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Post by Galahad on Jun 21, 2011 7:17:19 GMT -5
It was late and Galahad was tired and confused and could use a stiff drink. He had been out patrolling all day, which normally did not bother him to much as he quite enjoyed riding his horse and being in the fresh (all be it cold) air. Sometimes the constant hustle and bustle of the fort got to him. There were always people everywhere, milling about, working, calling out to each other, talking, arguing. Sometimes he just longed for the peace and quiet of his homeland; the endless fields of Sarmatia where he had lived as a boy, the quietness, the solitude. Not that he was ever like Tristan, a loner who seemed to live for solitude… he was not that strange. Galahad enjoyed the company of others, he loved to chat, to laugh, to banter but there were some times he enjoyed being alone. Today was one of those times. As he rode he began to think, on his childhood, his life at the fort and of a certain beautiful blond whom had captured his attention and who seemed to refuse to let go! Alowyn. From the moment he had laid eyes upon her and then found out more about her Galahad could not stop thinking.
She was a Saxon and yet she seemed to be every exception to everything the Knight had learned about these people. She was beautiful and strong and never once had he heard her speak of blood or warfare or death. She was a complete and utter mystery to him and try and he might Galahad could not work out what he should do. He was interested in her, but was she in him? And even if she was by some strange miracle of the Gods how could he tell? He needed advice and there was only one person who he knew he could talk to but the problem was how.
Getting advice from Lancelot was never an easy task. First and foremost Galahad never wanted to actually GET advice from the First Knight. Galahad was proud and never would admit that he needed help, unless of course it was with Gawain. But then the burly blond knight knew him better than he knew himself at times. If Lancelot had any sign or hint that Galahad was after help it would only go straight to the older man’s head and make it larger than it already was. And Gods if Lancelot knew Galahad was asking about Alowyn he would NEVER hear the end of it! No he had to tread carefully….
Pushing open the door to the tavern Galahad stepped inside and scanned the room. It was late and he knew he would find Lancelot here. What better way to unwind than to have a drink and maybe win a coin or two or even three? As he looked across the room he found Lancelot sitting here by the open fire, surprisingly at a table by himself. Setting his jaw Galahad took a deep breath and walked over to the table.
“I need a drink!” He declared loudly as he flopped himself down into the chair next to Lancelot.
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Post by Lancelot du Lac on Jun 21, 2011 10:32:48 GMT -5
It had been a hard day's riding for Lancelot. He had rode out to survey the aftermath of a Saxon raid north of Hadrian two days previous, and had returned just that afternoon to give Arthur a report. It was too late to save that village- yet another thing Lancelot would add to his list of grievances with the Saxons. Alowyn aside, he still held no affection for the northerners.
His duty done, Lancelot had tended to his mount and headed to the tavern, sure that sooner or later, one of his brothers in arms would join him. He was well into his third tankard of ale when Galahad wandered in, calling for a drink. Lancelot smiled- he could already feel his pockets gaining weight with the coin he would soon win off the younger knight at dice.
"Galahad," He said in greeting, nodding to him as he took another drink of his ale. "Another." He stated to the tavern girl that brought Galahad's drink and took his own mug. "To what do I owe this displeasure?" He teased, fixing his dark eyes on the knight.
Despite his teasing, Lancelot quite liked the younger man. Galahad was like the little brother Lancelot had never had, constantly competing with him over everything. Though they squabbled and teased each other like cats and dogs, at the end of the day, Lancelot knew that he had Galahad's back, and Galahad had his, regardless. Lancelot had gone so far as to prove it, taking the life of a man that would have taken Galahad's- by the time the other man had known anything was amiss, he had turned around to find Lancelot holding a bloody sword and already going about the business of hacking the next enemy to death.
"Come to lose your wages in a game of dice, I hope?"
LISTENING TO: 20 Dollar Nosebleed- Fall Out Boy NOTES: Lancelot doesn't have a thread template yet. Hmm, I need to find one....
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Post by Galahad on Jun 21, 2011 18:25:54 GMT -5
"Galahad," "Another." To what do I owe this displeasure?"
