My goodness, this has taken a long time hasn't it? Well what can you do, if the muse doesn't strike you can't make it, but I have finally gotten the next chapter done though when the next arrives I will not make any promises. Hope you're still enjoying,

Fields of Battle

By Goody

He was cold.

Alex had no clue where he was, how much time had passed, or even what day it was, but he knew he was cold. The rain had stopped nearly an hour ago and the first rays of sunlight began to peak through the treetops, but he was still soaked from the downpour. A shiver passed through him and he pulled the damp cloak around him tighter as he shook off the remnants of a strained sleep. It was not hard to regain awareness as he remembered the danger around and behind him; the mercenaries, the knights, his home, it all came back to him in a flood.

Sitting up suddenly he looked around the forest but saw no one nearby and heard no sounds to indicate other human life. He sighed, relieved he had clearly made it far enough away from the village to avoid detection, his relief was short lived though as he remembered the task he had been appointed.

"Arthur. I have to find the road," Alex whispered to himself, despising the silence and solitude he found himself in. In the black of night had had known he would have no hope of finding the road and escaping the ruthless men invading his village, so he had just run, but now that it was day and he could see he needed to find the road and quickly; Arthur could come at any time. He prayed he had not missed him.

"So, I ran for … seemed like hours. No, it couldn't have been more than two. So, I'm almost to the river which means the road would have turned a mile ago and I need to head … south!" He smiled with his revelation, checked the sun's position to find south, and then began to run. His pace was frenzied as he was constantly looking over his shoulder for signs of danger and trying to watch ahead for the road. All sounds sent him into a near panic and a half an hour later he finally stumbled onto the road. He had been running so hard that he had to pull himself to a sudden stop as it appeared before him and he stared at it in disbelief as if it were some strange, foreign object.

"I made it," he thought, "but what if Arthur has already passed? He would head straight to Omiscrus unprepared, or pass it completely. Does he even know his knights stopped there?"

These were questions Alex did not know the answer to. There were no hoof prints in the mud but the rain could have easily washed them away if they had been there. Deciding there was nothing he could do either way he settled on the ground beside the road and waited. Time passed, with each sound causing him to jerk in surprise, but finally, after nearly an hour of terrified waiting, it seemed Arthur had arrived. The ground began to tremor slightly and Alex could hear the sound of several horses being driven fiercely towards him. As his hope was ignited his first instinct was to run into the road to flag them down, but then his fear surfaced once more and he was plagued with doubts. How was he sure the men who rode towards him were even Arthur and his knights? What if it was more of the mercenaries, lagging behind?

Alex thought he could wait in hiding until he could see clearly if it was Arthur, but if he waited until they went by he had little hope of getting their attention, for it was obvious by the sound of the hoofbeats that they were traveling at an incredible gallop. The horses came closer and still he was conflicted. When at last the sound of their gallop seemed to be right beside him he made his choice and he ran into the road just as the first head of a rider came into view.

"Stop!" he shouted.

If it had been anyone other than the knights he would have been trampled on the spot, but the knights' horses were well trained and responded quickly when their riders pulled back on their reins to halt them. Alex cringed and covered his head with his arms, sure his impulsiveness would get him squashed. But when he heard a disgruntled whinnying he looked up into the face of a great black horse, which had stopped mere inches before him.

"Get out of the way boy, we're in a hurry," a voice said from above, firm but not unkind. Alex's gaze strayed upwards and he knew he was looking upon the mighty Arthur. The sun shone on his back, and Alex was amazed by the confidence he bore, the strength and pride in his square shoulders, the cold passion in his eyes, and the Roman garb; he cared not that his hero had nearly trampled him. His eyes glazed over for a moment with wonder and he could not speak.

"We don't have time for this," Gawain commented, twitching in his seat with eagerness to reach Omiscrus. These words shook Alex out of his daze and he spoke again.

"No, I need your help."

