Falcon's Beginning

Disclaimer-No knights, nothing you recodnise!!


Thank you very, very much to Sheiado, my ONLY *ahem* reviewer! (I'm mainly writing this for you!)

Chapter 3- Lost in the Wilderness of Emotion

Smiling at her horse, Falcon slipped it an apple, purloined from Vanora that morning. For a while, she simply stood and watched it, admiring the way the sunlight bounced off the shining mane and coat, the powerful muscles in the legs and torso and the bright intelligent eyes of her steed. “You know, I’m prettier than a horse. Ogle me!” Rang out an amused voice behind her. Falcon laughed, and without turning around, replied, “Morning, Lancelot. And I beg to differ. My horse is far prettier than you.” The horse straightened and whinnied, throwing it’s head as if in agreement. Lancelot laughed and leant on the stall door beside her. “And how is the fair Falcon this morning? Well I trust” Moving to curry his horse, Lancelot looked over his shoulder when she did not reply. “What’s wrong?” He asked, without stopping. Falcon sighed and slipped her arms from her leaning post, dropping instead to sit on the clean hay bale that sat ready for Lancelot’s steed. “I’m confused.” She finally replied. Lancelot chuckled, out of sight on the other side of his horse and asked, “Why?”
“A man.”
His head popped up from the other side of the beast. He looked shocked. “What man?! If someone has hurt you…your face…what happened?” There was menace in his tone. Falcon quickly remedied the situation. “You should see the other man. He won’t be bothering me again.” Lancelot looked doubtful, “Who was he?” He asked, watching her carefully. Falcon shrugged, moving to stand up. Lancelot quickly soothed her, “Falcon,. No, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. So who is this man? He isn’t the rough lover, is he?” He teased, grinning at her. Falcon felt her cheeks flame up. “No! Lancelot! I’m just confused and…well…I’m confused.” She rambled, looking at her feet. Lancelot watched her closely, and then smiled softly. The woman sat before him was more like a sister to him than anything, and he loved her. To see her like this was a rarity, and it was clear that she was smitten with whoever it was she was confused about. “Who is he?” Lancelot finally asked. Falcon coloured. “No one you know..” She mumbled, shifting about awkwardly on the hay bale. Lancelot stopped everything and rushed to kneel in front of her. “Who is it? Which one of the other knights is it!?” He asked, almost wild with excitement. Falcon burst out laughing, shoving him lightly. “You’re almost as bad as Vanora!” She laughed, shaking her head. Lancelot wrapped her in a sudden hug, making her squeal with laughter. “Lance! Bugger off, you big woman!” Mock growling, Lancelot pushed her off the hay bale and the pair rolled onto the floor, laughing and shouting, good-naturedly fighting.
“What are you two doing?” Asked a voice, and Lancelot stopped, Falcon squashed into the floor under him. Gareth stood watching them from the entrance to the stables, grinning. “Lancelot, you’ve had every maid in the fort, you can’t have her as well.” He joked in a serious voice, coming over to stand over the two. “Arthur wants us all in the Meeting Room. Something has come up that the Romans couldn’t handle. I wonder if a village girl walloped a soldier...?” He carried on mockingly. Laughing, Falcon shoved Lancelot off her and stood up, brushing straw from her slender form, reaching out a hand to help Lancelot up. “I’ll be along in a moment. I have to finish my horse.” Lancelot sighed, looking at his steed. Falcon nodded and followed Gareth, who had already left the stable. “Falcon!” Lancelot called. She turned in the doorway. “Tell me later?” He asked, eyes hopeful. “Maybe.” She replied, before striding out to the Meeting Room and another quest.


Arthur stood, waiting for the rest of his knights to arrive. In the years that they had been here, they had already lost too many. The only ones left now were the ones who had been fighting since they could crawl. Lost in his thoughts, it took him a moment for his brain to register that Falcon was talking to him. “…and so he says he’ll be along later. Alright?” She finished, looking concernedly into her Commanders face. Arthur smiled gently, nodding, realising that she was talking about Lancelot. The next thing he realised was that she was covered in straw. As she was walking away, the leader called to her. “Falcon! Why are you looking like a walking hay bale?” He asked, grinning, thankful for this small piece of amusement in his life. Falcon smiled, picking bits of straw from her hair. “Lancelot.” Was all she said, before walking around to her place between Gareth and Bors. “What happened to you?” Bors asked. Falcon shook her head, grinning. “Never mind...” She whispered as Arthur raised his tankard, the signal for the start of the meeting. Silence fell as one by one; the knights raised their tankards and drank, remembering their fallen comrades.
“Knights, another task had been given to us. One that requires bravery and valour,” Arthur began. Falcon smiled slightly when Bors muttered, “When does it not?”
“We have had instruction from Rome to see to the Rogue Legion that has broken free of the Empire and crossed the wall. Many of the Soldiers used to barrack here, and you will know some of them,” Falcon felt sick, she had been relatively friendly with some of the soldiers. “...and so you must steel yourselves against their deaths.” Arthur finished with a sad look in his light eyes. “We ride out tomorrow morning, dawn.” He said quietly, rising, and letting the Knights gathered around the table know they could leave. Falcon stayed where she was for a moment, seeing her dark friend waiting for her. He left with the others, and a strange feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Arthur looked as though he wanted to give up. “Arthur,” Falcon said quietly, once everyone had left. “I don’t like your god, I never have, but if it gives you comfort, talk to him.” Arthur smiled at her, nodding. “You should go.” He muttered finally. Falcon turned to leave, tucking her long hair behind her ears. “Wait! Falcon…what is that?” Arthur gasped, striding forwards and grasping her chin in one hand gently, examining the bruise forming around her eye. Falcon removed his larger hand carefully with one of her own. “It’s nothing for you to be concerned about. I can look after myself.” Falcon said firmly, pushing his breastplate playfully. Arthur frowned. If it was one of the Roman Soldiers, there is a punishment for attacking a woman.”
“Don’t you dare!” Falcon hissed, eyes fierce. “I’ve been fighting alongside you for how long? And you single me out now?” Arthur drew the girl into a rare hug, murmuring, “I’m sorry, Falcon. I just worry. The majority of Romans in the fort think you’re a Blasphemer.”
“It’s a good thing I don’t believe in your god then.” Falcon sighed wearily. Arthur released her. “You should go.” He smiled, motioning to the door.
“It’ll be alright Arthur; we’ve been here long enough to know not to think everything is always so smooth.” She said reassuringly, before striding out into the bright, warm sunlight of the British summer. “You’re covered in straw because of Lancelot?” Asked an annoyed voice. Mentally berating herself for not leaving the other way, Falcon turned to face Tristan. He leant against a wall, in the shade, looking every part the dangerous young warrior. His dark eyes pierced hers, and for the first time, Falcon was a little afraid of him. “There was nothing…it wasn’t like that!” She growled hotly, turning to walk away again. A restraining hand on her arm drew her back. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable last night.” Tristan said hurriedly. “I’m sorry.” Falcon whispered, “I just don’t think we could…well you know.”
“I’m not sorry.” The hand released her arm, gently sweeping long fingers over her bruised wrist and letting go. Turning, Falcon watched him walk off into the practice yards.

