Holy crap it's been like, FOREVER!!!! I'm really sorry, for anyone who's actually still reading this, I never meant for it to take this long, seriously. So much has been going on though! And still going on!!! Mid-terms next week, going camping with horses down in Gettysburg this weekend, riding through the battle fields, love it!!!! Horse show in West Virginia next weekend...doing really good this year, two shows so far, got a second and a first...I beat girls from Princeton!!! If anyone reading this happens to be from Princeton, ..., so there. I love riding at college!!! Even if I am riding English, well,... next week's show is western, but I still love bareback the best! Anyways, here's the next chapter, its a bit longer than the others...I think... Hey, something cool actually happened at school, the guy who wrote Dances with Wolves, Micheal Blake, came and spoke...very interesting. Ok, ok, on to the story. Oh yeah, I don't own it, because if I did, I'd be locked up for being a very negligent owner...how long did it take me to update? Poor Bors would starve to death!!!!
Time May Change
"Her saddle!" I bolted upright in bed as I spoke. Ignoring the pounding in my head I scramble out of the bed and try to walk to the door, mindful of the fact that the room is spinning much faster than I would have liked it to. In my head I knew that there was really only one door, but my eyes were telling me otherwise and it hurt my brain to try and figure out just which one would let me into the hall, and which one would just cause more pain from walking into solid wood. Somehow in the end I ended up finding the right one, although I did have more trouble trying to find the correct door knob. The result was me crashing through the door and falling onto the floor of the hallway.
Another time I might have been more patient….maybe…but I had to get down to the stable. My brain wasn't functioning its best and I had to get there before I forgot my mission. The saddle, it has to be the saddle… I stumbled down the hall, banging the wall occasionally as I made my way outside. The cold air stung my face as I stepped into the snow. I was caught off guard and almost turned back inside, but I was too determined. I trekked forward, slipping here and there in the snow. I fell once, soaking my thin night clothes instantly, but I didn't care. I scrambled to my feet and kept on.
I never noticed the odd stares from the scarce people milling about. Most people chose to stay inside with the foul weather knocking on the doors, but I had something that needed to be done. The ground was pitching back and forth, but I could see the stable looming in front of me, swinging side to side like the rest of the world. I collapsed against the door and let myself in. After taking a moment to catch my breath, I made my way to her stall. There it was; the saddle, I reached my goal. I turned it over and made to run my hand over the soft saddle pad underneath but stopped. I knew it! There in the underside of the saddle pad, right where the saddle puts direct pressure on the horse's sensitive back was a nasty, painful looking, bramble. It was small, it could have been easily overlooked by someone, and it was pressed into the fabric deep, showing that it had been there a few days. No wonder the poor horse threw a fit every time a rider shifted on her back!
I pulled it out, bit by bit, taking little threads of fabric with it. I could only imagine that the mare's back had a sore on it. Sure enough, I let myself in her stall to check and there was a raw spot rubbed into her right where the rider sits down. Every time their weight shifted backwards, or sat down deeper in the saddle, it drove the bramble right into her skin. I didn't now how the bramble got to be on her saddle pad, but it was gone now. Nevertheless, she probably needed a few days to heal up, convenient really, Tristan and I both being hurt. Speaking of which…
I let myself out of the stall, intending to check on Tristan and inform him of my discovery. I was just latching the door, and making sure it was done good and tight when a voice interrupted my thoughts.
"When Vanora told me she saw you coming down here I was hesitant to believe her, yet here you are, why?"
"You of all people, Lancelot, should know of my stubbornness by now."
"Indeed. Still, what brings you out here, do you desire more trouble?"
"Nay, I seek only to solve problems today."
"That is fortunate, because Arthur wishes to speak with you. I think he has a few questions to put to you."
My face paled notably, I could feel it, but I pushed that aside for the moment and decided to deal with the more direct problem at hand. "Tristan's mare is hurt."
Lancelot's stern face softened and he came forward to see what was wrong. "Was she hurt in the storm yesterday, when you fell…?"
"No, she was acting strange all day, even when Tristan was on her the day previous, that was why I got off her initially, to see if there was a problem; there was, look." I pointed in the stall at the sore, red spot standing out against her light grey coat. Even from the stall door it looked painful.
Lancelot let a low whistle through his teeth as he slipped inside the stall. He ran his hands gently over her, watching her ears for reactions as he did. Contact clearly agitated it as she put her ears back whenever his hand grew close, and tossed her head upon contact.
