Disclaimer : As much as I may wish otherwise, I do not own King Arthur, the knights, or any other characters you may recognize from the movie. They belong to those who own them, as my original characters belong to me. So please do not sue me, I am poor and you will not get much. : P
Summary - A series of one shot glimpses into the lives and loves of our beloved knights, as well as the other various inhabitants of Hadrian's Wall, my own original characters included. Some may be quite short, while others much longer. Some pure fluff and others more serious. It all depends on what and how much needs to be said. .lol. Rating is purely for safety as I do not know where these drabbles may lead me!
A/N - For those of you reading my other story, 'One Sarmatian', don't worry I've no intention of neglecting that one. This is just a way to release some of those annoying little plot bunnies that won't fit elsewhere, but will not leave my oh so overactive imagination. -smiles- I really hope you enjoy these and as always please read and review! Let me know if I should keep writing them, or forget about it and stick to OS! Enjoy!
First Snowfall
Sixteen year old Galahad flung his practice sword into the snow and scowled, glaring balefully at the cold grey sky. As if in answer, several large flakes of snow landed on his face, drawing from him a string of curses as he swiped them away and tugged his cloak more tightly about his shivering frame.
"Bloody snow! Why must it be so blooming cold here? Stupid Britain!"
He moved to stand just to the side of the blacksmith shop, trying to escape the cold wind that curled around his bare legs. Turning he gazed back out across the training field, its length buried under a thick layer of fluffy white snow.
The first of the season, it had come overnight, swiftly blanketing the world in its crisp, icy silence.
As Galahad stood brooding beside the stone building, he was jolted abruptly from his fit of pouting when a cold, wet object found its mark. Its mark being the center of his forehead. Sputtering, he wiped the offending material out of his eyes, and stared down at the snow in his frozen hands. Narrowing his eyes, he stepped fully away from the shop, and was promptly nailed in the chest with another, larger snowball.
His eyes swept the field, searching out the positions of his fellow knights. Trying to ascertain just whom had thrown the icy balls of death.
The sound of laughter drew his gaze to the archery range, where he spied two long haired teenagers trying to hide behind one of the targets. A large pile of ready formed snowballs sitting innocently between them.
'Gawain and Gareth, I should have known.' He thought to himself, as he began to stalk toward them, his booted feet crunching in the snow.
Realizing they been spotted, the brothers shared a wicked grin, their blue eyes dancing, then turned on their best friend as one. Arming themselves with a handful of snowballs each, they rose up from behind the safety of the target, and launched their attack.
Galahad quickly went down under the barrage of snow. Losing his footing on a patch of ice just as it hit, he landed in a deep snowdrift that had formed near the edge of the building. As he struggled to regain his footing, his raised voice and the laughter of the brothers, drew the attention of the other knights.
Not to be left out, they quickly joined in, and madness broke forth.
Bedivere and Percival ducked behind the hay bales encircling the sparring ring and began stockpiling their own armory of snowballs.
Bors tackled an unsuspecting Dagonet to the ground, where a fierce wrestling match began.
Tristan nonchalantly headed for a large oak tree near the edge of the field, behind which he ducked out of sight.
Lamorak gathered a good sized amount of the fluffy white stuff in his enormous hands and, with a mischievous grin, began slowly stalking Lancelot. The latter of whom was too busy watching Galahad, as he finally made it to his feet and lurched toward the blonde brothers, to even notice his own impending doom.
He noticed quickly enough however, when it hit him in the back of the head. Some of the snow clumping in his dark curls, while the rest slid down his neck, and slipped underneath his clothing, leaving a wet, icy trail all the way down his back.
He turned to his friend in shock, as he flailed about trying to rid himself of the freezing mess. Giving up when all he accomplished was to cause more of it to fall out of his hair and join the rest, he instead launched himself at Lamorak. Who, thinking it immensely funny, took off across the field, Lancelot hot on his heels.
They chose the wrong direction to run however, as they ended up smack dab in the middle of a crossfire between Bedivere and Percival, and Gawain and Gareth, who had been joined by Galahad. The latter of whom had decided to put aside thoughts of revenge, in favor of joining his brothers-in-arms in an attack on the other two.
Kay, who had retreated at the first sign of the battle, stood in a position of relative safety just inside the open doors of the armory. He watched them smugly, sure that they could not see him in the shadowed doorway. Laughing to himself, he watched as Lamorak and Lancelot each chose sides in the war of snow raging in the field.
Lamorak joining Bedivere and Percival behind the hay, while Lancelot dove for the safety of the archery range.
Meanwhile, Dagonet and Bors still wrestled their way across the far end of the field, occasionally throwing each other into the massive snowdrifts that had formed along the wall.
Suddenly, a large, well packed snowball winged its way toward the armory. Missing the other knights, it sailed straight over their heads and landed dead on target. Kay stumbled slightly, caught himself, then wiped the snow from his eyes and his white blonde hair.
Leaving the not so safe haven of the armory, he stormed out the doorway in search of the culprit, murder in his icy blue eyes. Who he found, however, was most certainly not who he had expected.
For there, several yards away, leaning nonchalantly against the tree eating an apple, stood Tristan. A slight smirk ghosting across his lips and a look of challenge in his dark eyes.
Daring Kay to retaliate.
As the tall blonde stood there in shock, trying to decide if a wet face was worth dying for, the others suddenly took notice of what was happening between him and the quiet scout. A cease fire was silently called on both sides as a plan quickly formulated in the minds of all. A slight glance and a nearly imperceptible nod from Tristan was all it took to set it in motion.
Kay never even saw it coming, as he stood with a puzzled look on his face, and watched Tristan scale the tree and disappear over the wall.
As chaos quickly ensued, Arthur watched from his position atop Hadrian's Wall and smiled.
He always had loved. . .
The First Snowfall.
Well, what did you think? Good. . .bad? Worth writing more? This one was inspired by the weather we've had here over the past few days, our first real snowfall of the year (that's stayed more than a couple of days). I just suddenly thought hm, snow, knights, what more could one ask for? Hehehe. Anyway, please read and review and I hope you enjoyed this little bit of fluff!