Lucillag: Probably, but there will be some blood guts later. I just like to be safe with the ratings. Ideas are always appreciated.
LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: I think it's probably toward the final year since the Saxons are sending raiding parties. Hope you like this chapter.
Disclaimer: The 2004 movie which is what my stories are all based on, is the property of Buena Vista. The characters from the movie and their personalities (mostly) belong to Mr. Franzone. Since they don't belong to me and I am not trying to claim what is not mine, please don't sue.
Chapter Two – Fleeing
Gawain was standing at the bar, talking to Vanora, when he saw her come back into the area. "Vanora, who is that woman?" He asked. She looked toward the woman he was looking at and arched an eyebrow at him.
"That's a strange one, Gawain. Why do you want to know?" She watched Sarah as she moved through the throng of people, taking orders for more drinks. She knew the woman was a hard worker and never caused any trouble. She also knew the woman was much prettier than she appeared. When she had questioned her about it, the woman had only shrugged and said she didn't want the attentions of the men at the tavern. When Gawain started speaking, she turned her attention back to hear what he had to say.
"I don't know exactly why I want to know. She just made me curious and I realized I don't even know her name." He sounded in awe and Vanora smiled behind the apron she was wiping her face on. Gawain was seldom in awe over a woman.
"Her name is Sarah. She came here from a village to the north when the Saxons destroyed it and has been working hard for a couple of months to get the money to go home and find what family was left." She hesitated, "Sad, I don't think she realizes that…"
Gawain cut her off, "…Saxons never leave any alive." She heard the sympathy in his voice. "Have you tried to tell her?" He asked Vanora.
"Once, but she wouldn't hear it. She just said that she knew some had survived. I don't think she's ready to accept the truth or she would realize that if any had survived she would have seen them by now. Surely someone would have come looking for her." Gawain looked at his friend. She had a tear in her eye and was trying to wipe it away with her apron.
"Have your seen her without all those extra clothes she wears?" He saw her heading in their direction and motioned for Vanora to ignore that last question. Just then Bors had shouted for her and she patted Gawain's arm as she hurried to her lover. He watched her sit on the man's knee and put her arms around his neck. Bors was lucky. He had found what Gawain thought he was looking for, someone to share the simple things in his life. Things like surviving to see another day.
The woman stepped behind the bar and began filling pitchers with ale or wine. Vanora had told him her name was Sarah. The name fit. He couldn't say how, but it did. He heard her as she began humming as she worked. "That sounds nice, what is it?" He wanted to hear her voice again. She was from the north, but she didn't appear to be a Woad.
"What? Oh, I didn't know you were there. It's just a song I remember from my youth. I don't even remember the name, just the tune." She answered without stopping her work. He was surprised that she had said so much. Maybe the trip outside the gates had relaxed her enough that she didn't feel she had to be so unfriendly.
"While you're filling, can I get a refill?" He knew she was about to leave and go deliver all the pitchers and wanted her to stay. She took his mug without comment and filled it with one of the pitchers. Then she placed the pitcher on the bar next to his mug.
"Your friend over there said to give you that. He said you're not acting like yourself and needed more to drink." Then she picked up two pitchers in each hand and started to leave. As she came around the bar, she stopped and looked at him. "He made it sound like you only act normal when you drink. That's really sad." Then she left without waiting for an answer.
Gawain looked at the ale in his mug and realized that she was right. When he wasn't on a mission, he drank continually. He knew it was a way to forget all the things he had done, all the people he'd killed. But it had also made him forget who he was. He wasn't the man he appeared to be. He was gentle. He was loving with the people he cared for. But most of all, he was lonely. Even in the arms of the women he took to his bed. He blew out a long breath and pushed his hair back as he scrubbed his forehead to dispel the emotions he'd just brought to the forefront. He pushed the mug and pitcher across the bar and turned to watch Sarah work.
Once or twice he saw her smile as she handed a pitcher to someone. But mostly she just passed them out without expression. He realized she only smiled when she handed a pitcher to someone older. Someone old enough to be her father, maybe? She picked up the empty pitchers and headed back. He watched her weave her way through the crowd and saw several of the soldiers look at her with curiosity. He wondered if those men knew she was beautiful. He decided he would confront her with what he'd seen earlier and see how she reacted. What could it hurt. It wasn't like he was interested after all.