"We've troubles of our own," Bors mumbled showing little concern for the boy. Arthur nodded in agreement as he looked ahead and seemed about to order them to continue on. Alex noticed this and knew he had to keep their attention.

"Lancelot sent me!" he shouted, immediately drawing the eye of each of the knights. The others exchanged hopeful and curious glances as Arthur dismounted to meet the boy's eye.

"You have spoken to Lancelot? When? Where?" Arthur demanded, taking the boy by the shoulders.

"It was early yesterday morning when we first met, I am Omiscrus's healer," Alex started to explain and was interrupted by Tristan.

"You're a healer?" the knight asked skeptically, sizing him up.

Alex shrugged, "Healer's apprentice. Anyway, your friends arrived yesterday morning and I was charged with his care."

"How does he fare?" Arthur asked not attempting to hide his desperation.

"He was well when last I saw him, but I cannot vouch for what state you may find him in. In the night thieves attacked my village. Lancelot rushed out to defend my home, I meant to go with him but he said finding and warning you was a much more important task and … I ran." Alex hid his eyes, ashamed to have admitted such a thing to the great Arthur.

But the Roman captain touched his shoulder, drawing his gaze once more and looked at him with intense approval, "You survived, it's all I ask of even my own knights."

Alex smiled genuinely but his moment was interrupted by Gawain, "What of Galahad and Narian?"

"I do not know. They were watching the road when the men attacked, I could not tell you what happened. But the thieves seemed swift and organized, their numbers great," Alex replied.

"Too many for our friends to overcome?" Arthur asked.

Alex nodded, "Yes, unless they are Gods in disguise."

"They aren't, though Lancelot would tell you otherwise," Arthur replied, deep in thought.

"Do you know how far we are from Omiscrus, exactly?" Tristan asked.

Alex was unsure himself, he had been so lost in the dark forest, "Um, when did you pass the river?"

"About four miles back," Dagonet said.

"Then you have about three miles left on this road," Alex said and then after a pause added more quietly, "Do you have any water?"

Arthur seemed to look at him more closely, noting the exhaustion in the boy's stance and eyes. He clapped him on the shoulder and threw him his own flask, which Alex drank greedily.

"So we're almost there, but if the thieves' numbers are so great we will have little chance of rescuing our comrades," Arthur noted.

"If they even remain alive to be rescued," Gawain noted drearily, his mind seemingly lost in dread. Bors laid a supportive hand on his shoulder but it did not change his mood.

"We'll find them Gawain. Alive," Arthur insisted.

Tristan turned to Alex, a thought clearly on his mind, "These thieves, how did they appear in dress and manner?"

Alex looked at the ragged men around him, unwashed, well built, and stern. He shrugged, "Like most of you."

Tristan nodded, just as he thought.

"You want to infiltrate," Arthur stated. He did not need to ask, he could read the intentions of his scout easily.

Tristan shrugged, "It's the best way to find out what we need to know. If there's as many as the boy says we can't overtake them, even if surprise is on our side, we'll need a plan."

"They could be waiting for us," Dagonet pointed out.

"I'll just have to be careful then, won't I?" Tristan smirked.

"It's dangerous," Arthur mumbled to himself.

"I'll go with him," Gawain offered swiftly, taking any opportunity he could to get into the village faster and discover the fate of their friends.

Arthur seemed skeptical.

"I can watch his back, and two of us would draw less attention than just one of us wandering," Gawain pointed out.

Arthur looked to Tristan, who nodded his consent, and then agreed, "Fine, you may go with him. We'll travel another mile up the road and then you two can do reconnaissance and report back."

Tristan accepted this with his usual somber attitude and Gawain smiled in relief. As Arthur mounted his horse once more his gaze fell on Alex, who had become quiet as the knights talked amongst themselves.

Arthur held a hand out to the boy, "Come on, we'll take you with us. You may yet do even more good on this journey."

Alex smiled and took the knight's hand and was pulled onto the saddle behind Arthur.

"Just tell me what to do," Alex said eagerly.

