Muchas gracias for all the super wonderful reviews! Be forewarned: 1) chapter sizes will vary considerably 2) updates will be pretty regular until we come to the end of what I have already written, and then they'll start to be a little fewer and farther between.
OH! Track (track and field) is a sport--i'm surprised they don't have it in England--centered around races (long distance and short distance--and hurtles) and field events. Field events include jumping (high jump, long jump, triple jump, polevault) and throwing (discus, javeline, shotput). I myself am a high, long, and triple jumper and I might try hurtles this year just for kicks. Anywho, on to the story!
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Tristan frowned and knelt beside the girl. He hadn't meant for her to hit her head when she fell. Satisfied that she was alive, he looked her over curiously. She looked young—sixteen, perhaps—with creamy skin and soft pink lips. Dark brown hair had come partially loose from its braid. She wore the oddest clothing...some sort of black, short-sleeved tunic decorated with odd runes and symbols. Her leggings were dark blue, which wasn't unheard of, but the material was completely foreign to him, as was the cut. They were tight from the waist to the knee, where the material became looser. He couldn't help but notice how they accentuated the gentle curve of her hips—just enough to show she was female, which was strange in itself. Only her boots looked familiar, and even they were slightly strange.
"Will she live?" Arthur asked, dismounting and kneeling beside him.
"I believe so," Tristan said. "She should wake up soon. If she doesn't, then we may need to worry."
"I've never seen her like," Arthur said with a frown. "A woman in leggings is strange enough...but this is completely unlike anything I've seen."
"What I want to know is why she ran from us and what she was doing out here in the first place," Tristan replied grimly.
"And where she got her horse," Gawain added, riding up with the rest of their company. "Speedy little she-devil."
Tristan looked at the dapple gray filly that Galahad led. Her sides were heaving and she was lathered in sweat, but she looked ready to take off again as soon as she was given the chance. He was about the get up to inspect the horse's strange looking tack when the girl began to stir. He looked down into wide, confused looking eyes that couldn't seem to decide whether they wanted to be blue or gray set in a thin, fairy like face. She mumbled something and put a hand to her head.
"How do you fare, lass?" Arthur asked kindly. The girl merely frowned and closed her eyes. Arthur shot a glance at Tristan. "Should we wake her?"
"Not just yet," Tristan said after a moment's consideration. "We should get her back to the fort as quickly as possible."
Arthur nodded. "Ride ahead and let Jols know to prepare a room for her. Gawain—come, set her in front of you. She needs care."
"Wake her in an hour or so," Tristan instructed. "And try not to joggle her too much."
As they rode, Gawain wondered where the girl had come from. Despite her unconscious, relaxed state, he could tell that the whip-thin form he was holding was solid muscle. No Briton girl would fit that description. A Woad would—but that was unlikely. He'd been fighting Woads for ten years and he'd never seen any dress like this one.
Once or twice she stirred and muttered restlessly, but Gawain tightened his hold and wondered what would happen if she woke up. No doubt she would be terrified. In an hour, they woke her up and waited for hysterics. She stared around confusedly for a few moments, muttered something in a strange tongue, and closed her eyes once more. The knights looked at each other, shrugged, and continued on. When they reached the fort at Hadrian's Wall, Jols was waiting for them along with several serving women. They gently took the girl and bore her away into the castle.
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When Codi woke up, she found herself in a bed with the curtains drawn tight around it. But my bed doesn't have curtains on it, she thought dazedly, then shot upright—and instantly regretted it. Laying back slowly, she remembered finding the lake gone and being chased—and the arrow. But what next? Codi searched her memory, but only found vague, blurred images of dirty, hairy men and garbled, echo-y words. She thought she remembered being on a horse. Maybe.
Getting up slowly this time, she pulled the curtains aside and saw that it was morning. Sunlight streamed in from the window from which she could see a bustling Medieval town—wait a minute, bustling Medieval town? Codi gaped at the women merrily washing clothes or selling vegetables and the chickens and dogs and cats running around. Codi closed her eyes. This is not real. This is not real. I'm concussed. I'm delusional.
The door opened and Codi whirled to face a tall man with a red cape. He had a sword at his side. Codi trembled as he approached, eyes darting about for an escape route. He said something—it sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite catch the words—and reached for her. Without warning, Codi flew at him and kneed him sharply in the groin, scrambling around him as he fell to his knees. She blew out the door and down the hallway, praying that somehow she would end up outside.
By some miracle, she did. But she found herself standing scant yards away from more men. With swords. At least they didn't have any crossbows, she thought grimly. They stared at each other for a split second, then Codi bolted. They men charged after her, shouting.
