Sorry it tooks so long, I've been really busy with school and scheduling classes for next semester and what not. I have a German test on Monday and I don't think I'm gonna get a 99 like last time...no definately not...uh oh! Well, I am half asleep and I still have to do my homework for my morning classes sothis chapterisn't proof read. Sorry, I am just too beat, I hope the thing even makes sense to you guys. By the way, a big thanks to Artemis, who let me know that I accidentally wrote that I 'ate' Lancelot, instead of 'hate'. Thanks again for that. Also, my boyfriend just so happened to be doing a historiography (a really annoying kind of paper) and the requirements were that it had to be something Roman, but since he is 90 british and loves anything brittan, especially from 1400-1600, he did it on the Rominazation of Brittan, so I got some kind of interesting info that I tried to incorporate in the story. And yes, the part about what Woad is true, I just had to put that in! Also, I learned the part about the languages in my German class, so big ups to Dr. Keiser for actually teaching me something! Well, I'm gonna go slam my head in a door until I either pass out or feel like reading anotherwonderful book of the Aeneid...somebody kill me...and then hopefully get some sleep, a word that I'm not too familiar with these days...perhaps its cause I never get off of my stinkin computer...

Yea, I own King Arthur...the movie that is...Owning Tristan would be nice though, maybe then the girls on my dorm floor would shut up and stop waking me up inthe middle of the night drunk out of their minds. Look, I'm not trying to go parental on anyone, but when you get to college, don't drink...you might have someone like me in your dorm and I WILL track you down! (Would you girls shut up already!) I hate college!

Time May Change

That night at the tavern I could feel Lancelot's eyes on me. I inwardly grinned with the satisfaction of knowing they were eyes of loathing…but still wanting, which kind of pissed me off. I, however, won't let it bother me, not when I have an opportunity to get drunk out of my mind.

I bite my lip in frustration as I reach the bar; I don't have any money. I turn to walk away when I hear someone close by slap money down on the counter and say "two Vanora." I look up and Tristan nods to me. "Anyone, even a girl, who can handle Lancelot's horse that well deserves a drink."

"I thought I felt your eyes watching me from the forest. So why'd you ask if I rode him when we were in the barn?" I walk over to a secluded table and sit down with him.

"Just seeing if you liked him." he raises his eyes. They are expressionless as they always are, but I know he's asking me silently if I did like his horse. I look back at him and tell him yes, I did like his horse. Then I knock back the mug.

I screw my face in distaste at discovering that it wasn't ale as I had expected but wine. That's

Right; they didn't drink much beer, sorry, ale back then. I look inside my mug; half full. Well, then that's half a glass to learn to love wine, right?

A few good laughs and a couple of mugs later and me and Tristan were pretty happy people. We weren't really saying much, just drinking and watching the other people milling around, commenting on who was doing what and how drunk Bors was. I hadn't met Bors before. Apparently he's the man behind number eight and all the other little brats. After all the knights were pointed out I asked Tristan where they were all from. Although he wasn't sure exactly, he told me they were all from Sarmatia. That really sucked but I shrugged it off and said whatever. Tristan seemed grow darker after that, if that's possible.

"Perhaps it's easy for you to not think twice but we are far from anything that has ever been home. Instead, Brittan is what we have to call ours, and Brittan is the bloody Romans. We may all day tomorrow not knowing what home is."

I look up surprised; this is the deepest thing I've heard him say. "Trust me; I know what its like to be far from home." I never really understood home, never cared to either, but being thousands of miles away in a place centuries before I should be in existence has made me appreciate it a lot more.

"What would you know about this, were are you from?"

Even drunk I know better than to say something stupid. "Home, home was ever special but it's so distant, it seems over a thousand years away." Not a lie, that's for sure. "I don't know if I'll ever see it again, and I'm not sure I want to, I just want to establish something as my own, maybe be somebody, instead of a thing like I'm used to….sorry, I'm not, I'm usually not this…" I peer down in my empty mug; never have I been this open…I should really stop drinking wine.

