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Arthur has received only hazy reports of what has happened in the village. He has been kept fully up to date on Galahad's progress but he is slightly suspicious that Lancelot has been witholding some information in the reports he has been sending.

When he arrives, he demands to be taken to wherever the Knights are. A Roman tells him that Gawain, Lancelot and Tristan are eating in the makeshift tavern, while Galahad is in his quarters, still recovering from the Woad attack.

"We had best see Galahad," Arthur says to Bors and Bors nods in agreement.

"Ay, best see what the little cur has done to himself."

Arthur is shown to Galahad's door and knocks once before entering.
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Galahad wakes, his back stiff and sore, his body aching. He lets out a loud gasp as he moves slightly and his bones creak, his breath shallow -- taking tiny gasps until he can adjust and sit up. He rubs at his eyes, trying to remember that he's safe now, he's spent the night in a comfortable cot in Gawain's arms. The torture is over. He lets out a slight groan and mumbles slightly when he sees Tristan in the corner, Lancelot folding clean cloths.

"S'going on?" he murmurs, sleep clinging to his words. He winces in pain as he shifts the wrong way and the beddings rub up against one of his cleaned wounds. "Ow," he hisses, digging his fingernails into his palm to distract himself from pain...with pain. It does the trick. He checks his bandages, frowning when he sees some have bled through. He curses swiftly under his breath, cursing the Woads.

"I wanted to talk to you and Gawain," Tristan remarks evenly.

"And I came to make sure there was no further bloodshed," Lancelot rolled his eyes.
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It has been four weeks; four long celibate weeks since Galahad left the fortress to set up this damn village. Gawain is restless, to say the least, and the journey to said village seems ridiculously long. It would have seemed long if he was on his own but he would have had the opportunity to think a little (and to deliberate over how, exactly, he will greet Galahad). As it is, Gawain has been joined by Tristan, Tristan's hawk, Dagonet and Lancelot and the journey has seemed interminable.

After two days of riding, they reach the village and Gawain is quite proud at how advanced it already is. There are a number of completed buildings and the guard-posts are well positioned. He dismounts and walks towards a Roman soldier who is standing to receive them. In truth, Gawain's a little surprised that Galahad himself isn't here but he puts that out of his mind.
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Galahad's been enjoying himself, a smile on his face since that morning when he'd risen from his cot -- and shared by Gawain after nearly a whole night of relieved sex from their debacle with the others -- and pleased to do anything that anyone's asked. In fact, when Arthur comes up, Galahad is ready to accept any mission that Arthur has for him.

"Arthur!" Galahad greets him, lifting a bale of hay and moving it, breathing heavily. "What can I do for you today?"

"A pertinent question," Arthur presses his lips together and gives a worried laugh. "Galahad, I must ask you a favour. Perhaps, can you spare a few weeks, maybe longer to establish a village along the way." He claps a hand on Galahad's shoulder. "I feel as though you are of the proper age for such responsibility."

Galahad swallows hard. He knows this will be alone, but this is Arthur who is asking him. He forces a smile, and -- despite the short thinking time he's had to process this -- he stands up a little straighter. "Of course," he agrees. "Yes, of course. Just tell me when!"

Arthur smiles at him gratefully. "Tomorrow."

That is Arthur's last word before he claps Galahad by the shoulder once more and walks away and Galahad does the same, nearly jogging in another direction. Back to Gawain.
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Gawain is in cheerful form; the weather is pleasant and Arthur is in a good mood so today's training session is not too gruelling. He leans on his sword and chats idly to Tristan (inasmuch as anyone can have an 'idle' conversation with Tristan) while watching Galahad sparring with Lancelot.

Admittedly, Gawain is paying less attention to Tristan and more to the sight in front of him. He is pleased to observe that Galahad is giving Lancelot a difficult time and calls out encouragement.
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Galahad beams up at the serving girl who's brought him yet another ale to pass the time. Luckily for all of them, the latest attack had yielded no casualties and no severe wounds either. He's had a few mugs to drink already and has been feeling rather pleased since the battle and though he could say why, he preferred not to. He raises his mug to Gawain and hides his touched smile behind the mug as he takes a long drink.

Vanora and some of the other girls have been taking turns singing and the tavern is filled with laughter and music and some of the girls have been circling about, occasionally descending into Galahad's lap to be whispered to, only to leave seconds later. Galahad simply drinks and finds that his gaze seems to constantly slip back to Gawain.

He's happy, though, and so he doesn't try and pull his gaze away.
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Galahad pants and sweats as he spins with his sword in hand, lunging forward and using the move that Gawain has taught him to attack the Woads. There's smoke everywhere and he feels closed in, too many Woads attacking him at once. He holds his sword and shield, killing as many people as he can. His eyes search out Gawain on the field, just to make sure he's okay.

The battle seemed to happen out of nowhere, though they'd been expecting an uprising at some point in time. They had never expected this many Woads. Never expected this much a resistance.

He turns his attention back to the fight, snarling when a Woad cuts him with a dagger, making a shallow slice in his forearm. He kicks him away and plunges his sword into the Woad's heart with a loud war cry. He lets out a cry of pain when another two attack him from behind, and hold him in place as a Woad takes aim with an arrow.
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Galahad looks down at his feet, frowning when he can't quite get this new step right that Gawain's been developing. He mutters to himself as he goes back to the beginning and readies his sword. "Stupid...stupid," he mutters and curses under his breath. He rolls his shoulders back and tries to work out his muscles. "Gawain," he hisses, taking the first two counts of the move, "I have to tell you, I absolutely hate this step," he growls in frustration when he misses the beat again and throws his sword to the ground in utter frustration.

"Galahad," Arthur speaks, sounding slightly amused. "A little practice never hurt anyone. Gawain, perhaps you can help?"

Galahad rolls his eyes and huffs until he can sit down on a wooden box, his head in his hands and sneering at no one in particular. He's had a long day of it and he wants to give up.
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Gawain doesn't like the rain although he doesn't tend to complain about it; he's been here for too long. However, he can't help grumbling a bit about his current situation. Their current situation, he amends mentally, because Galahad's in this too.

They're on a scouting mission because the Woads, not having learned their lesson during the battle that took the lives of Percival and Kay, have been targeting outlying villages again. Arthur had seen that Gawain was fully recovered and, because Tristan and Dagonet were scouting elsewhere, the commander decided that Gawain and Galahad were the knights for this particular job.

Now, however, it's wet and cold and dark and they are too far from the garrison to return.

Gawain settles down next to the fire which is so small as not to warrant the description. He pokes at it with a branch half-heartedly and doesn't look at Galahad when he speaks.

"I suppose that we should turn in for the night, if we're not going to make it back to the fortress."
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Galahad's glad when Gawain has healed enough to be wandering around the garrison without a watcher to make sure that he isn't doing unnecessary tasks. The whole time of Gawain's convalescence has been uncomfortable for Galahad, leaving him nothing but time to sit and think about himself and Gawain and their very troubled history. He'd been so sure that they'd finished everything during that final fight, but now Galahad isn't so sure. He's especially unsure when he begins to feel things for Gawain again.

To counter this, he's made his trip to the tavern and has whispered sweet nothing's into a girl's ear, impressing her with knives and coaxing her into his lap with little more than a few brushes of her hair and cheek and a few sweet words. Her weight is warm on his lap and it's distinctly feminine and most certainly not Gawain. That's the important part.
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