I'm Burnin for You (LANCELOT)

[Celta Meiru]

Celta only felt the rain pouring into her face, plastering her brown ringlets to her face. Her dress was soaked, and she felt the cold water to her bones as she kept running through the forest. She glanced around, ever on alert for anyone and anything out there. She had run away from her foster parents' home, since she had about had it with her foster father. There was always a suitor, always some man trying to woo her into marriage for their convenience, and not herlove. And to Celta, love was all that mattered.

She held back a hiss of pain as she tripped over a stump of a tree and was sent to her knees. She felt skin scraping ground hard, and she knew she'd be bleeding. Poor girl looked a mess...what with these new wounds added to the bruises and scratches from everything in the past week dealing with the brutality of training on horseback.

Celta glanced up at the woods and, without thinking, she ran as fast as she could into the cluster of trees, her heart now pounding in her throat as she unsheathed her dagger from her boot and found herself determined to run. All other thoughts fled from her mind as she kept moving to get away from the house she used to know.

Soon thereafter, she stopped abruptly as she realized she was not alone. Three men with swords drawn stepped out in her path, and her hand sh0t down to her sword hilt. They had dangerous smiles and roaming eyes, and the young woman stumbled back a step...right into a stranger's strong arms. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her around to face him. Hallen...Hallen worked for one of the crueler kings of Albion, so this wasn't looking good for her at the moment. Hallen looked so angry that fear rendered Celta speechless as instinct overtook her and she attempted to attack him with her dagger. He easily grabbed her wrist and twisted the weapon away from her, smirking dangerously as it fell to the forest floor.

She then found herself trying to scream, but she was too deep in the forest for ears to hear her. The guard leaned in close and whispered a good night before painful blackness took over her vision, and she fell limp in his arms.

Hallen's eyes glittered dangerously as he carried his unconscious assignment along with him onto his horse to take her back to the king.

When she awoke, it was on a cold stone floor. Blinking to clear her vision, she realized it was a cell, and she sat up quickly, glancing around. Where was she? And then she remembered Hallen and glared at the wall. Well, how was she supposed to get out of this one? A shadow fell across the cell, and she looked up to see Hallen leering at her. He opened the cell, and practically dragged her kicking and biting by the hair back to the king, where he dropped her to the ground to face him.

Celta's icy blue eyes sent an angry glare to the king, who smiled at her and ordered them to force her to work in the castle. He said he knew who she was and wasn't about to let a noble of Camelot go free, especially the daughter of a man that was once close to King Uther and his family. And that's when she lost it. Lunging at one of the guards, she drew a dagger hidden in her boot and easily overpowered him. Hallen grabbed her from behind, but not before she killed the guard. The king's smile faded into anger, and he ordered Hallen to take her and do whatever he wished, as long as the outcome was death. Hallen knocked her out with the hilt of his sword and picked her up.

With a smirk and a nod, he left his king. He brought her back to a barn behind his own home. He grabbed the rope and then set her down gently against a beam, waiting for Celta to awaken. And when she did, he smirked evilly at her, and it made her blood run cold.

"Hallen," she practically spat out the word as though it were venom, and he frowned for a moment before leaning close and stroking her face with his fingers. She closed her eyes and shrank away from his touch, her face looking repulsed.

"Find her horse, Eolas. And kill her," he growled out with the cruelest of grins as he faced Celta again. His other guard took off out of the barn. Celta moved to stand up, her heart pounding in terror for her animal, but she was backhanded backwards into the pole. She winced in pain as her head hit the beam, and then Hallen was pinning her forcefully with his arm, his breath hot on her neck.

"I'm teaching you a lesson, Celta. You better learn it. If you live through this, you won't kill a guard again. I promise you that...but I highly doubt you'll live through this," he threatened as he used the rope to tie her hands tightly onto the beam so that she could move slightly but not escape. He wanted to make sure she would be emotionally tormented trying to get away, being so close but not being able to be free, and knowing her horse will be killed before she could save it. He grabbed at her father's necklace, yanking it off of her neck, and throwing it on the ground at her feet.

Celta fought against the rope, screaming at him to let her go as she pushed against the ropes to attack him. He hissed at her madly and kicked her back before grabbing her head, kissing her hard with a cruel laugh and dropping her back. Her eyes widened fearfully yet indignantly as she glared at him. A smirk reappeared, and he dropped his torch onto several things inside the barn, and the fire spread quickly. The young woman screamed as he left her alone in the barn to find her horse, and she grabbed at her ropes, but it was so tight that she could barely move.

