Falcon's Beginning

Disclimer-Not mine, aside from a few odd characters.


Chapter 11-Survival

“I can’t see them…” Whimpered Galahad, after a long pause, his eyes wide. Bors ran down the side of the river, desperate for any sign of either Gareth or Falcon. The river seemed punishing, cruel, its waters churning and sweeping. Tears stung the big knight’s eyes.
“GARETH!” Gawain yelled, tearing past Bors and dropping to his knees next to the bank, reaching out an arm to the sputtering and shivering knight. A knight with a bundle under his arm. Together, the knights pulled the shivering man out of the river, Galahad grabbing Falcon on the muddy banks, heaving her upwards. Gareth pushed an enquiring Gawain away, muttering as he spat out water, “Falcon, see to Falcon!” The young woman was gently laid on the ground, deathly pale skin muddy, her hair wrapped over some of her features. Her lips were blue, and her countenance was made all the more frightening by the blood that washed over her forehead. “No…Falcon? Wake up.” Bors choked, rolling the girl over and pushing harshly on her back, trying to stop his hands slipping on her bloodied shirt. Moments passed with no change, all that could be heard was the river, raging in it’s fury.
“Mnn…” Groaned the prone figure on the floor. Bors stopped pushing her back, lifting her into a sitting position, leaning Falcon’s head forwards and rubbing her back frantically. “Falcon, listen to me, you’re alright. You’re alright, but you have water inside- oh!” Twisting away, the drenched, shivering scout heaved violently, vomiting murky slush up, choking. As Bors rubbed the girl’s back, he spoke quietly to the relived men leaning over the three on the ground. “Gawain, Galahad, go for the horses. Bring them all, we need to get these two back to the others.” Gareth pulled himself over, exhausted. “Falcon?” He asked, tilting her head upwards. “Sprog?” Tired eyes met his, dark brown meeting sky blue. “You alright there?” He asked, shivering. Falcon closed her eyes, leaning back against Bors, moving her lips. Leaning his head down to hers, Bors asked what she had said, and after listening carefully, brought his head back up sharply, looking at Gareth with a small grin. “She says “Five by five.”.”

Sunlight streamed through the arrow slit, striking the heavy woollen blankets on the bed. Tristan sat quietly in one corner, fletching arrows, keeping one eye on the bed, watching the steady breathing of the sleeping occupier. The room was silent, save for the sound of fletching and steady breathing. Frowning, Tristan looked down at his lap, eyes worried. Falcon had slept continuously for a day and a half since the return to the fort. Arthur had deemed that the Knights would stay at the fort until the Deserters had been pinpointed. The ride back to the fort was hurried, and silent. Falcon had been given to Lancelot to manage, and it had frightened Tristan to see the knight pale as he took the slight form. Falcon was almost unrecognisable, face swollen, drenched, muddy, and covered in blood, she had looked like a dead thing. Stoically, the scout had averted his gaze, looking to Arthur. Seeing his expression, Arthur had told him to ride ahead and warn the healers at the fort. And ride Tristan did, hard and fast, almost blowing his horse out.
Anger flashed over the handsome scout’s features as he recalled Falcon’s injuries. He had stood over the healers in the infirmary as they had worked, feeling the anger and shock at seeing his friend, his lover, like this. Eventually, the healers had shooed the knight out, as they prepared her for a washing, leaving the knight facing the solid door of the infirmary...
A slight groan arose from the bed, drawing Tristan’s gaze in a flash. Falcon stirred slightly, and then resumed sleeping. Sighing, Tristan raised his knife to a fletch, when a knock at the door drew his attention. Lancelot stepped in, looking as though he hadn’t slept in days.
“How is she? Has she woken up yet?” The curly haired knight asked, his eyes never leaving the bed. Tristan offered the knight a small smile, knowing that he loved her as a sister. “No, but she stirs now and then. How is Gareth?”
“He has a cold, but nothing serious.” Tristan nodded, not trusting his voice at the mention of the knight’s daring and bravery. Lancelot studied the younger man, seeing the concern in his dark eyes. An unusual feeling of jealousy crept into him, wondering whether Falcon would forget about him, now that she had Tristan. Shaking his head to clear it of these thoughts, Arthur’s right hand man smiled at the scout, before he crossed to Falcon. Perching on the edge of the bed, he smoothed the sleeping girl’s hair from her pale face and dropped a light kiss to her forehead. “Get well soon, Sprog.” Lancelot whispered, his forehead against hers.
Watching this, Tristan cleared his throat slightly, shifting. Lancelot looked up, a hard expression on his handsome features. “I love her, Tristan. Love her like a sister. Don’t be so protective.” Lancelot’s expression softened slightly as Tristan assumed a sudden look of hopelessness. “Sorry. I just…I’m worried. I’m happy she’s alright.”
Tristan looked at the sleeping girl, and then at Lancelot, a sudden look of amusement on his features. Lancelot frowned. “What?”
The scout turned his back on the knight, facing the window. “I wonder how we’re all going to be when she wants to get out of the fort.” Lancelot smiled, feeling a little more complacent.
“If you need someone to watch her while you’re eating later, tell me.” After Lancelot had departed, Tristan crossed to the bed himself. Tenderly stroking his calloused fingers along her cheekbone, the scout remembered his terror at seeing the limp figure huddled in Bors’ arms, Gareth beside them, shivering. Lifting the blankets, Tristan slid under the heavy sheets, pulling Falcon into his strong frame. Re-settling the blankets, the young man wrapped his arms around the linen clad body beside him, laying his head back and relishing in the feel of her against him.

As the sun set, Bors and Dagonet came to see Falcon, checking on her progress. Dagonet smiled softly, his eyes compassionate at the sleeping pair in the bed. Bors chuckled beside him. “That lad has fallen for her. Totally and completely.” He whispered, gesturing to Falcon, who lay wrapped in the strong arms of the wild scout. Dagonet nodded, tugging his friend out of the bedroom, closing the door softly. After a moment of thought, Dagonet turned to his friend, smiling.
“Sort of like when you fell for Vanora.” Bors grimaced. “Aye, well you would have fallen too-she hit me with an ale jug for pinching her bum!”


Please review, i'm writing blind here, i dont know whether what i'm writing is good or not...