Celosia: Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to review. No, they're not pretty stories - I tried to make it somewhat realistic without being too much so. I really think that her life would have actually been pretty horrible, not to mention short. So, tryingfor something between Pretty Woman and reality. :)

Miggyrow: Thanks for the review! I just read your two latest and like them very much - am curious to see what happens when Tanjin's secret is revealed. Tristan didn't mean to hurt her by paying her, but I think he really needed to keep iton as impersonal a level as he could.For self-protection. If he's paying her,it's a business arrangment. If he doesn't then maybe it's something else and he didn't want to deal with that. You know, from being in the Army I was around a lot of men, watching them hide from girls they were dating, trying to avoid them when they were getting too serious. I don't think Galahad and Lancelot were meaning to be cruel, just practical. Easier to get rid of a girl when shefirst starts to care for you than to drag it out and end up in an ugly situation.Of course, as a woman, the charactercould (and did) see herself as one of those girls they were talking about and it appalled her. So we saw the whole thing through her eyes. Maybe seen through the knight's eyes it might be seen as more of a kindness. We can all fall in love against our better judgement, thinking we can control the situation or not let it get to us. I think even the hardest of us can fall prey to that. Of course when you fall in love with the right guy, that's not a bad thing. When you fall for a charming bad boy that can be the worst thing in the world. Sometimes the best you can hope for is that you keep your dignity at the end of it.

dellis: I would be very interested in knowing what you thought didn't work. A romance would be nice, but as you said not very likely. I think love can exist without their really being the hope of it ever turning into anything though and that's what I tried to convey in this chapter. Thanks so much for reviewing and giving your thoughts!

Shevaun: I'm glad you're liking it. And I think she'll find peace. I had an ending in mind when I started this thing even though I've gone on a few detours that I didn't plan on I think the ending I wanted still works. Maybe I'll even get around to writing it one day! LOL

Cardeia: I'm so glad you liked this chapter. We've seen her feelings for Gawain and they are pretty much returned, but his is a lighthearted casual regard for her - more of a friendship, really. They do care for each other very much but it's not a "forever" type of love. How she feels for Tristan is much more serious - he is not a lighthearted man. And he doesn't particularly want to feel anything for anyone. As I explained above, his paying her is his way of trying to distance himself from the notion that this is anything more than a business arrangement. He's comfortable with expressing some emotion within that framework but not outside of it. What she gets from him is so little but it is real and intense when she does get it. That is very attractive to her and though it will doubtless end up causing her pain, and going nowhere it is a decision she made with her eyes wide open. Hair color? It could be anything you like it to be. Personally I envision her with black hair but she could be a blonde or a redhead or a brunette. Or anything in between - whatever you like:)

Ailis-70: It used to be taxing to write these things but it's gotten better. Sometimes it's hard because you have to put yourself in a situation and imagine how you would feel and write it down. What would happen next? How would you react to this? Of course some of it can come from real life - we've all (or most of us) experienced unrequited love or things of that nature so it's sort of drawing on what you know or can imagine. I do like her and Tristan together also, but I think her love would eventually wither away. He cares for her but doesn't have much to give and actually takes more than his share. She's okay with that for now but I think that would eventually not be enough.

Disclaimer: The usual - not making any money from this so please don't sue me. You can't get blood from a turnip anyway.

Summary: These are three random memories that I've written down that are not about the knights in particular, though they are featured in them. Just sort of a glimpse of other parts of her life.

Warning: One of the memories involves her decision not to continue a pregnancy and might be a bit upsetting for those who have strong feelings about that. Please do not read if that may be the case.

Vanora

I'd like to write down a few memories that do not solely involve the knights, for in my time here I have known many other people and experienced many other things. I'd first like to write of Vanora, and the amazing woman that I have found her to be.

She did not sell herself as most of us did. The rest of us served as barmaids in the tavern for very modest pay, modest enough that one could not live on it. The advantage to being a barmaid was access to the men who frequented the tavern. Though fully a quarter of what we earned on our back went to Strabo, we still fared better than the others did. Other women who wanted to ply their trade within the tavern had to pay a heavy fee to Strabo for the privilege. Those who hung around outside hoping to avoid turning over their earnings were often chased away and the customers they did get were not the best ones.

Thus, positions within the tavern were much sought after, and Strabo was extremely particular about having only the best looking, most pleasing young women serving his customers.

