Well all my lovelies, those of you who are new and those of you who are still hanging on. Tonight you get a two-fer. They are shorter chapters then normal, so I thought that only fair. Read and review, but above all enjoy!!!

#8 Knights

When Gawain woke, he noticed that it was much later then when Kirra said she would wake him and pulling up the window coverings the deepening dusk proved it. He stretched feeling slightly guilty at the pleasure that sleeping all he wanted when not really that injured caused.

Never in his life had he been able to do that. Always before when he had been injured there was pain to interrupt sleep and just when that started to recede he had been expected to carry on with his duties. Here in this place, he found it wonderful to have the time to gain back his full strength.

Listening to his stomach rumble -- it had been a rather long time since the morning meal, Gawain decided to get up and see what Kirra had in mind for supper. He splashed water over his face, wincing slightly as he passed a towel over it. For all Kirra's miracles, his body was still protesting the damage it had taken. Bruises mottled his face.

He limped downstairs and following a bit of noise, found Kirra curled up on a couch in a room he had not seen. She was watching a strange flickering box in which a small half-dressed young woman paraded herself singing slightly off-key. Finn was sprawled beside her, his shaggy head taking up her entire lap and Kirra spoke to him in a strange language as she stroked his ears. Gawain could almost hear the dog purring in pleasure.

"What is that?" Gawain asked suddenly causing Kirra to jump.

"Gah!" She shrieked. Finn lifted his head and gave the knight a reproachful glare.

"I'm sorry," Gawain said with a chuckle.

"No problem." She said putting a hand on her chest and glaring at him, "My heart only nearly jumped out of my chest. You can't do that, I wasn't expecting you." She looked back at the flickering box, "This is a TV. Used primarily for entertainment. Have a seat." She said gesturing to another couch.

"Actually," Gawain glanced behind him and towards the kitchen. As interesting as the TV appeared, he had more important things on his mind and he was sure he would have ample time to learn all about the fascinating box.

Kirra smiled, "Oh, right. You are probably starving. You were sleeping so hard, I didn't want to wake you, figured you needed the rest." She paused and glanced at the TV to check the progress of the singing girl, "But I made dinner, hamburger patties and mashed potatoes -- like you know what those are, but it's in the kitchen. Your color's better, sleep well?" Gawain nodded as she moved out from under the dog's head – who gave the knight another reproachful glare -- and headed for the kitchen. "Good, come on."

The room smelled of the promised cooked meat, cheering Gawain a good deal. Kirra pulled a wrapped platter out of a tall sliver box, "Fridge." She answered without turning and before Gawain could ask. "Keeps stuff cold." She added before putting the platter it into another smaller box that hung above yet another that seemed to open in the front. "And the microwave," -- there were a few beeps as she pushed some buttons -- "it heats stuff up."

"So does fire." Gawain said sensibly as he sat down at the table.

Kirra grinned as the microwave sounded again, "But not as fast as this."

She pulled the plate out, stirred something on it, tested the temperature, and set it in front of Gawain, who took a small bite and looked up at her in amazement which Kirra missed because she had turned again to the fridge.

"I can't believe that I am going to go backto the time when fire was the big thing. And it's probably cold all the time too, huh?" She came to sit at the table across from Gawain with a large bowl and spoon.

He swallowed his mouthful before answering, "Always. The island is misty and rainy most of the year, some years worse then others."

"Great," She muttered and spooned a mound of the contents of the bowl onto his plate.

"What's that?" He asked eyeing the shiny multi-colored bits.

"Fruit," She answered simply and settled the bowl in front of her, adding. "Eat it, it's good for you."

Gawain raised an eyebrow at the order, "I am not a child."

He was finding it annoying to be spoken to as if her were one and by a girl who was more then several years his junior. Her tone also uncomfortably reminiscent of Tristan's when he knew he was right -- which was most of the time.

Kirra shrugged, "Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "You'll like it." And to prove her point she took a bite. After she had swallowed, she looked up at Gawain. "So, tell me about the others."

"Others?" he mumbled around a particularly large mouthful.

Kirra rolled her eyes at his pace, "You know, I'm not going to steal it from you. You can slow down."

"Do you always nag this much, woman?" The knight asked in annoyance.

Kirra thought, "Never had anyone to nag. But yeah, 'the others'. You know, the other knights."

"Ah," He made a point of taking smaller bites and swallowing before beginning to tell her of his fellows. "Arthur is our leader." He ignored her sarcastic look of really?, "He is a Roman."

Kirra's eyes narrowed at that bit of information, "How can you follow a leader who is of the people who enslaved your own?" There was a sharp edge to Kirra's question.

"Our own," Gawain reminded her and watched as a small frown creased her brow and her expressive eyes darkened. "We have little choice -- and we respect him. He would not have us do anything that he himself would not do."

"Hmm," She grunted, unconvinced. "What does he look like?"

"A bit taller then I, dark hair and I believe, green eyes -- could be blue." The knight shrugged, he had never really paid attention.

Kirra selected another piece of fruit from the bowl, popped it into her mouth and muttered, "Just like a man, never noticing detail." She met Gawain's eyes with so innocent an expression that he chuckled.

"And the rest?"

