Lost For Words

2.

style='mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>~Flashback~

“YEEEEEEESSSSSSS!!!”
screamed Wat in triumph, jumping up and down and grabbing Roland to get him to
join in – he was always the most excitable of the group, but on occasions such
as these, the rest were only too glad to follow his example.

“WOOHOOOOO!
Go on, Will … er, Sir Ulrich!” cheered Roland, filled with pride in his young
friend.

“Come on!”
yelled Geoff, for once getting straight to the point as he threw his arms in
the air in delight. The tall herald then turned to Kate, the tiny Scottish
farris, spinning her around as she laughed and clapped excitedly with the rest
of them.

They all ran
to greet the victorious jouster, hugging him and banging him on the back as he
clambered off his horse and tugged off his battered helmet to reveal a shock of
unruly blonde hair and a broad grin plastered on his face.

“Did you
see that?” he demanded gleefully, “BAM! Right off his horse!”

“Of course
we saw!” retorted Kate, “Why else would we be jumping up and down like
lunatics?”

“We-ell …”
began Geoff with a sidelong glance at Wat, only earning himself a clip round
the ear from the hot-tempered redhead who was always quick to take offence.

However,
the would-be knight was not to be distracted. “And what of my lady?”

“What of
her?” murmured Kate, but her remark went unnoticed by the men.

“Jocelyn,
did she see?”

“Yes, she
saw.” answered Geoff.

“Did she
see me take that hit before?”

“Yes, she
saw you take the hit – I already told you …”

“And?”
prompted Will eagerly, sighing at his herald’s blank look. “Was she concerned?”

Growing
tired of such questions which were always put to him following a joust, Geoff
rolled his eyes impatiently. “It was dreadful. Her eyes welled up. It was
awful.”

In spite of
his flippant way of answering, that seemed to appease Will – but only for a
second.

“And when
she knew I had won?”

“May the
saints lend me strength!” groaned Geoff, “The earth had never seen such
rejoicing – satisfied?”

“You do but
mock me!” complained Will.

“If you
will ask foolish questions, you cannot expect other than foolish answers.”

Finally
Kate interrupted, like Geoff she too had heard enough of Jocelyn – they would
neither of them have minded if he didn’t go on so; twenty-four hours a day,
seven days a week, it seemed. “Are you men going to stand there and yap all
night? Honestly, you’re worse than a bunch of old maids! Are we going to the
tavern to celebrate or not?” she asked.

“TAVERN!”
yelled Wat, obviously thinking of his stomach, again.

Roland
nudged the writer in the ribs as they all followed Wat’s enthusiastic lead, a
smirk on his face. “I suppose now it’ll be you
we have to listen to, waxing lyrical on that tavern girl again – you might be
more wordy about it, but you’re no better than Will, you daft git!”

“I resent
that!” he protested, “Wordy indeed! I
believe poetic is the term you are
looking for …”

“Gobby,
more like!” grinned Wat over his shoulder, though he never slowed his pace in
his eagerness to get to the tavern and, more importantly, the food.

Geoff
simply ignored such taunting and squared his shoulders as he too marched on. “I
am not to blame; I cannot help myself – I cannot be held responsible for my
actions, afflicted as I am …”

“Where have
we heard that one before, I wonder?” mused Roland, “Perhaps someone should warn
the poor girl Geoff’s afflictions
usually result in a distinct lack of clothing on his part …”

“If I have
to see your scrawny arse naked again …” warned Wat in a threatening voice, that
thought being the only thing to actually stop him in his tracks and momentarily
distract him from visions of food. “I will fong you, Chaucer! I’ll rip off your
arms and … and beat you … round the head with them … I’ll … and … PAIN! Lots of
pain!” he ranted, becoming so worked up he could hardly speak and his cheeks
turning a similar shade of red to that of his hair.

However,
the writer just smirked and pushed past him to fling open the door of the
tavern and stride through. The others followed him, Wat close behind as
thoughts of tryio sao satisfy his insatiable hunger once again took priority;
and so, when Geoff stopped dead, they were all caught off guard – Wat knocking
into him and almost sending him sprawling and Kate ending up almost squashed
between Will and Roland.

“The strike
is swift and true, my heart pierced by such an arrow …” Geoff announced
theatrically, clutching at his chest as he stood in the doorway, his gaze fixed
on a figure across the room.

“Chaucer’s
been shot!” yelled Wat animatedly, completely oblivious to the concept of
metaphor, “Someone’s only gone and shot the bugger!”

“Your
concern is touching …” said Geoff, not wanting to miss the chance to tease Wat
in spite of everything. “But it is the arrow of the surest of archers which
causes my heart to cease its beating – Cupid has found his target!”

“So you
ain’t dying or nothing then?”

“Only of
heartache caused by longing …” the poet declared.

“Good, ‘cos
I want to be the one to KILL you!” shouted Wat before lunging at him furiously
and having to be restrained by Will and Roland.

Geoff
fended him off, all the while staring across the rowdy, crowded tavern.

“I must
know more of her …” he murmured, before merely pushing them all aside and
heading off in the direction of a redheaded young woman.

“I’ll rip …
and tear … and I’ll … I’ll FONG you!” hollered Wat, making the rest of the
group laugh even as they clung to him and tried to wrestle him into a seat so
they could watch the herald’s quest.

style='mso-ansi-language:EN-GB'>~End Flashback~

Geoff had
to smile to think of that day – that day ever etched on his memory as the day
he was fated to learn more of the object of his affections, having until then
only watched her from afar.

“Ah, Ellena
…” he sighed, looking down at her and seeing she had dozed off again, nestled
by his side and with one hand resting lightly on his chest. “Little did you
know that, even then, you had been appointed keeper of my heart …”

Taking care
not to wake her, he lifted her hand and pressed a tender kiss to its palm
before replacing it on his chest, holding it to his heart. If only things could
have been that simple …

style='mso-spacerun:yes'>

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