Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.
The villagers were nervous of their new guests, and despite Arthur's efforts to put them at ease, most stayed well away from the knights. There were four empty houses in the village - legacies of the beast's victims, and the men appropriated them with gratitude. Arthur took one for himself, although from the shyly flirtatious looks on the faces of several young women, he would not have any trouble finding someone to share it with should he choose to do so. Dagonet and Bors settled into another, and Lancelot and Galahad took the smallest: the younger knight complaining bitterly that Lancelot was likely to keep him up all night either with his snoring or his more vocal conquests. Tristan and Tom chose to sleep in the stables, Lark following them with a wagging tail that seemed incongruous when matched with the forbidding expressions of the two men. Llynya did not dare look at Gawain when they were ushered to their own quarters; he had been entrusted to keep her safe, and truth be told she would have felt even more uncomfortable if Arthur had asked someone else to look after her, but looking at the one narrow bed she inwardly cringed at the sleeping arrangements.
Before she had a chance to speak her mind, Dagonet called Gawain away, and Llynya was left staring at the plain room anxiously. You can sleep on the floor, she told herself, just because he is sharing a room with you doesn't mean you have to sleep together. Compared to a forest ground or a camp that was likely to be attacked by Woads at any moment , this was luxury indeed. The little house was sturdy and well kept, and a fire blazed in the grate - a welcoming touch from a small girl who had vanished like smoke when she had tried to thank her.
A tentative knock at the door roused her from her reverie.
"My lady?" The girl standing in the doorway looked at her with bright curiosity. "I thought you might want to clean up a little. The soap probably isn't what you are used to, but the water is warm."
"It's wonderful." Taking the bowl from the young woman, Llynya placed it upon the floor. "It's been so long since I've had a decent wash it's a wonder that every Saxon in the country hasn't sniffed me out by now. I'm no lady either - my name is Llynya."
The girl smiled, sweeping her heavy blonde hair over her shoulder. " I'm Charlotte. Dynadan is my father." She handed Llynya a small bundle of cloth. "You don't seem to have brought much with you - I thought you might like to have something more comfortable to sleep in."
"That's very kind of you." Accepting the gift, Llynya placed it carefully upon the bed. "I've almost forgotten what it feels like to be clean."
The girl giggled. She was tall and willowy, and there was a mischievous light in her eyes that Llynya could not help but warm to.
"Your knight does not seem to mind."
"He's not my knight." Blushing, Llynya grinned at the girl's curiosity. "We are old friends, that is all."
"I see." She gave Llynya wink and tossed a blanket on the bed. "Well if you don't want him then there are several other girls that wouldn't mind taking your place."
"You can tell them that they are welcome to him." Llynya tried and failed to suppress the surge of irritation that had suddenly risen within her. "Tell them that he snores as well."
"I will." Charlotte tossed a log on the fire from the basket beside it, watching the pale wood kindle. "And what of the dark knight? Does he have a lady?"
"The dark knight?" For a moment she wasn't sure if the girl was referring to Arthur, Tristan or Galahad and was a little perplexed.
"The man with the curly hair."
"Oh, you mean Lancelot? No, I don't think so - or at least I think he has too many ladies judging by his arrogance."
"A challenge." The blonde girl smiled thoughtfully. "Perhaps he just needs taming."
"I would prefer castrating," Llynya replied with a smile. "He's far too cocky for his own good."
"Might be interesting to find out whether such self confidence is justified." Charlotte shot the older girl a wicked smile, "I'll leave you be, wish me luck." With a wink and a giggle she slid through the door, closing it carefully behind her.
Llynya watched her leave and shook her head ruefully: Lancelot would not know what had hit him if that wildcat got her claws into him, and somehow she had a feeling that she would. Slipping off her clothing she washed quickly and slid the shift that Charlotte had brought her over her head. It was obviously old, but the rough fabric was softened with age and strangely comforting against her skin. Sitting down on the bed she watched the fire for a while, losing herself in her own thoughts.
Gawain knocked softly before entering, and Llynya lookedup warily.
"Don't worry, I'm not the beast." He gave a half smile at the girl on the bed and unbuckled his weapons. " Is it safe in here or should I have you look under the bed before we go to sleep?"
"We?" Llynya picked up one of the blankets and held it in her lap. "You shall take the bed and I shall take the floor, and if something with sharp teeth comes in through the window then it is your responsibility to kill it."
"You are not sleeping on the floor." Gawain looked at her in exasperation. "What sort of a man do you think I am?"