Codi looked around frantically. Where could she go? They were right behind her! Think, she ordered herself. Wear them down—they're wearing some sort of armor. She looked around the courtyard littered with wagons, baskets, barrels, and other obstacles and grinned. If they want a chase, she thought, I'll give them a chase.
It was unreal, Lancelot thought. The girl was faster than a jackrabbit, weaving in and out of people and popping effortlessly over every possible obstacle that she could put between them and her. Even with five of them chasing her, she was avoiding them easily. They had tried to keep her in the courtyard, but she found the entryway into the town and slipped right past the guards—or rather, under them. She dove right between one's legs.
"Finally," Lancelot thought as they chased her toward the wall that contained the local goatherd's animals. It was almost six feet high and had no accessible entrance. "We've got her."
Or so he thought. The girl slowed, looking over her shoulder, then veered slightly to the side, curving toward the wall. They all watched incredulously as the girl pounded off the ground, punching one arm upward and throwing her head back so that she arced backwards over the wall. The last thing they saw was her bare feet disappearing over the wall.
"Did you see that?" Galahad demanded. "Impossible."
"Apparently not," Lancelot said wryly.
Dagonet grunted and wiped his brow.
"What is this girl?" Gawain panted, clutching his side. "And why does she keep running from us?"
"Possibly because you keep chasing her." All four—Bors, heavyset as he was, had long since dropped out of the chase—turned to see Vonora standing there with her hands on her hips and Bors doubled up beside her. "You great brutes, if you were chasing me, I'd run, too."
"Not from me, I hope," Bors huffed, looking at his lover.
"Especially from you," Vonora snorted. "You lads stay here, I'll see to her."
Codi landed, thankfully, in a pile of hay and scrambled to her feet, looking around. A bunch of goats were staring at her in consternation. I suppose people don't usually fly over their wall and land in their food, she thought ruefully, and looked around for an exit. Spying a door, she quickly opened it—and ran right into a solid wall of flesh. Codi bounced off and fell to the ground. She peered up and saw a red faced giant gaping down at her, his piggy little eyes quickly narrowing in anger. He roared something and reached down to grab her, but his hands closed on air.
Codi was through his legs in an instant and darting past a startled looking woman stirring something over the fire. She spotted a door and whipped it open only to find herself face to face with a tall and curvy red-haired woman. Not wanting to hurt her, she tried to slip by and was stopped by a gentle hand on her arm. Codi threw an anxious glance over her shoulder at the giant, who looked redder than ever and furious. Giving the redhead a pleading look, she tried to pull away.
"Please," she begged. "Let me go..."
The red giant bellowed something, making Codi wince. The redhead gave a smooth reply in her own tongue and tugged Codi away. Codi frowned, wondering why it sounded so familiar, then it clicked. It was Old English! She'd taken a course in Old English in the fall semester and had liked it so much, she was taking another one. When the redhead spoke again, Codi payed close attention and caught what she was saying.
"My name is Vonora," she said slowly. Obviously, she'd figured out that Codi spoke another language.
"I—I am Codi," Codi said haltingly, both from her lack of breath and weak grasp of the language. "I fear—big men. Big, strong men. Run after me. Help?"
"I will help," Vonora said firmly. "The big men will not harm you."
She took Codi by the hand and led her around the corner where all five were leaning against the wall, scowling. With a small squeak of fear, Codi tried to pull away but was tugged forward by Vonora.
"The big men will not harm you," she repeated. "Be easy."
One of the men asked something and Vonora replied sharply. This brought a flurry of talk that Codi couldn't hope to follow. She edged behind Vonora and tried to make herself as insignificant as possible. After a few moments, Vonora stepped aside, revealing Codi once more. Resisting the urge to cower—barely—Codi contented herself with looking at the ground. When one of them stepped forward, however, she couldn't help but take a step back. Vonora pushed her forward and snapped something at the man, who was shorter than the others and heavyset. He put Codi in mind of a bull.
"I am Bors," he said. At Vonora's glare, he added, "I am sorry we frightened you."
"I am Lancelot," the next one said. "I am sorry as well."
One by one the men introduced themselves and apologized. After Lancelot, who was dark-haired and handsome in an aristocratic sort of way, came Gawain, who made Codi think of a lion with his long tawny hair. Next was Galahad, whose boyish curls would have made Codi smile had she not been about to piss herself. Lastly, there was Dagonet, a giant with short, almost buzzed hair and a scar one cheek. He looked like he could easily bench press Codi—with one hand. He scowled at her and said gruffly, "You should not fear me."
