Date: 8/17/97 1:36 AM Eastern Standard Time
From: Llenlleawc
Nightfall, the flickering light of a bonfire reflected off of Lancelot's sweating face. Fashioning levers and picks from the wreckage, Lancelot had managed to uncover most of the spiral staircase that led down to the council chamber. With a final heave, he levered half of an oaken door far enough to the left that he could squeeze through, and down into the ruins of the lower floor. Pausing only long enough to pull a burning timber from the fire, and carrying his sword in his other hand, the knight
worked his way into the rubble. Bending double, Lancelot made his way down the last flight of stairs, and into the clear outer chamber. There were a few stones and timbers on the floor, dislodged from the roof when the rest of the castle collapsed, but for the most part, the large chamber was undisturbed. Absently he lit the torches that were still mounted in brackets on the walls. The great oaken doors to the council chamber still stood closed, and the torchlight glittered off the great circular
seal. Letting his makeshift torch fall to the floor, Lancelot pulled firmly at the doors, opening them with a faint creak. Torchlight from the antechamber illuminated very little of the inner sanctum, and Lancelot had to take one of the outer torches in hand to begin lighting those of the inner chamber. Purposely averting his eyes from the center of the room, the knight walked methodically from sconce to sconce, lighting each torch as he went. The room was vast, and it took quite a long while to
travel the circumference. When he had finished, the room glowed almost as brightly as the day above had been, and still the room was only half as splendorous as in the days of Lancelot's memory. The giant chandeliers that hung from the center of the room were beyond his ability to reach, much less light, and so their lamps remained dark, content to simply glitter in the reflections of the torches below.
cont....
A return cont....
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Date: 8/17/97 1:41 AM Eastern Standard Time
From: Llenlleawc
The warm glow of the torches cast itself upon streamers of colored cloth, pennons and flags that proudly displayed the lineage of the lords of the land. Various streamers and shields were mounted upon the walls, each declaring its owner to be a man of honor and nobility. Lancelot's eyes traveled from one to another, around the room. Recognizing most, starting at a few, and resting with awe and wonder at the last. The knightly lips moved almost without his knowledge as they whispered the names of
those crests he knew, those he had stood with, and ridden into battle beside: Gawain, Kay, Ector, Percival, twenty-four in all. Each a proud name, and one that he had been proud to stand beside. The final coat of arms stood apart from the others. The wall directly across from the doors was recessed slightly, and the floor raised approximately three feet. A throne sat upon that dais, glittering golden in the torchlight. Above the majestic seat hung the largest shield, bearing a standard well known
to Lancelot, aye, well known to all men in the land. The standard of Arthur Pendragon, Knight, Lord, and King. After a long time, Lancelot's eyes finally slid from the golden standard, and traveled down, beyond the throne and it's dais to the object sitting before them. The object that truly represented the heart of Camelot, and of the world: The Table Round. The huge table had only twenty-four seats about it. All were empty, but for a small crest centered on the back of each. The crests of 23 of
the chairs matched the coats of arms mounted on the walls behind them. The twenty-fourth chair had no matching coat of arms, as it sat directly in front of the dais. Though the table was round, and all seats were to be equal, the chair that sat between the king and the rest of the chamber was reserved. The knight who sat in that chair did not have his own coat of arms displayed on the wall behind him because his allegiance was given to only one man. That last chair would hold the King's Champion.
The wavering light of the torches, some of which had begun to burn out, did not reveal the crest affixed to the champion's chair. Lancelot, having once been the proud knight to possess that seat, was overcome with curiosity. Though it would no doubt hurt him, he simply had to know who had replaced him as Arthur's right hand. He walked slowly around the table, recalling many fond memories of times spent with the brave knights in this room. Knights most likely dead now, for Lancelot could not imagine
any of the Table Knights letting Camelot fall while they still had breath to spend in its preservation. At last, he had navigated the length of the table. Placing his hand upon the back of the chair, he turned it, steeling himself to accept Arthur's choice, whomever it may have been. The fading light shone on a familiar crest, and Lancelot, already pressed to the edge of ragged emotion by the events of the day, collapsed, falling to his knees. The once proud knight's head fell forward into the
cushioned seat, his curls hiding his face, as sobs of grief, shame, and release wracked his body. For hours he knelt there, his mighty shoulders shaking, first violently, and then slowly decreasing, until the knight fell into an exhausted sleep. The dim, fading light of the last torch shone briefly, finally, upon the metal crest above the exhausted knight's head; the silver and blue crest of Lancelot du Lake.
