Ailis-70: How was your weekend? Hope your trip went well. I also think that the crawling would be a pretty big deal to Tristan. It was a big deal to me and I was only watching a movie, lol! He just didn't seem the type. Glad you all like the way I handled that. I think in the grand scheme of things, Damara would be low on his list of priorities. He's been a warrior forever, he's known her for like 5 minutes. There is a price to be paid, but while I've always had in my mind what it should be, the further I get into the story the more I'm not sure about it. I'm sort of in the process of writing that part now.

ElvenStar5 - You truly have me blushing. What a very nice, generous review. I'm pretty certain I'm far from brilliant but I think this story is decent enough so far. I don't really write - it actually sort of wears me out because it doesn't come easily to me. I just had this story in mind that started out because their deaths sort of outraged me and I wanted to correct that. Everything else just sort of grew up around that idea.

dellis: Thanks for the review! There's going to be a bit more for her to forgive Tristan for before it's all over with.

LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: Here's your update:)

Cardeia,- Wow! That was a fast review! Thank you so much for your words. I'm glad other people thought the crawling was out of character for Tristan Yes, Damara is a bit passive, but then she's been pretty beaten down over the years so standing up for herself isn't something she comes by easily. She's a work in progress, and I think she'll end up in a pretty good place. She gets a bit sick of Tristan's nonsense in the next chapter. Thank you for your compliments, but I'm not sure it's going to end up being a rich tapestry or just a big mess. Hope I don't blow it.

Author's Note: This chapter and the next are one chapter, but due to the size of them together I separated them at a point that I thought reasonable. Also, I'm still cleaning up the other half so here's the first half.

Disclaimer: The usual

Warning: There is a tad bit of smut in this chapter, and quite a bit more in the next two. It's not explicit, but it does deal with sexual situations soplease avoid if that kind of thing upsets you. This has been a public service announcement. Thank you.

Also, angry Tristan is back. I know many people are a little "meh" with the anger, but I remember reading an interview with Mads Mikkelsen who played Tristan. He described him as basically a psycho, which didn't show up so much on the screen, but you can see if it you look for it. So, I'm going for a bit of psycho-lite if you will. On to the story:

It had been several months since Damara's final conversation with Tristan. The pain of seeing him around the keep had been more than she could bear, and she had moved away shortly afterwards. When she had spoken to Lancelot about her desire to find another place to live, he told her of a little hut that had been abandoned during the exodus from the wall.

It was perfect for her needs. It was well away from the keep, on the edge of the forest. There had been a decent herb garden once and Damara enjoyed bringing it back to life when springtime came. There was plenty of solitude, which she craved. And best of all, there was no chance of running into Tristan there.

She heard little news from the keep. Lancelot came out to check on her from time to time and she began to look forward to his visits. Damara knew he believed that her presence on the battlefield had saved his life, and she supposed as such he felt compelled to see to her well being. His arm was not fully recovered and he used that as an excuse to come see her. She explained to him that there was nothing further she could do, that only time and exercise would bring him back to full use of his arm. Still, she was glad to see him and would examine his arm if it made him happy. Damara did not know if she had indeed saved his life or not, but was glad he had not died. She could not now imagine her life without the dark knight in it.

Though pressed by Lancelot, Damara would not speak to him of what had transpired between herself and Tristan, even though he urged her to lay her troubles on his shoulders. Tristan's problems were his own to speak of if he wished to, and Damara suspected that he would strongly object to her discussing what he had told her.

While she was not forthcoming with Lancelot, he was more so with her. Though physically Tristan was improving, he continued to spend much of his time in the woods alone. When he was in residence at the fortress, he was ill tempered and churlish. He was not open to discussing his problems with anyone; even Arthur had spoken to him with very little result.

