The quote "General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there--fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, old friends. If you look for it, I've got a feeling you'll find that love actually is all around." comes from Love Actually.
Chapter 8: Love Actually is all around
Back at the castle, the healers tended to Galahad's wound, although they claimed it wasn necessary, as Elena had done an excellent and professional job of bandaging his wounds. Arthur, pleased that Galahad would return to proper health by the next few days, hauled Guinevere back to their room. The other knights settled on going down to the pub, but Lancelot had something else in mind.
He pulled Elena aside while the rest of the knights clambered down the stone steps. "Care to join me at the archery court?"
She smiled and darted ahead, Lancelot following close behind. The archery court was empty, and they used this to their advantage. The practice targets were quite a distance away, but equipped with more than enough arrows and a bow, the two warriors easily aimed for their targets. Elena found that Lancelot was just as good at archery as he was with his two swords, not much to her surprise. His arrows came well within the center, but it was Elena's arrows that shot with incredible precision.
Lancelot raised his eyebrows as he watched Elena's arrow hurtle through the air and land with exactness. "Quite the skills, my lady."
She grinned and lowered her bow. "You as well, Sir."
Lancelot took her in his arms and kissed her, his lips warm and moist against hers. He murmured something in her ear, which she replied in a chuckle. She placed her hands on his face, demonstrating her strength, and getting carried away as she leaned in, not resisting his pull. Their movements boasted an upsurge of affection, while their targets and arrows were abandoned. He wanted her as close to him as possible.
"Hmm Lancelot, perhaps we should go to the pub. Everyone will be wondering where we are, and I'd hate for them to find us here like this."
"Wouldn't Bors be delighted if he found out?" He joked, gathering the arrows and stowing them back into their compartments. He laid the bows back on the table, and then drew Elena into his embrace. She kissed him feverishly once more and they proceeded down the stone steps. The pub sounded rowdy, and the smell of ale was apparent, along with the occasional shouts of triumph or defeat. "Sounds like they are wagering again." Lancelot groaned. Elena only laughed and broke apart from his grasp as they entered.
Gawain was the first to spot the two. He motioned them to join him and Tristan at the bar. "Lancelot! Elena!" He raised his cup, spilling drops of ale on his shirt. "Come on, there plenty to drink!"
Lancelot denied his friend's invitation, but Elena grinned mischievously, her eyes twinkling. "I'll try some." She replied, accepting a tall glass of ale. She raised her cup, toasted Gawain and Tristan, and then held it to her lips, eyes closed. She drowned the glass in one gulp, banged the glass on the counter, and exhaled a long breath. The men stared at him in admiration, and applauded loudly. Lancelot smiled.
"Where'd you learn to drink like that?"
Elena smiled as she followed her drink with some water. "The boys in my village used to drink every Friday night. I'd join them too rarely, but when I did, they'd challenge me to a drink. I know they do so to show how tough they are compared to women, but I'd always prove them wrong in one drink. I haven't drunk for years now, but it was quite amusing watching everyone's expressions."
"How about you sing to us, my lady?" Gawain interjected. Lancelot raised his eyebrows at the suggestion. He didn't know whether or not Elena could sing, or whether she wanted to or not. Just as he was about to reproach Gawain about it, Elena began to sing a sweet, harmonious melody. Her voice came out clear and musical, very easy on the ear as everyone in the pub turned their attention to her. It was an old tune that was hardly sung anymore, but was very popular when it was. When she finished her song, the pub erupted. Elena was given a standing ovation.
"That was very mellow, my lady." Tristan smiled.
"Yes, quite so." Lancelot winked at her. Elena only smiled back.
"Is there anything you can't do?" Gawain stared in high regard.
"I don't think so. She can do anything." Tristan replied.
Elena laughed, "Oh, I doubt it. I am not perfect."
Lancelot shook his head, "No, you are absolutely flawless, like something out of a fairy tale." She reddened, and gave him a kiss on the cheek, so quickly that no one could distinguish it. Subsequently, she sat down in the empty chair besides Gawain, with Lancelot hovering over.
"So, Gawain, I have heard that you tell amazing stories. I'd like to hear one, if it is not too much trouble."
"Not at all, my lady. I'd be happy to." Gawain replied, and launched himself into a high-tale adventure about one of the battles he partook, exaggerating a few bloody settings and the overall context of the story. However, Elena was fascinated with the quest, and she listened eagerly. When he finished, Elena was the first to burst into applause. At this, Lancelot noticed something entirely different about her that he had not seen yet. She had faultless character. She was one of those rare people who grew through experience if they met life honestly and courageously.