Cont...
From: Llenlleawc
The warm glow of the torches cast itself upon streamers of colored cloth, pennons and flags that proudly displayed the lineage of the lords of the land. Various streamers and shields were mounted upon the walls, each declaring its owner to be a man of honor and nobility. Lancelot's eyes traveled from one to another, around the room. Recognizing most, starting at a few, and resting with awe and wonder at the last. The knightly lips moved almost without his knowledge as they whispered the names of
those crests he knew, those he had stood with, and ridden into battle beside: Gawain, Kay, Ector, Percival, twenty-four in all. Each a proud name, and one that he had been proud to stand beside. The final coat of arms stood apart from the others. The wall directly across from the doors was recessed slightly, and the floor raised approximately three feet. A throne sat upon that dais, glittering golden in the torchlight. Above the majestic seat hung the largest shield, bearing a standard well known
to Lancelot, aye, well known to all men in the land. The standard of Arthur Pendragon, Knight, Lord, and King. After a long time, Lancelot's eyes finally slid from the golden standard, and traveled down, beyond the throne and it's dais to the object sitting before them. The object that truly represented the heart of Camelot, and of the world: The Table Round. The huge table had only twenty-four seats about it. All were empty, but for a small crest centered on the back of each. The crests of 23 of
the chairs matched the coats of arms mounted on the walls behind them. The twenty-fourth chair had no matching coat of arms, as it sat directly in front of the dais. Though the table was round, and all seats were to be equal, the chair that sat between the king and the rest of the chamber was reserved. The knight who sat in that chair did not have his own coat of arms displayed on the wall behind him because his allegiance was given to only one man. That last chair would hold the King's Champion.
The wavering light of the torches, some of which had begun to burn out, did not reveal the crest affixed to the champion's chair. Lancelot, having once been the proud knight to possess that seat, was overcome with curiosity. Though it would no doubt hurt him, he simply had to know who had replaced him as Arthur's right hand. He walked slowly around the table, recalling many fond memories of times spent with the brave knights in this room. Knights most likely dead now, for Lancelot could not imagine
any of the Table Knights letting Camelot fall while they still had breath to spend in its preservation. At last, he had navigated the length of the table. Placing his hand upon the back of the chair, he turned it, steeling himself to accept Arthur's choice, whomever it may have been. The fading light shone on a familiar crest, and Lancelot, already pressed to the edge of ragged emotion by the events of the day, collapsed, falling to his knees. The once proud knight's head fell forward into the
cushioned seat, his curls hiding his face, as sobs of grief, shame, and release wracked his body. For hours he knelt there, his mighty shoulders shaking, first violently, and then slowly decreasing, until the knight fell into an exhausted sleep. The dim, fading light of the last torch shone briefly, finally, upon the metal crest above the exhausted knight's head; the silver and blue crest of Lancelot du Lake.
Cont...
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Date: 8/17/97 1:44 AM Eastern Standard Time
From: Llenlleawc
With the rising of the sun, so also rose a man reborn. The fire in Lancelot's dark eyes as he strode up out of the ruins of the central keep echoed the fire of the very sun. Someone had done this thing, had attacked Camelot, and destroyed all that Arthur had stood for, and he had done it while Arthur's Champion was away. From time immemorial, the champion of a king was honor bound to give all he possessed in the defense of his king, and, should he fail, the task fell to that champion to avenge his
fallen lord. Someone had destroyed Camelot, and though Arthur had gone to war against Lancelot after his rescue of the queen, Arthur had never released Lancelot from his position as King's Champion. Lancelot's duty was clear.
What the newly invigorated knight needed now was information. He began by sifting through the remains of the keep. He found little but rubble and wreckage. Having found no direct clues at the keep, Lancelot made his way once again into the city. He searched the buildings for any clue as to who had attacked the city, who was behind this terrible act of destruction. Finding little of use, he finally returned to the gates. There he began piecing together the remains of several uniforms and banners
that had been trampled beneath the massive battle that had taken place there. Arthur had been on the verge of besieging the keep in which Lancelot had taken refuge when the king had been forced to return to Camelot to face Mordred, who had attempted to usurp his crown. Lancelot had taken that opportunity to flee to the Lake, where his adoptive mother, the Lady of the Lake, had spirited him away. It was possible then, that Mordred's forces had destroyed the keep, but Lancelot found that to be
doubtful, as Mordred, had he withstood Arthur's return, would have craved the crown and all the obvious trappings of leadership. No, Mordred was too greedy to have done this. It had to have been some other. After several hours of searching and putting pieces together, Lancelot had still not yet who it was that commanded the enemy army. It was frustrating, but the only recognizable items he could find belonged to houses friendly to Arthur. There were some as-yet unidentified items, but that is what
they remained, unidentified.
