Chapter 4: Excalibur
The lake grew lighter against the thick haze, a glimmer swimming towards Elena and Merlin. They waited patiently, as though they knew who was coming. All at once, the lake erupted as a fountain of water shot out into the water, and then came to rest once again. The Lady of the Lake, in her lighted beauty, had risen from the lake, clad in shimmering, white robes of the purest samite.
"Elena, Merlin, you have come." She said in her singsong voice.
"Lady, we have been waiting. Come, what of Excalibur?" Elena asked with irritation. The Lady of the Lake smiled broadly.
"You have quite the patience, Elena. But here, the sword of Excalibur is yours." She handed them the glinting weapon, tenderly handing it to them as the precious treasure that it was.
"Thank you Lady. I shall hand it to Arthur." Elena said.
"Good. For once it is in his hands, I can do nothing with it. When the time comes, Excalibur will be returned to the rightful owner."
"That shouldn't be soon. The Saxons are coming, and I prophesized a terrible and long war ahead of us." Merlin claimed. The three of them exchanged dark looks of dread.
"We shouldn't let this worry us yet. I must first find Arthur, and then we shall deal with it. He has no idea what is coming to him, what troubles he will see, what dangers he will encounter. Not yet at least." Elena sighed heavily. Merlin nodded in agreement.
"True. Take it to Arthur. Fight the Saxons. Gain the peace."
"Where will you be Merlin?" Elena asked.
"Near. Always near enough to see and hear you, Elena." Merlin's eyes twinkled in amusement. Then, with a slight pop, he disappeared.
Elena turned towards Nimue. "Thank you Lady. It will be returned when the time is right."
"Yes, of course. Fight for the peace we deserve. Remember, Elena, faith is supreme, of course. But love is even better." She disappeared too, into her watery, peaceful land, leaving Elena feeling somewhat puzzled.
She watched the lake for a few minutes before taking the sword; she headed in the direction of Camelot. Arthur gathered his knights together for a brief conference, still hidden in the thicket.
"Knights, we need to see to this lady for her quest in finding me and giving me Excalibur. I will need to hurry back to my castle before she arrives, so that I may make a dutiful entrance and erase any such suspicions that I have been traveling behind her. One of you, my knights, shall stir a distraction for her." He looked around his circle, his glance searching at each of his friends. Finally, his eyes rested on the greatest knight of the Roundtable, Lancelot.
Lancelot didn't wish to illustrate his impassioned enthusiasm, but he couldn't help but smile as Arthur's eyes landed on him. He nodded to show his approval and stood up. Tugging the reins of his horse, Lancelot made his way towards where he last saw Elena, into the forest.
Arthur nodded, "Yes, Lancelot will be of a good distraction."
"That is, if he can keep his hands off her first." Bors smirked. The other knights laughed as well, and Arthur couldn't help but keep a grin off his face. He wound his fingers around Guinevere and sighed.
"We should be going. I do not know how much time Lancelot can buy us, and the storm is heading in." Arthur suggested. The other knights rounded up their horses.
"Let us only hope that this prophecy we heard of is not one that will leave me in tears." Guinevere whispered to Arthur. He nodded gravely to his wife and stared straight ahead, riding into the mist.
Elena watched as Lancelot approached her. She knew who he was. Knew even before he had stepped into the forest. She stood, unmoving, as he approached, his dark hair brushing his forehead, his eyes studying her, his mouth curled. She stared back, keeping a straight face.
"Who are you?" Lancelot demanded, his hand going for his swords.
"You know better than to attack a woman, Sir Lancelot." Elena replied coolly. Lancelot dropped his hand to his side.
"It depends on who she is." Lancelot countered, ashamed. Elena was slightly impressed.
"I am Elena, daughter of King Mark and Elyzabeth." She lifted her head proudly, and the light captured her. Lancelot swaggered backwards.
"The Lady of Wales? The royal guardian?" He whispered.
She glided to his side and smiled. "Yes, if you must add a label."
Lancelot dropped his head. "I'm sorry, my lady, if I seemed harsh. I was being..."
"Careful. I know. You do not need to apologize Sir Lancelot. You have nothing to be sorry for." Elena gently replied.
Lancelot raised his head. "My lady, what are you doing here? This part of the woods is dangerous."
Elena smirked. "Danger is what we face each day in these lands. Danger is our life now."
"Yes, and those who find themselves in danger often get killed."
"Then, let me be murdered." Elena raised her chin. "I'd rather than be under the possible rule of the Saxons."
"As do I, my lady, but we must tread carefully. The Saxons are nearby, last I heard" Lancelot whispered urgently.
"I thought you were a knight?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, I am one of King Arthur's knights."
"Then, as a knight, shouldn't you be courageous?"
"It is not courage that tells the danger of staying here." Lancelot held out a hand to her, urging her to come.
"No, that would be intelligence. But none whatsoever, I do not wish to go." She pushed his hand away.
"My lady, I will not leave until you do. At least, you'll have me here to defend you."
"I can defend myself perfectly." Elena replied quietly.
"Against the Saxon army? I'm sorry, my lady, but even Arthur couldn't do that alone." Lancelot laughed.
