I was soooooo psyched about some good reviews on my first try, I posted with only 4/5 reviews. Thanks very very much to reviewers and I hope you like this chptr just as much as the last.

Returning to his horse and gear, Lancelot stabbed his sword into the ground, frustrated. He had never been tongue-tied by a woman. Normally his charms ran so thick and fast he had every girl in a five-foot radius smiling and fawning over him desperately. This woman however, radiated charisma like her blades radiated the weak Briton sun. He watched her from the corner of his eyes as he groomed his horse.

She had repined her hair but in a nonchalantly elegant knot on the back of her head but a few curls had brushed free during her fight, leaving them to curl becomingly around her ears, and the nape of her neck. Laughing softly at a joke the normally stolid Dagonet had made, she removed her swords and laid them gently by her horse and pony, leaving the dagger on its belt slung casually around her hips. She replaced her cross-sheaths and rapiers with a cloak of soft midnight blue, which set off the colors of her eyes and the rich undertones of gold and red in her dark hair. Half concerted to see this enchanting but confusing woman back in a normal female stance serving up traveler's stew the knights hastened to retrieve their mess kits from their packs. However, unused to being waited upon while on the trail, they were ill at ease when she served each helping with a special smile for each knight.

After the most satisfying meal they had had in months each of the knights retired to make his preparations for a deep night sleep. Lancelot, however, remained at the fire, his dark smoldering eyes watching her from across the flames. She had taken a spot further from the fire as if a preternatural instinct reminded her of the accepted submission of her gender. She rubbed her eyes and loosened the lacings on the shoulders of her tunic. She slipped of the light leather armor and then reached up and released her hair, letting it cascade past her shoulders where she ran her hands through it to loosen the stiffness of travel, then took a comb from her pack and began slowly teasing out the knots. Looking up as if sensing him there she met his eyes again and smiled. Slipping her cloak around her she stood and joined him by the fire drawing her knees to her chest in contemplation of the flames. In the fire the dancing light played across her hair and caught in her eyes making him suddenly wish he could touch her hair. As if she needed something to occupy her hands she took the comb back out and brought it to her glossy locks. "Can I-I mean, well, if its okay, …could I try?" Lancelot asked hesitantly motioning toward the comb. He could have cursed himself for the clumsiness in which he was speaking. She cocked her head and smiled gently, her eyes soft. "I suppose so" She scooted closer, tilted her head back, and handed him the comb. "I'm not very good, I well..I've never tried…" he explained anxiously "I'm sure you won't hurt me" she replied as if she was reassuring him and placing her trust on him in the same breath.

He smiled and place the teeth of the comb at the top of her head then bringing it down through her curls. He ran into a snag and, determined not to hurt her, brought up his other hand to lightly anchor her hair as he separated the tangled strands. An hour later, he had found a soft rhythm and when her head began to rest against his knee, he knew she was asleep. He took the comb gently from her hair and set it beside her. He moved his hand slowly under her knees and swung her gently into him so that her head rested against his chest. Her face was different in slumber, somehow more delicate, more fragile, as if beneath the rapiers, daggers, and longbows she was an innocent girl, who needed protection. Startled, he realized that at this thought his own mind rose in the declaration that he would be the one to protect her from all evils.

As a handsome man in a company of legendary warriors, he had had his share of pretty girls, but each he had had fun with but parted from the next morning. At that moment, he did not want anything more than to continue holding her, sheltering her. She sighed in her sleep and turned slightly so her head moved further up, under his shoulder. Tired himself, he leaned his back against the large rock behind him, and rested his cheek against her hair. She smelled wonderful. Something about the scent of her hair stirred a long buried memory from the depths of his mind; A dark night like this one, a warm fire, and a woman, singing. He heard the words and they sprang, unbidden, to his lips and he realized he was singing in Sarmatian. With a start, he realized that she smelled like home. The lullaby she had sung earlier while battling the woads was the same one he recalled the woman singing around a fire similar to the one in front of him. Who the woman in the memory had been, he had no idea, but her scent and her singing added one more veil of mystery to enigmatic woman who slept on his shoulder.

Pleeese oh please review. I don't care whether its praise or critique, I just like getting feedback! For the next chapter I need five reviews.