When the sun had slowly disappeared below the sea in the west, and the full moon was beginning her climb into the night sky, the familiar mists began to roll forth, and encompass the gates wherein Lancelot knelt, pondering the identity of whom he would hunt and destroy. Startled, the knight looked up, and discovered himself to be in a familiar yet unknown area of woodland. The comforting sounds of a marsh at night came to him from off in the mists. With a smile, Lancelot rose to his feet, awaiting
the one he knew would come.
Cont...
From: Llenlleawc
With the rising of the sun, so also rose a man reborn. The fire in Lancelot's dark eyes as he strode up out of the ruins of the central keep echoed the fire of the very sun. Someone had done this thing, had attacked Camelot, and destroyed all that Arthur had stood for, and he had done it while Arthur's Champion was away. From time immemorial, the champion of a king was honor bound to give all he possessed in the defense of his king, and, should he fail, the task fell to that champion to avenge his
fallen lord. Someone had destroyed Camelot, and though Arthur had gone to war against Lancelot after his rescue of the queen, Arthur had never released Lancelot from his position as King's Champion. Lancelot's duty was clear.
What the newly invigorated knight needed now was information. He began by sifting through the remains of the keep. He found little but rubble and wreckage. Having found no direct clues at the keep, Lancelot made his way once again into the city. He searched the buildings for any clue as to who had attacked the city, who was behind this terrible act of destruction. Finding little of use, he finally returned to the gates. There he began piecing together the remains of several uniforms and banners
that had been trampled beneath the massive battle that had taken place there. Arthur had been on the verge of besieging the keep in which Lancelot had taken refuge when the king had been forced to return to Camelot to face Mordred, who had attempted to usurp his crown. Lancelot had taken that opportunity to flee to the Lake, where his adoptive mother, the Lady of the Lake, had spirited him away. It was possible then, that Mordred's forces had destroyed the keep, but Lancelot found that to be
doubtful, as Mordred, had he withstood Arthur's return, would have craved the crown and all the obvious trappings of leadership. No, Mordred was too greedy to have done this. It had to have been some other. After several hours of searching and putting pieces together, Lancelot had still not yet who it was that commanded the enemy army. It was frustrating, but the only recognizable items he could find belonged to houses friendly to Arthur. There were some as-yet unidentified items, but that is what
they remained, unidentified.
When the sun had slowly disappeared below the sea in the west, and the full moon was beginning her climb into the night sky, the familiar mists began to roll forth, and encompass the gates wherein Lancelot knelt, pondering the identity of whom he would hunt and destroy. Startled, the knight looked up, and discovered himself to be in a familiar yet unknown area of woodland. The comforting sounds of a marsh at night came to him from off in the mists. With a smile, Lancelot rose to his feet, awaiting
the one he knew would come.
Cont...
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Date: 8/17/97 1:45 AM Eastern Standard Time
From: Llenlleawc
"Thou hast returned." She stated it simply, the joy in her voice unmistakable, but tinged also with a great sadness. Dressed in white that seemed almost as insubstantial as the mists from which she appeared, the Lady of the Lake came forth, arms outstretched to embrace her adopted son.
Lancelot sat with her through most of the night, talking of things he had seen and places he had traveled. His adoptive mother smiled at the news that her son had met and made new friends in the land to which he had been sent, and nodded at the mention of the new love in Lancelot's life. Lancelot shared all he had felt and been and seen, and by the time the sun's rays were touching the eastern horizon, he had wound down, ending with his discovery of Camelot, and the questions he could not answer.
