Another slightly boring chapter, but soon Jenny is going to find her life has changed - drastically. Okay, please review because if I don't get reviews, I don't write!

That said, happy holdiays!

'Ouch!'

Ebony snorted as if enjoying the show. I glared at her, nursing my bitten fingers. I sighed and bent down to pick up her hoof. She danced sideways, as much as the rope allowed.

I rolled my eyes and sighed again in irritation. I stepped up to her shoulder and ran my hand down her leg. She lifted her hoof up, then slammed it down again – on my foot.

I bit back a yell of anger and pain, glaring silently at the mare who I loved but sometimes drove me insane. She looked as if she were more interested in the grass nearby than me. I breathed deeply, trying to dispel the anger that was building inside me.

'Good girl,' I said softly, my tone soothing.

I tried to pick up her hoof again, but she swung her hindquarters around – knocking into me and almost pushing me over. I snapped.

'For the love of God, will you stand still!' Ebony flicked her ears curiously at me. 'For once in your life, horse, will you please stop moving around!'

Ebony yawned and looked away. I sighed and threw the hoof pick into a box. I undid her lead rope, grabbed the lunging rein and whip and headed outside. Ebony walked docilely beside me.

I couldn't help but think longingly of flying through the air as a hawk. Tristan never had trouble with his horse.

'Only a year to go, girl,' Tristan said to me a week later.

I chirped and flicked my wings. We were once again in the tavern. The knights seem to spend more time drinking than they do fighting.

I watched as Lancelot yet again pulled a girl onto his lap. Gawain and Galahad were having a drinking competition, which Gawain seemed to be winning. Bors was holding his newest child while Vanora served ale and wine to the customers.

Tristan walked forward, out of the shadows and sat down beside Gawain as Galahad choked on his ale.

'Ha ha!' Gawain laughed drunkenly. 'That's a gold piece to me!'

Galahad groaned and flicked the coin to his friend. Tristan looked over at Lancelot who was sitting opposite him. The girl he was holding got up to get him another drink, and the attractive knight stretched his arms out with a grin.

'Still moping, Tristan?' he asked with a teasing grin. 'You should move on, you know.'

Tristan said nothing, but met Lancelot's eyes calmly. He continued to stroke the feathers on my back.

Lancelot was attractive, you have to give him that. He had dark curly hair that flopped over his forehead and dark eyes that were wicked and never stayed still. His little smirk, as irritating as it was, was something that few girls could resist.

'I mean, the bird must be a good companion – after all, it's a girl, isn't it?' He grinned, raising an eyebrow. 'But you should get out more, meet a few more girls. There's plenty of fish in the sea.'

I felt Tristan tense beneath the leather glove her wore. I hissed at Lancelot, opening my beak wide and spreading my wings in a threat. He laughed.

'Your bird wants to protect you, Tristan!' he laughed, then looked at me more closely. 'She seems to understand everything we say. What's her name?'

'She doesn't have one.'

Tristan's accented voice was low as he replied. Lancelot looked surprised.

'Why not?' he asked. 'She's a beautiful bird.'

Tristan shrugged. 'She has no name because she's free. Naming her would tame her, something I'll never do.'

Lancelot shrugged. As the girl came back with a jug of ale, he pulled her down onto his lap – spilling a little of the drink as he did so. Tristan sighed and stood, striding into the shadows once again.

I wanted to comfort him – but I couldn't speak, and even if I could there wasn't much I could say. I knew that he was still hurting from Wenda's betrayal. It irritated me that there was nothing I could do to cheer him up.

Tristan made his way to Hadrian's Wall and climbed the stairs to the walkway. He leant on the cold stone as rain fell, peppering my feathers with beads of water that gleamed in the moonlight.

He looked out over the deceptively calm and peaceful forest that was visible as a line of darkness on the horizon. Inside those forests, many clans of Woads lived – people that he fought and killed regularly.

