Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I'm sorry it has been so long since I have updated; I'm going to try to get this one wrapped up soon. Anyway, here is the latest and as far as ratings, there is nothing objectionable in this chapter.
As Tristan waited for Damara's return he thought about the two of them.
He remembered the very first time he had seen her, the way she had looked away from him, not wishing to be noticed. How she had been alone and silent, and how meek and almost beaten down she had seemed.
Seemed – because she had turned out to possess more strength and courage than many. She'd endured things that would break most people, had faced the horrors of the battlefield to save him.
He'd seen female warriors aplenty. But Damara was a woman, not a warrior. Soft and gentle, she'd had no place in that maelstrom of blood and innards and death. But she'd braved it for him. She'd stood against the Saxon for him.
He'd fought against her, but somehow she had wriggled her way into the heart that he never even knew he had. It had begun the night he carried her back to her campsite, when she'd curled into him and wrapped her arms around his neck. The warmth of that simple gesture was with him still.
With Damara, life was a burst of color, compared with the drab gray tones of his life before her. He couldn't imagine going back to the way things were before.
He wanted her in his life forever.
She would come back to him. She would end it – whatever it was – with Merlin, come back to him, and he would marry her.
If she would have him.
He heard the raucous croak of a raven outside and looked expectantly towards the door. That damned bird of Damara's could usually be found wherever she was.
He cursed himself sometimes for bringing the wretched creature to her for it seemed to delight in tormenting him. Damara laughed at Tristan's notions that the bird had it in for him, but Tristan knew better. The winged rat was simply too smart to do its dirty work in front of her. It would steal his food, crap on his belongings, tear holes in them.
Not to mention all the little pieces of jewelry and assorted bright, shiny objects that were constantly finding their way into his nest. It was a thief and a menace. But he had to admit that it could be rather amusing when it turned its pranks onto the other knights.
Gawain found the bird amusing, and liked to play with it. Bors threatened to shoot it out of the sky if it provoked him any further and probably would if he thought he could get away with it.
But it particularly didn't like Lancelot. Tristan reflected that while he himself had suffered indignities, at least the bird had never dared to crap on his head, as it had the dark knight.
The bird wasn't all bad.
There was another croak and Tristan realized that it wasn't Damara's bird, but the other raven that courted it. If Tristan could have spoken to it he would have told it to move on and search for a mate elsewhere. For the object of its desire was already in thrall to Damara.
A knock sounded at the door, and for a second Tristan's heart jumped. Then he realized that Damara would hardly knock at her own door, and he called out for whomever it was to enter.
He sighed as the dark knight's curly head popped in the door.
"She's not here," Tristan said. "And I didn't beat her, nor did I kill her and bury her in the garden."
Lancelot entered the little hut and sat down at the table across from Tristan. "I never thought anything of the kind," he said, looking at Tristan with an annoyed look on his face. "And I know she's not here; I saw her leave for the Woad camp with Merlin."
Tristan felt his heart drop, but his face remained impassive. "She left here to speak with him some time ago," he said.
Lancelot waited expectantly, but no more was forthcoming.
"What is going on with her and that old wizard?" asked Lancelot impatiently.
In answer, Tristan merely shrugged. He took out a knife and calmly began to clean his fingernails with it.
"You've never talked with her about it?" Lancelot asked the scout, who merely shook his head in reply.
Damn the man and his silence, thought Lancelot. You could never get anything out of him. "Well, why ever not?" Lancelot exploded. "You don't have the slightest bit of curiosity? If she was my woman…"
Lancelot was silenced momentarily by the look Tristan threw him. The man was entirely too sensitive to his friendship with Damara, but Lancelot should have taken that into account before he'd spoken.
The dark knight went on. "But of course, she is not, and what you do is entirely up to you."
Still wanting some kind of explanation, Lancelot persisted. "But why not ask her? Is it that you are afraid of what you might hear? That the stories are true?"
"Which stories are those?" Tristan said. "The ones of how I would be dead if Damara had not struck some dark bargain with him? Or the ones of the great price that he exacts for his favors?"
Lancelot merely looked at Tristan, who went on. "Aye, I've heard them and I give no credence to them. It pleases Damara to expand her knowledge of healing from Merlin and up until now I have allowed it. But no more."
"I saw your wounds, Tristan," Lancelot said softly. "I don't believe either, but I saw your wounds…"
He was stopped by Tristan's upraised hand and forbidding mien. "Not another word," the scout said.
Lancelot nodded his head and sighed. "As you wish," he said. He changed the subject. "When do you expect Damara home?"
Tristan thought back. Had Damara said when she'd be home? "She said she'd be back when…" His voice faded away when he remembered her words. When Merlin had given her his leave.
"When…?" Lancelot prompted.