"My son, the destruction of Camelot was begun when thee and the Lady Guinevere did meet. The discovery of thy affair and thy subsequent flight were the final catalyst that did end Arthur's reign. Mordred, though he attempted to wrest Arthur's kingdom from hi in his absence, did not succeed. He was killed in battle with Arthur himself. His final act was the destruction of Arthur, but the kingdom did live on in the hands of Arthur's knights. It had been the noble king's intention that, should he ever
pass, his champion would rule, the kingdom to be given out of those hands only should Arthur prove to have a legitimate blood heir. Despite thy indiscretion, and yea, even the war between thee, Arthur had not and fain would not replace thee as his Champion. Thus, when the war had ended, and thy location being unknown, the knights did begin to debate the proper line of succession. It was that debate, unchecked by thee or Arthur that brought the surviving knights to the verge of war. It was then
decided that Camelot would be abandoned, and the Brotherhood of the Table dissolved. On the day the castle was to be sealed, one faction, led by the newest knights, those inducted to replace the brave knights lost in battle, did take up arms and attack the others. As they had the advantage of surprise, their cause did swiftly overcome the rest. In the end, they destroyed the keep, proclaiming that Arthur was dead, and the Knighthood dissolved. The Table they left buried, and Excalibur remains lost.
Thus it stands my son, the kingdom is divided, and there is none to whom any will bend knee nor swear fealty to."
At this news, Lancelot stared in horror. Again, he had failed his King. Had he been here, instead of jaunting about the landscape, he could have saved the kingdom. His failure was worse than simply dishonoring Arthur; he had brought about the suffering of countless numbers of Arthur's subjects, his subjects. Lancelot had murdered the people of Camelot as surely as if he had hacked them all down with his own blade. The Lady looked at him, watching the emotions crossing his face, and knew the guilt
and responsibility he was claiming as his own. With a gentle hand on his shoulder, she brought his face up, and looked him directly in his haunted eyes.
"It was not thy fault dear one. I sent thee away. It was thy destiny to bring an end to Arthur's rule, and it was for that purpose, I raised thee. Arthur was doomed to fail from the beginning. I sent thee away on purpose, so that thou woulds't not be allowed to save the city. For the same reason did Merlin spirit away Guinevere and her child. Camelot and the Table coulds't not be allowed to remain here."
Cont..
From: Llenlleawc
"Thou hast returned." She stated it simply, the joy in her voice unmistakable, but tinged also with a great sadness. Dressed in white that seemed almost as insubstantial as the mists from which she appeared, the Lady of the Lake came forth, arms outstretched to embrace her adopted son.
Lancelot sat with her through most of the night, talking of things he had seen and places he had traveled. His adoptive mother smiled at the news that her son had met and made new friends in the land to which he had been sent, and nodded at the mention of the new love in Lancelot's life. Lancelot shared all he had felt and been and seen, and by the time the sun's rays were touching the eastern horizon, he had wound down, ending with his discovery of Camelot, and the questions he could not answer.
"My son, the destruction of Camelot was begun when thee and the Lady Guinevere did meet. The discovery of thy affair and thy subsequent flight were the final catalyst that did end Arthur's reign. Mordred, though he attempted to wrest Arthur's kingdom from hi in his absence, did not succeed. He was killed in battle with Arthur himself. His final act was the destruction of Arthur, but the kingdom did live on in the hands of Arthur's knights. It had been the noble king's intention that, should he ever
pass, his champion would rule, the kingdom to be given out of those hands only should Arthur prove to have a legitimate blood heir. Despite thy indiscretion, and yea, even the war between thee, Arthur had not and fain would not replace thee as his Champion. Thus, when the war had ended, and thy location being unknown, the knights did begin to debate the proper line of succession. It was that debate, unchecked by thee or Arthur that brought the surviving knights to the verge of war. It was then
decided that Camelot would be abandoned, and the Brotherhood of the Table dissolved. On the day the castle was to be sealed, one faction, led by the newest knights, those inducted to replace the brave knights lost in battle, did take up arms and attack the others. As they had the advantage of surprise, their cause did swiftly overcome the rest. In the end, they destroyed the keep, proclaiming that Arthur was dead, and the Knighthood dissolved. The Table they left buried, and Excalibur remains lost.
Thus it stands my son, the kingdom is divided, and there is none to whom any will bend knee nor swear fealty to."
At this news, Lancelot stared in horror. Again, he had failed his King. Had he been here, instead of jaunting about the landscape, he could have saved the kingdom. His failure was worse than simply dishonoring Arthur; he had brought about the suffering of countless numbers of Arthur's subjects, his subjects. Lancelot had murdered the people of Camelot as surely as if he had hacked them all down with his own blade. The Lady looked at him, watching the emotions crossing his face, and knew the guilt
and responsibility he was claiming as his own. With a gentle hand on his shoulder, she brought his face up, and looked him directly in his haunted eyes.