Though she was heartsick over Tristan, Damara made a concerted effort to push her troubles out of her mind. It did no good to dwell on things that could not be helped, she thought. She took little Bran outside with her, and sang to him and danced him around the yard, on days when it was warmer. She reveled in each new thing that he did – she lived for his smiles. She adored the little baby giggles that came when she would blow raspberries on his stomach. She made silly noises and faces at him, to his utter delight. He was a child with an extraordinarily sunny disposition, and she counted her blessings.

She went to the village and the keep on rare occasion, and then only to trade for supplies and see some of the ill or injured. Few people came by her hut requesting her services. There were Woad healers now in residence at the fortress and they were closer at hand than she was. On her visits into town, she did not go anywhere that she thought Tristan might be. Unfortunately, that meant she could not go to the tavern to visit with Vanora. She missed her friend, but would not risk seeing the scout. She remembered one day catching a glimpse of him as he walked across the courtyard. She could still feel the way her heart had leapt upon sighting him, and the horrible ache after that had stayed with her for days.

Lancelot was her most frequent visitor, but even he did not come often. The other knights even less so. They, Tristan excepted, would stop by from time to time if they happened to be close by and see how she was doing. Bran very much enjoyed the company of men, and seemed especially fond of Bors. Damara reflected that while her self-imposed solitude worked for her, it might not be as good for Bran. She did not want him to grow up alone and without friends, with only herself for company. It was a dilemma, but one that she would deal with in time, for Bran was still young yet.

On one occasion Lancelot happened to visit and his demeanor was decidedly subdued. Damara simply listened to his news, asking her usual questions about the other knights and the goings on at the keep. Finally Lancelot told her that the alliance between Arthur and the Woads was going to be official – and would be sealed with a marriage between Arthur and Guinevere.

Damara now saw the reason for his demeanor. She felt for the knight, but also sensed that he was not here for sympathy. He just wanted to be away from the celebratory environment at the keep and to sit comfortably with a friend. It had been late afternoon when he arrived, and she offered to share the evening meal with him. He accepted, and they sat together as they ate, companionably talking and laughing.

The hour grew late and still Lancelot made no move to leave. Damara yawned and cast a longing eye at her bed. Bran was an early riser and she would pay dearly for this in the morning.

Lancelot saw that she wished to retire and reluctantly stood up as if to leave. Damara stood as well, and Lancelot turned to her. "Could I stay here tonight? I'd gladly sleep on the floor, or wherever you have room. I'd really prefer not to go back there." He heaved a sigh. "No doubt they will be celebrating long throughout the night."

Damara went to Lancelot and put a hand on his face. "Of course, my friend." She looked into his eyes. "You know I would take this pain from you if I could."

Lancelot enfolded her in his arms. "As I would you. I still don't know what is wrong with Tristan. Maybe he'll come around one day."

After bedding down his horse Lancelot came back into Damara's hut to find her curled up on her chair with a blanket around her. "I am not taking your bed from you," he said.

"You are my guest, you will have the bed. I often sleep in this chair anyway, and am used to it," she replied.

Lancelot threw his bedroll onto the floor and began to settle upon it. "I am not taking your bed," he said firmly.

"This is foolish," said Damara. "There is no sense in that bed going unused while you sleep on that uncomfortable floor"

"Nonetheless, that is how it will be," said Lancelot.

"Oh, very well, " said Damara with irritation. "If you will insist on being uncomfortable then I don't want to hear your complaints in the morning." She got out of the chair and went over to the bed to lay down. Once upon it, she stretched luxuriously. "Oh, this is so much better. I have the most comfortable bed, I imagine I shall sleep quite well upon it." She smiled down upon him as he shifted about on his bedroll. "Remember Lancelot, no complaints."

She blew out the lantern and settled down to sleep. She heard Lancelot tossing about in an effort to get comfortable. Then she heard a rather plaintive voice from out of the darkness. "I don't suppose we could share your bed?" the voice asked hopefully.

"No, I don't suppose we could," she said flatly. "I am no lightskirt, Lancelot, and if that is what you are seeking then you had best be on your way to warmer company."