"Well, there's Lancelot, Arthur's right hand and close friend." He watched as Kirra grew thoughtful and thought she might ask another question, but when she remained silent, he continued, "He is an unparalleled fighter and uses double swords. He thinks he is quite the charmer."

"Is he?" Kirra asked seriously. There was something going on behind her too dark eyes but Gawain wasn't sure what it could be.

He grinned, "No more then I."

That earned a little groan from his dinner companion.

"Gross."

Gawain laughed. "Lancelot has dark hair and equally dark eyes," He added as an afterthought and tasted the fruit, which was good, sweet and sour all at once. "There is Bors. He is loud and uncouth, a formidable fighter -- and he has ten children. Well, it should ten now. It was close to her time when I left."

Kirra's head snapped up, "Ten? From the same woman?"

Gawain nodded, "Aye, Vanora. A fiery red-head, that one. We are still not sure what she sees in him." He shook his head. "Anyway, Bors has a shaved head and a fondness for good food."

"So bald and fat and loud, with kids hanging all over him. That's easy enough to remember." Kirra put the bowl on the table and sat back.

"Dag is the oldest of us. He and Bors came from the same tribe and were great friends even as boys. He is a giant of a man, but quiet, unlike Bors. His grandmother was a famous healer and taught him all she knew. He also bears a shaven head."

Kirra said nothing only waited with that same stillness and focus that her brother did when he was being fed information. If she was like Tristan in that regard, Gawain knew that Kirra would have no difficulty remembering who was who.

Tristan.

The name hung heavily in the knights' thoughts. How to tell the girl about a brother she didn't remember when he himself knew so little about the man. What to reveal to one so innocent and so sheltered about a man who seemed to have little regard for himself or others, who killed without mercy and who enjoyed it?

Kirra waited patiently for Gawain to organize his thoughts.

"Tristan is our scout and is the best I've ever seen at what he does." She met his eyes, as if she understood what he had alluded to. Gawain pushed on, "He is a bit of a mystery and prefers to keep to himself. He has dark hair and, come to think of it, I've very rarely seen his eyes. I believe they are dark, though not as dark as Lancelot's."

He waited for Kirra to question him on what he had been hiding, but she did not and Gawain continued.

"And we've come to the final two. Galahad and Gareth."

"Galahad," Kirra showed a perk of interest at the mention of the young knight that she hadn't with the others.

"He is of the same age as my brother, Gareth, and one is never without the other. Gal is dark and moody, though when he was younger he was full of pranks and laughter. The killing is the hardest on him, I think. He still has hopes and dreams and a remembrance of home."

Gawain grew quiet while pondering the next knight. He felt a stab of loneliness and homesickness he hoped would not make itself known in his voice. "Gareth is a bit smaller then I – which I never let him forget, but we are pretty much the same. He and I are the only fair knights. He has eyes like our mother's, a light brown -- the color of dark honey."

"You miss him." Kirra stated softly. Her eyes were gentle now and full of compassion.

"Yes. He is a cheerful man; very seldom does anything really bother him. We tend to look to him to lift our spirits. He and Galahad balance each other perfectly." Gawain was silent a moment longer, then looked up and gave a strained smile, "And there is me. Now you will know the rest when you meet them."

Then came the question he had been dreading, though he was sure Kirra already knew the answer, "And who is my brother?"

Gawain's answer was hesitant, "Tristan. You resemble him, around the eyes and in your silence and movements. It will not be possible for the others to miss. They will know it instantly. Indeed, I would have known it the moment I first saw you, but for the pain and confusion."

"And probably my sudden lashing out, eh?" Kirra asked with a small frown.

"In that, no. Tristan would have simply …" His voiced trailed off before he could finish the sentence.

"Killed you?" Kirra offered.

Gawain nodded.

Then Kirra surprised him with a laugh, "Well, at least no one will ever pick on me again."

He smiled, "No, I can't imagine that anyone would." He was willing to bet that no one would even look the girl in the eyes when they found out who she was much less say one word against her.

"What do you like to do when you're not off gallivanting around the countryside for Arthur?"

Kirra's question caught him off guard and Gawain had to think awhile before answering, "When we are not on missions, we tend to be at the tavern a lot or, during the quieter stretches, in the training arena preparing."

"Do you play games?" she asked.

Gawain lifted a blonde eyebrow, "Only children play games, Kirra and we haven't been children for a long time."

Kirra frowned. He didn't understand. "Those weren't the games I was talking about. Here adults play games professionally and make a lot of money doing it."

"The only games we play are the killing kind and then I am not sure if they can be considered games."

Kirra's eyes darkened and her voice rose, almost as if she was angry, "Don't you ever think of anything else besides killing?"

Gawain leaned his elbows on the table and his eyes hardened. This conversation was getting more involved then he wanted, "That's what we do. We try not to think about it. In our spare time – if you can call it that – we pursue the things that best help us to forget."

Kirra got up to take his plate. She touched his shoulder gently, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

Gawain nodded and stood taking her hand forcing her to leave the dishes for later. He smiled down at the little girl, willing her mood to lift, "Come, show me how this TV of yours works."

So, Kirra showed Gawain football and later fell asleep curled next to him on the couch. Her soft weight and even breathing was a comfort to the knight as he tried to think of better times and sunnier days.