Vanora served as barmaid but she did so much more. It was Vanora and not Strabo who did most of the day-to-day work of running the tavern. She kept the inventory, was responsible for ordering enough wine at the best price, mediated disputes between the girls and had authority to make sure things ran peacefully with the customers. If they misbehaved, she would have them thrown out and Strabo would back up her decisions.

She dealt mainly with the disputes of the common rabble, for she did not have the diplomatic touch required for dealing with the higher-ranking Romans. Not that they were often much trouble, but it was known to happen from time to time. However Strabo was a master diplomat, always with an eye to his own favor, while Vanora did not care what rank a man was. If he misbehaved, he was gone.

Thus, Vanora was better paid than the rest of us, and was not forced to lie upon her back to make her living. Due to the knights' regard for her, they could always be counted on to help out if things got too rowdy. Strabo liked that, for it meant he was not forced to pay for too much extra security on big nights. And her presence ensured that the knights would remain at his tavern, and not go to another. All in all, it was to Strabo's benefit to keep Vanora around.

Indeed, the only thing that Vanora did not do was keep the books. That was entirely the province of the fat Roman. Her contribution to his books was her inventory count, but all monies were counted and kept by Strabo.

Now, I have written of the classes that Arthur made available. I am not the only one who took advantage of them, for Vanora also attended, hoping to better herself. She took very well to numbers, much better than I, as a matter of fact. She was very proficient and one day while Strabo was gone, took out his books to better learn from studying them. What she saw puzzled her for they did not seem to match up to what she knew to be the truth. He claimed losses that Vanora knew he had not suffered, and the numbers he wrote down as profit did not seem to be enough.

Vanora began to surreptitiously keep her own books. They were not exact, for not every coin passed through her hands, but her numbers appeared to show a truer picture of what was going on financially at the tavern. The most important truth was that Strabo was not paying Rome its fair share of taxes.

Now, this was a dangerous truth for Vanora to know, for refusal to pay taxes was an executable offense. She struggled with what to do with that knowledge. If handled improperly, her life could have been in very real danger, knights or no. Strabo was not without friends; high-ranking Romans for whom he procured people or things not easily gotten. Any of these friends could have made the charges disappear, along with Vanora.

While Vanora did not have a bad life at the tavern, she saw that Strabo often made life miserable for the rest of us. The mere threat of being turned out was enough to keep us in line, for our lives were much easier working there than they would otherwise be. And Strabo took full advantage of that.

It was for us that Vanora made report of Strabo's perfidy. It was for us that she risked her life and livelihood on the chance that the Roman would be arrested and taken away. It was a gamble that paid off, and a wondrous day when it did. All of us girls watched as the guards came in and his books were seized. And we all watched and jeered as he was taken away in irons, for the crime of stealing from the Pope and the Holy Roman Empire.

As for Vanora, she was given charge of running the place, as she already knew everything there was to know anyway. And her honesty and loyalty were without question. There was a Roman overseer appointed to ensure that things remained honest, but he was really more of a figurehead than anything, for I rarely saw him in the place except when he felt like a little socializing.

Things did not change all that much for us. As much as Vanora disliked it, she could not really pay us much more of a wage than we already received, for it would cut into profits too much. She had already ended the practice of taking a quarter of what we earned from the men, and that represented a fairly decent sum of money lost. So, many of us still needed to sell ourselves to make ends meet, but it was good that what we earned, we kept.

Except for our taxes, of course, which we were all very careful to pay faithfully.

The Loss

I was fifteen years old the first time I got pregnant. I was in shock when I first discovered it, and it weighed heavily on my mind. I would touch my belly, and wonder if it was really true, for I felt no different. Was there actually a tiny life growing inside of me? It hardly seemed possible.

From there I began to daydream about him or her. If there really were a baby – for I still wasn't convinced - what would my child look like? Would I have a son or a daughter? Would they be easy or colicky, grow up to be kind or mischievous? And names – what would I name my child? The possibilities were endless and I mulled them over in my mind.

Those early days were as full of possibility as they were full of uncertainty. The fact that the child would not have a father did not dim the joy for me. The child would be mine, and I would be theirs and together we would be all that we would need. I had always known that I wanted children, for I loved them.

I watched Vanora's children on many occasions, chased them around while she tended to business at the tavern. I was adept with them from the very first. I would carry the little one on my hip, while I bent over and comforted his older sibling who had fallen and skinned her knee. I mediated their disputes and disciplined them as surely as their mother would, for she was a role model to me and I emulated her at every opportunity. I remember to this day how Gawain laughed as I chased them around and played with them. He said that I looked like I was born to have a baby on my hip. That I looked like a real little mother.