Arthur looked at him curiously and asked, "What's your name, boy?"

"Alex."

Arthur extended his arm once more, this time to shake his hand, "Arthur." He said as Alex took his hand in a firm shake.

"I know."

The moment ended quickly as the grievous task at hand was recalled. Looking to his knights, Arthur then stared straight ahead, focused, "Let's ride."

The knights had no argument and the heavy hoofbeats started up once more as they continued on their way, this time with one extra passenger riding in front.

---

Lancelot awoke to soreness and pain. Opening his eyes slowly he saw the sun was risen and several hours had passed at least. His head throbbed, as did the rest of his body. He tried to push himself around to see behind him but this put pressure on his injured leg and he hissed as the new pain came, awakening him fully. Looking to his left and right he saw most of the men were passed out from drunkenness, though a few still roved through the streets, swigging back ale and laughing. Looking down he saw Galahad sitting on the ground. At first glance he appeared to be resting but when he heard Lancelot stirring the younger knight's gaze shifted upwards and his eyes showed no weariness. Galahad had not slept, but stayed awake all night on watch for them both.

"Morning."

Lancelot shivered, his body chilled from the now cooling rain that had fallen. Looking about him again, he sighed, "Damn, it wasn't a dream."

Galahad snorted, "I hope you tend to dream of better things than this."

But Lancelot's eyes showed no mirth as he surveyed the horizon and answered somberly, "Not usually."

Galahad lowered his own haunted eyes, "Neither do I."

"What have I missed?" Lancelot asked. They spoke quietly to not draw attention to themselves.

"Not a great deal. The men got drunk, the women were defiled, I am no further in loosening these ropes than I was, and like every other night the sun eventually rose," Galahad replied.

Lancelot pulled at his own bonds, ignoring the pain it caused in his arms, "So nothing important."

"No. When do you think Arthur will arrive?" Galahad asked, his voice even quieter.

Lancelot shook his head, "I don't know, it could be any time. It depends on how far south they traveled and the speed they take returning. I sent the boy … Alex, to warn them, I don't know if he made it."

Galahad bit his lip in anger, clearly frustrated beyond all belief, "Then what are we supposed to do?"

"Unfortunately, we must wait," Lancelot replied.

Galahad angrily banged his head on the post behind him, "All I've done is wait."

Several houses down Lancelot could see a group of men had formed around two others that were arguing, clearly drunk and violent. He kicked Galahad with his good foot and drew his attention to the scene.

"Bet you a round of ale that the big one wins," Lancelot said, smirking.

Galahad first looked to the sky in disbelief, but then seeing that Lancelot was serious, he turned to the fight. Though the first man had the size advantage he was also clearly drunker than the second, which Galahad thought might give the smaller a chance.

"You're on," Galahad said, also ghosting a smile. With the bet made they watched the two drunken thieves begin to brawl. The fight became quite intense, with blows traded over and over, and each time the opponents took longer to rise but would not quit. The crowd followed the two that were fighting as they traveled down the street, throwing each other into walls and kicking them along the ground. The fight was so intense that it eventually came close to the two knights, who were still watching intently to find out the winner. The two men were at the top of the stairs of a nearby home and when they stumbled down they landed directly in front of the knights.

Lancelot cringed as the first man was knocked to the ground by a strong uppercut. The man was slow to rise and fearing that he may lose his bet, Lancelot called out helpfully, "There's a large stick behind you that may be of some use!"

The man looked at him skeptically, but Lancelot indicated he should turn around and sure enough a large wooden plank was behind him. The man grinned and picked it up, striking the second man hard in the stomach. His opponent fell to one knee but still the drunken brawl did not end.

"That was cheating," Galahad complained.

"Oh please, don't imply there are rules," Lancelot rolled his eyes.

"In that case …" Now lost in the contest Galahad smirked as he stretched out his legs suddenly, tripping the first man and causing him to fall on his back.