"It was not thy fault dear one. I sent thee away. It was thy destiny to bring an end to Arthur's rule, and it was for that purpose, I raised thee. Arthur was doomed to fail from the beginning. I sent thee away on purpose, so that thou woulds't not be allowed to save the city. For the same reason did Merlin spirit away Guinevere and her child. Camelot and the Table coulds't not be allowed to remain here."
Cont..
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Message 5 of 7 Subject 3592 of 3604
Subject: A return cont....
Date: 8/17/97 1:47 AM Eastern Standard Time
From: Llenlleawc
MsgId:
Lancelot recoiled from her touch and her words, his face a mask of agony and disbelief. His whole life, all that he had lived for, had been the fulfillment of Arthur's dream. Camelot had been the physical symbol of that dream, and now both had been destroyed. Lancelot would not, could not believe that his only reason for existing had been to destroy such a beautiful dream. Shaking his head, he tried to back away, as if putting distance between him and the Lady would somehow make her words less true.
In his panic, he tripped, landing heavily on his back in the soft, mossy ground. His adoptive mother stepped quickly forward, kneeling on his chest, and held his face in her hands. Forcing him to look at her, and listen to her, she continued speaking.
"Dearest! Listen to me! Thou wert destined to do these things! As was I! We had no choice; there is no turning from destiny. But listen! Thy destiny is not yet complete! Though it fell to thee to be the instrument of Arthur's destruction, it also falls to thee to be the instrument of his dream's salvation."
With tears in her eyes, holding his face, the Lady spoke gently to her son, Her voice soft but insistent. Soothingly, she kept repeating her words, reaching out to him, gently forcing him to understand. When at last he had stopped struggling, she smiled at him, wiping the tears from his eyes. Voice soft, she continued.
"The world is not yet prepared for all that Arthur's dream would bring. It was necessary that he die, and his dream be allowed to fade, until the world has grown. It was indeed thy destiny to cause Arthur's fall, and it is thy duty as his champion, to safeguard his sleep.
"Thou must listen to me my son, for the tasks before thee are daunting, and of more import than any thou hast undertaken before. There are four artifacts that remain of Arthur's dream: his throne, his Table, his crown, and his sword. It falls to thee to safeguard them all. Each must be guarded in a different way."
For many hours, Lancelot listened to his mother explain the many tasks before him, and all that would be required to complete them. By the time she had finished, and he had asked what questions had stood in need of answering, the sun had risen and set again. With a final kiss, his mother bid him goodbye, and drifted once more into the mists. An exhausted Lancelot curled up under his blankets, and sank into much needed sleep. His last thoughts were that he had expected to return to face his own
death, and instead had found a new purpose to his life. With a sigh, he drifted into blackness.
From the mists of Avalon, a man who no longer existed watched as Lancelot fell asleep. With a nod, the man smiled. His kingdom was secure. The champion chosen so long ago had returned to him, and with that return, assured the world a second chance. Moving his hands in what would be recognized as an ancient blessing upon the sleeping knight, the man who had been Arthur Pendragon turned back to Avalon, to wait.
Cont....
Subject: A return cont....
Date: 8/17/97 1:47 AM Eastern Standard Time
From: Llenlleawc
MsgId:
Lancelot recoiled from her touch and her words, his face a mask of agony and disbelief. His whole life, all that he had lived for, had been the fulfillment of Arthur's dream. Camelot had been the physical symbol of that dream, and now both had been destroyed. Lancelot would not, could not believe that his only reason for existing had been to destroy such a beautiful dream. Shaking his head, he tried to back away, as if putting distance between him and the Lady would somehow make her words less true.
In his panic, he tripped, landing heavily on his back in the soft, mossy ground. His adoptive mother stepped quickly forward, kneeling on his chest, and held his face in her hands. Forcing him to look at her, and listen to her, she continued speaking.
"Dearest! Listen to me! Thou wert destined to do these things! As was I! We had no choice; there is no turning from destiny. But listen! Thy destiny is not yet complete! Though it fell to thee to be the instrument of Arthur's destruction, it also falls to thee to be the instrument of his dream's salvation."
With tears in her eyes, holding his face, the Lady spoke gently to her son, Her voice soft but insistent. Soothingly, she kept repeating her words, reaching out to him, gently forcing him to understand. When at last he had stopped struggling, she smiled at him, wiping the tears from his eyes. Voice soft, she continued.
