Three
Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
Down to tower'd Camelot:
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers "Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott"
When Annya opened her eyes from the long sleep, it was dark. She did not find the mortal world to be as peaceful as she expected. She had apparently slept in a tree and from her height advantage, she could see many men with torches with burning red flames at the top. They had all sorts of terrible, frightening weapons and they were using them to destroy everything in their path – including the tree Annya was standing on.
The men threw down at least ten flaming torches at the base of the tree. The tree was very dry and quickly caught aflame. Annya didn't panic because she knew she could fly away. Annya began flutter her wings, but she did not start to fly. She tried her wings again, but nothing moved – she didn't have her wings! The flames began to lick her ankles, and she panicked.
The fire easily burned her delicate skin and she started to climb higher up the flaming tree. There was so much smoke that it soon became hard for Annya to see the branches in front of her. Annya shut her eyes and buried her face in her arm. The heat was so great and the smoke stung her eyes. It became harder of her to breath. The thick smoke swallowed her up, and she started to cough and gasp for air. Annya started to feel dizzy. She tried to climb just a bit highe,r but she grabbed a branch that was on fire and she immediately let go. Annya lost her balance and fell through the air. She let out a piercing scream as she tumbled through the branches.
Annya was terrified, for she knew that she would soon fall through the scorching flames. She blindly flung out her arms in a desperate attempt to grab something. Her hand whacked a branch and she quickly grasped it, but that was a huge mistake. She was falling so fast through the air that the sudden stop pulled on her arm so hard that it became dislocated. Annya heard a pop and let out a hoarse scream. Her hand was ripped from the branch and she flipped and smacked her head against a hard, spiny branch.
Black. Everything went black, and the pain stopped.
Something was soft underneath Annya. It felt silky. She had a head splitting headache. A hot rush of pain seeped up to her shoulder and antagonized her. Annya saw a ceiling made of huge thick stones. She looked to her right and there was a man staring right back at her lying in a different bed beside her. She saw a white bandage wrapped around his stomach. She could see that on his right side the cloth was stained with much blood. There were lots of other cuts on his upper body
"Hi," The stranger said the Annya.
"Oh, hello." Annya's voice sounded pathetic to her. It was raspy and hardly made any sound. When she spoke she could feel dirt in her mouth.
"What happened to you? Those are some pretty nasty burn. And your forehead!"
Annya's good arm slowly rose to feel the wound that was on her head. "I-I was in a tree when it was burned down."
"You were in a tree! What were you doing up there?" Steps could be heard before Annya could answer. The steps echoed throughout the room and made Annya's head throb with pain.
"Now, now, Cashmere. Don't bother the poor lady. She must have a huge headache and be very sore." Annya looked into the face of the person who owned the sounds of the footsteps. He had icy blue eyes, and his golden-blond hair was blown back from the wind of him walking. It was Sir Lancelot! Annya's body went stiff – small beads of cold sweat started to form around her hairline. "I'm terribly sorry for keeping you here. We didn't have enough room anywhere else, but we do now. You'll have a room of your own. My room, actually; but that is only because I was asked to take care of you. So, um, shall we go?"
Annya tried to get up, pushing herself with her right arm. Pain shot up to her shoulder and she fell back into the bed with a gasp of pain. Sir Lancelot rushed to her side and said, "Don't try to get up, I'll carry you."
Annya felt his powerful arms lift her from the bed.
"You're so light." Sir Lancelot said as he carried Annya down the hallway. "You are like but a cloud." Annya felt herself go hot. She wanted to say something in return, but found that she didn't know what to say. But Sir Lancelot saved her by asking her a question.
"I am just really curious of your reason to be up in a tree while the warning was given out that we were under attack."
"Well," Annya started, "I, umm, I wanted to see for myself if we were truly being attacked. So I climbed a tree to see if people were coming."
Annya felt Sir Lancelot's muscles tighten beneath her. They turned a corner and Annya's feet whacked into the wall, but Sir Lancelot did not seem to notice.
"You do not believe what the king himself says? You then do not trust his kingdom?" asked Sir Lancelot rather harshly.
"No! No, I meant nothing like that. What I meant to say is that, well, I like to see things for myself. I have always been like that. It's not that I don't trust Arthur - I would trust him with my life - I just wanted to see the men for myself and to see how many there were."
