the kitchens, chased by an old woman, her broom waving about, perhaps even smacking his backside, holding his trews up with his hands, brown hair flying in his mad dash for freedom.
He knew Nimli would laugh her pretty little head off if so. She had done that when he himself had been chased out of the kitchens after frolicking with her at that very table. Nimli was one conquest that Cerys didn't know about, and he preferred it that way. At least he hoped she didn't know about it. Those women would gossip about anything...
Lancelot shook his head and chuckled to himself. Those days were gone. Unless Cerys got a notion to use the kitchens for another type of cooking in the afternoons...
He blinked. He really was much too worked up, if he was thinking about that.
Back out in the sunshine, he groaned and popped some of the dried fruit into his mouth. The last few days he had been preoccupied. He knew all too soon they would be out again, and he dreaded it.
He was ready to give Gawain what for. This could not go on. It was affecting everyone. He wondered just what they would have to do to get the man out of his funk, so they could stop watching him at night, and quit keeping tabs on him during the day. It wasn't enough that Arthur had given him time off of work, but Tristan had been asked to go into Gawain and Galahad's room and strip it of all knives. Galahad had temporarily moved their weapons into Perceval's quarters, much to the knights bellyaching that he had no room to turn around in them anymore.
Lancelot sighed. Perhaps it was just time he needed. He pushed the thoughts away. It was tiresome to bring his mind back to the same starting point again and again. Always wondering what he could do, not knowing, beating himself up for it and then starting all over.
Gawain had to stop this pattern or he too would go mad... Mad... Gawain wasn't mad. He was just grieving and holding onto something that was making him...
Lancelot grimaced and tore at a chunk of bread. It was making him mad. There was no other word for it.
He stopped for a moment and quietly chewed, looking about. Where to go? He had worked that morning with Bors, and then gone to the baths as was usual. Then it was onto the shop to putter. He had the afternoon to relax, unless Arthur found him some task to do. He wished Cerys did not have her own duties to attend to, or he would seek her out and drag her home for some much needed quiet time. Well... quiet time after he ripped her out of her dress and had his way with her.
Lancelot could feel himself responding to the thought. Damn this! He needed to find a distraction.
He was contemplating hiding out in the stables, or checking in on Gawain when he saw Cerys walking around the corner, Brinn with her, his own hands full of tack.
She was talking with him, smiling and laughing, a small knife in one hand, and a basket with what looked like chives in the other. Her dress had two muddy spots on it where she had been leaning in the mud, and her hands were brown from the gardens. Her hair was a mess, the wind blowing it about, and she had a streak of mud across one cheek where she had brushed her hand across it.
But she was laughing, her eyes sparkling, and her skin glowing pink with her obvious happiness.
She was so beautiful at that moment, it took his breath away. He stood and simply watched her, his contemplations of anything else gone from his head.
Brinn saw him and waved merrily. Cerys looked up and she smiled as well. They met in the middle of the open area between the kitchens, stable and start of the apartment rows.
"Well hello, wandering stranger." Cerys joked.
"Milady, how are you this fine afternoon?" He replied back, bowing deeply.
"Such a fine afternoon Sir, but made better by your happening this way." She said back, barely able to hold in her laughter. Lancelot lifted his lips into his sideways grin and wiggled his eyebrows. The jest was on.
"Would you, Milady, wish for a chance encounter with this fine specimen of manhood?" He said, running his fingers backwards down his chest, and flourishing them out, winking.
Cerys raised her eyebrow and took a step forward. She pinched his arm, hemmed and hawwed as she circled him. Her fingers on her chin in mock concentration.
"A bit on the skinny side." She said, poking his ribs. He shifted from her. She knew just where his ticklish spots were. "And perhaps he does remind one of a goat..."
Lancelot was laughing now, unable to keep it in. Brinn was standing off to one side, his arms crossed, a mixture of disgust and amusement on his face. Cerys poked his backside, and he swatted at her hand, turning his head and body to keep up to her, her eyes dancing with mirth, her skin flushed even more as she attempted to keep a serious face. She broke it and giggled, and then stood on tiptoe to look into his face.
"I believe you'll do, humble sir." She said, "…For a goat." Then burst into laughter.
Lancelot swung her up with one arm and kissed her, her hands coming around his neck and they laughed, looking into each others eyes. His other hand came up to her face, pulling hair out of the way.
He loved her so much. He missed her when they couldn't be together, and he realized that no matter how tired or unhappy or frustrated he was, a simple smile from her and his world was right again.
Brinn rolled his eyes and snorted, interrupting their antics and they both turned to him as Lancelot set her to the ground.
"You two are going to make me sick to my stomach if you keep that up."
Cerys let out another laugh and reached out, crooking her arm about Brinn's neck, pulling him over and giving him a smacking kiss to his cheek. Brinn screwed up his face, with obvious discontent, but didn't struggle to get away. He knew better.
"It's sappy." He grumbled, wiping at his cheek.
The three stood for a few more moments, talking and catching up. Lancelot watched Cerys attempt to put her hair behind her ears, but gave up when it just blew about in the cross breeze through the buildings. He stepped to her side and began playing with it, while he and Brinn discussed Klyndd and other such important chores.