The voice that returned was rather shocked. "That's not what I meant. I meant only to share the bed, not to…"

Damara could feel her cheeks burn in the darkness. Why had she assumed he'd wanted to lay with her? "The answer is still no," she returned.

There was a short silence. And then from the darkness, "Well, if you think the temptation would be too great for you then I guess it is best that I stay on the floor."

She answered him with silence.

"I'm shocked to find that your thoughts would even turn that way…" Lancelot began.

"Oh, do cease your prattle!" Damara replied, annoyed. "I am trying to sleep and if the only way that I can do that is to let you up on this bed, then get up here. Either way, be quiet!"

"Thought you'd never ask," Lancelot said with satisfaction. A few moments later Damara felt the bed sag under his additional weight. "Move over a bit there, will you?" he asked.

"Unbelievable," Damara muttered.

They settled in next to each other, and Damara's eyes began to close once again. Sleep was almost upon her when she heard from the darkness, "You know, if you really wanted to I wouldn't mind."

Damara sighed heavily. "Go to sleep, Lancelot."

"Well, it never hurts to ask," the knight said with a chuckle.

The next morning Damara awoke to Lancelot's arm curled around her waist, pulling her close. Unwilling to disturb him, and possibly because she enjoyed it, Damara stayed abed with him until she heard Bran's waking cry. As she fed him, she prepared breakfast for Lancelot and reflected how nice it was having him around.

When he prepared to leave, Damara went outside with him and they held each other for a long moment. He kissed her gently on her lips and thanked her for the company. As he mounted his horse, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye.

He looked up on the hill above them at the edge of the treeline and saw a familiar horse, which turned and wheeled away. He looked at Damara. "Tristan," he said.

Damara's heart fell. What if he had seen them together? What would he think?

"I'll talk to him," said Lancelot. "He may not have even seen us, you know."

Damara nodded. "Thank you, my friend," she said.

The incident weighed heavily on Damara's mind. She wondered what Tristan had been doing there, above her house? Had he merely been scouting in the area, or had he been coming to see her? She hoped that Lancelot had been able to explain to Tristan what had happened, or that better yet, he hadn't seen them. The thought came to her that maybe Tristan wouldn't even care and her heart sunk at the notion.

Several days later on a particularly beautiful spring day she was delighted to see Bors, Vanora and all their crew at her doorstep. They were out on a picnic, taking the children out to play in the sunshine and splash in the nearby creek. Vanora had urged Bors to stop by Damara's house so she could come out with them. She worried about her friend and had not seen her in ages.

Bran looked in amazement at all the other children and very much enjoyed being passed around from child to child. There was always someone wanting to play with him and he reveled in it. While Damara kept a close eye on him at first, she came to realize that most of the children were more adept at handling babies than she was. She relaxed and began to enjoy herself.

She very much enjoyed the small amount of time she spent with Vanora. Vanora and Bors spent a great deal of time alone, giggling and kissing, while Damara relaxed, playing with and talking to the children. The couple disappeared together for a time and Damara grew wistful, thinking of Tristan. What would it have been like with him, if they'd had a chance, she wondered. She smiled thinking of it. He would hardly have been the giggly, kissing type. Vanora had been lucky in her choice of man. He was a good solid man, a good father. Damara envied her that.

She thought about men and realized that she was happy without one. If she spent the rest of her life alone she could be quite content. She knew that Lancelot liked her. He kept it light, but she knew that if she ever gave a sign that she was interested in him, he would not be averse to bedding her. Damara also knew that she would be yet another conquest, soon forgotten. That was something that she would never consent to being. She also valued his friendship too highly to throw uncomfortable emotions into the mix.

It was early afternoon when Bors and Vanora decided that they should head back home. It had been a nice visit, and Vanora vowed to come out again soon. When it was time to leave, Bran grew fussy and reached out for the children when Damara took him back in her arms. Vanora then offered to take little Bran with them.