Bors came over at one point with one of his children and a glass of ale. He presented Gilly to Elena, and the two of them immediately became close. Bors laughed as he watched Elena teach Gilly a sword move. Then, he looked at his fellow three knights-- "Entertaining the lady?"
"We sure are." Gawain laughed. Tristan and Lancelot followed suit, and soon Bors joined the cluster of friends for more ale and stories.
The Sarmatian knight grew somewhat wearyas the night wore on and he found himself constantly falling into sleep. Elena gently tapped his shoulder, waking him up from his short-lived nap.
"Lancelot, should we go? You are very tired."
"Hmm" was all the knight could reply as he shuffled his way out of the pub. They made slow progress, as Lancelot was exhausted and could not find his feet to move, but Elena didn't mind. In fact, she rather enjoyed being in Lancelot's company.
"Your friends are quite entertaining." Elena said as they turned from the archery court.
"Are they? Ha! They were trying to impress you, or in my case, fancying you in hopes of a romantic night." Elena could hear the dripping sarcasm in his voice, and the skepticism he presented of his friends. She frowned slightly in the darkness.
"Do you not trust them?" Her suspicions were about to be proven.
"Not with situations like this," he replied, "they are impish when it comes to this. I know they recognize my affection for you, but they want nothing more than to rob me of it."
"What about me? Do you think that I will have them do such a thing?" Though she felt frustrated, her voice was still very calm.
Lancelot hesitated. "Now, don't go flying off the handle, but you are a woman and women tend to get fed up with one man for awhile, and when something new comes along, they usually hold onto it."
Elena stopped walking and glared at him. "So, you are saying you do not trust me yet."
"I do not trust the man who finds everything good, the man who finds everything evil and still more the man who is indifferent to everything. Trust is an inadequate measure of understanding someone, and there are only some who truly deserve my trust." Lancelot shrugged.
"You do not trust me then Lancelot?"
"Forgive me, my lady, but we have only known each other for a few days. It seems unreasonable to trust someone I barely know."
"I think it isn't because you do not trust me, but because you do not trust yourself. A man who doesn't trust himself can never truly trust anyone else." She explained.
"I do trust myself!" he retorted. "I simply do not trust those not of worth." His tone was annoyed, and he didn't understand why she was getting frustrated about.
"And I am not of worth to be trusted? Lancelot, you saw me out on the battlefield. I tended to your friend, who I barely know, but I helped him because he was injured and he is your friend. And you let me join Arthur's ranks and talk with him, your best friend. How could you let me unless you trusted me?"
"I knew you would be a great asset to the defenses. I have heard of your legendary archery and the way you handle a sword. Everyone knows of this. Besides, Arthur was our commander. He could protect himself."
"You really did not trust me, did you? After all this, I thought you would have. Let me tell you this much, Lancelot. It is impossible to go through life without trust. That is to be imprisoned in the worst cell of all, oneself. If you would simply open your eyes and trust your friends and me, they will be true to you. If you treat them greatly, they will show themselves great."
"If I had to trust anyone, it would only be myself because then no one could betray or hurt me!" He blurted out. Elena felt her shoulders sag with empathy. She lingered her hand on his cheek.
"Do not think for a moment that I would possibly dare to betray or hurt you. I could never do that to anyone I love." There, she had said it. She had proclaimed her unselfish love for him.
Lancelot had realized this as well. "You love me?"
Elena sighed heavily, her hand dropping back to her side. "Yes."
"How could you love me in such a short time? It takes a great deal of patience, time, and understanding to actually come to love a person."
"Perhaps in your way, it does. Or maybe it is because I love myself. Love yourself first and everything else falls into line. You have to love yourself to get anything done in this world, and to fall in love with someone else. It just happens this way."
"How it is that you can love so easily in this world of hatred and greed?" Lancelot asked after a long pause.
Elena didn't know what to say. How could she word something like this, everything that defined her, to a man she had just confessed her love to? "General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there--fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, old friends. If you look for it, I've got a feeling you'll find that love actually is all around." She edged away from the Sarmatian, her gown fluttering like lapping waves upon the sand. She walked away from him.
Lancelot didn't know what to do. He couldn't move, nor could he think, and found himself rooted to the grass, staring after Elena. His mind replayed the last few days, since he met her, and he realized how off beam he had been. It wasn't true. He did trust her, more than he took for granted. He raced across the field just as she was about to cross into the castle. He leaped in front of her, grabbed her shoulders and kissed her.
