The Weaver

Aspens Shiver

She was dazzlingly beautiful, and she knew it. Her long crimson hair gleamed in the lantern light as it cascaded down her slender neck. Her rosy cheeks were flushed, her eyes glinted like lightning, and her mouth moved teasingly as she spoke. As her eyes traced the outline of Lance's face, he couldn't stop a small exhale from slipping between his lips. She was young- sixteen, seventeen maybe- too young for Lance, but he didn't notice. He shook his head like a dazed mutt as Arthur's voice cut through his ears.

"My knights and I are seeking refuge for the night. As you see, it is quite blustery out here." The young girl smiled, nodding her head slightly.

"Of course, your majesty. Our home is your home for as long as you please." She gestured the men inside, pushing the door open more fully with her back. Behind her, a simple yet clean entrance hall awaited, where a stout, proud-looking man- no doubt the Lord Ascolat himself- stood slightly apart from his daughter. He extended his thick arms, exposing the fact that he was still in his nightclothes beneath the velvet cloak he had obviously quite hastily thrown on. Lance held back a snort as Arthur frowned disapprovingly.

"Your Majesty, what a pleasant surprise! Please, come in. Make yourselves comfortable." The old man continued to gush as his daughter swept around the room, politely smiling and taking the knights' cloaks from them with deft hands. She paused- very slightly- when she reached Lance.

"Sir." she whispered flashing him another smile- this one more honest and open than the ones she had previously displayed. Lance grinned, bowing ever so slightly.

"My lady, I thank you. Might I inquire your name?" the girl glanced towards her father, eyes darting furiously between Lord Ascolat and the king. They were still deep in a rather droning, rather extensive conversation.

"I am Elayne, sir. Elayne of Ascolat."

***

By morning, the storm had subsided to a light drizzle of icy rain. King Arthur and his men prepared to make their departure as Elayne and her father looked on from across the room. Lord Ascolat grumbled.

"They could have at least had the hospitality to stay a week." He whined, eyes set on the king as he placed his sword back in its scabbard. Elayne nodded, only half-listening to her father. Not ten spans from her, Lord Lancelot stood laughing and joking with Lord Gawain. He didn't seem to notice her at all- not the way he had last night. His eyes had searched her- seen her- the first eyes to truly see her for as long as she could remember. Elayne blinked, her eyes blurry with exhaustion. Her fingers were sore from another night of weaving, but her mind was wide awake. She stroked the small piece of embroidered linen in her pocket, breathing shallowly as Lancelot heaved his gear onto his back with a low grunt.

The knights thanked Bernard profusely, praising his home, his food, and his hospitality. Lord Ascolat beamed, waving as if in a drunken stupor. Elayne stood just behind him, waiting for her moment to appear. Bernard slowly turned his back, waltzing towards the dining hall. Elayne grinned, squeezing through the slowly closing door while her father was turned away. The men were at the far gate, clopping merrily over the footbridge alongside their horses.

"Lord Lancelot!" Elayne exclaimed, pulling the woven handkerchief from her pocket. The knights halted, many of them whistling and jesting as Lancelot turned to look at her. She ignored their jeering, slowly stepping towards the bridge. A few feet outside the gates couldn't hurt, could they? Her father would never know. Lancelot was walking towards her, too. They met at the gate, feet barely touching the bridge.

"I made you something. Nothing- really, just a token of my... appreciation." She smiled shyly, passing the cloth from her hand to his. Their fingers brushed, and she shivered. Lancelot beamed. The handkerchief was some of her best work- vines and trees framed a minute scene of the knights at the Ascolat table.

"Thank you, my lady. It is a fine thing indeed. You have a gift." Elayne nodded.

"So I've been told. Farewell, Sir Lancelot." she turned to go, her smile growing wider by the second.

"Lady Elayne?" Lancelot's voice rang out once more, and she twirled back around, surprised. "I hope to see you again soon." Lancelot ducked his head in a reverent, humble bow as Elayne blushed furiously. He returned to the rest of the knights, cockily laughing at their jeers as he did so. Elayne stood intently still, watching until the men faded into the distance.

She turned to return inside, hands brushing the gate as she did.

The world because cold. Her head began to spin. Before she knew what was happening, Elayne felt herself falling to the ground. Her eyes fluttered- once, twice. She collapsed, all the energy drained from her body. Her head hit a large stone on the bridge- and everything went dark.