Regaining practice - Galahad -

[Guinevere Castus]

Guinevere now was Queen, wife of Arthur and mother to an adorable child, Helena. Truth be told she was happy, but she knew that constant war and skirmishes meant she still had to preserve that wild side of her. So that morning, since both Arthur and Helena were busy, which meant the King had businesses to tend to and her daughter had home schooling, well, Guinevere had a long day on her own. What better moment for her to practice archery and aim than then? It seemed to her it was meant she should be allowed this day to regain her strength and not lost skills that would always come in handy, especially during times of war and uncertainty. The Saxons were a strong people and well versed in the art of warfare. She could not let past repeat itself, she could not become an easy target again, and just the memories of that past when she had been kidnapped tormented her. She sighed and pulled the reins of her horse lightly. She tied the reins by a tree and moved some paces away in search of a battered old tree.

Upon going to her right she found just what she was looking for. She smiled and then placed a log right in front of it. She was wearing clothes fitter for battle and travelling, she wanted to make the best of it and so her old war clothes were the most comfortable and suitable for a hard day’s work. She would first warm up shooting several arrows; afterwards she would practice with her blades. She turned back to ensure her horse was all right, and she retrieved the quiver with arrows ad her bow form the saddle. She walked back to the spot and stood watching the mark for a moment.

She needed to concentrate and get lost in the landscape that surrounded her, just as if she were surrounded by a group of men and women fighting each other. Yet her eyes had to remain on the tree. She smiled feeling the wind blow upon her, long dark hair shaking violently, and she placed an arrow against the string and she pulled back, her arms recovered easily the technique and also the strength, yet she could feel some soreness, it would go away eventually, with practice. With a whistling sound the arrow left the bow and landed exactly on the log she had placed in front of the tree. She smiled and walked over to retrieve it. She repeated the same technique several times, until she felt her body was beginning to get used to the activity and sweat was beginning to form in her forehead.

After a while she left her bow and arrows by the horse and drew her short blade and began to practice. She still had the speed and strength but she had to regain agility. But as they said, what was well learnt was never forgotten. She wondered what Arthur was doing at the moment, she shook the thought form her head, she could not let that happen in the middle of practice, she had to tame her body and mind again, control them and force herself upon self-discipline. She kicked in the air before she turned to her right with a swift movement of her left arm she tossed a dagger toward the mark by the tree, missing by mere inches. There was still much to be done.

[Galahad]

It had been an uneventful few days with the most exciting thing that happened was when Galahad found his missing dagger at the bottom of his travel bag. He had spent most of the last few days riding, carrying papers from Arthur to a mayor of a local village. Pretty typical, routine papers about matters of the fort and information that would be relevant to the village. Honestly Galahad had not paid attention when Arthur told him what the papers were about, he was just glad to get away from the fort for a few days. Every now and then the youngest Knight became restless. For fifteen years of his life he had been used to riding, fighting, sleeping under the stars, hard work and waking each day knowing that it may have been his last. This uneasy peace that Arthur and Guinevere had brought to the land was greatly welcomed by Galahad but he found himself at a loss as to what to do. In the end he had thrown himself into the task of helping those about the fort, training, tending horses, building, whatever needed to be done he offered his assistance. But once in a while he enjoyed a long hard ride, spending the night once more under the crystal stars above, clearing his thoughts.

As he rode back to the fort looking forward to a long drink Galahad heard a familiar thud. Then another and another and several more. It sounded like someone was hitting a tree but for the life of him he could not work out what it was. Curious he turned his mare and rode her towards the sound. As the trees grew thicker the Knight dismounted and lead his mare close to the sound.

Suddenly out of nowhere a dagger landed with the sharp tip only a few inches away from his boot. Immediately his hand flew to his sword and his eyes darted upwards to see… Guinevere?! Of all the people he had not expected to see her!

“Either your throw is off… or you were aiming for me!” Galahad said with a smirk managing to laugh at the odd situation he had suddenly found himself in.

[Guinevere Castus]

She scorned herself for failing to throw that dagger right where she wanted it to land and then sighed in exhasperation, how coudl she lose so much practice in so little time? She ran a hand through her long dark hair now covered in sweat and took deep breaths. She then leaned forth, stretching her arms and legs; she would have to practice longer and better. But she was not aware she was not alone by now. She was the kind of person who would easily concentrate on what she was doing, if she was training she lots track of everything about her, not that she would be caught unaware by an enemy, but in this area of the world she did not expect to come across any kind of enemy. At least not for the time being, it was rather exhasperating to know you were not safe, but one could only worry so much. She could not sort all problems, but she could simply try and find solutions instead of worrying her nerves to the core. Right now she was regaining experience when handling her weapons, which meant she was finding a solution to this feeling of uneasyness and uncertainty. Now if ambushed she could be happy she practiced once again.