"Obviously it hurts her Lancelot, you don't have to play surgeon anymore."
"I'm merely making sure that it won't get infected. It should be fine so long as whatever caused this is stopped."
I felt a flush of embarrassment on the inside, but I would never let him know that. Instead I pulled the saddle pad up from underneath her saddle and held it up for him to see. I pointed to the loose thread and slightly ripped fabric that had recently housed the culprit. "Here, there was a bramble caught in her saddle pad. I don't know how it got there, or how long it was there. She probably had a minor rub mark on her yesterday when I went riding, but I regret to say I wasn't paying much attention when I tacked her up.
Lancelot examined the saddle pad closely, pulling out a few tiny fragments I had missed due to my poor visibility. He placed it back under the saddle and nodded. Everything should be fine now. Tristan is well on the way to recovery, another two or three days and he should be well enough to ride, she should be ready by then. You however…"
"I know, back to bed." I gave the mare a farewell pat and left without so much as a glance to Lancelot.
"Arthur still wants answers, there's no avoiding it." Drat, life just never is fair, is it?
Somehow the return journey to my bed was a lot harder than the trip out to the stable. About halfway back my legs decided that they didn't want to move anymore, and I found myself leaning against a doorway dejectedly, half asleep.
"You look lost."
"Not lost, just resting." I mumble, not caring if they understood me or not.
"Well, we usually use beds for that. Let me give you a hand."
"Don't need help…" but I didn't stop Galahad from taking my arm and guiding me down the hall to my door. I leaned heavily on his shoulder as the door creaked open, and somehow, knowing that bed was so near made me only more tired. Another five feet and Galahad might not have made it, but he got me to the bedside, me practically asleep on his shoulder already. It was early evening, and I had spent the last day in bed, but I still needed more sleep. I don't even remember my head hitting the pillow.
Something about lying in bed all day just seems very appealing. It's not something I've done much, and likewise it's not something I often want to do. But this one time, it just seemed nice. Normally I would hate to be cooped up indoors all day, but today, I just wanted to rest. I probably received a nasty concussion when the branch hit me, which would explain why I just wanted to sleep, but whatever the reason, I didn't want to leave my bed for a long time.
"I know you're awake, Arthur's coming to speak with you." Correction, I want to be anywhere but in this bed.
"Shouldn't you be resting?" I grumble as I roll over and glare Tristan.
"I made a special trip just to see you."
I roll my eyes. "Three doors down the hall is a special trip?"
"So I was sick of being in bed all day." I smiled, knowing how that felt. I wiggled my way to a sitting position so I could better talk then got to business.
"I know why your mare was acting so weird the last couple of days."
"I know, Lancelot told me how you found the bramble in her saddle pad. It shouldn't have been there, nor should it have been overlooked. I'll be more careful in the future, thank you. I only wish you could have found it before you were hurt."
"What's another knock on the head right?" I knocked my knuckles on my skull. I pulled my hand back in surprise as the sound of wood being knocked upon rang out.
"May I come in?" Of course, only Arthur would be polite enough to knock first. Arthur nodded at Tristan, who replied likewise and left the room. I soon found myself under the gaze of Arthur's eyes once more.
"I believe you have quite a story for me. Care to share?" I was about tell him all about Goldilocks and the Three Bears, but the look on his face was one of little tolerance, besides, I don't think he would have understood the joke anyways.
"So what do you want to hear first?"
"Well, let's keep it simple, what happened yesterday?" I grimaced at the memory.
"There really isn't much to tell."
I gave him the brief version of the tale, not wanting to make a big deal of it. "Really, it was nothing, hurt like crazy earlier today, but I'm still alive, it's no big deal."
I can see Arthur shaking his head in disbelief. I'm not exactly normal where I come from, I've learned to take a harsher beating in life, for a girl in the fifth century, I'm down right alien. I can almost hear the words turning in his head, what kind of woman is this? But no, Arthur is more polite than that, instead, he says…
"Who are you?" Yes, translation, what planet do you come from?
"No one of importance, no one bothered over me before, no one cared about me, just let me be, why should now be any different?"
"In case you failed to notice, we did not leave you lying under that tree branch, obviously some people care about you."
I laugh at his remark. "It's your duty to watch over us, caring has nothing to do with it, I told you, no one cares about me." I painfully roll over and face the wall, trying to block out stinging memories.