Codi swallowed. "I fear you. Much fear."
The other men started laughing and the big man, she was shocked to see, looked like he might just be blushing.
"Give them your name," Vonora urged her, smiling.
"Codi," she said, still nervous.
"Welcome to Hadrian's Wall, Codi," Lancelot said gallantly and bowed. Galahad and Gawain smiled encouragingly while Dagonet and Bors grunted and muttered.
Vonora took her hand once more and led the way back to the castle Codi had just fled. The men talked among themselves, occasionally asking Vonora questions, which she seemed to answering negatively. Or so Codi thought. She couldn't really tell. When they reached the castle, the man with a red cape who had originally entered Codi's room met them on the stairs. He did not look happy. Codi stopped and took a step back, bumping into Dagonet and almost falling. He steadied her with a grip of iron and frowned at her. With a gulp, Codi looked again at the red caped man, who had been joined by another. The new one was scruffy and dangerous looking, with some of his hair in braids and tattoos on each cheek.
"He will not hurt you," Vonora told her soothingly. "He is a good man."
"I—hurt him," Codi whispered, blushing. "Wake up, see man. See sword. Frightened."
Vonora raised her eyebrows and directed a question involving 'Codi' and 'hurt' at the man in the red cape, who scowled at Codi and said something she didn't catch at all. Codi hung her head miserably and tried to disappear behind Vonora. Once again, she was tugged forward. The one with tattoos fell into step with the rest of the men as Vonora followed the red caped man through the halls. Servants whispered as they passed, shooting Codi curious and slightly scandalized looks. Codi looked down at her jeans and T-shirt and scowled. Stupid nosy biddies, she thought.
When they entered a room with a large round table, Codi's eyes narrowed. And she looked quickly at the man in the red cape. He held out a chair for her and motioned for her to sit. Codi sat on the edge of the seat, ready to jump up again if need be. Peeking up at him, she asked tentatively, "Name?"
"Artorius," he said with a warm smile. "Arthur."
Codi's mouth dropped open. "No."
"Yes," he said, surprised. "Arthur is my name."
"King Arthur?" Codi pressed.
The men started to laugh, but the red-caped man just looked confused. "No."
Codi relaxed. Well, that was too close for comfort...wait a minute. Her eyes darted to Lancelot. Lancelot and Arthur. And Galahad. And a round table. Too much coincidence there, even if he wasn't a king and she didn't recognize the other names. What the hell was going on? But Codi didn't have any more time to dwell on it, for Arthur was asking a question. Vonora said something to him and he repeated himself more slowly.
"Does your arm hurt?"
Codi stared at him blankly for a moment, then looked down. She hadn't even noticed that her upper arm was bandaged. Now that she had time to think about it, it did sting a little. She shrugged.
"No much," she said.
"Not much," Arthur corrected her absently.
"Not much," Codi repeated. Arthur smiled at her and Codi found herself smiling back.
"Why did you run from us?" he asked.
"Frightened," Codi answered. Vonora gave them all an "I told you so" look that needed no translation.
Arthur asked another question that Codi didn't quite understand. He tried again. "Where do you come from?"
Knowing it would mean nothing to him, she replied, "West Virginia. Where am I?" She almost dreaded the answer.
"Britain," Arthur told her, as if surprised that she asked.
Codi closed her eyes. Oh, lord. "What year?"
Arthur rattled off a number that she didn't quite put together, but it started with four hundred. Suddenly Codi found it very difficult to breathe. Putting her face in her hands, she rubbed her eyes and tried not to cry. She tried telling herself that it wasn't real and she would wake up in a few moments, but it wasn't working very well.
"Are you well?" the one with tattoos asked, touching her shoulder lightly. He motioned to her head.
Mutely, Codi nodded. Her head, while it hurt, was the least of her worries. "I want to go home," she whispered in her own language.
Although he couldn't possibly have understood her, Arthur seemed to get the gist. "Where is your husband? Or your father?"
"I no—not know where father is," Codi said miserably. "I have no husband."
Arthur sighed and nodded. "Where is West Virginia?" He said Virginia slowly, as if to make sure he was saying it right.
"West," Codi told him, giving a sigh of her own. "Far west. Big water. No one there."
Arthur rubbed his temples. "Do you mean Ireland?"
"No." Codi shook her head. "More far west. Father not there."
"How did you come here?" Arthur asked.
"Why did you come here?" Dagonet wanted to know.
"Where did you get your horse?" Gawain added.
"Stop," Vonora ordered, glaring. "One question at a time. Codi, how did you get here?"
"I not know," Codi mumbled.
