Forget This Love

Chapter 2

Swinging his leather sack over his shoulder and lifting his sword in one hand, Gwaine brushed a few last strands of straw from his worn clothes and with stiff muscles, crawled out from behind a hay cart past several stalls, out into the open road. Other early risers were bustling about, unhindered by the chilly frost which clung to everything in it's grip, Gwaine included, as he sauntered casually over the dust track, running his scarred fingers through his unruly dark hair, tossing it wildly out of his twinkling eyes. Oh, how he loved his nomadic life. Once more, he would move on from village to village, city to city, camping in wood clearings and sheltering under trees, sleeping against walls, lying in ditches. This was definitely the life.

Breathing in a gust of the cool clear morning air, the lone traveller with his few possessions went about his business stocking up on the little food inside his sack by using some of the few coins he possessed to buy bread and cheese. Stopping at the stall where the Lady Morgana had stood only the day before, he purchased a lilac blue shirt, thin and of low quality but safely in his budget and slipped it within his sack too. Sauntering casually down the dust track, Gwaine took his empty deer skin pouch from his coat and began to fill it with water from a well, splashing water on his face and running wet hands through his tousled hair.

Feeling refreshed and slightly more prepared for the brisk frosty morning, he took a long sip of cold icy water from the filled pouch and dumped his things down by a row of trestle tables and unwrapped the newly-bought cheese from his leather bag, hungrily tearing away chunks of bread from the stiff loaf but effortlessly remaining calm and composed even as his empty stomach grumbled. He wouldn't make himself look like a starving beggar. The days spent within the forests had brought Gwaine wild game such as hare, deer and (he had to admit) a stolen leg of ham from an out-skirting farm. Berries, chestnuts, mints, herbs and roots accompanied his scarce food stash and he had often spent a night, his snores blocked out by the growls of his stomach. However, years of hard living and food shortage had taught him to eat little and often, though on several occasions, there was nothing to eat at all.

Gwaine rewrapped the remains of the cheese and loaf and buried them in his pack before ducking swiftly behind a bench as four Camelot patrol soldiers marched past him. He knew very well that his kind were not all to welcome here. He waited until they'd wandered off into the distance before cautiously emerging from his hiding place. Gathering his belongings, he carried on uphill towards the the south wall steps, wanting to reach the top to get a better view of his surroundings, perhaps map out his next destination and the best route to the next city. Clambering steadily up the flagstone steps, Gwaine thought how merry and carefree his life was even though it was hard. No rules and regulations, nothing false. He was a blunt and true man and cut straight to his point. No messing. He would never stay in one place for two long. Travel and survive. Eat and survive. Until now. Gwaine could feel the reluctance in his steps as he ascended the stairs. How could one girl he hardly knew turn his world so upside down. but he felt drawn to her. Her beauty. Her innocence.

At that moment he knew immediately that he would not leave Camelot until he had spoken to her. Perhaps she was the one to change his life. maybe this abrupt diversion was what he needed.

Morgana slipped cat-like from her chamber and down the corridor, pulling her hood up so as not be so easily identified is she were to be seen. Sneaking out of the castle was difficult, especially for the king's ward. Cloak billowing as she hurried down a tight passage she ducked low when she emerged into the open air on one of the castles walk-ways. Skipping neatly down a spiral staircase, she pushed open the little door at the bottom and let herself out into the city again. Once more, the bustling villagers and workers went about their business like good folk and not much attention was drawn to her as she strode gracefully along the cobblestones. The grey surroundings of Camelot were nothing to her, boring and bleached of colour, pigeons and uninteresting creatures flapped and rushed about, dead to the onslaught of the crowds. This odd stranger who had turned up out of the blue seemed the only bright side of her boring home; she wondered if he was still there. Morgana tried persuading herself that she was really just out to escape the dullness of her locked up life, to stretch her legs and get a breather but her heart told her otherwise. It pounded in her chest so loud and hard she was worried that passers-by would be able to hear it and think she was having a heart attack and attempted to resolve this by clutching her hand to her heart.