"You're proud. An obvious trait of one of Arthur's knights. Proud, yet unforgiving." Elena studied.
"How should you know?" Lancelot tested.
"I know you. More than you think I do." Elena smiled and beckoned him to her side. Lancelot could hardly breathe, but he obeyed.
"What do we do?" Lancelot asked, sitting down beside her.
"We wait." Elena replied.
"For what?" Lancelot asked.
"For a miracle." Elena said in vain. Then she looked to Lancelot. "You love him, don't you?"
"Who?" Though he knew perfectly whom she was talking about.
"Arthur." Elena stated simply.
Lancelot turned away. "Yes, I do."
"How much?" Elena advanced closer, her voice soft and gentle.
"I would go to Hell and back to protect him. He is my best friend."
"Friendship is very limited in this world, Sir Lancelot. If a man does not make new acquaintances as he advances through life, he will found himself alone. A man should keep his friendships in constant repair."
"I shall always, for Arthur is one I could never forget."
"Of course not. None of us could forget."
"I shall never forget you either." Lancelot turned to her. Elena's eyes widened in mild surprise.
"And why not?"
"Because you're hard to forget. Close my eyes and there you are." Lancelot smiled a little.
"I exist here only to help those in peril. But there will always be someone to help you. Then you shall forget me."
"No, I couldn't. I could never forget you." Lancelot bent down and kissed her. Their lips locked, he found himself tracing his hand around her back, and found her hands around his neck, pressing herself closer to him. At first she was aware only of his mouth on her mouth, his hands sliding down her sides to grasp her waist and pull her more firmly against him, the sweet taste of him and the steady uninterrupted pounding of his heart.
Smiling, the knight pulled her closer so there was almost no light visible between them. Their hands interlinked, her face raised up to his, and the moonlight turning them to a study in contrasts.
The hesitation was lost, and all restraint vanished. Lancelot had never experienced something like this before. He had never loved like this before. He had released all his emotional states, everything he had locked inside him for years.
He had fallen completely, irrationally, in love without even meeting the object of his desire. He knew that on one level, he was one of the masters of the universe, yet on another level, he was a slave to love. He was tormented by love. And not just tormented by any such person, but yet by Elena, the product of the new religion; against revenge, which drove him, and ruled by compassion, and by her heart.
Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins and in this way only.
"Lancelot..." Elena broke apart slowly. Lancelot stared into her soothing, hazel eyes.
"Yes, my lady?"
"Please call me Elena." She smiled, and kissed him again. Lancelot murmured in agreement.
"As you wish."
They broke apart after a few minutes; reasonably infatuated with each other after the precious moments they spent in concert. Elena gazed up into Lancelot's brawny, boyish appearance. His upturned nose presently gave his face a cocky appearance, an impression easily reinforced by his smile. He was rather good-looking, she admitted, with dark hair that curled if allowed past the regulation short back and sides, almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones. He seemed to have a rather serious countenance, but the suppressed smile she had seen indicated that this was not his habitual expression. He left a deeply marked impression on her that she could not explain, nor that anyone else left on her before.
"I think I would miss you even if I would have never met you." Lancelot said.
"Lancelot, I have to get to Camelot. I have to see Arthur. I have to give him Excalibur." Elena replied mellifluously.
"Yes, let us go together. I must go to Camelot as well, and I was hoping that I'd go well before the storm." Lancelot answered.
"Of course. You don't want to get wet, do you?" Elena smiled.
"No, and I don't want you to get wet either." Lancelot grinned.
"Hmm...a selfless knight in shining armor. That has always been my dream, you know." She fingered his cheek tenderly. Lancelot placed his hands upon her arms and kissed her- a slow, sweet kiss- before he grabbed the reins of his horse and propped himself up. Elena climbed onto her own horse and rode beside him.
"My father told great tales of you, " she said as the eastern winds blew their way. "Of men so brave, so selfless, so heroic that they cannot be real. Arthur and his knights." Lancelot looked her for a reason behind her sudden outburst, but her face portrayed nothing but the serenity she represented.
"I have heard many tales of you as well, my lady." Lancelot replied, his eyes resting on her. Elena looked up, a lock of hair brushing against her temple in an unruffled manner. "Of a woman so noble, so gifted, so calm that she cannot be human."
She lifted her hazel eyes to greet his, startled. Lancelot could see behind her stunned expression that she was quite pleased with his admiring comment. He could read her like an opened book, for she did not keep her emotions completely to herself. She poured these feelings out to her companions, not because she wanted to, but because she needed to. Because when she did, those around her are able to trust her easily.
"You jest, Sir Lancelot." She said, a hint of amusement hidden in her voice. Lancelot almost laughed.
"My lady, I do not quip in such a manner. My word is truth, unless you have it otherwise." Lancelot knew this would tear down her barricade. She was testing him for his own trust in her. She trusted him fully, he could tell, from the moment she laid her eyes on him. But he knew that she believed he did not trust her entirely. And truth be told, he didn't.
"I put my utmost faith in you, Sir Lancelot." She said coolly and progressed towards the walls of Camelot. Lancelot followed shortly behind, pondering her words and her trust.