Even though the orchard they had just left hinted at their proximity to a village, or at least a solitary human dwelling, the four travellers could see none through the mist hovering like an opaque veil all around them. They met no one as they continued on their journey, following the path which slowly widened, then became a dirt road as they neared the first lakes. It was only them, their horses, the peregrine falcon, and a few ravens flying high above them. Their words mingled with the echo of hoofbeats and the screeching and cawing of the birds, as all sounds ricocheted eerily off the cloudlike walls of the fog obliterating the world.
It was like travelling through a strange dreamscape, Ginny thought, as if there were only the four of them in the whole kingdom. The reality begun to feel like a dream, from which she didn't want to wake up-- not when her knight never left her side, when his hand searched hers often through the tendrils of mist as if he was afraid to lose her, not when every time she looked at him his smile reminded her of that featherlight promise of a kiss they had exchanged in the orchard by the river.
The early twilight of the sunless day was heavy with the pledge of rain when they finally arrived at the shores of the Lake. The placid waters lay in front of them, surrounded by tall reeds. The grasses swayed in the breeze blowing from the Lake shrouded in the tendrils of the omnipresent mists, carrying the scent of damp soil and water towards the bank.
The sound of water lapping at the shore and a soft splashing of fish jumping were disturbed by the rumble of a distant storm. The wind picked up, rustling through the reeds, shifting the fog enough for them to get a fleeting glimpse of Ynis Witrin. A wild swan cried as if to warn its sisters about the approaching storm, even as Garreth said, "Let us pitch the tents before it starts raining, my lord."
The prince followed Garreth up the grassy bank silently, leaving Ginny and her knight alone on the water's edge.
"Is that an island?" he asked, pointing towards the centre of the great lake.
"Yes." Ginny smiled at him. "This is the Isle of Glastonbury, and its lake. Or, the Lake and its Avalon. They are the same thing." She shrugged.
He smiled back at her as they urged their horses to follow their companions. "I prefer Avalon, I think. You?"
Shaking her head, Ginny replied, "I'm not sure that it has ever existed. Avalon sounds as much a part of old Myrddin's tales as the oh-so-amazing Excalibur." She giggled.
"Don't you believe in the Legend of the Sword then, Gwendolyn?"
"Do you? Really?" She looked at him curiously. How could men believe in something like that, come to Tintagel from far and wide, driven by hope to pull a sword from a stone... Why would anyone want to become the High King of Britain? Surely, that was not an enviable post, it carried too many responsibilities, a life of sacrifice...
He closed his eyes briefly before he met her gaze, "I wish it was true. I must believe it because then, if the Sword was meant for me, my father could not oblige me to marry against my will. If I became the High King, I could... marry the girl I... have fallen in love with, if she wanted me."
She stared at him, surprised into silence, feeling his eyes, his words, reach her very heart. "Then I wish the legend... applied to girls, too..." she said, voice faltering, and he took her hand and brought it to his lips, then to his cheek.
With an incredible clarity she noticed how his hand was warm and gentle, and yet hard and calloused from the use of sword, how his cheek, shaved in the Roman fashion, was covered with a short stubble. Then his scent enveloped her as he helped her off her horse when they stopped next to the place where Garreth had pitched their tent. She sighed as he pulled her close, melting into him, knowing that she would never forget this moment. How could she ever go on without him once he would be gone from her life, her world, like the strange mists she had never noticed before this trip?
Ginny and her knight, who had not bathed in the river like their friends, walked back to the shores after they had unloaded the horses-- she, walking to the left, towards a section of water hidden from view by the thick reeds; he to the right to swim towards the island in the centre of the Lake in open sight. Garreth offered to catch their dinner while the prince promised to lay the fire to cook it-- the waters of the Lake teemed with fish, and they were all tired of stale bread, dried meat, and cheese.
Dry and dressed again, Ginny and Sir Lancelot met on the shore, then walked back towards their camp, hand in hand. It wasn't completely dark yet, but the wisps of fog drifting in from the placid waters were thick enough to hide their joined hands and make them feel bold.
"Tell me something about this place," Arthur demanded, slowing down, reluctant to join their two companions by the fire.
"Come!"she said suddenly, pulling him back to the Lake, remembering... "You wanted to see the fairies."
They stopped at the shore again, close to the reeds.
"What are we waiting for?" he whispered after a while, looking at her bewildered.
"Hush!" She giggled, bringing a finger to his lips. "You'll scare them off."
And then, after a long while, as the darkness of the night finally settled over the water, replacing the mist, they saw the first flickering lights among the reeds.
"Fireflies," he said, looking at her confused.
"Why, Sir Lancelot, you believe in the Sword, but you don't believe in fairies, not even when you see them?" she teased.
Letting go of his hand she took a step closer to the water, spread her arm in front of her, palm facing up, and tried to clear her mind of all thoughts, apart from one-- an invitation for the little creatures to approach her. Soon, she was surrounded by what to him looked like fireflies until one landed in her hand, and she moved it closer to him. Then he finally got a proper look of the little, black-haired, human-like, winged creature, clad in apple blossoms and leaves, as big as a large dragonfly.
"Is it really a... fairy?" he whispered, afraid to scare it away.
"It is," Ginny whispered back. "According to Myrddin's tales, they used to be real folk, born in Avalon once. A tribe of small people capable of magic, all with hair as black as yours." She smiled at him, then followed the fairy with her eyes when it took flight again, until it vanished into the reeds. "But then, when we stopped believing in the old gods and myths, they shrunk and retreated from this world, just like Avalon."
"They drift through the mists," Ginny added as he pulled her in an embrace, saying nothing. "On some nights, they can be seen as far as my father's castle..." She brought her hand to her lips even as the words were out. She didn't want him to find out who she was yet; he would know soon enough, when he accompanied his prince to the wedding. Then he could be angry with her for not having told him, not now.
He made her rest her head on his chest, caressing her hair, pretending he had not heard. "Why, Lady Gwendolyn, summoning fairies is a skill worthy of a sorceress," he joked, making her giggle and wish she could rather summon the mists of Avalon like the Druids' priestesses, so she could vanish there from this world, taking him with her.
"Let us go back, or they'll come looking for us again." She sighed, taking his hand when he released her from his embrace, and they walked towards the fire, even as yet another flash of lightning brightened the night sky.
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