'If only, girl,' Tristan whispered, patting me gently. 'If she hadn't done that… perhaps it was something I did…'

I knew that he was talking about Wenda – again. He never seemed to stop thinking about her. She had destroyed part of him, and for that I wanted to kill her – but she was killed by the Woads.

I bit Tristan's thumb. He didn't make a sound, but he jerked his hand back and looked at me with surprise written across his face. I clicked my beak angrily and flapped my wings hard, trying to tell him that it was not his fault that Wenda had been unfaithful. He sighed then, and smiled slightly.

'Alright, I get the point.'

I chirped happily and settled down again on his arm. He gave that half-smile again and rested his hand on my back. It was warm and heavy and he almost pushed me off his arm – not that he had meant to.

'I thank the Gods everyday I found you,' he said softly.

I reached up and ran my beak through his hair, trying to tell him how I felt. He smiled at me then, and it was his true smile that lit up his face. I would have smiled back, but as a bird it was kind of hard to do.

With the knowledge that I had helped Tristan, I woke up smiling in the morning.

Three nights later the knights were set another mission. It was met with loud grumbling from the men, who didn't like the idea of going beyond Hadrian's Wall.

'To the north, all we'll find is Woads,' Gawain said, slightly drunk.

Galahad, who was sober, agreed with a nod. Lancelot said nothing, but the look on his face was not cheerful. As always, Tristan hid his thoughts, but I was learning to read him.

I was starting to become familiar with Tristan, and I could now read his body language and the way his dark eyes flickered. He wasn't looking forward to this, but he knew that he had to go. There was no other way.

'Knights, our freedom is so close now,' Arthur said desperately, leaning forward on the table. 'So close-'

'Yes,' Lancelot broke his silence. 'So close. How many of us will fall short of our goal? How many of us will die, so close to freedom that we can almost taste it?'

I cringed slightly at his scathing tone. Lancelot was a womaniser, he could be funny, but underneath all that he was desperately unhappy in his life. Arthur looked like he was struggling to contain his temper.

'I know it, Lancelot!' he roared, unable to stop himself. 'Do you know how many nights I've lain awake, thinking of all those men I've lead to their deaths? It haunts me, Lancelot, and-'

'Then go pray,' Lancelot yelled back, standing up. 'Go pray to that bloody God of yours! Isn't that what you're supposed to do?'

The other knights watched, slightly sunned. They'd never seen Arthur and Lancelot fight like this before. Disagree, yes – but not this sort of burning rage. They waited in silence to see what would happen.

'Lancelot, I too am bound to Rome!' Arthur shouted. 'I too may die on this mission, and on the ones to come!'

Lancelot looked like his deepest desire was to run his sword through Arthur's throat.

'You are not enslaved!' he roared, his dark eyes so hot with anger that they seemed to scorch the air between himself and Arthur. 'You chose to become our commander! We are here until we die, Arthur! Or until our release from the tyrants, whichever comes first!'

Arthur looked angrier than I had ever seen him. I think that his anger was partly at himself – he knew that what Lancelot said was true. But that didn't mean he was about to back down.

'Lancelot, as your commander I order you to shut up and sit down!' Arthur bellowed.

He couldn't have chosen a worse thing to have said. The room went deathly still and silent. I could hear the beating of Tristan's heart from my perch on the empty chair beside him. Lancelot's face went white with fury.

'So that's it, is it Arthur?' he whispered. It was so quiet that everyone could hear me. 'You say that you understand, that you feel for us, that you're angry at Rome for their treatment of us. But underneath, you're still Roman. You can hide it all you like, Arthur, but you're a Roman, and always will be.'

Lancelot knew that it would hurt Arthur. But he didn't care. He kicked his chair away and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

The room was still and tense. Galahad started to rise from his chair to go after Lancelot, but Gawain restrained him with a hand on his friend's arm. Dagonet cleared his throat and shifted slightly. I could hardly stand the complete lack of noise. I shifted uneasily, and Tristan put out a hand to calm me.