"He'd be no trouble at all, and he loves the others – you can see that. You can come in to town tomorrow and get him."

Damara was doubtful – since the battle she had not been away from him.

"It'll be a treat for him, and it will be a break for you. You look tired," Vanora said.

"If you're sure you don't mind…" Damara said. Bran would hardly know that his mother was missing, she thought. She reluctantly handed him over to a pair of grasping arms – whose, she wasn't sure.

"He'll be in good hands, don't worry!" Vanora called as the wagon pulled away.

When they'd left, Damara thought about the possibilities. She hadn't been completely alone in a very long time. There was a delicious looking water hole further in the forest that she'd had her eye on. With nothing to stop her, she went and gathered her soaps and headed there.

Once at the pond, Damara enjoyed herself thoroughly. She had washed her body and hair, and was now simply enjoying floating and swimming in the pool. Envisioning herself as a water sprite, diving and splashing around, she giggled at her silliness. She would have to do this more often – it was very relaxing.

She lay stretched out luxuriously on a rock for some time, soaking up the heat of the sun. Needing to cool off, she got up and dove into the clear blue pool, touching the bottom before coming up. When she broke the surface of the water she was startled to see Tristan standing on the rock she'd so recently occupied.

Her face flamed bright red, and as she tread water she asked him, "What are you doing here?"

"Arthur sent me to get Bors and bring you in to the keep – there are Saxons nearby."

"How did you find me?" she asked, trying to put off the inevitable moment when she would have to emerge, completely nude, from the water.

In answer Tristan merely looked at her with raised eyebrow.

"Oh…right," she said. He was a scout; that was what he did. She hesitated, and with great impatience Tristan held out his hand and said, "We don't have much time."

She took his hand and he unceremoniously hauled her up out of the water, naked and dripping wet. She averted her gaze and hurried over to where her clothes were laying and began to get dressed. As she quickly occupied herself with that task, she asked Tristan, "Did Lancelot speak to you?" Hearing no reply, she turned to look at him. He was looking at her, his eyes cold.

"About what?" he asked in an icy voice.

She dropped her eyes under the weight of his glare. "Nothing," she said softly. When she was finished getting dressed, she said, "I'm ready."

Tristan nodded and led her up the path to where his horse stood waiting. Tristan's horse seemed to be much happier to see her than Tristan had been, and Damara was glad to see him as well. His ears pricked forward and he tossed his head. She gave him a quick rub on his muzzle while Tristan mounted. Once Tristan was in the saddle, he stretched out his arm to help her get on behind him, and then they started down the trail to Damara's house.

She tried to keep their body contact to a minimum; she was no more comfortable with it than she thought he would be. Even so, the jostling of the horse made her efforts less than successful. 'Gods, this will be a long ride," she groaned to herself.

They stopped at her hut, with Tristan directing her to bring her medicine bag. "We meet the Saxons at dawn, and Arthur says your skills may be needed."

As soon as Damara had everything she needed, she got back behind Tristan and they started the long ride back to the keep.

ooooo

Tristan had come as close as he ever had to refusing an order. "Send Gawain or Galahad," he'd protested to his commanding officer.

"All the knights save for you are otherwise engaged…I am sending you." Arthur stated, in a voice that brooked no opposition. "We need Bors back. The people living out that way need to be warned, and it is not safe for Damara out there, alone. We may well need her services after the battle." So Tristan left, none too happy about the situation.

ooooo

After their last conversation together, Tristan had reflected on the things Damara said to him. They made sense, but he still felt sick about that last battle. He kept seeing himself, crawling for his life, like a dog. How was that image ever going to leave his mind? He dwelled on it constantly. What could he have done differently, what moves would have defeated the Saxon? He threw himself heavily into training so that he would be prepared the next time he was called upon to fight. But with the alliance with the Woads and the lack of Saxon activity, Tristan was not getting the opportunity to prove himself and the frustration made him mean-tempered.

