With extrem difficulty, Tristan managed to light a small fire on the slightly less snowed on grass; this done he stood next to Galahad whom he had rested against a tree. "Galahad," he said softly, then increasing in tone. "Hey! Galahad, wake up." He cuffed the young knight lightly over the head. This did the trick: Galahad's eyes shot open, he lunged out at Tristan with his knife; leaving a long, but shallow, cut down his chest. Tristan had been completely off guard and quickly leapt back to avoid further injuries from the young knight. He could see that his vision was clearing slightly. "Galahad." Tristan said cautiously, more concerned about his young friend then what his "young friend" had just done. Galahad's vision snapped back. "Tristan!" he gasped then noticed the long cut up his friend's chest and the bloodied knife in his hand. " Tristan, Gods, I am sorry, are you alright?"
" I'll live." Tristan said stiffly. "But what about you? You've been out for a while."
A look of surprise came to Galahad's eyes. "I have?"
" Yeah, now just try and rest and don't hurt any one else: I've run out of bandages." Tristan added lightly. He settled himself in between the two, one eye on each patient.
00ooo000ooo000ooo
The next morning Tristan was posed with a worse problem; they now had one horse and two men unable to walk. He decided that firstly leading his horse and letting Galahad ride might be an idea. He woke them up and set out immediately. Lancelot still stumbled, but with Tristan's help he could walk all right. They made slow, painful progress though the woodland stopped often. After a week of little food and practically no shelter the three knights were more then willing to surrender themselves to the nearest human life form; it had rained almost the entire time so they were soaked. Through the driving rain Tristan could see the tree outside Hadrian's Wall; often it had been the beacon, guiding him back after an unsuccessful trip. He sighed with relief and continued leading the horse forward gently. Evidently a lookout had seen them coming: for as soon as they reached the gate Arthur, Gawain, Bors and a few healers came out to meet them. Tristan was almost sick with fatigue; he hadn't slept in a week, Lancelot was practically asleep on his shoulder and Galahad had fallen unconscious; and top matters Tristan's wound didn't remotely resemble something that was supposed to be healing. He tipped Lancelot onto Gawain, happy to remove the weight on his shoulder, "Arthur!" He called still holding the reins of Galahad's horse. Arthur came over him; he looked somewhat shocked after finding his men like this, but never the less pleased that they were still alive. Tristan nodded and limped in the direction of his quarters, barley making it there before he collapsed.