AN: Okay, I'm not sure if anyone still reads this one, and yes, I did offer it up for adoption after I lost my mojo… However, I'm back and I'm keen to re-continue this one. I have noticed that there haven't been any more published versions of this, so I'm assuming nobody actually continued this… So therefore, I shall be re-continuing myself. Enjoy XD
Chapter Eleven
Hermione struggled against her bonds as she was thrown unceremoniously onto some hard ground. Everything was dark, and she felt herself being bound to some sort of post. Her feet were bound in front of her, and she could hear snickering and the odd foreign remark coming from her captives. "You let me go!" She shouted, although she knew to them, it was a mere muffle of words that they couldn't understand.
Everything suddenly went silent. She could hear the rusting of the wind against the tent, the cold breeze chilling her down to her bones. If Harry and Ron could see her now…
She wriggled her ankles, visualising the robes that bound them and took a deep breath, willing them to come undone. A brief warmth touched her skin and she felt the ropes slip. With a triumphant grin beneath the smelly sack on her head, Hermoine concentrated on her hands. After a moment or two, her hands fell free and she quickly pulled the hood off her head.
"Thank Merlin!" She said, looking around for the exit. "I could get used to this wand-less magic thing." She told herself.
"Clever Witch!" Hermione jumped at the words spoken from behind her. She spun around to find the Son of the leader standing between her and the exit. "I wonder what you were planning to do once you got out…" He drawled in slightly broken English.
"What do you want from me?" She demanded, her hands coming up in a fighting stance. "I will kill you if you touch me again."
He laughed cruelly at her words, the sounds of beating drums stirring in the background. "Witches are demons, demons need to be punished." He said, before lunching at her. In a split second Hermione had aimed her hands at him and muttered "Crucio".
He began to writhe on the ground, screams leaving his lungs. For a moment, Hermione stared at him, almost in a trance, her heart beat slowing down. She had never used the Cruciatus spell before and it was an alien feeling. A feeling of… power.
She snapped out of it, her head whirling and immediately released her victim. "Oh my –" She stuttered out, shocked at herself. She shuddered and vowed that she would never do that again. He lay on the ground, clutching his head in his hands, gasping for air. With one last pitying look, she hurried out of the tent and into an empty camp. She saw the woods and ran.
~ The Legendary ~
Arthur and his horse stood, lonesome on the hill, his banner waving in the wind, his heart beating in time with the Saxon war drums. "ARTORIOUS!" He heard from behind him, and turned to find his fellow knights coming to stand with him.
He nodded to each of them, his eyes hardened, yet a small smile on his face. "Where is Galahad?" He questioned, noting his absence.
"He's searching for Hermione." Gawain responded. "She wasn't in her cell, or with the other prisoners bound for Rome."
Arthur's brow furrowed as the drums got closer and suddenly stopped. It was time.
Meanwhile…
Galahad pushed his way through the crowds of peasants, his eyes searching for only one thing – a head of incredibly unruly hair. "Hermione!" He called, but to no avail. "Hermione!"
A small child tugged on his hand. "Sir, sir!" She shouted in a high voice. "Sir Galahad!" He stopped, crouching down to eye level. "I know where Hermione is!" She said urgently. "She was taken to the Saxon camp by the Bishop!" She said.
He frowned. "Smart girl, now go on, find your family and get out of this godforsaken town." He instructed.
"Sir Galahad, she's okay… Merlin will find her." She said and ran off into the crowd before he could question her. He shook his head in resignation, heading for his horse. He clambered on, and galloped toward the hill as a deep mist rose around him.
As he approached his comrades, he nodded to each of them respectively, before coming to a halt next to Gawain, who looked at him questioningly. "No luck." He said. "I just hope she's safe." He muttered, eyes taking in the scene before him.
Before he knew it, Galahad was watching as Arthur galloped his horse toward the Saxon leader, meeting halfway. Words were exchanged, cruel laughter escaping the bearded mouth of the vicious warlord and the signal was given to retreat back into the walls, the inside of which were completely deserted. He shuddered, his heart leaping from his chest as his mind wandered to Hermione. He wandered what she was doing and if she was safe. Of course, Galahad knew she wasn't some weakling woman – she was definitely a fighter, but he couldn't help but think of how miserable life would be without her.
She truly was remarkable, he mused to himself. They had treated her badly on the orders of the Bishop, and she hadn't killed them when God only knew she had the power to. Not to mention the way she had saved Dagonet's life – well, that had just been unreal. But there was something else about her that made Galahad nervous – he wondered if it was the way she had seemed so gentle and caring, yet so fiery with her temper. The effect she had on him when she looked at him, whether it be with a smile, a cheeky grin or in fury – it made his heart flutter in an odd way and he found himself constantly thinking about such moments with her.
A voice interrupted his thoughts. 'What are you smiling about?" Gawain said loudly, an eyebrow cocked.
Galahad cleared his throat. "I'm just imagining how many Saxons are going to lose their heads to my sword today."
Gawain laughed. "Ah, that is a wonderful thought indeed." He agreed, slapping his friend on the shoulder.
Lancelot smirked from beside him, having overheard. "I know what really occupies your thoughts… and she is much better looking than those pretty Saxons with their luscious hair." He grinned, his eyes flickering back and forth as his horse danced nervously on its hooves.
"Wonder what's taking them so long." Tristan said quietly, his eyes averted to the sky in search of his bird.
"They can probably smell you from here!" Bors said loudly with a rumble of laughter.