"The world is not yet prepared for all that Arthur's dream would bring. It was necessary that he die, and his dream be allowed to fade, until the world has grown. It was indeed thy destiny to cause Arthur's fall, and it is thy duty as his champion, to safeguard his sleep.
"Thou must listen to me my son, for the tasks before thee are daunting, and of more import than any thou hast undertaken before. There are four artifacts that remain of Arthur's dream: his throne, his Table, his crown, and his sword. It falls to thee to safeguard them all. Each must be guarded in a different way."
For many hours, Lancelot listened to his mother explain the many tasks before him, and all that would be required to complete them. By the time she had finished, and he had asked what questions had stood in need of answering, the sun had risen and set again. With a final kiss, his mother bid him goodbye, and drifted once more into the mists. An exhausted Lancelot curled up under his blankets, and sank into much needed sleep. His last thoughts were that he had expected to return to face his own
death, and instead had found a new purpose to his life. With a sigh, he drifted into blackness.
From the mists of Avalon, a man who no longer existed watched as Lancelot fell asleep. With a nod, the man smiled. His kingdom was secure. The champion chosen so long ago had returned to him, and with that return, assured the world a second chance. Moving his hands in what would be recognized as an ancient blessing upon the sleeping knight, the man who had been Arthur Pendragon turned back to Avalon, to wait.
Cont....
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Message 6 of 7 Subject 3592 of 3604
Subject: A return cont....
Date: 8/17/97 1:49 AM Eastern Standard Time
From: Llenlleawc
MsgId:
It took the troubled knight many days to accomplish the tasks set before him. He faced many difficulties. First he unearthed Arthur's throne and moved it to the country of Wales. Once there, he placed it upon a hilltop, where the faery magic of the Lady of the Lake was employed to bury it. Though the actual facts regarding this deed would become lost in legend, all the sons and daughters of Wales would know that Arthur's Seat was real, and awaited his return. Lancelot's quest was discovered by some
few of the "knights" that had been placed to watch for just such an occurrence, and several days were wasted as Lancelot removed the obstructions placed in his path. There were not many knights who cared to stand in his path after his examples had been made.
Finding Arthur's crown was more difficult. Though he had the guidance of the Lady of the Lake in his search, even she could not guide the noble champion to the crown's exact resting-place. After several days of searching through the swamplands near Arthur's final battle, Lancelot did discover the crown. Again employing his mother's faery gifts, he caused the crown to rise forth out of the mire. Again, the royal symbol of Arthur's authority was taken to a remote location of the island and buried.
Once more, the local people would pass down to their descendants the location of the artifact, and the story of how it waited for the king's return.
The third task was the location of Excalibur. Lancelot braced himself for what would be the most daunting task of them all. Every person alive (and quite a few who were not) had scoured the lands for Arthur's fabled sword. None had found it. Asking again for his mother's help in locating the fabled broadsword, the knight was startled when, with a smile, she produced the blade and placed it into his hands.
"And art thou so surprised that the stories are true? Arthur's last order to his brave knight was to take the sword and cast it into the lake, where I might recover it. I cannot keep safe this mighty blade, as there are those in Avalon who would not rest until they had wrestled it from my grasp. There is only one person who can keep safe the mighty Excalibur, and only one place in which he can do so."
With Excalibur in his possession, Lancelot and the laborers he had hired for the task placed the final artifact in a wagon, and set out from Camelot for the last time. With its heavy load, the wagon took three days to travel from Camelot's gravesite to the Lake. Once there, Lancelot had the Table unloaded and placed in the water. The laborers were dismissed, and the noble knight awaited sunset, and the arrival of his mother.
With the Moon's appearance on the edge of the horizon, and her brother the Sun hiding below the mountains, the mists of Avalon began to spill forth across the waters of the lake. As Lancelot stood waiting, the mists rolled over him, bringing the knight face to face with his faery mother. Excalibur in hand, Lancelot strode forth into the cool lake waters. Standing with one hand upon the great Table, and the other clutching Excalibur to him, he smiled at his mother and nodded.
Smiling, the Lady of the Lake raised her arms, summoning the faery powers of the Lake. As the glowing gateway opened beneath the waves, her son smiled at her. With a silent flash of golden light, he was gone. A faint breeze was all that disturbed the glassy surface of the lake. A self-satisfied smile tugging at her lips, the Lady of the Lake faded into the mists.
Cont...
Subject: A return cont....