When the first man sat up his angered gaze no longer went to his opponent but to Galahad, the same could be said for the second who glared at Lancelot as he recovered. The first man stood up, never breaking eye contact with the young knight, and Galahad rose as well, able to stand at full height though his arms were restrained.

Lancelot sighed, not in the mood for such shows of bravado. "Um, excuse me, do you think you could beat him up a bit more?" he asked the large man, indicating his previous opponent. "I have a rather large amount of ale wagered on this fight."

"You should shut your mouth Sarmation trash!" the second man bellowed, backhanding him hard across the face. Lancelot made no sound as his head was thrown back but he met the man's eyes and the fire and intensity reflected in his stare was enough to make the man back down and instead watch the interaction between Galahad and his former opponent.

"If you want a real fight then untie me," Galahad demanded, still refusing to look away from the man's gaze. The man sneered and straight punched the knight hard in the face, causing his head to ricochet and slam against the pole behind him as well. The blow disoriented him and Galahad fell to one knee.

"I wouldn't waste my time," the man chuckled.

"It's a good thing you're so busy then because he would absolutely destroy you in a fight. You wouldn't even recognize your own face afterwards, guaranteed," Lancelot gloated on Galahad's behalf.

"Is that so?" the man asked with a sneer, taking a step closer to look Galahad over and not finding him that impressive. That is until the young knight suddenly sprang back to his feet and viciously head-butted the man, sending him to the ground. The power of the hit, and the addition of the other blows he had received in his drunken brawl, had the desired effect and the man was thoroughly unconscious.

"I told him," Lancelot muttered as he narrowed his eyes and waited for the expected retaliation from the thieves.

But most of the men, still in good humor from the alcohol, laughed hysterically, enjoying the irony in the small, tied up knight taking down the larger man. Only the large man's best friend took real offence as he lunged from the circle of onlookers and tried to get to Galahad, arms outstretched.

"You little bastard …"

Galahad was ready to bring up a foot to kick him away but the man was intercepted by two others, who held him back.

"Come on Avrer, if you want to fight him then let's do as he said and untie him, have a real match," one of his restrainers suggested.

Galahad's eyes widened as his heart skipped a beat at the prospect of being cut free.

The man, Avrer, looked the knight over; he was small and looked tired and bruised.

"Sure, cut him loose, I'll take care of him," he said arrogantly.

Galahad smiled openly, muscles twitching for action. His body was bruised beyond belief but nothing was broken and though his muscles were stiff a fight would loosen them easily; essentially, this would be fun. Another man approached with a knife and moved behind the pole to free him.

Escape was the first thing on Galahad's mind but looking around he knew his chances weren't good. There were a dozen armed men watching the brawl, and though they were stupid enough to free him he doubted they would give him a weapon of any kind. Even if he could get away, he could not leave Lancelot behind in the hands of these murderers, he would never forgive himself. So as the ropes holding him were cut away, his main concern was winning and surviving this fight while watching for opportunities of escape but taking no unnecessary chances.

"You're dead Sarmation scum," Avrer gloated as he took a step closer, stance wide and shoulders squared.

Galahad stood for a moment, rubbing his wrists and looking over the crowd, then appraised his opponent and seemed not impressed.

"Do you remember what my friend here said earlier?" the man nodded, "Well, I'm afraid he lied."

Avrer smirked and grew cockier but became more somber as Galahad continued, "You see it's not that you won't recognize your own face, it's that you won't want to. Although why you would want to now even is beyond me …"

Galahad left the insult hanging and did not have to wait for a response as Avrer rushed at him in anger. The man was larger, stronger and broad shouldered but stupid. Galahad easily dodged the clumsy attempt at a tackle and struck the man hard in the ribcage as he passed by. It would have been easy to end the fight there with several more quick attacks, but Galahad needed to stretch his muscles and was in no way eager to be tied back up.