The only thing I ever truly wanted to be.

Then slowly reality began to creep into my little fantasy world. I would lose my job at the tavern, for Strabo would not tolerate a heavy, lumbering woman who would be unable to attract customers. Pregnant women made men think of motherhood, of their wives at home, of the consequences of dallying with the pretty girls. In short, a pregnant woman was not good for business.

Where would I work? I had no one to support me, and no real skills, so I was unlikely to find employment anywhere even had I not been with child. A pregnant and unmarried woman would not be welcomed anywhere that was the least bit respectable.

Of course, after the child was born I could attempt to get my job at the tavern back; that is if carrying it had not ruined my figure. That left the problem of what to do with the babe while working. I could not possibly tote around a child along with my pitchers of wine. One of Vanora's would probably watch the babe for me as I worked, but what about my work outside of the tavern? What man wanted to lay with a woman while her infant squalled in next room? A woman whose breasts would leak milk at the first sound of that cry?

And what of the child itself – a poor fatherless bastard with no one to claim them? Bors at least took responsibility for his brood. He loved them and marriage or no; he, Vanora and their children were a family. There would be no family for me; no one to take responsibility - just me and my little one.

As the weeks went on I came to realize that having this baby was an impossibility. That my life and theirs would be much the worse for their having been born. They would be doomed to a horrible existence – the bastard child of a whore, shunned and outcast. How could I bring a child into that?

But oh, how I desperately wanted this baby that I talked to every night as I lay my hand on my stomach.

As much as it grieved me I knew I could not bring this child into the world. I knew that the midwife could take care of the matter very simply – it was done all the time. My mistake was in waiting so long – almost too long.

I still remember the vile ergot concoction that the midwife gave me. I was to drink it and then go to my rooms, for shortly thereafter the contractions would begin and the child would be expelled. She would be along the next day to make sure that it had gone well and my womb had emptied. It was to be a simple matter, but my child was rather too far along for it to be quite as easy as that. Or perhaps my child wanted to live so badly that it resolved not to go easily.

I had told no one that I was even expecting a child, never mind that I was about to end its life. So no one was with me when the agony began to rip through my body, or when the bleeding started and would not stop. I became quite frightened and envisioned dying there, alone in my bed. My screams went unheeded, for no one was there to hear me.

I was found in the hallway where I had crawled for help. I do not know who found me, only that Vanora was soon by my side, holding me and soothing my brow. Somebody, and it could only have been Gawain, carried me back to my room and placed me on my bed.

The pains were enough to drive me out of my mind, and the bleeding had not lessened.

I remember Gawain, my most loyal friend, sitting next to me, his face drawn and white as I screamed my agony. The midwife, when she finally deigned to arrive, tried to throw him out of the room, but he refused to go.

It was highly irregular that a man be present for such a thing but then Gawain was never just any man to me. I did not mind that he stayed, indeed I found his presence comforting as the midwife began her work.

She reached inside me and worked to finish the job that the ergot had begun. I felt as if I was being ripped apart and I swear I am surprised I did not break Gawain's hand with the death grip that I had upon it. This pain, if possible, was worse than the other and I must have lost consciousness for a while for I blessedly remember little of it.

I came to and realized that the pains had begun to recede and the bleeding to slow. Vanora shooed Gawain from the room while she changed the sheets and helped to clean me up. He consented to leave because it appeared I would not now die, and also because it was Vanora who demanded it. She could be quite a formidable lady for all her small size. She promised him that as soon as I was presentable she would allow him back in.

Finally, she was gone, after spending more time on me than she should have had to. Though I still had horrible cramps, my physical pain was now much less than my emotional pain.

I looked at Gawain, still wearing his blood stained shirt. A shirt stained with my blood. My baby's blood. My face contorted and I howled with the realization that my child was dead. The tiny life that I never even got to feel move within me was gone.

Gawain held me as sobs wracked my body, stroking my hair and speaking soft words of comfort.

At long last my crying slowed to the occasional sniffling shudder and left me with a horrendous headache to contend with. Though Gawain was reluctant to leave me I insisted that he go. I was not in any danger of dying and there was no purpose to be served by his wasting the rest of his night watching me as I slept. He finally left but with the caveat that he would come by later to check on me.

I settled back to sleep, and found my hands in their usual position upon my stomach. Upon my now-empty womb. I'd made a habit of speaking to my child every night, and now I spoke one last time. As tears streamed down my face I told my child how sorry I was and how much I wished things could have been different. How much I had wanted to know what they would have looked like; who they would have been.