She pulled at them to no avail and groaned madly, her head rolling to the side as she watched the flames dancing around the wood in the barn, the wood catching quickly. The young woman tried again to scream for help, praying for a miracle that anyone could hear her. She whimpered and coughed once as smoke filled her airway, halting any further sound for the moment.

"Eolas," she whispered fearfully, hearing the distinct sound of her horse's whinny as hooves pounded against wood. "No."

Celta kicked at the flames near her feet and tried to scream as a small wooden beam fell from the ceiling and landed a few feet away from her, the flames from it dancing off onto the ground. Another coughing fit wracked her body, and she sank against the ropes that held her arms to the beam behind her. She heard two horses whinnying and then her eyes shut, her body finally giving into her unconsciousness.

[Lancelot Du Lac]

Lancelot had ventured out from Camelot for several days. He just had to get away. He had been accepted by Prince Arthur to join the training program to become a Knight of Camelot. He had found it, however, to be quite an awkward situation, since he had once been knighted by King Uther and then had the knighthood stripped. Despite what Arthur might imply, Lancelot always had his doubts that Uther would ever reinstate him, even if he had Arthur's full support. Arthur had to know that Lancelot would come to his aid whenever he called, but Lancelot understood that Uther could never get around his sense of honor and loyalty to the Code, to ever find Lancelot acceptable.

So Lancelot had, more-or-less, drifted back into the soldier-for-hire .... nomadic knight that he had been before he had come to Camelot. He fad few, if any, family ties to hold him to any one place. And the only woman he had loved he felt was outside his reach. Besides, his sword-craft and the knightly code was what he was bound to.

Most of his life, especially his life since his teens, had been spent with him only depending on himself. Most of his soldiering had been done for the King of Wessex. Only in the most desperate of circumstances would King Uther ask him to do anything, or Arthur, he thought, for that matter. Although Merlin was a close friend, his only real companion, was Sher-Fore, his black Arabian stallion.

There reached a point, every few months, that Lancelot simply had to leave Camelot. Its walls were simply too confining\, and he had to escape. Many times he had had errands to run for King Theodred of Wessex, but this time he simply needed some alone-time. He had to go places where he could simply, hunt, fish, and think. The first couple of days he had spent hunting in the Forest of Balor, near to the edge of the kingdom of Mercia. On the second day, just as he had wounded a deer with his bow, he could have thought he heard a woman crying in the distance. Shortly, though, the sound had stopped and he swore to himself, as he began his chase of the deer that it had been his imagination. Over much of the second day he had followed the circuitous route of the wounded animal, until it collapses at the edge of a clearing that was adjacent to a farmhouse and barn in the country.

As he leaned over the fallen deer he watched a man carry a seemingly unconscious woman into the barn. Strange, he thought. From what little he could see from his vantage point she had seemed to have a striking face. He had almost cleared his mind of the two people when he heard a definitely female shriek and yell from inside the barn, and a second man exited the barn.

He watched as the man made some menacing movements toward a horse .... a horse who seemed to be wary of the man ..... who drew a long sword to attack it! There wasn't time for an honorable battle, Lancelot considered, and he pulled an arrow from his quiver, loaded it, and in one complete motion, brought the man down.

Lancelot now had grave doubts about the safety of the lady that had been taken inside the structure. Doubts that were simply heightened as he began to see smoke come from the eaves of the structure. Obviously a fire had been started somewhere within, and he saw the man that had carried the woman in, suddenly exit outside through a side door in the barn.

As he stared into the eyes of the man with his icy pale-blue eyes Lancelot asked him a short but direct question. "And where do you think you are going, and without the charge you entered with, eh? You will not advance a yard before you explain yourself .... sir." Without a moments hesitation the man drew his sword and advanced on Lancelot, who was on foot. He had let his horse go to keep the other company, and he heard them softly whinnying together. Still, the distance that his attacker had to cover allowed Lancelot to draw his other sword, and after a few quick feints with his right-sword, had brought his left-hand sword across the man's arm, causing him to drop his sword, and Lancelot followed through with right, landing the hilt square on the man's jaw, knocking him out.