"What did you say?"
"I not know," Codi repeated. To ward off questions she couldn't answer, she added. "Not remember."
"Do not know. Do not remember," Arthur told her tiredly. Codi repeated it dutifully. "How many summers have you seen?"
Codi blinked in confusion, then figured it out. But she couldn't seem to remember anything about numbers all of a sudden. She held up all ten fingers, closed them, then held up nine. They all looked surprised. Codi sighed. No one ever believed that she was nineteen. She'd been mistaken for a visiting high school student her first day of classes.
"Nineteen," Arthur told her in his language, and again Codi repeated it.
Arthur conferred briefly with his men, shooting several unreadable looks in her direction. They were obviously telling him how she had run from them. The one with tattoos was staring at her thoughtfully. She gave a small, uncertain smile, wondering what he wanted.
"Tristan," he said, indicating himself.
"Hello," she said nervously. His braids and tattoos and sharp black eyes were unnerving.
"I am sorry," he said, indicating her arm. "I shot the arrow." He said something about her head accompanied by a rueful grimace. He didn't mean for me to hit my head, she realized. He just wanted me out of the saddle. Speaking of which...
"My horse," she said clearly, interrupting. "Where is my horse?"
"In the stables," Galahad told her. "I put her there myself."
"She is well?"
"She is well," Galahad assured her, then grinned. "And very fast."
Codi smiled back. "Yes. Very fast."
"You are very fast, too," Gawain added. "Faster than we are."
"You are not very fast," Codi told him, then clapped a hand over her mouth, surprised by her daring.
The men roared with laughter. Even Arthur grinned. Codi gave a tentative smile and then winced as her head gave a sudden, particularly painful throb. Tristan saw it and motioned for her to rise.
"You should rest," he said. "Your head is not yet well. And you have had enough excitement for today."
"Yes," Codi agreed, rubbing her head. "Much excitement. Too much. Sleep now."
"Come," Vonora said, taking her hand again. "I will tend you and stay with you as you sleep."
"I am happy," Codi told her gratefully.
"Good," Vonora said, and led her away.
"That is the strangest girl I have ever seen," Gawain said flatly, staring after her.
"What language does she speak?" Lancelot wondered.
"And where is this West Virginia place?" said Galahad.
"Knights," Arthur said, holding up his hands as if to ward off their questions. "I know as much as you do, if not less."
"What?" Galahad gasped in mock surprise. "But you know everything—King Arthur."
Bors snorted. "King, my arse."
"And what a large arse it is," Lancelot quipped.
"What do we do with her?" Dagonet asked, overriding Bors' angry expletive. "I think that's what we ought to be thinking about."
"I know what to do with a pretty little thing like her," Lancelot said with a roguish grin.
"You might as well take a boy to bed," Bors snorted. "Skinny."
"Lancelot," Arthur said warningly. "Bors."
"We care for her until she is well," Tristan shrugged. "What else is there to do?"
"Send her on her way," Dagonet said with a scowl. "We've enough to deal with as it is."
"On her way to where?" Gawain protested. "She doesn't remember how she got here and she doesn't know where her father is. And even if he was in her homeland, we haven't exactly got the money to send her to West Virginia. Wherever it is."
"Well, then, what do you propose?" Dagonet demanded.
"We can't just turn her out," Gawain said, looking around at his comrades. "She's got nowhere to go."
"Gawain's right," Bors declared. "She's a plucky lass. I like her. Even if she is skinny."
"Oh, good," Vonora said from the doorway. "So you won't mind her staying with us, then. Gods know I could use the help. And she needs a home, the poor dear."
"Did you give her the tea I prepared?" Tristan asked, and Vonora nodded.
"Is she alright?" Gawain asked. "That was quite a tumble she took..."
"She's grieving for her father," Vonora said sadly, and sat next to Bors. "I can't imagine what it could have been like for her. You are all heartless cads, do you know that? Honestly, chasing down and shooting at a defenseless girl? What were you thinking? And the poor thing doesn't even speak our language."
"She did not head my command to halt," Arthur said stiffly
"Because she couldn't understand you, you lack wit," Vonora snapped.
"She could have been a threat," Arthur argued.
"Oh, well, of course," Vonora said, rolling her eyes. "That girl is positively the most threatening thing I've ever laid eyes on. I've seen rabbits more frightening than she is."
"This is the part where I usually start kissing her," Bors remarked. "But I'll chop off your bollocks if you do that, so I would just say 'yes, Vonora'. That sometimes works."
Arthur sighed. "Yes, Vonora."
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there you are, my ducks. mind you review!