'Knights,' Arthur's voice was low and rough. 'Go. Pack, and be ready by first light tomorrow.'

He turned and left by the door that led to his room – the one opposite to the one Lancelot had taken. The knights remained sitting where they were until Dagonet rose up.

'I suggest we do as he says,' he said in his calm, quiet voice.

He left, and the others followed one by one. Tristan was the last to leave. He held his arm out, and I stepped onto his gloved wrist.

Instead of going to his room, he went down the path that led to the tavern. He halted in the shadows, looking around. He obviously didn't find what he was looking for, and turned to me.

'Find Lancelot,' he whispered. 'Find him for me, girl.'

I spread my wings and took off as he lifted his arm, helping me into the air. I quickly gained altitude, and hovered above the fort. The bright light of the tavern was far below, but I could see very clearly with my hawk sight.

I searched for movement, and found it. I swooped low, only to find an old woman moving down an ally. I returned to the cool air above the fort, watching and waiting.

At last I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned and dived, gliding soundlessly through the air above the man's head. It was Lancelot – it's impossible to mistake him, really – no other man is as good looking as him – unless, of course, it's Tristan.

Lancelot didn't look up and he stamped along the grass at the base of Hadrian's Wall. I had seen enough, and I rose into the air to return to my master.

Tristan gave a slight smile when he saw me. He held out his arm, and I landed. I folded my wings in gracefully as he gave me a piece of meat. I chirped loudly when I had finished and he gave another smile.

'Lead me,' he murmured.

He lifted me into the air, and I flew low as I guided him through the fort. Tristan's eyes, almost as keen as my own, soon found the far distant figure of Lancelot. He broke into a run, soundlessly moving through the dark.

I increased my speed slightly to keep up with Tristan. Even running he was almost soundless, and Lancelot, who was still muttering and swearing to himself, didn't hear him.

'Alone, I see?' Tristan's voice startled Lancelot so badly that he jumped a foot in the air as he spun around. 'No bar wench tonight?'

Lancelot swore and put a hand over his chest.

'Shit Tristan, my heart almost stopped then,' he gasped, glaring.

Tristan's eyes gleamed with amusement. He said nothing, simply stood as Lancelot regained his breath. I perched on Hadrian's Wall, watching and listening.

'What are you doing here?' Lancelot said eventually. He sounded more tired than angry.

'Following you, of course,' Tristan said in his thickly accented voice. 'Making sure you don't do anything stupid.'

'As if I would,' Lancelot sneered.

Tristan raised one eyebrow, and Lancelot realised his mistake. He shrugged, giving a sigh that was half a laugh.

'Okay, so I would,' he said tiredly.

Lancelot leant against Hadrian's Wall with a sigh. His darker side was coming out in force tonight – there was no sparkle of humour, no little smirk on his face now.

'Arthur knows when he's made a mistake,' Tristan said quietly. 'He'll forgive you, Lancelot, if you will forgive him.'

'So Arthur sent you?' Lancelot asked aggressively.

Tristan met Lancelot's eyes. For a moment the two were locked, eye to eye, then Lancelot sighed and looked away.

'Alright, alright,' he muttered. 'I'll talk to Arthur in the morning.'

Tristan didn't say anything, just looked. Lancelot rolled his eyes.

'Okay, I'll talk to him now then!' Lancelot said exasperatedly. 'Where's that pigeon of yours, anyway?'

Tristan raised an eyebrow. I took offence to being called a pigeon as I silently took off. I dived down, and flew over the top of Lancelot's head – so close that my talons caught in the black curls. I screeched loudly, and he jumped in fright.

'Pigeon, is it?' Tristan asked evenly, holding out his arm.

I landed but didn't fold my wings in as I hissed at the other man. Lancelot swore, then laughed.

'That bird really seems more human than animal,' Lancelot said, rubbing his head where his hair had been torn out by my claws.

I laughed inside. Lancelot didn't know how true that statement was. But everything was about to change.