The Fires of Beltane
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Adult +
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Category:
1 through F › A Knight's Tale
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,358
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own A Knights Tale, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Fires of Beltane
NOTES : The Mayday welcomes the summer. It is also know as Beltane.
Oh, do not tell the Priest our plight,
Or he would call it a sin;
But we have been out in the woods all night,
A-conjuring Summer in!
Kipling
Wat sat quietly watching the festival swirl around him. He chuckled at the thought of what Geoff would say. ‘Wat sitting quietly? Not possible’. But he was.
He saw the flip the maiden’s skirts as they danced around the maypole. He heard the thrumming of the drumbeats that kept the morris dancers in time. He could smell the smoke from the bonfire lit to honour Beltane. He savoured the taste of the malty beer that was smooth against his throat.
Yet he was not content.
He missed the mangy herald who dogged his days and heated his nights. He missed his lover who had been commanded to attend the court that day. Sighing, he pulled another swig from his tankard and lost himself in the flickering of the flames.
He was startled as a plump young wench dropped to the bench beside him with a sultry glance. Her peasant top gaped open, her skirt showing off tanned legs. Wat found himself having to drag his glance up to her laughing eyes.
She silently offered him her garland of mayflowers, pouting prettily when he refused. “Sorry, I’m waiting for my lover.”
The young woman smiled casting a look behind him and vanished into the crowd of revellers again. Wat turned to look behind him. There lounging against a tree was his lanky lover. He spied a garland in his hand.
“Waiting for your lover, eh?” Wat grinned at the droll tone.
He stood up, smiling at the herald. “Aye. Hopefully before the fires die and Beltane is over.”
Chaucer offered the squire his garland. Wat nodded and Geoff gently dropped the flowers around his neck.
“Come, walk the fires with me, Wat, then we can go A-Maying.”
“For a year and a day?” Wat asked.
Chaucer took his hand and pulled him close. Kissing him lightly he replied. “Always, Wat. I’ll walk the fires with you always.”
Blessed Be.
Oh, do not tell the Priest our plight,
Or he would call it a sin;
But we have been out in the woods all night,
A-conjuring Summer in!
Kipling
Wat sat quietly watching the festival swirl around him. He chuckled at the thought of what Geoff would say. ‘Wat sitting quietly? Not possible’. But he was.
He saw the flip the maiden’s skirts as they danced around the maypole. He heard the thrumming of the drumbeats that kept the morris dancers in time. He could smell the smoke from the bonfire lit to honour Beltane. He savoured the taste of the malty beer that was smooth against his throat.
Yet he was not content.
He missed the mangy herald who dogged his days and heated his nights. He missed his lover who had been commanded to attend the court that day. Sighing, he pulled another swig from his tankard and lost himself in the flickering of the flames.
He was startled as a plump young wench dropped to the bench beside him with a sultry glance. Her peasant top gaped open, her skirt showing off tanned legs. Wat found himself having to drag his glance up to her laughing eyes.
She silently offered him her garland of mayflowers, pouting prettily when he refused. “Sorry, I’m waiting for my lover.”
The young woman smiled casting a look behind him and vanished into the crowd of revellers again. Wat turned to look behind him. There lounging against a tree was his lanky lover. He spied a garland in his hand.
“Waiting for your lover, eh?” Wat grinned at the droll tone.
He stood up, smiling at the herald. “Aye. Hopefully before the fires die and Beltane is over.”
Chaucer offered the squire his garland. Wat nodded and Geoff gently dropped the flowers around his neck.
“Come, walk the fires with me, Wat, then we can go A-Maying.”
“For a year and a day?” Wat asked.
Chaucer took his hand and pulled him close. Kissing him lightly he replied. “Always, Wat. I’ll walk the fires with you always.”
Blessed Be.