“What am I going to do?” Falcon almost wailed, sitting on the bar. Vanora smiled knowingly, bouncing child number four on her hip. “You like him, don’t you?” She said accusingly. Falcon nodded, blushing. “And Tristan likes you?” Another nod. “What is the problem?” Was the simple reply, as she turned to pour another flagon for the demented woman knight. “The problem is that I could die tomorrow. He could die tomorrow. I don’t want to be saddled with children-not that I don’t think it’s a bad thing!” She yelped as Vanora waved a rolling pin mock-threateningly. “And it just would be so strange.” She finished with a sigh. The bar was her refuge. Here, she could come and talk to another woman. Haylie was a good friend, but her sister had just been killed, the grief had rendered her silent. It was almost noon, and there were only a few customers, old men who sat and played at knives. Falcon always stayed well clear of them. Sometimes experience and age were not the best things to have. Especially when your joints are acting up. Vanora shook her head, smiling. “Falcon, I’ve known you for a while. You’ve been at this fort for four years. I can read you like a scripture. All you have to do is admit to yourself how you feel.” The wise expression on the bar woman’s face made Falcon grin. “You’re too wise, lady. Too wise.” Hopping down from the bar, Falcon straightened her clothing, the breeches hanging low and loose on her slender frame. Vanora frowned at them. “I’ll have to see to those again.” She said, turning to see to a customer. “Thank you, Vanora. I’m going to the practice yards if anyone is looking for me.” Falcon called over her shoulder as she left the bar. The road was peaceful and quiet, hardly anyone was out on this hot day. Occasionally, Britain would have bursts of hot summer weather, and people would stay indoors, unable to take the heat of the sun. “You’re walkin’ proud, girl.” Sneered a voice. Spinning quickly on one heel, Falcon knew already who the voice belonged to. A hulking figure stepped out of the shade, his shaven head shining in the sunlight. He sneered, his countenance ugly, a broken nose-recently broken-standing at an odd angle on his flat face. The bruising and swelling mad it almost twice it’s normal size, he looked ridiculous. “Think you’ll best me again?” He snarled, advancing on the young woman. Shifting into a fighting position, left foot first, fists raised and balled, Falcon grinned manically. “You want to find out?” She asked, mockingly. The Roman charged at her, yelling, his head lowered like a battering ram. Falcon side-stepped quickly, grabbing the back of his shirt and sticking one foot out. The man tripped, Falcon pulling with all her might on the shirt, sending the man flying into the dust. “What is the meaning of this?” Bellowed a man. Falcon winced. Arthur. The Roman scrambled back up, and Falcon, unaware and looking apologetically at her commander, yelped as she was bodily picked up and thrown, straight into a fence. The wood shattered, the thin sticks snapping and slicing into her skin. Shallow, but long cuts…but not my wrist… sprained? Falcon thought, as she quickly assessed the damage. A bellow caught her attention. Looking up, Falcon scrambled to get out of the way, the enraged Roman bulling straight for her. Darting to the side, she delivered a mighty kick to his rear as he passed, the already battered fence was knocked flat as the man fell through it, into the mud patch of the pigs on the other side. Arthur, his face grim and set in fury, drew Excalibur. “No! This is my fight.” Falcon dismissed, waving her good hand at the Roman Commander. “Falcon, this man is twice your size!” Arthur almost shouted, striding forward. “I beat him last night, I’ll do it again!” Falcon yelled, facing the now upright, mud coated Roman soldier. Arthur stood in front of her, shielding the furious Falcon. “This fight is over.” He told the Roman, “I am Artorius Castus, and I say it is done!” The Roman pointed over Arthur’s shoulder at her, his voice menacing. “You, girl. You haven’t heard the last of this.” The man stomped off, mud-covered and shamed. Arthur sheathed his sword, and turned to her. “Is he the one who hit you last night?”
“That was nothing to do with you, Arthur!” Falcon growled. “I am old enough to look after myself. I have been fighting my whole life. Don’t interfere again.” Turning, she stalked away to her rooms, holding her swelling wrist and wondering how on earth she was going to explain to the others what had happened.


Please, please, please review.