Avrer growled in anger as he recovered from the first hit and faced Galahad, murder in his eyes. Galahad baited him on until the man threw a punch and then a second which the knight dodged and then responded to with an uppercut to the jaw, sending the man reeling backwards. The only thing that kept him upright was the men watching that caught him and threw him back in.

"Come on, I was better off tied to the post," Galahad taunted, trying to get some real exercise out of the fight. All around him men were shouting encouragement or pain but he ignored their cries and focused on his opponent.

Avrer spit out blood and heaved as he vehemently replied, "I'll kill you, you little bastard and then I'll take your head for a trophy like we did with your friend."

It was Galahad's turn to respond with anger at the mention of Narian's death and he dove at the man, easily striking him across the jaw and falling with him to the ground where he struck him again and again. Avrer remained conscious and tried to fight back but Galahad was vicious until, when he exhausted his emotional violence, he looked up into the crowd and his eyes widened and he completely forgot about the man beneath him, the fight he was involved in or even the crowd watching him. His mouth parted slightly as if to speak but he was shocked, completely stunned by what he saw, and nothing came out until he cried out in pain as a very hard object struck him in the side of the head.

Now on all fours he looked up to see that Avrer had been handed the large chunk of wood while Galahad was distracted and struck him with it. He tried to block the next blow but it was stronger than he had expected and he was struck hard again, this time across the face. He fell to the ground, dazed and trying to move but not able to command his muscles to do so. Distantly he felt the stick come down one last time on his back and heard the men above him chuckling.

"That will teach you Sarmation trash your place," Avrer announced in victory as he staggered to his feet to stand above Galahad.

"Oh yes, you should be very proud, that was quite fair," Lancelot pointed out mockingly with clear disapproval of the man's tactics.

Avrer spared him a glance as he threw the weapon back on the ground and smirked, "Don't imply there are rules."

Lancelot could only glare at his retreating form and then watch as the very disoriented Galahad was dragged back to the post and tied in place once more. The younger knight's head cleared quickly, for it was known for its thickness, and the second the men were out of earshot he stood up again, eyes wide as he leaned close to Lancelot, urgency written all over his face.

"Lancelot look to your right," he demanded in a harsh whisper.

"I know," Lancelot replied, not lifting his gaze from its place on the ground.

"No, you have to look …"

"Tristan and Gawain are beside the tavern, I know. Unlike some people I'm trying not to draw attention to them by staring at them like they found the Holy Grail."

Galahad's gaze immediately moved to the other side of the street after the reprimand. Lancelot was right of course, clearly they were trying to blend in and his actions could get them caught, but he was so relieved to see them, alive and well and know rescue was on its way that he could barely contain himself.

Despite what he said, Lancelot did look at the two knights across the streets. He had spotted them just before the beginning of Galahad's bout and watched with fascination as the knights tried to appear interested in the contest without showing real concern for the combatants. Gawain had looked proud for a moment as Galahad fought off his opponent easily, but that look quickly changed as he and Tristan both paled as they heard Avrer mention Narian's death, something they had not known for sure.

When Galahad first saw the pair he had frozen and Lancelot was sure they would be found out, but instead Galahad was only beaten for his stupidity, which Lancelot thought he deserved in a way. He almost had to smile when he saw Tristan's hand on Gawain's arm, not subtle but necessary in order to hold the knight back from running to Galahad's aid.

Now they stood beside the tavern, talking quietly, looking serious, but holding a mug of ale each to blend in better; they even toasted a man as he walked by, stumbling drunk.

"Where do you think the others are?" Galahad asked, still making a concerted effort not to stare at their companions.

"Probably hidden in the woods, waiting for Tristan's report. How in the world Gawain scraped his way into coming is beyond me, he sticks out like a weed, I can't believe these men do not see it," Lancelot commented, shaking his head at Gawain's attempts at nonchalance when his body was clearly rigid with tension and his eyes screamed with anger and frustration.

"I'm sure he's doing his best," Galahad pointed out, tilting his head to the side to try to relieve the pain spiking through him from the last few blows.

"Does it hurt?" Lancelot asked.