Wounding his hand down her back, he noted her intuitive take over her astonishment and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Their intimacy brought them to a more comfortable, undisturbed setting. Lancelot broke off his kiss for a mere second, looked into her eyes and stated frankly-- "I love you too." It was the moment of their lives, caught up in the reality of life and love. Elena's eyes gleamed as brightly as the stars in the Heavens. She placed both hands on Lancelot's face and kissed him again, more passionately, more feverishly, more lovingly.
"I love you," he repeated as they broke apart. "I love you."
"As do I." She said, taking his hand in hers. "More than I should."
Lancelot leaned forward and kissed her temple, smirking. "Oh, already regretting me?"
Elena pulled him closer, standing on tiptoe so they were of even height. Her eyes locked with his, his curls tingling on her forehead, and her pink mouth relentlessly tracing his own. "No, I couldn't. Not you. Never you, Lancelot."
A look of seriousness traced her face. The Sarmatian knight knew of nothing to say, so he kissed her once more. Her neck arched, her head falling back so that she stared wonderingly at the stars of the night, as his mouth moved down the pale column of her neck, her hands tangled restlessly in his unruly mop of hair. He took a breath and seemed about to speak; she dragged his lips back to hers, cutting off his words. She angled her head towards him, both of them bound up by a strange urgency that made her pull him closer, small sounds escaping her throat, and made him kiss her harder so she could scarcely breathe. Their positions shifted as Lancelot bent quickly, slipped his arm behind her knees and picked her up. She turned her head without breaking the kiss, holding onto him with one arm around his shoulders, as he carried her to the castle.
"Lancelot...Lancelot" The only sentence she mumbled all the way to her room. He lowered her on the bed and kissed her intensely, to his own willpower and strength. He disrobed her swiftly, running his hands through her soft hair, while she unbuckled his shoulder plates and his outer armor. Partly dressed, the two continued their fanatical nature...
"Oh dear God!" A voice called out. Both of them stopped. They knew that voice very well. It was familiarly etched into their brains, a voice that couldn't be forgotten- Arthur's voice.
Lancelot lifted his head and pulled the curtain so that he could see his friend's face clearly. Arthur looked absolutely shocked. His eyes widened, and his mouth hung open in distraction. The Sarmatian knew his friend was searching for an answer to this untimely matter, but finding nothing, was baffled by their midnight rendezvous. Nevertheless, as Lancelot continued to watch his friend's stunned look, he couldn't help but spot a hint of amusement. Frowning, the Sarmatian stood up.
"Arthur, I can explain the situation." Lancelot stated. The King folded his arms, and leaned against the doorframe, waiting for him to begin the explanation. "As you can see, Elena and I have performed a convoluted situation here. But it is not for our entertainment, Arthur, it is only because," and here, he turned to Elena and smiled, "we have fallen inadvertently into love."
The Roman didn't change facial expressions, but his features did seem to soften. He bowed his head for a moment, musing. Lancelot and Elena traded uneasy glances. Finally, Arthur lifted his head-- "And?"
Lancelot was thrown off-track. This was the last response he expected to come out of Arthur's mouth. He had predicted even the worst possible outcomes, but this was the furthest from his mind.
"What do you mean 'and'?" Elena echoed.
"I mean--- are we hearing wedding bells? Any momentous occasions we should look forward to?" His green eyes were twinkling.
Elena and Lancelot traded bewildered looks. Wedding bells? "Well, Arthur, I don't suppose we are looking forward to them any moment soon," Lancelot caught Elena's eye, reaching for her hand and squeezing it, "but we will not disappoint you too soon. I will not guarantee you anything, Arthur. However, if things move accordingly, who knows?" He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Elena exchanged a matching one in return. Arthur, on the other hand, was not only smiling. He was practically jumping up and down like a five-year-old boy, as though he had just received news that Christmas had come earlier by five months. It was not a gesture Lancelot had seen before, nor had he ever seen Arthur act in this manner either.
He raced over to them, embraced them both heartily, and ran out of the room. Caught in this heated rush, both Elena and Lancelot quickly picked up their discarded garments and dressed, then they raced out the door after Arthur.
"Where do you think he's headed off to?" Elena asked, looking from right to left down the corridor.
"Most likely Guinevere. He tells her everything first." Lancelot pointed to their right. Just as they were about to head off in the direction, Elena pulled Lancelot closer to her and smiled playfully.
"You really hear those wedding bells?" She asked coyly.
Lancelot brushed his lips against hers and whispered, "They are ringing louder than ever, my lady. And yours?"