Tristan was not a man to closely examine the mysteries of life. He accepted the things that he saw and did not delve into the things that he did not. The question of how he'd survived his wounds was one he had long avoided. Just luck, he'd told himself. Luck and good care. Damara had worn herself to the bone to keep him alive. There'd been no magic in that.
He'd been unwilling to look for any other explanations.
But what if there had been more to it? What if the stories were true, and for his sake Damara was in debt to the old magician? Though Tristan doubted there had been true magic at work, he did not doubt that Merlin could make Damara think there had been.
He was a crafty old bastard and no mistake. Through trickery and the sheer luck of Tristan's survival he may have managed to make Damara think she owed him something. But what? And to what purpose?
Tristan got to his feet. "I'm going to get her," he said.
"What - now?" Lancelot asked.
He watched as Tristan dressed to go out. He said nothing about his friend's sudden change of demeanor, but when Tristan began to secure his knives within his clothing the dark knight spoke up.
"You dress as if you're going to war," he remarked carefully.
"I mean to get her back," said Tristan evenly.
"At swordpoint?" Lancelot laughed. He fell silent as Tristan looked at him with a serious look on his face.
"If necessary, yes," the scout replied.
"You don't think you're overdoing it just a bit?" the first knight asked. "Give her some time – she'll be back soon."
Tristan tersely shook his head and continued his preparations.
Lancelot sighed heavily. Tristan was in no frame of mind to go to the Woad camp, armed and looking for his woman. "Wait until morning, Tristan. She'll be back by then, but if she isn't we'll all go with you."
"No – I'm going now. It's not just for her. I need to talk to Merlin. It's long past time I've had a talk with him." Tristan said adamantly.
"Merlin is the last man you should be talking to in this state," said Lancelot. "And you can't just talk to him – he's got advisors and people to go through. They won't let you near him."
"They'll let me see him," Tristan said. "For a certainty, they will let me see him."
Lancelot did not like the sound of that. It sounded like rash action was on the horizon. It grieved him, but the scout was giving him no choice but to pull rank.
"Tristan, I could forbid you to go," Lancelot said.
Tristan's head snapped up and he regarded the dark knight with narrowed eyes. "It will make no difference if you do," he said.
"Listen to reason!" Lancelot said forcefully. "We have a truce, we're allies, but you know relations are strained. You cannot go out there, demanding to see Merlin, armed to the teeth. You'll start another war!"
Tristan could see Lancelot's point, but he did not intend to do anything other than get Damara. "You think I am a complete idiot?" he asked Lancelot.
"Of course not!" said Lancelot. "But I think a man will do things that are very unlike him for the sake of love."
It was on the tip of Tristan's tongue to say something that could change things forever between him and Lancelot, but a small voice of reason stopped him. Instead, he looked at Lancelot for a long moment before replying. "Maybe some men," he said.
"I can't dissuade you then?" asked Lancelot.
Tristan shook his head.
"Then I go with you," the dark knight said. "But we go armed with swords only."
Tristan began to object, but Lancelot overruled him. "We go lightly armed, or not at all. Those are your options."
Tristan agreed, but only reluctantly. There was something in him that rebelled against stepping foot in that forest armed with only his sword.
"I'll go see if I can round up some of the others – hopefully they're not all too drunk to ride," the dark knight said. "I will meet you at the stables."
ooooo
Tristan was in the stables, with his horse saddled and ready to go, when Lancelot appeared with Bors and Gawain. They were both in their cups, but not too badly. Galahad, however, had been beyond hope, and Lancelot had left him where he'd found him; working on friendly relations with a Woad beauty.
Tristan looked at his fellow knights who had interrupted their celebrations to come with him and felt a surge of gratitude. Even towards Lancelot.
He knew in his heart that Damara would be back of her own free will, and doubted she would come to harm while under Merlin's care. There really was no urgent reason to go get her – other than Tristan's unease with the whole situation. If Merlin was coercing Damara into anything then it would come to an abrupt end.
Even if Damara was involved with Merlin at her own behest it would end. She was Tristan's woman, would soon be his wife, and he was done leaving this whole mysterious matter up to her. It was time that Tristan step in and let Merlin know that his interference would no longer be welcomed.
The mood of the knights turned uneasy as soon as their horses stepped under the canopy of the forest.
"What I wouldn't give to have a bow and a quiver full of arrows," said Bors.
"Aye, I feel naked being so lightly armed," agreed Gawain.
"We'll come to no harm," Lancelot reminded them. "Indeed, we'll have less trouble this way. Four fully armed knights entering the forest would be a cause of great concern and might escalate whatever situation we find ourselves in." The first knight cast a glance at Tristan when he said this last.