Date: 8/17/97 1:49 AM Eastern Standard Time
From: Llenlleawc
MsgId:
It took the troubled knight many days to accomplish the tasks set before him. He faced many difficulties. First he unearthed Arthur's throne and moved it to the country of Wales. Once there, he placed it upon a hilltop, where the faery magic of the Lady of the Lake was employed to bury it. Though the actual facts regarding this deed would become lost in legend, all the sons and daughters of Wales would know that Arthur's Seat was real, and awaited his return. Lancelot's quest was discovered by some
few of the "knights" that had been placed to watch for just such an occurrence, and several days were wasted as Lancelot removed the obstructions placed in his path. There were not many knights who cared to stand in his path after his examples had been made.
Finding Arthur's crown was more difficult. Though he had the guidance of the Lady of the Lake in his search, even she could not guide the noble champion to the crown's exact resting-place. After several days of searching through the swamplands near Arthur's final battle, Lancelot did discover the crown. Again employing his mother's faery gifts, he caused the crown to rise forth out of the mire. Again, the royal symbol of Arthur's authority was taken to a remote location of the island and buried.
Once more, the local people would pass down to their descendants the location of the artifact, and the story of how it waited for the king's return.
The third task was the location of Excalibur. Lancelot braced himself for what would be the most daunting task of them all. Every person alive (and quite a few who were not) had scoured the lands for Arthur's fabled sword. None had found it. Asking again for his mother's help in locating the fabled broadsword, the knight was startled when, with a smile, she produced the blade and placed it into his hands.
"And art thou so surprised that the stories are true? Arthur's last order to his brave knight was to take the sword and cast it into the lake, where I might recover it. I cannot keep safe this mighty blade, as there are those in Avalon who would not rest until they had wrestled it from my grasp. There is only one person who can keep safe the mighty Excalibur, and only one place in which he can do so."
With Excalibur in his possession, Lancelot and the laborers he had hired for the task placed the final artifact in a wagon, and set out from Camelot for the last time. With its heavy load, the wagon took three days to travel from Camelot's gravesite to the Lake. Once there, Lancelot had the Table unloaded and placed in the water. The laborers were dismissed, and the noble knight awaited sunset, and the arrival of his mother.
With the Moon's appearance on the edge of the horizon, and her brother the Sun hiding below the mountains, the mists of Avalon began to spill forth across the waters of the lake. As Lancelot stood waiting, the mists rolled over him, bringing the knight face to face with his faery mother. Excalibur in hand, Lancelot strode forth into the cool lake waters. Standing with one hand upon the great Table, and the other clutching Excalibur to him, he smiled at his mother and nodded.
Smiling, the Lady of the Lake raised her arms, summoning the faery powers of the Lake. As the glowing gateway opened beneath the waves, her son smiled at her. With a silent flash of golden light, he was gone. A faint breeze was all that disturbed the glassy surface of the lake. A self-satisfied smile tugging at her lips, the Lady of the Lake faded into the mists.
Cont...
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Date: 8/17/97 1:52 AM Eastern Standard Time
From: Llenlleawc
With a flash and a loud rushing of water and air, the small pool in the castle basement seemed to explode. Where before torchlight had flickered upon still water, there now stood a travel-stained man. Removing his right hand from the giant table that had appeared next to him, the man brushed his long black curls from his face. Having cleared his vision, he glanced down at the golden-hilted blade in his left hand. Grinning, Llenlleawc strode out of the shallow waters, calling for his servants. There
was much work to be done.
Finis.
((OOC Notes: Sorry to take up so much room (this is longer than I thought). If you would like ta know what's going on, feel free ta E-mail me, and I'll be happy ta get back to ya. For everyone else, thanks for letting me tell the story. Llen's Mun.))
From: Llenlleawc
With a flash and a loud rushing of water and air, the small pool in the castle basement seemed to explode. Where before torchlight had flickered upon still water, there now stood a travel-stained man. Removing his right hand from the giant table that had appeared next to him, the man brushed his long black curls from his face. Having cleared his vision, he glanced down at the golden-hilted blade in his left hand. Grinning, Llenlleawc strode out of the shallow waters, calling for his servants. There
was much work to be done.
Finis.
((OOC Notes: Sorry to take up so much room (this is longer than I thought). If you would like ta know what's going on, feel free ta E-mail me, and I'll be happy ta get back to ya. For everyone else, thanks for letting me tell the story. Llen's Mun.))