Galahad looked up at the maid whom brought him a large mug of ale and he smiled and nodded his head in thanks. He studied the woman for a moment as she turned and walked away, her behind swaying with each step she took. She was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the blond whom had captured his attention. Before he even acknowledged Lancelot, Galahad reached out and picked up the mug, bringing it to his lips and taking a long and very much needed drink. With the warm liquid starting to fill his belly Galahad turned to look at Lancelot and said nothing but wrinkled his nose in mock disgust.
To be honest Galahad took no notice of Lancelot’s gibe, he had heard far worse over the years and even then he knew the older Knight had meant nothing by it. They had a strange sort of relationship one that given the chance Galahad would not change. He had been nothing more than a skinny little boy when he had been taken from his home and dragged kicking and screaming to Britain. If it were not for Gawain taking him under his arm and Lancelot constantly prodding and pushing him to keep training, to fight harder, and to be more, Galahad could assuredly say that he would not be here today.
Lancelot was like the older brother that Galahad never had. They teased each other relentlessly… or more to say that Lancelot teased Galahad relentlessly and Galahad always jumped back in frustration. They argued and bickered and Galahad always tried to outdo Lancelot, but at the end of the day after Gawain it would be Lancelot that Galahad would want to watch his back. Although he would never admit such a thing out loud – it would give Lancelot a big head after all – Galahad really did admire and respect the older Knight. There was something about Lancelot that drew people to him, that made them stop and pay respect. He was one of the best fighters Galahad had ever seen and despite his bravado front he was a good man deep inside. A man Galahad would be willing to die for.
"Come to lose your wages in a game of dice, I hope?"
At this Galahad snorted loudly and smirked across the table, “why would I play against you when all do you is cheat?!” Shaking his head, causing his dark curls to bounce Galahad turned his attention back to his drink. “It’s been a long day, I just wanted a drink.” And to get some advice about women Galahad thought to himself, not that he was going to add that in though.
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Post by Lancelot du Lac on Jun 22, 2011 10:50:05 GMT -5
Lancelot chuckled at the look that Galahad gave him, then let his gaze sweep over the rest of the tavern. As a knight, part of his survival skills included attention to detail and the people around him- he wasn't likely to get attacked over a mug of ale, but if he were, he would damn well be able to identify who was responsible. Fortunately, it was still lightly populated, but it was only a matter of time before they gained more companions.
Lancelot had learned very early on that fighting his captivity was futile. He had been just as unhappy to come to Briton as the rest of them were (and he still held no affection for the place,) but there had been no way to escape as a child. As such, he had thrown all of his anger into fighting- any foe that attacked, Lancelot threw himself upon them until they were eradicated, and moved on to the next. He couldn't help but feel for Galahad, who hadn't adjusted quite as well- and as such, he had prodded the young boy into emulating him as best he could. Lancelot wasn't one for kind words and mutterings of sympathy. Kind words wouldn't protect you when there was a Saxon at your back, but a sword would- and what better to drive a sword than anger? As long as Galahad was prepared to use a sword- and Lancelot would damn well make sure he was- he had a chance of living to go home. And if the poor kid could do that, well, Lancelot would consider that the only good thing to come out of this damned country.
Fortunately, years later, he had proved himself right. Galahad was still here, though others- older, wiser perhaps, faster- had fallen. Galahad was free to go as he pleased, and he was alive. Lancelot thanked the gods for that.
But his relief wasn't going to make him go easy on the other man.
“why would I play against you when all do you is cheat?!”
"Come now," Lancelot smirked, giving him a look of feigned offense. "I don't cheat. I'm just better than you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the dice he usually carried on him, placing them on the table. "Just one game? Perhaps I'll let you win."
“It’s been a long day, I just wanted a drink.”
Lancelot raised a brow, his dark eyes looking for any insight into Galahad's thoughts. Galahad wasn't a hard one to read- not like Dagonet- and Lancelot could tell that something was bothering the younger knight, but that didn't mean he was going to come out and ask what it was.
"Training too hard for you? I can tell Arthur to let you practice with Helena, if that's more your pace..."
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Post by Galahad on Jun 22, 2011 18:15:26 GMT -5
"Come now," "I don't cheat. I'm just better than you." "Just one game? Perhaps I'll let you win."
