Into the East

TITLE: Into the East
AUTHOR: A.J. Becker
EMAIL: ajfusch@livejournal.com
FANDOM: King Arthur (2004 movie)
GENRE: Slash
PAIRING: Arthur/Lancelot
RATING: PG-13 (except for a tiny bit of language)
NOTE: This ficlet is based on an idea Chris and me had while we talked (again) about that "east wind-problem". It's supposed to be funny but probably isn't. It *was* funny when we developed the scene ... but humour's a real bitch - even bitchier than Lance *g*
THANKS: to my beta tehomet and to Chris who also helped me with the polishing. Make sure to read her (more serious) version , as well!
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, of course. The guys and their universe legally belong to Mr. "I take the Fantasy out of every Mythology-based legend" and whoever else. But of course they really only belong to each other (and to Guinevere) ...



Lancelot:
"Grant me a favour: Don't bury me in our sad little cemetery. Burn me. Burn me, and cast my ashes to a strong east wind."

'Take that, Arthur, and think on it. And know I'll come back to kick your faithful arse if I die on that missi... Wait - did I say east wind? Damn! I think I meant west wind!

An east wind comes from the east and goes to the west, right? I never quite got that ... I'm a warrior, not a navigator. Think, Lance! Home's east of this island ... Which means that an east wind won't take me home but into the great sea and to the end of the bloody world - unless the earth isn't flat but a ball, which is really silly, so how come I even had that thought? And how come I'm babbling to myself?

Just had an argument with Arthur, that's why. Can't think straight when he's actually paying attention to me - which is why on the occasions he's listening to me, I tend to say a lot of crap. I hate my life - and this island. Which is west of Sarmatia and calls for a west wind to take me home. Besides, I hate the sea even more than this island.

*kick*

Have to tell Arthur - now.'

Arthur:
"Grant me a favour: Don't bury me in our sad little cemetery. Burn me. Burn me, and cast my ashes to a strong east wind."

'Burn you and cast the ashes to an east wind. Check. Merciful God, I beg you that it won't come to tha... Wait a moment ... An east wind blows westwards. It comes from the east. He couldn't have meant that, could he? Surely he wants to be returned home this way, so it should be a west wind. Geography was never his strong suit. But ... what if he actually meant the east wind? Maybe he wants to take a wind that comes from home or be blown into the nothingness of the western sea ... Or maybe ... wasn't there a pagan legend about the dead going into the west? Nevermind, I think that's totally unrelated to Sarmatians ...

What to do? I have to honour his wish, and to do that I have to be sure of it. I can't take the chance to guess wrong. But if I ask him ... he got so emotional about it. I don't want to hurt him ... or him to hurt me! I swear to God - sorry, Father - that man can flay my skin off of me with a few well-chosen words and a scorching look. And he's touchy about making mistakes - about anything, actually - too. If he *meant* the east wind he'll feel insulted by my doubt and either lash out at me or ... pout!

*Deep breath*

I'm not a coward, I can do it. I have to ask him - now.'

*ooomph* (aka: And so it came that both our heroes crashed into each other in the doorway)

L: Arthur...
A: Lancelot...
L: I meant the wind blowing eastwards.
A: Did you mean the wind blowing eastwards?
L: Errr... yes.
A: That's great. I mean ... it's good we talked about it. Made it clear.
L: Yeah.
A: Lancelot?
L: Yeah?
A: Like the leathers. New?
L: Uh huh. Had them made for the journey home. To impress all the women along the way.
A: To seduce me into coming home with you, more likely.
L: Are you calling me a slut?
A: You know I'm not and I know you wouldn't care anyway.
L. Will you shut up and shag me already?
A: See?
L: I take that as a yes.


© 18.09.04 by A.J.