This was one of my favorite chapters so far, and I hope you all enjoy it as well!

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Chapter 12

Midnight Comfort

Night quickly approached, and as the rains receded, pitch black darkness engulfed the band of weary riders as they made their way back to the West. Upon Arthur's command, the Sarmatian Knights rode alert and ready all through the night. Galahad and Lamorak carefully guarded the carriage from the rear, Dagonet and Bors from the front, Kay and Tristan from the left and right sides, while Lancelot and Gawain rode with Arthur who lead them all. Moonlight filter down upon the road, through the passing clouds, giving the knights just enough illumination to guide the carriage safely down the road. All wanted there to be no chance at all on another woad attempt to take the lady that remained in the carriage walls.

Bors had been quietly thinking about the past two days. "I don't think I have ever seen a woman move that fast. Those blue demons never had a chance. One moment their standing, than the next they're flat on their backs."

"Lady Elaine has surprised us all," Dagonet said, looking about the left side to nod at Kay.

"Yeah, but she did it with a knife. A knife!"

Dagonet chuckled softly at Bors exclamation. Clearly, his friend still had a lot of shock left in him from the sight of seeing a fair maiden take down two fierce savages in a matter of seconds.

"Humph, sort of reminds me of Van," Bors though out loud.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, both are absolutely mad for one thing," Bors said rather loudly, bursting into a hard guffaw, before he turned more sincere, "And both a brave, fiery women, who deserve the world and more."

Dagonet smiled at his friends kind words. "It seems the lady has captured the heart of another Knight."

"Oh, but she has the poor little Lamorak, WRAPPED AROUND HER TINY LITTLE FINGER!" Bors said the last bit louder so that the younger knights would hear him.

Lamorak's head popped out from behind the carriage, "Bors, one more word and Vanora will have lost the father to her bastards. Not that she'd have to grief to long, for I'm sure Lancelot would be kind enough to give her comfort."

Lancelot turned back, "Like I have so many, many times before."

The group erupted in laughter, while Bors's face went hard. "Bastards," he mumbled.

Although she had heard the men's voices throughout the night, Elaine didn't bother to listen. She couldn't even lift her head that had laid buried in the same silk pillow as it had when she had hurried into the wagon. Dried up streaks that ran down her cheeks, made her face feel dirty, and the pillow, completely damp by those fallen tears, caused a further irritation to her skin. Her palms ached, and Elaine looked down, realizing that she had been tightly clutching her mother's pendant. An imprint of the stone in her right hand throbbed when she practically peeled the necklace from her skin. But she couldn't feel the pain, for she was still numb from Arthur's reaction.

'Why did I do such a brainless thing?" she silently thought to herself. 'Now I have lost him. How could he trust me ever again?'

New tears threatened to spill from her red, swollen lids, and though she tried hard with the small remaining strength she still had, they did come forth. Burrowing deeply between her furs, Elaine sobbed loudly, knowing that they could only be heard through the muffle of the skins if someone listened carefully. 'God, help me. Please, show Arthur my love for him, show him my regret, and I will do anything that you ask of me. And if you decided, that mercy shall not be bestowed down upon me, I pray that you forgive Arthur, for he truly has every right not to forgive me. Oh lord in heaven, bless him.'

"SQUAK!"

Elaine gasped as she yanked her head up from the sheets, to see that a creature had flapped into the entrance at the right of the carriage. Pulling a dagger from atop a wooden crate beside her, Elaine prepared from any attack the creature might commit. A tiny head popped up from the sheets, darted right and left, before it hopped in closer to the lady. It was a hawk, a beautiful hawk.

Placing the dagger down, Elaine stared in shock that such a majestic creature would just hobble into her carriage. The hawk squawked quieter than before, coming closer to the woman, as if it was waiting for her to accept something from him.

"Where did you come from?" Elaine whispered in a sweet soothing voice. She reached forward carefully. The bird froze, unsure of the woman's intentions at first, but miraculously, it hopped forward after a moment of staring her down, and moved into her soft touch. Elaine laughed gently in surprise.

"What a beautiful creature you are."

Elaine stroked the birds feathers, giggling when the hawk squawked in what sounded like pleasure. Than, as if it remember its purpose there in the carriage, the bird moved swiftly away from Elaine's warm touch, and jumped up to the crate that held the dagger from before. Elaine smiled, until she noticed that the hawk held something tightly in it's claw. Before she could look closer, she was startled when the bird squawked again, dropping the object in her lap, than soaring out of the carriage entrance in a flash. Elaine looked at the now closed flaps of the entrance in absolute wonderment. Had that just happened? Remembering the object, Elaine shook her head than looked down at her lap. There against her crisp white chemise, lay a radiant, deep red rose. Elaine gasped. Such a flower was not any easy find. One had to go deep into the forests, in the hopes that maybe they would come by a briar. This rose was exceptionally perfect.

"I receive a rose," Elaine wonder out loud, holding the stem in her hand, "from a hawk, who flew into my carriage, in the middle of the night? I am going mad.

It was than that Elaine noticed that the thorns that should have run up and down the dark green stem of the rose, where not there. Someone, or something had removed each individual thorn, carefully before the hawk arrived.

Silently laying back down upon her furs, Elaine brought the rose up to her face. As she drifted of to sleep, images of the hawk and the rose swirled in her mind. The lady received the comfort she needed that night not from her brother's forgiving embrace, not from God's good grace, but from the red rose that she clutched to her all night long.