Turning towards the table so that he was facing Lancelot, Galahad looked at his brother in arms and then down at the pair of dice in the man’s hand. It was absolutely ridiculous even contemplating playing dice with Lancelot. His chances of winning were about as equal as his chances of waking up tomorrow morning back in his bed in Sarmatia as though the last fifteen plus years had not happened. He rarely won and yet he was actually contemplating having a game? Maybe just one game, for the single purpose of trying to get some helpful advice out of Lancelot without him actually knowing he was giving advice. Galahad’s blue eyes looked upwards from the dice to Lancelot’s face. Yes, that was it, he was going to have a single game, not because he could feel his competitive side arcing up, but because he wanted advice about Alowyn.
“One game…” Galahad said with a shrug.
"Training too hard for you? I can tell Arthur to let you practice with Helena, if that's more your pace..."
At this jibe Galahad snorted loudly, blowing air out through his lips as he sat back in his chair, stretching out one of his legs. “At least I can still pick up a sword unlike you old man!” It was a nasty retort but Galahad could not help himself. He knew that one of Lancelot’s greatest fears was not to be able to wield his weapon, to defend himself, to defend those he cared about. Just as Lancelot knew that one of Galahad’s greatest fears was never being good enough, strong enough, fast enough. Perhaps that’s what had made them work so well together all these long years, because they knew each other well enough to make light of their insecurities, while still being willing to defend the other man to the death.
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Post by Lancelot du Lac on Jun 25, 2011 13:58:51 GMT -5
“One game…”
"Are you ill, runt? You don't usually give in so easily." Lancelot took a drink of his ale, pushing the dice towards Galahad and setting down his tankard. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of gold and silver coins, which he placed on the table as well. There was no real point in doing so, other than to let Galahad think he had a chance, but they both knew the truth- no one was better at dice than Lancelot. No one probably ever would be.
“At least I can still pick up a sword unlike you old man!”
"Would you like me to show you how well I can pick up a sword?" His voice was calm but the look he gave Galahad promised retribution to come. Lancelot wasn't the oldest of the knights, but there were definitely days when he felt his age. Lancelot's worst fear was the day that he would no longer be able to fight, and as far as he was concerned, that would be the day he died. He would rather be in the ground than useless as a knight.
"Your roll." He said with a nod towards the dice. He didn't know what Galahad was really searching for tonight, but he was quite sure that whatever it was, it would come out as time progressed. He would just sit and wait for it. "I trust you're good for it?" He joked, gesturing to his own pile of bettings. "After all, I know where you sleep."
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Post by Galahad on Jun 25, 2011 20:32:31 GMT -5
"Are you ill, runt? You don't usually give in so easily."
Maybe he was ill after all, he a Sarmatian Knight fallen for a Saxon beauty? What in the name of the gods was he thinking?! Galahad raised an eyebrow when Lancelot pulled out his coin and let it scatter on the table. Although he would not admit it Galahad was always jealous of the amount of money Lancelot had. Back in his village of Sarmatia money was non existent. They had traded in materials, furs, horses, food, there was no need for money. He had no idea what it was until he came to Britain and over the years it had shown. The concept was easy enough to understand but Galahad never seemed to be a good judge of how to keep his money. Sometimes he had enough coin and at other times he found himself going to Gawain asking for a little to keep him going through the week.
"Would you like me to show you how well I can pick up a sword?"
At this comment Galahad rolled his eyes and raised a hand. “Lance how many times have I told you I don’t want to see your sword?! I love you as my brother but you can keep your bloody sword in your pants!” At this Galahad laughed loudly at his own joke, looking at Lance and grinning cheekily. Oh how good it was to tease the First Knight and certainly Galahad was going to take every chance that he got!
"Your roll." "I trust you're good for it?" "After all, I know where you sleep."
Galahad looked up from the dice that he had just picked up, his blue eyes locking with Lancelot’s dark orbs as he once again fought the snigger on his lips. “Now you wish to enter my chambers? Gods sake Lancelot if you fancy me let it be known so we can start this game!” A chuckle rumbled through Galahad’s chest as he shook his hand and threw the dice onto the table. They rolled across the wooden table, one bumping into Galahad’s mug of ale, the other stopping on it’s own.
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