Then one day after several months of this he was out riding, and came upon a meadow. He gave the horse his head and they galloped across it. Tristan felt the freedom, the wind in his face and was exhilarated, as he had not been for some time. He dismounted and lay down, watching the clouds float overhead. The smell of flowers was heavily in the air, and here was his hawk come to join him. He lay on the ground, feeling contentment for the first time in a long while.

The thought struck him that he was enjoying himself. That for a short time, he had not thought about the Saxon or the battle or what would happen in the next one. He was simply enjoying life for just a little while. The realization gave him hope that maybe one day it simply would not matter any more, as Damara had said.

He wanted to share this realization. Recently he'd been missing Damara, but his pride had not allowed him to go to her. What kind of company would he have been, moping and miserable, a pathetic excuse for a man? Now, he thought he might be ready to see her. He didn't want to go and pour his heart out to her. He just wanted to see her for a moment and simply say that maybe she'd been right. He wanted to see if there was still a chance with her or if his stubbornness had driven away any good feelings she had about him.

When he arrived at her hut, he saw Lancelot's horse out front. His eyes narrowed – he had heard that Lancelot had been visiting her. Damara had to know that every woman in the keep fell over flat on her back at the snap of Lancelot's fingers. Tristan had faith that Damara wasn't stupid enough to join their ranks. At least he hoped not. He resolved to wait until Lancelot left and then go down to speak with her.

After some time, the door opened and Lancelot exited the hut. Tristan sat up. Finally – he'd wondered when the dark knight had been going to leave. He watched as Lancelot removed the saddle and bridle from his horse and bedded him down for the night. Disbelieving, he saw Lancelot go back into the hut and watched as the light blinked out.

Tristan sat there, just watching. He could see the faint outline of the house and his mind filled in for him what was happening inside. She was in Lancelot's arms, kissing him, holding him. As painful as it was, he allowed himself to envision them together, indeed he embellished it in his mind. He had been a fool to care for a woman, and he wanted this pain to burn him so that he would never care again. Damara had loved him, but what kind of faithless love would turn to another man within a few short months? How long had it been going on? Maybe she'd turned to the dark knight immediately after Tristan had broken with her. There had always been something between the two of them that Tristan had never liked.

He sat where he was until the following morning when their tender goodbye kiss told him all he needed to know. He had that image at least to remind him and he resolved to hold it close.

ooooo

He'd not spoken to Lancelot, nor did he care to. And now, here he was sent by Arthur to deliver to the keep this woman who he would happily throttle with his bare hands. He was angry and disgusted with her, but when he arrived at the pond where she frolicked naked in the water, all he wanted to do was go down there and make her forget Lancelot ever existed. He watched the movement of her water-slicked body. She had as good a form as any he had ever seen on a woman. He ached for release, but there was no time for self-gratification right now. He willed his unruly member back into submission and worked his way down to the pond.

He took great pleasure at her obvious discomfort upon seeing him standing there. When he pulled her from the water, his eyes raked her nude form. He watched every move she made, wanting to humiliate her by making her stand naked and exposed before his gaze. Unfortunately she would not look at him and didn't notice how he was enjoying the view. When she asked him if he had spoken to Lancelot his anger surged. He longed to ask her if Lancelot was supposed to tell him he'd made Damara his whore, and if soTristan was already aware of that.He held his tongue; now was not the time.

The ride back was pure torture for Tristan. He remembered the last time she'd ridden behind him, arms around his waist, head nestled against his back. This time, she obviously couldn't stand to be close to him, he thought bitterly. The only part of her body that she could not pull away from him were her thighs, tucked tight against him. He envisioned those thighs wrapped around his hips, and his ill humor increased along with the size of his erection.

His mood was positively foul by the time they arrived at the keep and he almost shoved her off his horse upon arrival, barely allowing her time to land on the ground before he was gone in a cloud of dust.

TBC