"I must get these chives into the kitchen or they will wilt." Cerys said finally, disengaging herself from Lancelot. Lancelot held her arm.
"You may want to give the kitchens a miss for a few more moments. Perceval and Nimli..." He jerked his head towards the kitchens and raised his eyebrows.
"Again? Third time this week. Bloody hells." Cerys admonished. "They have rooms."
Brinn took that as a sign he needed to move on as well, as Lancelot and Cerys shared a look and began laughing together.
"Bye Cerys, bye Da'." he said as he began walking towards the stable. As soon as he thought them out of sight, they watched him break into a jog, the tack bouncing on his shoulder as he made his way.
"Bye..." Lancelot answered more to himself than to Brinn, an amused look to his face, a soft grin replacing the sarcastic one from a few moments before.
Cerys grinned widely and mock-punched his arm. Lancelot had told her about Brinn calling him father. It was very sweet, and Cerys wasn't sure if Brinn even realized it yet. She linked arms with him then and they looked to one another.
"I'm not used to it yet." he admitted, scratching his cheek and looking up to where the boy had gone.
"It's wonderful, don't you think?" Cerys said quietly, handing him some chives. He nodded.
It was.
Lancelot handed her a round of bread, and they found a spot to sit on the ground near the kitchen to wait out the couple inside. He thankfully slid down the wall and splayed his legs out in front of him as she curled her legs underneath her skirts and rested on one hip.
Lancelot chewed on the end of one of the green shoots, watching her delicately peel off bits of crust and pop them into her mouth. Her fingernails were dirty and cracked from gardening, and she rubbed them along her skirt to clean them, giving Lancelot a rueful look.
"You look beautiful today." He murmured, as his hand came up to smooth her hair yet again, the breeze tossing it about her head, and into her face.
"Stop taking the piss." Cerys admonished as she smacked his arm.
"No, I mean it..."
She stopped in mid bite and looked at him, her eyes misting, then almost as fast, clearing. She smiled at him softly and looked down at her hands. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Make me feel beautiful after I have been rolling about in the dirt." She said, leaning on him, taking another bite of bread. She sighed. "These past few days we have both been busy, I am sorry we have not gotten more time together."
Lancelot nodded, putting his arm about her. They stayed like that, in the sunlight, quietly absorbing each others presence. Lancelot with his head back on the wall, watching her, her watching the activity around them. The both craved this quiet time, always had, but now, it was much more than that. He suddenly remembered coming home in the late summer last year, and sitting with her in the stable yard. He remembered her jesting about his feet.
He remembered how, for the first time, it had made him feel good to hear her say his name. Such a long time ago that was now. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet here they were, in much the same pose, needing much the same thing.
She had brought him comfort even then, before he had even admitted to himself that he loved her. Even when he was a young boy and he didn't understand why he felt the need to protect her. She had always been part of his life here. It had not been the same when she left. And it had not been the same in the seven or so years she had been back.
And now? So much more had been revealed to him this past winter. He was forever changed by it.
He rumbled a sigh from deep in his chest and shuffled closer to her. He reached down and rubbed the dirt off her cheek. She looked up at him and they brought their heads together. He kissed her lightly.
"You are always beautiful to me."
She folded herself into his arms and they fell silent again. Lancelot closed his eyes. Just for a moment, he thought, the sun was so relaxing on his tunic...
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
"Get up."
Lancelot blinked as his foot was kicked. He looked up groggily to Galahad, standing with his hands on his hips. Galahad kicked his outstretched foot again.
"Lazy arse, get up."
"What?" Lancelot grumbled. Cerys raised her head sleepily.
"Did we fall asleep here? Oh my..." She said as she hoisted herself up and brushed off her dress.
Galahad looked worried. Lancelot suddenly became awake, and he grabbed Galahad's outstretched hand and lifted himself up.
"Where?" He asked bluntly as he straightened his tunic.
"Armoury."
"Is he..."
"No, but we are gathering. He's insisting on working." Galahad said testily, running a hand through his hair. "Something has to give, this is madness. He's not well..."
Cerys nodded and patted Lancelot's arm, her own eyes worried. He looked at her and she reached up, kissing his cheek.
"Go. I will see you tonight."
Lancelot nodded curtly to Galahad and they walked in stride towards the armoury.
Cerys watched them walk away, then stepped into the kitchens. It was time to gather the women up. They were in for another late night, if she had any inkling.
Dear Reader:
This one was fun to write. I brought my mare home from the breeders tonight and was in such a good mood that I thought I should post it tonight instead of tomorrow when I have more time!
Give your good luck charms and prayers to her, this is our second round at breeding, and if she catches, I get to be a grandma next year when the foal comes!
My mare Sonata has been with me since she was two years old, and this year she turned 16. She is my best girl, and even though we don't gallop together anymore, she and I have fun giving long grooming sessions to each other (I scratch her, she rubs her big soft lip on me in return). We used to compete together, and I hope to perhaps, if the baby doesn't sell, to show him or her as well! I used to rideSonata's father when I was younger, so this baby will be very special to me.
Ok, enough prattle for the night. I realize that I haven't said this in awhile, so...
May your pens never stop moving on the page!
Cardeia
