Disclaimer: I do not own any of the character names, save my own original creations. I do not wish to be compensated for this work, nor do I wish to infringe on any copyrights held by any stakeholders of the movie King Arthur. This work is an original creation, based on the legend of King Arthur and his knights.
Scribe Notes:
Sokorra Lewis: Yes, his mind would be such a rich place. I think his deductive reasoning and critical thinking skills would be fun to test in debate. He's a smarty-pants I bet. Made all the better that he is a bit of a loner with lots of time to do nothing but think.
Calliann: Hey! I am so happy that you liked it so much. Here is the second part. I don't know how long this will be, but you and Ailis-70 have convinced me to write a bit more about it.
Annalon: I enjoyed getting into his head a bit, weaving in some of the well known traits about him, along with how he would sound from his mind. Was interesting to give him some contradictions of wanting something, yet never needing anything since he is such a loner.
ElvenStar5: That was a long review. Loved it! I was sure everyone would pick Tristan, but I was waiting for someone to comment on any similarities that I may have inadvertantly put in, to other knights. Apples are the giveaway. Always with the apples. (grin).
Shevaun: Thanks for reviewing! You hit the nail on the head with this line:
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As writers, we often sit back and watch the world. Once you sit still long enough, people don't notice you anymore. Tristan, who has been watching the world for years, must feel unerved to realise that someone is finally watching him back.
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Yes. I wanted to show that by her watching him, and unnerving him a bit, he is thinking and feeling new and different things. I have always tried to create a believable world for my characters. I really hope that worked in Cerys at Knight, since it was my first foray. I sometimes feel it got a bit "fantasy-ish", but I tried. Not a history major or anything ,so I am sure there are tons of mistakes. (grin)
Ailis-70: YAY! I am so glad it resonated with you, and got your mind a' goin'. i wrote it hoping it would. This second chapter is because of you, and Calliann thinking that it could become a short story. But mostly because you want to know who she is. And yes, it is a she. I know this is going to make you go ACK! when you finish the chapter, but I have others planned so don't worry.
and remember, Tristan needs to be pushed into action, or a reaction... sometimes. So, think on that when you read this, and I know you will have some ideas for the next chapter. Share them with me! This is a product of your nudging, so nudge some more!
op: Hey! thanks! Here is another chapter in this small story. I hope you enjoy it. Lancelot will always be my favorite, but I find the mind of this character very interesting. it makes him sexy, that mind. The feral nature...
Wanderer of the Roads: Thank you! I am glad you have enjoyed it. I read quite a few stories on this website without reviewing (I have not enough time in the day I fear so I have to choose very carefully) but I wanted to tell you that I think your story Destined to Be is very much fun. Heather and Claudia are quite a pair! Your english is wonderful, and its great to know I have a reader all the way in Hong Kong! That's quite a ways from Canada. (grin).
MissBubbles: I can never review as much as I would like. It's tough to review all you would want to, you would never do anything else! And I refuse to give one line reviews. So absent reviewer guilt aside, than you for reviewing! I am glad you thought I caught his thought pattern well with this, it was an intriguing journey to try and see through his eyes.
2 - Silent Waiting
Tonight I am not where I am supposed to be.
I am testing him.
I sit on a rock by the washing pool, the moonlight bathing the ripples in white light, the surface glittering. Like the jewels that adorn our Queen's neck, the ripples sparkle and dance as the water moves about. I think of the happy laughter and shrieking the children bounce off the trees when they swim here, and the way the women sing when the come to scrub the clothing on the rocks I now sit upon. My toes curl over the edge of one such rock, pushing at dried soap, caked to the edge. This is the best rock for removing stains.
This place is silent now, compared to the happy burble of daylight.
I have dipped my toe into the water. It feels refreshing. I am tempted to remove my clothing and dive, to feel the coolness against my skin, to relieve the hot damp stickiness that the day has brought.
I know I won't hear him come, if he does. He's a scout. He knows how to move silently, like a ghost. I am anticipating his coming, I know he watched me walk out towards here, laundry slung over my shoulder, soap in my hand. I could feel his eyes on me.
I always know when he watches me; I can feel his gaze even before I know where he is. I wonder if I will feel him coming, if he does.
Every night I catch his eye, every night he scans the tables, looking for me when he walks into the hall. And when he finds me, his body relaxes, only slightly. He spends his evening with the men, drinking... sometimes laughing... always eating an apple.
I feed the one I keep by my plate to his horse, each night before retiring to my rooms.
I watch him like his hawk watches for mice from the rafters of the stable. He is intriguing, mysterious. I find myself attracted to his feral nature. I am drawn to his primal posture, the way he walks. Confident, fierce, strong, like a predator. It excites me, for a reason I cannot understand.
He is dangerous.
I like that.
My dreams of him are always silent. He comes to me, his eyes flashing heat, his hands hard and rough, calloused across my skin. He takes me, his need overwhelming both of us, in this mating dance of passion, need and desire. I always awake with a throbbing need for him, my body slicked in sweat.
My thoughts of him during the day make me blush. Always I wonder what it would be like to push my hands against his chest, feel his heart beat against my palm. To push the hair from his eyes. To run my fingers through its haphazard length. Re-braid his warrior lock, as is a lover's right.
I have never thought of a man this way before. Even now, sitting in silence by the pool, I feel flushed, my abdomen warming, my skin covered in bumps like a freshly plucked goose.
I want him.
The woman all talk of him as if he is wounded in the mind. They say he is too silent, too distant. They are all afraid of him, and pass to the other side of the alleyways when he walks past.
They say he likes to kill.
I see something more in his eyes, when he looks back at me, catches me. I see him wanting to be free, wanting to shout, laugh, sing. He is intelligent. I can see him wanting to learn, understand the world around him.
I see the man inside the animal everyone says is too far gone to be human anymore.
I want to see into his soul, to see what is there. I want to understand what makes him so quiet, so withdrawn, so fierce. I know that he does not like to be feared, but knows that he is simply by what he has been forced to do for so long.
All the men are this way, in some form. Haunted by the ones they have killed in these long years together. It changes a man, makes them hard. Makes them build walls of stone around themselves. To care means having a weakness, one that cannot be afforded when staring down an enemy on the field of battle.
I know, I have listened to so many tell me their thoughts. Tell me what they want. So many of them dead now.
He has never spoken to me. Not with his voice, at least.
My thoughts are tumbling over me, much like the waterfall at the edge of the pond. Its soft noise is comforting. The only noise echoing in this clearing. I long to bathe underneath it, swim languidly in the swirling pool out in front of the falling water. Clear my head of the sad thoughts now entering it, about all of the friends I have lost.
I know not if he will come.
But I am waiting.
Dear Reader:
And thus here we go with the other side of this contest. Have I answered any questions about her, or created more? I hope more! I want to try and show a different side of two people, the complete internal side that makes you go "Hmmm" and understand what makes someone tick. Moreso than action, I find these internal monologues so much fin to write, and such a stretch for my skills to really create something that sounds believable and rhythmic. We all think in rhythmns, and sometimes writing that same rhythmn can be difficult.
Tristan will always be aconglomeration ofevery otherTristan-lovers ideas,so let me know what you think of this girl, and we can build her character the same way. I am sure there is but a glimpse of her, barely enough to go on, but tell me what you think she would look like, what her position in life is. Who is she? What are your hypotheses.
Think of it as a writing exercise to help you develop your own characters.
I am intrigued to find out your thoughts, for they drive mine!
Thank you for reading,
Cardeia