Galahad rolled his eyes, "Of course it hurts."

"Good, you deserve it, getting distracted like that in the middle of a fight, great way to get killed," Lancelot admonished him and as much as he wanted to defend himself, Galahad had no excuse, he had been overcome by surprise, there was no denying it.

"Well next time I will try to live up to your high standards of fighting," Galahad said sarcastically, now casually watching Gawain and Tristan cross the road in front of them. For only the briefest moment, too brief, Galahad met Gawain's eye and in that moment they both smiled, feeling stronger, reassured. They were each the closest friend the other had in the group, much like Lancelot and Arthur, though they had not been friends for as long, and they took comfort in each other; seeing Gawain gave Galahad the hope he needed to believe they would survive this ordeal, which was a great gift for the both of them.

Still drawing no attention at all, the two crossed the street, entered a house and were gone from sight. They had not been able to speak to the knights or even show any kind of recognition but their presence alone had been comforting, although now both knights wondered if they had even been real or some strange dream, they came and went so quickly. Galahad sighed as they disappeared but Lancelot was for once reassuring.

"The next move is up to them, I'm sure they'll have a plan of some sort, something clever but not too complicated."

"Think it involves us living to see another dawn?" Galahad asked lightly.

Lancelot tried to shrug, "I would hope so but no guarantees."

Galahad sighed and sat back down on the ground, "There never are."

And so the two knights watched and waited for a rescue that they never doubted would come.

TBC

You know, I've got these wonderful, wonderful, reviewers, I better thank them.

Lancey – I could not deny you after that wonderful plea/review. Thanks for reading Painful Journeys though, and I never intended to leave this story unfinished, I was just going to wait until the got the DVD for Christmas to inspire me, but your review pressured me into forcing out this chapter, so all other reviewers, you have Lancey to thank for this chap!

Julia – No plans on stopping, probably will be a brief hiatus until after Christmas though.

Holliday1081 – For some reason I really love when people point out parts they especially liked, which is exactly what you do, and I love your reviews for it. Thank you so much, for all the nice words.

Templa Otmena – Yep, Alex is alive (as must be obvious) and will continue to have a part to play in rescuing our guys and saving his town. (BTW – your lost in the woods suggestion actually inspired how the chapter started off, so thanks) Sorry about Narian but those mercenaries are just jerks!

Padawanmage – I actually thought about it for a really long time and couldn't decide myself how Lancelot got his swords (well I thought of one really cool, realllllly long explanation that I won't get into) so I thought I'd purposely annoy everyone and skip the actual story. It might make a nice one-shot when this fic is all over though, you never know. Yes, I seem to have ruined shovels for everyone that read this. This cliffhanger isn't so bad but I hope you still keep coming back anyway.

Jemiul – Another person I must apologize for the death of Narian too, I'm sorry, but I wasn't all that attached to him and it was either him or Alex so I chose him, hope you understand. I put Lancelot at like 30 and Galahad probably like 25 years old, I think that's reasonable.

Allegra – Unfortunately, despite your lovely review, I didn't write very fast at all. I am sorry, but with luck the chapter is good enough to make up for it.

Ashley A – I'm glad you liked how Lancelot didn't tell how he got his swords, I was worried it would just annoy people. You really have done a lot for the fandom so you deserve the props (applauds), thanks for the good critique.

Flashgriffin – I mostly kept myself interested by reading other fics and looking at pictures of the awesome Lancelot, I've recently been sidetracked by another fic, but I'm still trying to work on both. It's not working out that well, but I'm trying.

Shauna – It wasn't that the mercenaries chose Lancelot as their favorite, more like he wouldn't shut up and swallow his pride so they tried to beat it out of him, and couldn't of course. I fleshed out the Gawain parts in this chapter just for you, hope you liked them, they'll be more tension from him later, man, that review is like a short novel. Thanks for the time you put into it, much appreciated.

I don't know when there will be more, but I'll let you know! Goody.