I said everything that I thought I needed to say to my child and just before my eyes closed in sleep, I said good-bye.

The Gift

I would move now to a happier memory, for the writing of that one has left me feeling bereft. It's not a big memory, just a small moment that makes me laugh somewhat.

There were times when the knights would gift me with different things. Sometimes they were useful things; sometimes they were ornamental. They would often run across traders in their travels and their bags were often filled with trinkets and the like to dole out to the ladies upon their return. I still have the beautiful brush that Lancelot gifted me with one time and I think of him every time I use it.

Dagonet once presented me with a length of cloth that he had gotten from a trader. He said that he'd thought of me instantly when he saw it and had to have it for me. He was so pleased with himself - I could see it shining in his eyes as he gave it to me.

The only problem was, it was the ugliest cloth I had ever seen.

Oh, it was indeed of fine quality and maybe some lady somewhere might have enjoyed it. But the tastes of the highbrow were quite different than those of us common folk, and in our world it was just not something that I would have worn. Not without looking as if I was putting on airs.

I went to Vanora and showed her the cloth, to see what she thought about it.

"Oh, my," she said, putting her hand to her mouth. She looked at me as she spoke. "That is hideous," she said.

"What am I going to do, Vanora?" I asked her. "I would not insult Dagonet, but what can I do with this?"

"Let me think on it," said Vanora. "I may be able to come up with something."

I put the cloth to the back of my mind and the back of my closet, hoping that Dagonet would not ask me about it again. But alas, several nights later the knights had a conversation that I happened to overhear. They were all bragging about the gifts they had brought back, whose had been the best and the most well received by the various women.

Gawain thought his pendants were better than Galahad's hair ribbons. Bors thought the brooch he had bought for Vanora was far better than anything anyone else had brought back. Tristan, of course, never bought anything for anyone, and thought that all the gifts were a waste of money. Lancelot had spent his money on himself this trip out; buying himself some smart new clothing. He seemed to be of the opinion that his return was the best gift a woman could have anyway.

But they were all of the opinion that Dagonet's gift to me had been the worst.

Dagonet was defending his cloth for all he was worth, and growing angrier and angrier at the jokes and insults the other knights were hurling at him. It was rare that anyone could get Dagonet angry and they were going to milk it for all it was worth.

Finally, I stepped forward. "What is going on here?" I asked.

"Just…conversation," said Lancelot.

"About what?" I asked. "Sounds rather lively."

"Do you like your gift?" said Dagonet impulsively. "It's not…ugly…is it?" I heard the note of anxiety in his voice.

I looked at the other knights, and the smirks on their faces. My heart ached for Dag and the earnestness in which he had asked me if I had liked his gift. He'd been so proud of it, but the other knights had caused him to doubt.

By the gods, if I had to wear that ugly cloth every day for the rest of my life I would, if it would get those smirks off their faces.

"It's absolutely beautiful, Dag," I reassured him. "I'm trying to think of just the right thing to make with it. Aren't we Vanora?" I asked, for the redhead had come to the table to spend a moment with her man.

"Indeed we are," she said. "You can't waste fine cloth like that on just any old thing."

I climbed onto Dag's lap and kissed him passionately. "Take me somewhere private and I'll show you properly just how grateful I am," I murmured, making sure it was loud enough for everyone else to hear.

Dagonet threw a triumphant look at the other knights, who looked at us uncertainly. They awaited a wink or some gesture from me to show that it was a joke and I was letting them in on it, but I played it absolutely straight. And bless her heart, so did Vanora. I heard her flaying them as we left.

"You lot wouldn't know fine fabric if it walked up and bit you on the butt," she said. She also had a soft spot for Dagonet – he was very close to Bors. She would not see him hurt any more than I would.

I did, with Vanora's help, make a blouse with the cloth. It wasn't too ugly, and I wore it on occasion. I knew it was not very attractive, but it put a smile on Dagonet's face and that always warmed my heart. And every time I wore it I made sure to remark to Dagonet (and the surrounding knights) how much I loved it.

However the next time the knights returned from a long absence I got a visit from Vanora, who was somewhat less than pleased with her gift from Bors. Since Dagonet was now deemed to be a man of taste, Bors had taken his advice on a particular piece of fabric he wanted to buy for Vanora.

"Oh my," I said to Vanora, laughing at her sour face. "That's even more hideous than mine!