She heard a commotion enarby, just when she had tossed her knife, was a guard thinkign her a trespassor? Or perhaps they were already looking for her for whatever duty she had for that day? She sighed and ran a hand through her forehead covered in sweat yet she took another knife from her belt. She smiled feeling its edge upon her hand, she had not done this in such a long time, but she was glad she decided to practice that day.

“Either your throw is off… or you were aiming for me!”

She rolled her eyes and smirked, “You wish brother.” Even though Galahad was the youngest knight, Guinevere and he had always shared a brotherly bond, ever since they met, and had been the best of siblings ever since, which meant, both were constantly being competitive, and, such as this moment, even though he was right, Guinevere was not about ready to admit she had lost aim in front of him, and so, she tossed him another knife aiming to the ground, right next to his right foot. Not to hurt him, simply to make a point, “If you trhink yourself better than me, why don’t you prove it?” She grinned and drew her sword waving her other hand around with humour, her eyes beaming with anticipation. Her lips soon curved on a delightful smile and she stood in a defensive stance, waiting for Galahad to make the very first move.

[Galahad]

“You with brother.”

Galahad could not help but snort loudly. He knew that Guinevere was joking, but the confidence in her words still made him chuckle. She had always been like that, from the first day that he had met her. Despite being locked away in the sickening, vial hell hole that Galahad could not even enter, Guinevere had managed to hold onto her pride and her confidence. Of course he was wary of her at first; after all she was a woad. One of the nameless, faceless blue streaks that would sweep in and attack them with little provocation. But over time, and especially through the hell of the great battle, Galahad had come to know Guinevere as more than a nameless face. She was strong and defiant and through her marriage with Arthur she had helped to bring some sort of peace to the land. Galahad always trusted Arthur and in his decision to marry he continued to trust him.

Over the years they had grown close, closer than Galahad would have ever expected. Strangely they had become like brother and sister, confident enough with one another to spar and battle, to laugh and tease and most of all to share their thoughts. Perhaps it was because Guinevere reminded Galahad of his younger sisters, especially Evy whom had always been so bold and confident even in her youngest years. Gods he often thought about his sisters and whatever happened to them.

The second knife thumping into the ground right next to the toe of his right boot made Galahad flinch and he was instantly snapped out of his thoughts. His blue eyes locked with Guinevere’s as she spoke.

If you think yourself better than me, why don’t you prove it?”

At this Galahad snorted loudly. It seemed the young woman was bent for a nice little beating today – not that Galahad minded in the slightest. He had not trained for the last few days and he could use a stretch of the arms. With a nod he turned and loosely tied the reins of his mare to the nearby tree, giving the animal enough room to move – he trusted his horse like he trusted his brothers in arms. Galahad then removed his cloak and threw it over his saddle before he leaned down and pulled Guinevere’s knife out of the dirt. He grinned and slipped it into his boot, playfully taking possession of the item.

Stepping over the log into the clearing Galahad pulled out his long daggers, holding one in each hand. They were by far his weapon of choice and he had carried them with him for almost as long as he had been in Britain. One by one he twirled them in his hands, loosening his wrists and arms, readying himself for a spar.

“I don’t think myself better than you Guin, I know it, but if you wish to lose to me again then by all means go ahead!”

[Guinevere Castus]

She stuck her tongue at him as he snorted. She was not angered at his arrogance, she knew him far well by now. Mayhap too well. But it ensured they got on like siblings, even when in reality they weren’t. Galahad also acquired much knowledge on her life, personality and temper, in little tie, both connected as if they had been siblings all this time and had never known of such until they came across. Both stood great pain and hardships and the roughness of life never managed to break them. Both of them stood strong and were now better and wiser persons. But growing up never meant you had to leave the child in you behind, quite the contrary, a person was free to be as cheerful as desired, wasn’t that what made a person be unique anyway? Why embrace bitterness and hesitation when you could be confident and merry? That was something Guinevere loved of Galahad, that intact cheerfulness and the way he transmitted peace wherever he went. All Guinevere had to do was close her eyes, and she would feel as if all her burdens were lifted from her shoulders.