Quickly Lancelot entered the barn, seeing the horrific picture of the young woman in now tattered clothing, hanging from the beam in the midst of the flames. With his swords he quickly cut her down, threw her body over one shoulder, and carried her out, and draped her body securely over the back of the other other horse. Momentarily, he looked back and considered whether he should finish her assailant off, but thought better of it, and decided it best to get away from this place as quickly as he could, leading both horses, with their cargo deep into the forest. He had a clearing in mind, near some caves that he had used before for shelter, where he could build a fire that would be unobservable but still be able to warm and dry her out. It would take the greatest fool to follow them where he was taking her. He just hoped that he was doing right thing, as he proceeded deeper into the Forest.

[Celta Meiru]

Celta was out cold inside the barn, but felt herself drifting in and out of consciousness once she started to move. Confused and dazed, she tried to open her eyes, but it was painful for her to think about doing anything right then. She stopped trying and let herself feel every movement. She vaguely recognized the feeling of being on a horse, Eolas to be exact. Oh, thank goodness her beautiful mare was all right. Celta didn't know what she would do without her best friend and companion, who has saved her troublesome self on many occasions.

There was male voices rushing through her mind, some Hallen and the king and others belonged to a new male voice she didn't recognize. Who was he, and what kind of harm did he wish upon her? Being around these men and the horrors of that castle and even the tragedies in her past didn't allow her to trust many people in her life. Everyone either died on her or left her, but either way she was left alone at the end to fend for herself. She was draped over Eolas' back, as she did not feel the saddle underneath her bottom but instead her stomach, and she groaned inwardly in pain and frustration.

She wasn't alone with Eolas, she knew that much. There was someone leading Eolas along with another horse, for she heard the second set of hooves on the ground as they kept moving. It couldn't have been Hallen, he left her in the barn to die...it must've been the new voice she had heard before...but why did he go into the burning barn to retrieve her? Annd then it struck her.

Her father's necklace was still in the barn. It was the only thing she had left of him before he abandoned her, and it was important to her. Once she felt strong enough, she would go back for it, even if it took her a week to sift through ashes to find it. She'd take Eolas and return, unless Hallen was still there. She couldn't face that man again. As tough as Celta was, there were certain things and people she was scared of.

But, as it were, she could barely lift her head, let alone turn Eolas around and race back to the barn to rush into fire for her necklace. Opening her eyes, she saw the sunshine peeking through the waves of trees around her, and an audible groan of pain escaped her as Eolas stumbled wearily.

"Eolas..." she breathed sharply, causing a snort from her horse and a smoother gait as the horse shook herself to wake up. She moved her eyes to the man on the other horse, and she closed her eyes for another few moments before Eolas stopped. Celta opened her eyes once more in confusion and realized she was in a beautiful clearing. Yet looks could be deceiving as she glared warily around without moving her head too much lest it cause her more pain than she wanted.

"Where?" was all she could ask whoever this was that had, for some crazed reason, saved her. Her hands shakily grabbed Eolas as she tried to right herself, biting her lip to keep a scream of pain from leaving her mouth the entire time. Her whole body hurt, whether it was aches and bumps or worse injuries from being at the castle with those cruel men. How long had she been there? She only remembered the past two days, but she somehow knew she had been at that horrid place longer than that.

[Lancelot Du Lac]

Lancelot had been wearing his old traveling cloak, while being out and about. He did not want, necessarily, to advertise that he was a knight of any sort. It had the extra advantage of have some deep pockets, good for hiding and carrying objects. In fact, Lancelot, had seen an object, right at the girl's feet, when he had freed her, which had seemed to sparkle in the light. It was obviously not an object that one would normally find laying around a dirt barn floor. He assumed, given the proximity to the woman that it had indeed fallen off her.

Upon further examination, he found the necklace to be a fairly intricate work of craftsmanship. As a result he would not leave it to be discovered and sold by the sort of men who had tied her to the beam. Lancelot decided to look it over for a bit. For one, it might help in identifying the girl and where she came from. Second, she might have stolen it herself and, then, it would have been his duty to try and return it to its proper place and person. However, he considered, it was just as likely that it was a family heirloom of hers and he would end up returning it to her.

