(Here is another fanfiction shortie for your consideration, copied from the original, no changes, except the html.)
Marell Moore
Sun, 20 Apr 1997 20:08:54 -0400
Ok, another shortie...as you can see I spent my weekend with the kids and the Disney channel....don't knock it till you try it...HLdoesn't belong to me...I get no money. no credit...only pure fun...which I am so glad they haven't begun to tax yet...(whew).......as always....m
Idylls of a Knight Errant
by mhm
The sound pounded in his ears. The smell of horseflesh almost making him gag. "What am I doing?"he whispered to himself as he looked out of the slit in the massive metal helmet. It weighed on him. Making his shoulders ache. His head to pound. He shifted, trying to ease the lower part of his body. But his backside ached as well from the pounding of wool clad flesh against the hard leather saddle. He looked across the field and watched as the next contestant rode out to face the king and swear his alligence. Sighing, he took the heavy oaken lance and rode out to met another of the many he would face this day.
Two men rode onto the field of chivalry. Only one rode off. The shining crest of the black falcon on his shield. Bars of red and gold, glistening like blood as the sun rose past the zenith and made a head long plunge to the far horizon. Men groaned in their tents as squires rushed here and there to tend to their master's wounds, scrapes and illness caused by the heavy metal suits and the fierce July sun.
The lone victor rode to the stand and sat on the enormous red steed, removing his helmet and staring up at the eyes of his soveriegn.
"You have done well, my friend."the man said as he sat on the ornate throne. The dragon carved into the rich wood behind him. "Once again, Sir Martin, you have bested all those who have come before you."
The man on the horse, raised his eyes and looked into the face of the king. His steely eyes reflecting the fires of the distant sunset. He ran his fingers through the shoulder length dark hair and smiled up at the man.
"Thank you, my liege."the man called Martin answered and lifted his lance for the circle of gold.
He looked down at the golden circle. It really meant nothing to him. He lifted the lance and handed the circle to one of the Queen's many ladies-in-waiting. Turning the horse, he nodded once more to the man he called King.
The short ride across the field seemed like a distance of a thousand leagues as the people threw flowers at him and shouted his name. "Martin. Martin" they called and reached out to touch his clothes or the trappings on his horse. At the tent wearing his banner, he slid to the ground and handed the reins of the giant horse to the youth who waited. He dropped the helmet on the ground and looked up into the sky. The clouds were starting to gather. A storm was brewing. He looked back to the kings pavilion and watched as a knight rode up and stopped. From the distance, he could see the shield.
For a moment, he considering walking back across the field to stand beside his friend. But instead, he ducked and entered the tent. He waited for the squire to remove the heavy steel armor, then walked back to the doorway and peered out into the gloom. The new arrival still sat on the white charger, seemingly conversing wth the King and his advisor. Martin sighed and leaned against the post and watched. In thirty-five centuries, he knew well the signs of treachery and deceit. He watched as the Queen leaned back into her chair. A woman of rare strenghth and beauty. Her flaxen tresses adorned with pearls and golden threads that sparkled in the twilight of the day.
The man called Martin, turned and looked off into the fading sun. Sighing, he shook his head. He watched as the man on the horse dismounted and knelt in the dirt, waiting for the King as he walked down the steps.
He stood and watched as Arthur Pendragon strode to stand in front of the kneeling man and pulled the gleaming sword from his side. Knowing he was witness to a vision of history, the man listened to the words as they floated on the wind. "Rise and face your king."the regal voice commanded. "Rise I say, Sir Lancelot."
Martin turned and walked away. Unable to face the fight he knew was coming. Damning the code of chivalry in his heart and soul. Knowing he could not stop the inevitable consequences of Arthur's actions as he made Lancelot one of his knights.
Sometime later, a lone horseman sat on a dark steed, high about the walled city. In his heart, he knew he had been a part of something special. It also told him it was time to go. He no longer "blended." In another time and place, he would have strode into the chamber high in the castle tower and without a second thought struck down the man he knew would cause the fall of not only an empire, but an era. Staring at the sparkling walls in the dimness, listening to the merry making within, he almost turned and went back. But one didn't live as long as he without learning a few things of mortal nature.
With one last sigh, he pulled at the reins and turned the monstrous horse south. In a month, he would be in Normandy.
Standing in the shadows, unseen by the knight, a man hastily wrote in a heavy journal. Recording the departure of the legend called Methos as he rode away from the fable called Camelot.
FINIS