It was one of those situations in which you strongly doubt you will get on with someone you meet, but Guinevere and Galahad soon became what they were at present. And so she never hesitated in behaving the way she was, he could never take it personally and never felt offended. She smirked the moment he flinched as another of her knives landed next to his foot. He seemed lost in thought, was he worried about something? She pondered for a moment; “I have not seen you in a while.” Perhaps he was just as busy as Arthur was these days. Everyone seemed to be.

She grinned when the man snorted again and went to get ready for their little game. That meant he accepted the challenge. She waited patiently for him to ready himself to be defeated. Even though she had lost some practice she was pretty much confident she could easily give him a hard time and even defeat him, should she remember most things. Se was after all one of the Celtic tribes that fought fiercely and with great courage. She grinned, feeling every inch of her tense and relax in an attempt to warm up for this sport. She stretched her legs and twirled her sword looking at its sharp blade; it had served her in several battles. It was strange how despite it all, she had never come to name her blade or any of her weapons, some person seemed to do so. She eyed him as he picked the knife and hid it inside his boot. He would certainly regret doing that, if there was something Guinevere was truly good at, was looting people in the middle of a fight; it was perhaps her Woad nature. She smirked as a plan formed in her mind.

“I don’t think myself better than you Guin, I know it, but if you wish to lose to me again then by all means go ahead!”

She smirked, “So sure are we? The higher the pride the greater the fall.” She smirked before she leapt forth swiping her blade to his right while the rounded him and kicked with one of her legs at his lower abdomen. She ensured she was not too close to him, for his blades were shorter than hers and could be dangerous upon close contact. She had to move with enough space to react. They were obviously only playing around; this was no mortal enemy, but someone she loved like a brother. It was amazing to be able to do this once again, like in the good old days. “If I remember correctly, I was the one who won last time.”

[Galahad]

“So sure are we? The higher the pride the greater the fall.”

Galahad just laughed and let one of his feet slip back into battle ready. He and Guinevere had very different fighting styles. He had been trained in the ways of the Sarmatian Knights with influences of Roman warfare. She had been raised as a woad warrior, her people teaching her all the skills she knew. Their skills were different, their strengths in different areas, their weaknesses hidden as best they could. Yet while they were different their fighting styles seemed to mesh and meld together and they moved as though they were playing a deadly dance.

As Guinevere kicked out at him Galahad slid back, bending slightly at the middle, the side of his blade raised in defence. It had been some time since they had spared but always they came back to the game as though they had never left it. He twisted his blade in his hand, darting slightly to the side to move away from Guinevere’s longer sword.

“If I remember correctly, I was the one who won last time.”

“And I the time before that. I think we are equal in wins and losses.” Galahad said with a snort, but there was a smile on his lips. Playfully he pushed forward, flicking first his left blade and then his right against Guinevere’s sword, the clash of metal ringing out through the cool air.

“How are things Guin?” Galahad asked, as he darted backwards. “Been a while since we spoke…”

[Guinevere Castus]

Both warriors had their own fighting techniques, not only because both of them grew up learning through different cultures, but they were also different individuals. Amongst her people, Guinevere was always the most light and agile person, speed was her weapon, she even learned to use the opponent’s momentum and speed against him/her. And she could pride herself for being a good fighter, yet a skill had to be perfected and molded, and lack of practice helped no one. That was one of the reasons she decided to take sometime to practice once again. Especially at such times of uncertainty when she could never know when she was requested to defend her little daughter, for Hadrian’s Wall stood at the edge of a blade, the smallest offence could make everything fall into pieces, and Arthur and Helena, alongside the people, her people, just losing one of the men fighting to defend this citadel grieved her greatly.

She smirked when he reacted to her attack, as he moved away form her she made use of the tree right next to them, and jumping upward she hung on the branch and kicked him forth with both legs, as she then landed graciously on the ground, she swung her blade above her head and then winked at him.

“And I the time before that. I think we are equal in wins and losses.”

She grinned, “That is why I must win this time. To step on your pride brother.” She smirked and stuck her tongue at him as she once again moved forth and moved her sword with a swiping move toward him. Their swords clashed and there was tension in their bodies.

“How are things Guin? Been a while since we spoke…”

She watched him dart backward and said earnestly, “Everyday it gets from bad to worse. Helena suspects there is something wrong with her father, and I no longer know what to do to help Arthur, I simply don’t know what to do.” She rolled on the floor and kicked at his leg as if to knock him down. And then she rolled on her back away from him, “This whole situation with the Saxons is getting out of hand.”