Sarah came back to the bar and plopped the pitchers down. She pushed the loose hair around her face back with her arm and blew air up to cool her flushed face. "You'd be cooler if you'd lose all the extra clothes." He said without emotion as he reached back for his mug. He had to drink or she'd wonder why he was still there.
She looked at him in surprise, "What?" she asked.
"I said, you'd be cooler without all the extra clothes." He gave her a smug look and saw her glance down at her clothes and then back at him. He expected her to look angry or embarrassed but he noticed she looked like a trapped animal, ready to run if given the chance.
She didn't say anything for a moment, then pushing her hair out of her face with frustration, she said softly, "How do you know?" Gawain put his hand on hers gently, "I saw you outside the fort earlier. You're much prettier than I first thought, but now that I see you with different eyes, it was always there. Only hidden. Why?" He watched her expressions as she tried to come up with an answer.
Finally, she jerked her hand away and put her hands on her hips. "Because I don't like unwanted attention from the men around here. I want to be left alone to do my job. I want to be invisible to the roving eyes you and your friends have in your heads." Her voice had become harder with each word. Then she stopped and took a deep breath. "Is there any other questions you just have to ask? If not, I have work to do."
Then she snatched a pitcher before he could grab her hand again. He smiled, "Do you know your eyes flash little golden sparks when you're angry?" He whispered so only she could hear.
"No, I'm not usually looking at my eyes when I'm angry. I'm usually looking into the eyes of whoever made me angry." Then she went behind the wall where she began splashing water as she washed the pitcher. He picked up the others and headed around the wall.
"Here, you forgot these." And he dangled them in front of her face. He saw her lean on the tub of hot water as she stared into the bubbles her splashing had caused. He suddenly felt bad for baiting her. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to upset you…" he started but she cut him off.
"Well, you did whether you meant to or not. Now, please just go away." She sounded tired or hurt, but she no longer sounded angry.
"Sarah?" He called her name in hopes she would look at him. She did. But she had the look again that spoke of fight or flight. He held up the pitchers and she took them, dropping them into the water. "Who are you? That's all I want to know. I promise I'm not trying to flirt with you or lure you into my bed. If that's all I wanted then you are right, there are plenty of others that would make it easier. I just want to talk to you. To get to know who you are. To be your friend, no strings, I promise."
He watched the war going on in her head. Her eyes told the tale without her having to say a word. He found himself lost in those eyes. She started to dry her hands on her apron and her actions took his gaze from her eyes to her hands. "I'm sure your attentions are as innocent as you say, but I really don't wish to talk to anyone about myself. I will only be here a while longer and friends are not necessary." He saw the pain in her face and wondered why having a friend would be such a bad thing. But he would respect her wishes, at least he would try, the look on her face would not make it easy.
"If you wish me to leave and not speak to you, then look into my eyes and tell me." He stepped closer to her and watched as she slowly raised her head. She looked into his eyes and once again he was lost in the green depths of hers. He saw her lick her lips and felt the familiar flash of heat in his belly.
"I wish you…" her voice trailed off as he pushed the stray hair out of her face, then cupped her chin in his hand. "I wish that you would…" He leaned down and gently kissed her lips, cutting off her words. Her lips were soft, moist, enticing. He wanted nothing more right then than to take her in his arms and just hold her until the pain left her face.
"Yes, you were saying?" His voice was husky and he was doing exactly what he had promised he would not, but he couldn't help himself.
"Please, just go and leave me in peace." The pleading in her whispered words brought him back to reality. He looked into her eyes and saw the glimmer of unshed tears. At that moment he felt worse than he ever had for a simple kiss.
He pulled back and dropped his hand, "I'm sorry, Lady Sarah, I did not mean to offend you." He turned to leave, then stopped and whispered, "Maybe all those clothes were a good idea after all." He looked once again at her face and saw her touch her lips with her fingertips. The sudden urge to once again kiss her made him move with jerking motions as he left the bar and headed toward his room.