"You appear to be even drunker than me." Tristan mumbles. Standing he summons Vanora over. "Give us two more." He smiles and sits back down. "Vanora's from Sarmatia too. She wants to get out of here as much as any of us."

"Is everyone here either Roman or Sarmatian? I mean, aren't there any native Brittan civilians around here?"

Tristan makes a face and finishes his wine as Vanora sets two more mugs down. She walks away and he stares at me; cold and empty as usual, I could really start to like this guy. "Britons aren't civilized. The only good thing the Romans have done for this island is bring clothing that covers more than half the body."

"So people don't wear clothes here?"

"Not the Woads. "

"Woads?" I lean forward interested in this new type of people.

"Woads, they are the people who were here first, they often rebel against the Romans for taking their land, which I know you can understand why. As a people they are a bit crude. They were clothing that barely covers them, mostly just breeches, if that. They speak a different language and live in the woods in rough houses. No, they are not civilized."

"Why are they called woads, I never heard of that word before."

"Woad is the name of the blue pigment they use to cover their skin, especially during times of battle. They almost always have it on so they came to be known as Woads." He takes a sip of wine and puts his mug down a little heavily.

"What is there language, I mean, wasn't the language of the Britons supposed to come from Germany?"

"Where?" He peers over his mug that he is once again raising to his lips.

"Germany…um," I mentally curse to myself about a dozen times. Ok, English and German are common languages because of the Germanic tribes that came form the area now called Germany that invaded Brittan after the Romans. Their language rubbed off on the people and they took it as their own, however I am in big trouble because that hasn't happened yet. I stall and take a long swig of wine, almost draining it. I see him waiting for an answer.

"Um, I thought that they would have picked up on some the language that is used on the island."

"They do know some Latin…"

I take a quick gulp of wine. "Right well, aren't there other peoples invading the island…like jutes, or Celtics, or Saxons…"

"Saxons are filth." That's the ticket, that's one I needed to save my sweet little behind. 'They kill Saxons, not befriend them."

"Oh, right, I just thought…um, well I heard that there were Saxons starting to invade slowly…and…I'm out of wine, are you out of wine?"

"Another?" he raises an eyebrow at me as I sway slightly.

"No, I think I'm good." I stand and make my way out of the tavern, shoving two drunken Romans and one very lustful Lancelot out of the way as I do. When I get outside however, and start to walk to my room, I realize I still don't have a place to stay. I turn to walk back in, hoping to find Arthur, hopefully sober (he doesn't seem like he would drink much) and find out where I am sleeping. Tristan however seems to be thinking the same as he steps out and shakes his head.

"He isn't here; he's doing business with his God."

Rather than disturb him I tell Tristan I'll wait for him or, since I am feeling drowsy from all the wine, I'll go sleep in the stables.

"Too cold for that, you can take my bed again, I like sitting in front of the fire anyways."

I look at Tristan in surprise at his kind offer; he better not be trying to make nice to me. I scowl and narrow my eyes at him. He looks back, denying that he is trying anything. "With all this time we are spending together, people are going to start thinking there is something going on between us."

"Good thing there's not." He turns and starts walking back to his room, me following quietly at his heels. We make the trip in silence until we step inside the room. Outside his room window there is a bird squawking noisily.

"You should keep a bird, a flacon, or no, a hawk. It would help with your scouting."

"How did you know I was a scout?"

"I didn't, you just told me." He glares and kneels down at the hearth, getting a fire going. "You seemed like a good person to be a scout, I could tell in the tavern; very observative."

"You're not bad yourself." The fire is starting to pick up and he adds some more wood before dragging a chair over. "You gonna sleep like that?" he asks as he sees me start to unmake the bed.

"Why not, its not mine." He shrugs and turns away as I climb in his bed and fall asleep, my switchblade in my hand just incase he tries some funny stuff while I'm sleeping. I look over at him staring at the fire. I wanted to say something, but I wasn't sure what. Before I could think of anything though, I fell asleep.