Annya felt Sir Lancelot's arms relax underneath her and he breathed out a sigh. They carried on in silence and Annya could feel Sir Lancelot begin to tire as he walked up a flight of stairs.
"I can walk. I can walk the rest of the way." Annya said.
"I wouldn't dream of letting you do that in your condition. It's fine, I can carry you the rest of the way."
"No, please, I want to walk. I would like to stretch out my legs. They are quite stiff."
"Well, if you insist." Sir Lancelot set Annya down very gently, but did not let go of her arm in case she fell. "It's not much longer anyway. Just down this hallway, to the left, a bit more walking, and we're there!"
Annya giggled. Sir Lancelot seemed so energetic. Annya kept looking at his fair face while she walked down the hall.
He's so good looking! Annya thought to herself.
"Here we are. Hold on to the wall while I open the door. I don't want you to fall down on the hard stone." Lancelot led her to the wall and made sure that she wouldn't fall and then let go of her arm to unlock the door. He took out an ancient looking key from the pouch around his neck. He put the key into the slot, turned a wheel-shaped handle, and opened the door. Then he went back to get Annya, who was still leaning on the wall.
"Are you sure you don't need to be carried? Sir Lancelot asked.
"Yes, I'm quite sure, thank-you. It's only a little way anyways." Sir Lancelot nodded in response and took her good arm gently to lead her into the room.
The room was small for someone of such great importance as Sir Lancelot, but it was very nicely decorated. There was a bear rug at the foot of the bed in the middle of the room. The bed sheet, blanket, and pillow were both made of silk and were ocean blue with gold weaved through it. The room was a tower so the walls were curved. There were three windows - one on either side and one in the middle right above the bed. There were two night tables on either side of the bed and a wooden closet with marble handles. There was a desk near a window with a chair pushed into it.
Sir Lancelot brought Annya to the bed and helped her lay down.
"Is there anything that you need before I leave?" asked Sir Lancelot.
"No, thank-you. You have ever been so kind to me, but maybe you could keep me company a while for I fear that I am very isolated here."
"Very well, I shall stay and chat a while." Sir Lancelot pulled up the chair from the desk and placed it at the bedside. "I do not know your name."
"Yes, my name. It is Annya. And what is your name?"
"You do not know me?"
"I fear I do not." Annya grinned. She loved teasing.
"Why, Lady Annya, I mean not to boast, but if you do not know me, are you sure that you have lived here?"
"I have lived here, but because your name may be well known does not mean that the person who knows the name knows the man."
"True. My dear Lady Annya, have you heard of the name 'Lancelot'?"
"That I have. Are you he?"
"That I am."
"And, Sir Lancelot, how old are you?"
"I am twenty-four."
"None but a young man."
"In age, yes, but not in maturity. If it were maturity, I am thirty-four. And what age you are?"
Annya paused. She could not tell Sir Lancelot her real age for her age had never been heard of in the mortal world. "I am the same age as you." Annya answered.
"Who are your father and mother?"
Annya thought quickly. "I have none. They died when I was twelve. I have been fending for myself."
"Oh. Why, may I ask, are you wearing an exquisite gown that must have cost much money?"
Annya's eyes started to become watery as the memory of her mother came back to her. "My mother made it for me before she died." Which was true. The dress was her mother's good-bye gift. But now it was ruined; it was burnt and had lost its gleam. It was destroyed - her most valuable possession, her mother's last gift.
"I'm terribly sorry; I did not mean to upset you." When Annya did not answer, he got up to leave.
"No, wait." Annya said. "I'm sorry, it's childish for me to act like this and I should be over it by now. You may stay if you want."
Sir Lancelot sighed. "My dear Lady Annya, I have already stayed here too long. The sun is setting and I am needed at the round table. It has been a pleasure talking to you and I look forward to our next chat." Sir Lancelot bowed and left the room.
Annya cleared her throat and lay down on the soft pillows. She ran a hand up and down one of the pillows feeling the silkiness. She stared up at the ceiling – she was confused. What was this feeling she was going through? It was nothing that she had ever felt before. It was strange. It was like she felt so good, but at the same time sad. Annya rolled over to her left. She knew the one word that summed up her feelings – love.