"You are the one that's going to hunt goodness knows what tomorrow - you should take the bed." Llynya looked at him mutinously andshot a glanceat the open doorway, "I'll take the floor or sleep in the stables."
"For gods sake woman." Gawain kicked the door shut before she could dodge around him. "I've had enough of this. You will sleep on the bed, I will sleep on the floor and with any luck there will not be any strange creatures skulking around in order to devour us in our sleep. Go to bed. " The last three words were almost snarled, and Llynya bit her lip in irritation.
"Do not presume to tell me what to do Sir. If I had my way then we would have gone our separate ways and that would have been the end of it. If you and the others had done your job properly then you wouldn't be burdened with me at all." Clenching her fists she tried not to burst into tears: long pent up anger , sorrow and frustration barely kept at bay. Realising how pathetic she was being, she wiped angrily at her cheeks and runny nose and looked at Gawain fiercely. "Arthur and his legendary knights. Where were you when Hythe was burning? Where were you when good people were dying? Easy enough to take what hospitality is offered, easy enough to take what you want from the girls stupid enough to fall for you." She looked at him with red-rimmed, wounded eyes. "Arthur could have stopped it. And what now? These people are depending on you - how long before you receive other orders, how long before you walk away?"
Gawain said nothing. Locking the door behind him, he went to the fireplace and threw another log onto the flames. In the flickering light his face was tense and his blue eyes seemed almost black . "Arthur is as much a slave as I and the other knights are," he said finally. "We do what we have to - we have no choice in the matter. "Arthur meant what he said; he will do his best to help the village, but if we are called away then he will leave and we will follow. When we are liberated then perhaps things will be different. Once we have our discharge papers we will be free to forge our own futures."
"And when will that be?" Llynya tucked her legs under her and watched him carefully. "When you are all dead?"
"Most likely." Gawain gave a bitter laugh. "We follow orders from men who have never set foot in this country, who have probably never even seen bloodshed outside the walls of the Gladiator arenas. Our lives are worth little to them."
"It's not fair."
He shrugged. "It is the way things are - and Arthur is a good commander: there are precious few Romans that trouble themselves about the welfare of their soldiers, and almost none that hold their lives equal to their own."
"You care about him very much don't you?" Llynya said softly. Her anger had dissipated almost as quickly as it had kindled, and in the faint light her dark eyes gleamed with tired compassion.
"He is my leader, and he is my friend," he said simply, "now unless you want me to share the bed with you, go to sleep."
"You smell like your horse," she said with a half-hearted attempt at humour. "What makes you think I want you anywhere near me?"
Gawain laughed and pulled his tunic over his head. "You didn't protest earlier - anyway what's wrong with smelling like my horse? Falco has kept me company many a night, and saved my life more times that I can count."
Llynya shrugged and tried to avert her eyes as he folded the discarded garment, his muscles flexing in the firelight. "I knew you were fond of your horse," she said finally, "I had not thought that you actually slept with it."
"Only when I cannot find more agreeable company." He yawned and brushed a strand of tangled hair from his face. "Get some rest - it's been a long day, and tomorrow won't be any easier." His eyes were shadowed and his shoulders slumped with exhaustion: with a pang of guilt she remembered how he had woken her from her nightmare the evening before and wondered how long it had been since he had had the luxury of a decent night's sleep.
"You don't have to sleep on the floor," she said quietly. "The bed is big enough for both of us."
"Even if I smell like my horse?"
"I like your horse." Rolling onto her side, Llynya turned her back on him. For one long moment she thought that he was angry enough to refuse the invitation and fought the urge to turn around and apologise. Burying her face in the lumpy pillow she felt the mattress sag when he sat upon it and did not flinch when he settled down beside her, one big arm draping over her waist, his breath hot against her neck. Gawain fell asleep almost immediately, but Llynya lay awake for a long time watching the guttering fire. By morning the flames would have died down, but that did not mean that the embers could not be rekindled. Things had changed beyond recognition in the past few days, and if her luck held true to form then she would most likely end up as food for the legendary beast before long, she thought ruefully. Twisting around she tugged the blanket over the blond knight's shoulders, running her fingers over the scars that marred the soft skin and resting her hand against his broad chest. The slow steady thump of his heartbeat thudded against her fingers, the soft blond hair tickling her palm. Smiling slightly, she studied his sleeping face and snuggled down against his shoulder, barely noticing when he pulled her closer.
A/N Sorry, short chapter - more soon. Fluffy fluffiness at the end there - couldn't resist! R&R pretty please (although if you've got this far then you've already read it…) Thanks for pointing out my mistakes Phia : )