He was glad that the new horse cooperated so much with him, from loading the young lady on to its back, to leading it into the forest. Was it possible that it was actually her horse as well. That would explain a great deal, wouldn't it. It might even be possible that her initial yells had been for fear for her horse, given what that one man had threatened the horse, just before Lancelot had delivered the fatal arrow. They must have abused her severely, he thought to himself, for her to be still unconscious, unless she was pretending. In any case, they were heading for the deepest and densest part of the forest, a part that only a native would have much knowledge of.

Well, she would wake up soon enough, he reckoned. He clucked his cheeks, to get his horses attention. "Sher-Fore .... come on .... you know the way ..... don't you remember it? After all, horses are generally more intelligent than men, especially compared to that lot we just had the run-in with, eh?," he chuckled. Momentarily, though, he felt a light to a steady shower begin to fall once more upon them.

Concerned that the young woman might get wet and sick from the dampening conditions, Lancelot removed his traveling cloak and covered her with it to keep her dry for the short distance they had yet to travel. In removing his cloak, though, it revealed that he was dressed in his knight's garb, as well as his various weapons: the 2 long-swords he carried, the knives in is belt, and the circular shield that he carried on his back, as the Spartans were once said to.

"Calm yourself Sher--Fore. We will soon be at the caves and out of this nasty weather, and be somewhere where we can light a fire to stay warm. At least the rain isn't continuous. There, I can see some breaks in the clouds and some peaks of sunshine. Indeed .... strange weather."

"Here we are ..... at last," he said upon entering the clearing. 'The caves are on the far side, hidden in the trees." He looked behind him and saw that the woman was now definitely awake, and had raised her head. "Ah, I see the dead have awakened. Fear not, we shall be at a place that you can rest, and not be in motion on the back of a horse. Where? Why you are deep in the center of the enchanted Forest of Balor, milady. And who might Sir Lancelot Du Lac, have the honor to address?," he asked as he began to move them all across the clearing.

[Celta Meiru]

Celta felt her way over Eolas' back and neck using her hands and fingers sliding softly over the beautiful, sleek dappled grey coat. Eolas breathed out a deep sigh as she felt Celta stirring on her back. Celta's lips lifted into a partial smile, glad to feel her mare alive and full of her usual eager spirit. Glancing up from where she was draped across Eolas, she looked upon more trees, watching as the forest became denser with each step. She was beginning to get fearful, however, Eolas was not afraid or resisting, so Celta would wait and see who this man was and what he wanted before she acted.

...Not like she could or would do anything in her current condition anyway. Memories flashed through her mind of her time at the castle, though only bits and pieces and nothing large enough to piece together, yet it was all enough for her to conclude she hadn't just spent a day at the castle with those men. She knew her adoptive parents would be worried sick about her, and she deserved their anger a bit. After all, she wanted to run away to escape their life and expectations...she just didn't expect for everything to go that wrong. Her plans involved going to Mercia for awhile, not get abducted and kept by a cruel king and rescued from the same element she was terrified of.

'Some escape, huh?' she thought sarcastically with a frown. Celta closed her eyes as another wave of pain racked her body, and she felt something warm wrap around her. After a moment, she opened her eyes to see the stranger's cloak was wrapped around her body to keep her from being wet or cold with the rain that now fell. At least he was kind and thoughtful, a type of man that did not want to harm her. At least, it seemed that way...but she could never know nowadays. Deceit came in any form, especially with magic roaming so freely in and around Camelot. One could never be too careful.

The man finally turned around to face her and saw that she was awake. He looked familiar to her, and she couldn't help but stare right back at him. He was a handsome man with short brown hair, intelligent eyes, and a face no one would forget. He had warm features instead of those of the men she had known for a time back there, something that caught her off guard as she wasn't used to it. He spoke to her about getting safe and out of the rain, to which she nodded in agreement. She clenched her fists against more pain, yet this was an older pain. Maybe it happened at the castle? She just did not know anymore.

Ah, so they were in the Forest of Balor? That would explain the depth and darkness surrounding them. She shuddered and used her stronger hand to pull his cloak closer around her, listening as he introduced himself. She almost fell off Eolas when she heard he was Sir Lancelot du Lac. The Lancelot? The man she had seen training with Prince Arthur and his men? The knight everyone in the court spoke of in regards to his quarrel with the king and his immense fighting skills? It couldn't be the same man.