"I do not know about your past, but I know there are those here that do and would care about you, if only you would let them, if only you would see it." I heard the sound of wood scraping on wood as the chair was pushed back. A moment later the door creaked open and shut again. I was alone, at last, and I cried.
It took me all of two seconds to realize that crying really, really hurt my ribs, but I didn't let it stop me, I just cried all the more, as it reminded me of how hard I had been trying to push everyone away.
Despite the protests of my body, and of course, Arthur, I went to the tavern the next night. I had laid in bed long enough going over my personal life time line. I had brooded and contemplated too much and had to get out. So, I went to the tavern.
I made my way directly to the table I had come to call 'ours', the 'our' meaning mine and Tristan's. Somehow I wasn't all that surprised to see Tristan already there. Across the room was Galahad, throwing knives as usual. Something was different this time. He wasn't leaning over someone's shoulder constantly, badgering them for advice or a demonstration. (probably because his two favorite subjects were currently injured) But also, he wasn't looking to see if we were watching or not, he was all concentration and focus, he was finally learning to become his own. I relaxed into my chair with this realization, and I swear Galahad felt it, for at the moment, he looked up and smiled, and I do believe he was almost saying thanks.
Suddenly something shocking caught my eye. Lancelot! He was sitting at a quiet table in a corner with but one woman and it looked as though they might have been having an actual conversation. Not only that, but they both seemed to be enjoying it. Whatever it was, I could tell that Lancelot's charm was still working, because the girl reached over suddenly and wrapped her arms around him, planting a kiss on his cheek. I honestly think he looked surprised by this!
Tristan and I both burst out in laughter. Clearly I wasn't the only one studying our surroundings. His face, the whole scene, was truly comical. Tears of laughter mixed with the physical pain from laughing. A genuine smile, for somehow I knew, whatever it was exactly that just happened, I influenced it, if not caused it. Looking across at Tristan, I saw him smiling back at me.
"How's your leg?"
"It's getting there, slowly, hard to get around though. You?"
"Oh my leg feels fine." He makes a face behind his hair, barely visible, but still I see it. "Oh, alright, yea, I'm in pain, but I'm managing. How, I don't know, but I am, and that's about the most you'll get from me so don't ask again." I see his eyebrows elevate and I smile. "Thank you for asking though."
"Likewise. Shall we get a drink then?"
"No, no, I wish to go outside."
"Are you certain?"
"If I weren't certain, I wouldn't have suggested it!"
I stand and walk outside. The cool crisp air chills me and find Tristan's warm cloak soon wrapped around me. it was much more pleasant than the last time, then I was scared, and sick, and hurt. This time, I'm just hurt…and cold of course. I sate up at the stars for a moment, just enjoying the sounds of the night. Unfortunately, the noise of tavern was carrying and the sounds of the night were much less enjoyable. Still, I close my eyes and listen.
"Get back in there Lancelot, she'll be missing you."
"It amazes me how you do that, how, how do you do that?" I don't bother to turn around, just tell him to ask Tristan. As I knew he would, Tristan replies that it's a secret, only those suited for scouting would know." Ah, so I'm suited for scouting!
My head bolts up as I hear a familiar screech in the woods. I run as best I can, more like a hobble, towards the sound. I can hear Tristan making his way behind me, Lancelot however, bolted ahead. I curse lack of broken limbs and swear to take care of that later, but right now…
There she is, I see her flying low through the tree, only, something is clearly wrong.
Her flight is choppy, I see her falter considerably and she flies lower and lower. I wait and watch as she tries to steady her descent, but I know its useless, I step forward and catch her. She protests wildly, but I don't care, her left wing is hurt, and I want to help her.
Tristan carefully takes the hawk from me and examines the wing. An arrow had pierced it and was still lodged painfully in the sparse flesh of her wing. It was an arrow of the Woads, and as I knew she would not have been able to fly far like that, we knew they were near by. Curse those stupid Woads. They probably shot her because she had helped me out twice that day. The vile creatures! I knew Tristan would take care of her, no doubt about that. And I was more than certain that I had just got him the hawk that I had been badgering him about.
Lancelot, clearly, understood that there were Woads nearby as he had his sword at the ready.
"No, not that close. I think this may have been a warning, if anything. I believe they are moving out, farther from us. For how long…who can say, but they're gone."
"No danger?"
"Sorry Lancelot, go have fun with your gal while she's still around." I dismiss him as Tristan and I make our way to his room. The hawk, I knew, would heal so enough, as would we, but trust, for all of us, was the problem.