"Aren't most of them at the celebration still?" asked Gawain.
"Aye, some are," said Bors. "But they never leave their camps unguarded. And if Merlin is there, well, he is rarely without protection."
"They're here," said Tristan. "They're watching us."
The other knights looked around, but could see nothing. "Where?" asked Lancelot.
"The trees," replied the scout. "To the sides of us."
"Armed?" asked Gawain.
"What do you think?" said the scout grimly.
Their escorts kept their distance until the knights reached the Woad village, when they allowed themselves to be seen. They held spears and bows; wore quivers full of arrows.
Sensing the knights' uneasiness, Lancelot sought to reassure them. "They don't want to provoke a fight any more than we do," he said. "They're just wondering why we're here."
They knights were allowed only so far into the village before their escorts blocked their path, standing before them with spears at the ready.
Tristan scanned the village, the trees, searching for a sign of either his woman or the magician, while Lancelot attempted to question the gathering Woads.
"Merlin – where is Merlin?" he asked. "Damara? We're looking for a woman named Damara who was with him." The Woads merely looked at him, either not understanding or unwilling to answer him.
Disgusted, he looked at the other knights. "Nothing," he said. "They're either incredibly stu…"
His voice was cut off as Tristan began to move his horse forward, while calling out Damara's name.
The Woads backed away slowly, but jabbed gently at Tristan's horse with their spears. When Tristan caused the horse to rear up, flailing with his legs, the Woads backed away momentarily.
"Tristan!" snapped Lancelot. "You're not to injure any of them!"
"Then I suggest they either produce Damara or let me pass," the scout growled. "They understand us perfectly well and I will not be turned back by their pretending ignorance."
He looked at the surrounding Woads. "Do you understand that?" he spat. "Let me pass or risk getting your heads kicked in!"
"There is no need for that, scout" called out a voice from the trees above. An order was barked in the Woad tongue and the surrounding Woads began to melt away into the trees, allowing the knights a clear path.
Tristan looked up in the direction that the voice had come from and saw Merlin standing on a platform in the trees.
"You are here for your woman, scout? Surely you knew that she would be back at your side by morning. This display was most unnecessary." The sage called down from where he stood.
"I am here to speak to you also, Merlin," said Tristan. "There are things between us that need to be said."
The magician was silent and Tristan added, "Things which are better discussed in private." He had no wish to issue ultimatums to Merlin in full view of his people, no wish to push him into a corner. But he did want to make his desires on the matter known to the man.
Suddenly, Damara appeared from behind Merlin, holding Bran in her arms. Though she was still a hideous blue color and still wearing the clothing he'd found so objectionable, Tristan thought she'd never looked more beautiful to him.
"Tristan?" she said. There was a catch in her voice as she said his name. Damara looked at Merlin, who nodded to her. She dipped her head in return and made her way to the rope ladder and began to climb down it.
Tristan felt his heart skip a beat as he watched her climbing down – what if she dropped Bran? What if she fell? But she climbed down easily, holding her son in front of her while he held on with his chubby little arms.
It was obviously not her first time climbing down the tree.
She made her way over to the knights, and Tristan was unsettled by the way she was looking at him. She should have been angry with him – he had known for a certainty that she would be. They had not parted well and her last words to him had been an order not to come after her.
He'd expected her to be put out with him at the very least, though furious was a little closer to it.
But she was looking at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. Or the last one. And while he was pleased she was not angry, he didn't like it at all. A shiver went down his back as he wondered what that look boded for them.
Her eyes drank him in, even as she walked up to Bors. "Please take him for me?" she asked as she handed Bran up to the big man.
"Come here, little man," Bors said gruffly. "Come to your Uncle Bors." The boy chattered happily, for 'Uncle Bors' was by far his favorite of the knights. Bran settled in front of Bors and immediately started yanking on the horse's mane.
Walking over to Tristan, Damara looked at him for a moment before taking his outstretched hand. She dug her bare feet into the stirrups and scrambled up nimbly behind him.
"Take me home, love," she said.
"I have business with Merlin," Tristan answered. "I would speak with him before we leave."
"He will not see you," she sighed. "And it doesn't matter anyway. It's over."
"You spoke with him and he agreed to leave you be?" Tristan wanted that clarified before he left, for Damara's words seemed vague.
"It's over," she said. "He will leave us be."
Tristan should have been relieved by her words but her demeanor was puzzling to him. "Has something happened?" he asked. "You do not seem yourself."
In answer, Damara wrapped her arms around him and lay her head against his back. "Everything is fine now," she said. "Please, just take me home."
Tristan took one last look at Merlin's inscrutable face and nodded to Lancelot.
"Let's go home, men!" Lancelot said.
The knights turned their horses and began to make their way back through the forest.
TBC