"Clear as Gawain's wineglass." She laughed. Lancelot grinned, intertwined his hands with hers, and took off running. Narrowing a corner, Guinevere burst out in front of them.
"Lancelot! Elena! Arthur has told me of your rather adventurous and romantic rendezvous which he mistakenly dropped in on," Guinevere dropped a hint of a smile. "And for that, I must apologize."
"We are sorry too that he had to see it." Lancelot laughed as Arthur came round, joining the three of them. Guinevere instinctively reached out for his hand, and the King and Queen beamed at their blushing friends.
"Well, now, shall we inform the others?" Arthur suggested.
"Arthur!" Elena and Lancelot exclaimed at the same time.
"Alright then, it'll be our little secret." He replied, still laughing, and walked towards his rooms. Guinevere followed, shaking her head, but amused. Elena and Lancelot glanced at each other for a brief second before the Sarmatian bent down to kiss her.
"Lancelot, tell me this. When it is over, will you return to Sarmatia?"
The knight gave her a baffled look. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. When the war is finally over, will you return to Sarmatia? Will you?"
He did not know what to make of her question, nor did he know how to reply. He had promised them fifteen years ago that he would return home as soon as the war was over and his papers were filed. But now, the brave knight didn know what to do. He wanted to go, but didn't wish to leave either. Home was spilt into two directions, Sarmatia and Camelot. Two completely different places, but with one similar aspect, there was someone to love him in both of these two homes.
Lancelot fingered the amulet his sister gave him and sighed heavily. Elena was waiting patiently for the knight's answer, which she herself was debating over with. She understood his hesitation to answer, his unwillingness to leave Camelot but his desire to return home. It was very obvious. Lancelot was torn between two worlds.
"My dear knight, you are spilt into two decisions. To stay would be with your oldest and dearest friend, your knights, and your life for the past fifteen years. To leave would be going back to the people who loved you first and foremost. It is a tough decision, I know, and you do not need to answer me straightaway. I am sorry if I have touched a sensitive subject."
The Sarmatian sighed with deep satisfaction. He fingered through Elena's locks, letting them run through his fingers like silk sheets. "You are right, Elena. This is something I have pondered for many months. Whether to stay or leave could change my life forever. Both have their thrill and also their sorrows."
"I understand, Lancelot. But for now, you are staying. Why?"
"Arthur needs me to fight his war, and I will. You and I are not alike in this outlook, Elena. We do not have the same purpose to stay. I stay for Arthur. You stay for something that will never come." Lancelot explained.
"Some people would call that freedom. That is what we fight for. Our land, our people, the right to choose our destiny. Yet, you yourself know freedom comes with a heavy price. So you see, Lancelot, you and I are much alike." Hazel flickered through the torchlight.
"Sometimes even I wonder what I'm still doing here. What I have been fighting for is not my reason. Galahad once said to me, 'One is left with the horrible feeling after fifteen years in this service now that war settles nothing; that to win a war is as disastrous as losing one.' I never put much thought into his words, after all, we fight because we have to, and after winning, and it always feels glorious. But now that I think about it, Galahad is right. Winning or losing a war is the same. There is nothing to it that is glorious about war, whether we win it or not."
Elena nodded perceptively and laid her head on her knight's shoulder. An incredible sense of warmth and security engulfed her. A sudden thought possessed her mind. "Tell me, Lancelot. If we are married, will you dance with me? I find dancing very agreeable. Why can you not say what is in your head?"
"Why can you not stop saying what is in yours? Why must you lead, when I want to lead? If I want to dance I will ask you to dance. If I want to speak I open my mouth and speak. Everyone is forever plaguing me to speak further. Why? What good is it to tell you are in my every thought from the time I wake? What good can come from my saying that I sometimes cannot think clearly or do my work properly? What gain can rise of my telling you the only time I feel fear as others do is when I think of you in harm? That is why I am in this corridor-- I fear for your safety before all others. And yes, I will dance with you on our wedding night."
She smiled. Whispering a simple "thank you", she floated down the passage and back into her room. The candle shone unsteadily as she unclothed her robes. Just as she envisaged, Lancelot approached the room after awhile. He watched her as the silky contents were removed from her body very slowly, and then he could see her bare back. She stopped for a second, knowing he was behind her, and waiting for him. The knight drew near, lining her throat with kisses. Elena moaned in small gasps of air.
"I love you." He whispered, three single words that captured her.
"I love you too." She replied, linking her arms around his neck. "Lancelot, wherever you go, promise me you will take me with you."
"I will. I never want you out of my sight." Lancelot pledged. "Let us get some rest tonight. It has been a long and eventful day."