"Sir...Lancelot?" she asked breathlessly, shock apparent on her face. "I've heard much of your name. My name is Lady..." she paused, realizing the word lady came out as a bitter and angry word, before she attempted to put on a forced smile. "Celta. Celta Meiru, adopted daughter of Sir Hadrian Plamen and his wife Edella...I am from Camelot..." Her voice halted, and she found words hard to say after that. And, as much as she hated saying the next two words that came out of her mouth, she knew that they must be said. "Thank you." She'd never admit she was weak in any way or needed a man's help, but in truth, if it weren't for Lancelot, she'd be dead by now.

[Lancelot Du Lac]

It had been a long several days in the Forest for Lancelot, and after the journey back to the center of the Forest of Balor, Lancelot was quite fatigued. Fortunately, he had been to the caves several times, and he had a campsite already set up in one of the caves. There was some kindling nearby the fire-pit, which was possible, given its dry condition. Unless someone had come by and used his supply up there should be about a day's supply of fire-wood, which meant he would have to go and cut some more at the very least, sometime the next day. As they had moved through the last row of trees, before the clearing, he had seen her re-orient herself on the horse's back.

As he looked out of the corner of his eye he could see that the slight smile develop on her lips. Several things were now obvious. First, it was clear that she felt quite at home and comfortable on the back of this horse. Second, it was clear that the woman and horse knew each other quite well, and he now assumed, that was why the horse had been so well-behaved on their trip so far. After he had introduced himself, he waited to see if she had any reaction to his name, as they crossed the clearing.

"I see, even with abuse that they probably gave you, that you are now able to ride. This is good. If you wish, you could ride off at your leisure and I would not stop you. However, I think that you could use some rest and some food and some water. Also, despite Camelot being so close, the Forest is an easy place to get lost in. So, you are welcome to stay here, with me, as long as you desire, and then I will escort you in whatever direction that you seek to travel, whether it be toward Camelot, or away." He did wonder, though, what could cause a beautiful young woman to travel away from her home, alone and unescorted, so that she could fall into the hands of such men as he had rescued her from. However, in keeping with the Code, he asked her no question, imagining that she would tell him what she wanted him to know, when she cared to.

He had seen, even before he had introduced himself, that she had turned to look at him, and almost seemed to have an expression of recognition on her face, and yet also a face that the recognition was not quite complete. However, when he announced who he was, her expression changed from a riddled one to one of shock. At any rate, she had seemed, by the nod of her head, that she agreed with his suggestion of moving into the dry caves that were just ahead.

"Well .... some simply call me Lancelot ..... milady .... since I have not been a Knight of Camelot for some time now. I think it unlikely that while King Uther Pendragon lives that I will ever become part of that noble group of knights. Perhaps when Arthur becomes king it will be different, but for the time being I accept my role in life as a wandering knight. For today, though, I will wander no farther. I am too tired to go beyond these caves this day."

He then heard her go on. She almost said his name as if he was somebody to be held in awe. His father had been a diplomat from Gaul, representing the Dauphin in various courts across Europe, and therefore, Lancelot's noble lineage lay in France rather than Britain. "And what have you heard of my name ..... Lady ..... Celta? My .... that is a fine name .... for a fine ..... lady," Lancelot said, slightly embarrassed. He looked at himself as being a common man with the lofty ambition to serve a knightly mission. He knew that many others, fortunately for them, were British nobles who could serve openly as knights in the kingdoms they resided in, unlike himself.

"Camelot ..... Camelot is a fine city Do you wish to return there, or is it from there that you are trying to escape. I will assist you in whatever path that you choose. From all physical appearance, you are of age, able to make such judgments for yourself. However, I think the first thing you should do is get by a campfire and dry those clothes out. I'm afraid their wet condition is not healthy, and it doesn't leave much to the imagination," he said as his face, even with its natural dark complexion, took on a slightly pink hue. He led her through the first row of trees on the far side of the clearing and into the first of several small caves there. Kneeling by the fire pit near the front of the cave, he added some kindling and using a flint, quickly started a fire there.

"You are quite welcome, milady Celta," he said making sure that his face stay hidden from view as he worked to build the small fire into a roaring one. Lancelot was comfortable with neither compliments nor with beautiful women, which was something that he didn't usually want to advertise, especially when he was confronted with both at the same time.