Chapter Text
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.
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Gawain had not felt such hunger before in all his days. Breath ragged and frozen in the cold of his makeshift rest, dampness encroached within the fabric of his clothes as he slumped against the rocky innards of the cave. Trembling, tired, and all-too tempted to find anything at all to satiate his need, his desperation led his fingers to dive down into the dark of the chasm, hoping something would strike his touch. He had no strength to press forward, his only hope being a miracle given to him by God- some sort of nourishment hidden in the darkness for his hands to unearth.
Ever so quickly did the golden tones of his skin wither away to violet hues of sickness. A man on the brink of survival, and whatever happened to him in those precious moments would determine which side he would teter to: life, or death. He could not tell if the droplets beading down his face were from the sweat of his own brow, or tears above from the stalactites threatening to consume his flesh and bone. Should he perish here, he would be yet another corpse swallowed by the mouth of the cave.
Trembling fingers found nothing amongst the mossy growth beneath his form. He closed his eyes in tender fury at the loss. He knew too well that should he be left with nothing, his journey would end where he stood. A brief flicker of orange caught his gaze, and his eyes followed as he watched the fox- an unasked companion on his journey thus far- yelp and growl in the air for mere moments, before it hopped itself around the chasm- disappearing down into its darkness. A breathy sigh escaped his lips, and he swallowed dryness into his throat.
“Thou wouldst leave me to die, would you?” He asked in his mind’s eye. “A journey ventured with nothing gained.”
A droplet from the ceiling’s fangs fell and panged the rock below, echoing out a cry into the darkness of the young knight’s solitude. This journey he had anticipated to face alone, yet then- in those moments of darkness surrounded by rock and rain- never had he felt so truly on his own. His shuttered his eyes tightly at a rush of cold wind blowing through, and in a final attempt at keeping his body warm, he tightly clasped his fingers together, coiling himself into a tiny form. Merely a shell of the man he was so desperate to become.
When he heard a voice call out to him in the dark, he at first believed it to be a dream. A figment of his imagination brought on by the pangs of hunger growing weary in his stomach. An illusion of his hysteria.
Yet when the voice called out once more, this time clearer and more near, he was startled into a haze of alertness, now threatened by the promise of spectres in the night.
“Are you lost, weary traveller?” Came the voice, echoing throughout the cave like wind chimes. It was airy and elegant, and it sounded as thought it was coming from a woman. Gawain’s eyes darted in the darkness, unable to tell the source of the sound with the echo pulsating all around him. Blinking rapidly, he froze at the sight of two green lights glowing but a short distance away. Two eyes- bright and peridot in colour, emanating a gentle glow as the only source of light in the endless chasm.
Swallowing hard, Gawain struggled to gather courage in his heart to speak. “Begone, spectre-“ he called out, and with trembling hands he attempted to pull himself along the rocky walls behind him. “I wish not to hear your hymns and riddles. I have had my fair share of ghosts and ghouls, and I wish not to hear them any longer.” He protested, seeming firm in his resolve.
In fear and haste, a shaky hand reached for the only weapon that remained on his person- his short sword, glinting dully as his eyes attempted to adjust to the pale darkness around him.
The unknown figure persisted in their approach, stepping forward as the green, glowing eyes grew larger with each step.
“A spectre I am not.” The voice proclaimed, calm and collected. “A guardian, certainly, but a spectre not.” They concluded, and within a moment, the cave- once dark and impossible to navigate- began to glow brilliantly in a haze of green. The young knight blinked at the change of hue, and his eyes widened to see the stature of the person before him.
A woman- young in appearance- with the peridot eyes he had once seen shrouded in dark. She was draped in not much- but a few cloths of beige, with foliage and weaved blades of grass acting as fasteners and coverings. He could see clearly the outline of her form under the drapery- the curves and dips of her bosom, and the way in which the cloth dipped down along her hips. Beautiful, certainly- there was no denying that. Almost entrancing in the way she walked towards him, a sun kissed hand gently grazing the walls of the cave as she walked. The knight noticed then, that as he fingertips touched the flora and weeds marking the cave’s interior, they began to emanate that same green haze of light, brightening the space with each step she took.
Swallowing hard, his grip on his hilt grew weaker. “Fear not, sir knight,” the maiden assured him, glancing at him with a look over her bare shoulder. “I come not bearing you harm. Your companion here sought out my help.” She remarked, and with a glance down to the floor, Gawain saw the orange face of the fox peeking out from behind a rock yonder.
“What sorcery is this?” The young man asked, brow furrowed as his eyes scanned the glowing fungi and weeds. The maiden smiled, and gave a soft shake of her head. “No sorcery. Just nature. These mushrooms respond to touch-“ she remarked, giving one of the caps a gently pluck with her finger. Extending the fungus to the man before her, he saw how it glowed within her palm, before she closed it within a fist.
“Had you extended to touch them yourself, you would not have grown lost in this chasm. They would have led you out.” She remarked gently.
As Gawain attempted to come to a conclusion about this strange maiden before him, a weakness befell his knees, and caused him to crumble to the floor. Horrible pangs of hunger began to rush to his mind, and the faintness in his core began to take hold of his entire form.
The maiden watched on for merely a moment, before she knelt before the young stranger, and procured from her woven satchel what appeared to be a green salve- thick, and pasty, which she scooped heartily into her palm. Gawain looked on with wavering vision, brow furrowed and damp with sweat as he struggled to stay alert. His eyes met the peridot stones of her eyes, and she smiled, extending her fingers towards his lips.
“Eat, Sir knight. It will fill you. You will feel better.” She encouraged. Gawain’s gaze narrowed as he tried to straighten his vision. “I am no knight,” he explained gently, his eyes attempting to adjust to see the paste between her fingers as he weighed the options of consumption.
Slowly, the maiden’s head tilted to one side. “Not in creed, perhaps, but in mind. In spirit.” She mused. She no longer gave him the option to indulge- instead sliding her fingers into his mouth and forcing the salve between his teeth. He let out a noise for a moment, before he felt the nourishment hit his tongue, and all his protests began to falter. Almost greedily, he took the salve from her touch, and glanced up at her with needy eyes. She was smiling more, now.
At first, Gawain felt a wave of renewal wash over him- his tastebuds and brain illuminating in waves of relief as the salve began to slide down his throat and into his core. A large exhale indicated such relief, and he looked up at the strange maiden with an overwhelming gaze of thanks.
Yet, as he licked his lips and the salve settled in his stomach, immediately he felt a numbness in his limbs. His eyes went a little wide as a panic set in to his heart. He tried to move, but he could not. He tried to speak, but his tongue laid dormant in his mouth.
Gazing at the woman above him, he noticed now that his vision began to distort- turning her form into wavering visions both human and not- with flecks of deep colour invading his ability to make out the world around him. Helplessly watching on, the form of that maiden began to be enveloped in bark and foliage- turning her into what appeared to be a woodland tree, whose natural curves and forms begged to be caressed and touched as that of a woman. Looking down to his hands, he too was being swallowed into the earth below him- fungus and moss spreading up his fingertips and under his skin. Though he could not feel his limbs, he could see the trembling of his skin, and only when the maiden extended her touch to him- their mossy fingers intertwining and creating a bloom of life that connected them in earth- were Gawain’s eyes able to settle on the woman before him.
“I will take you away from here, fair Knight. Sleep now. You will wake with energy restored.” She whispered, and only numbness graced his cheek as he watched her caress his skin with an open palm. Promptly, his eyes became unbearably heavy, and he was lulled into a feverish dream.
Rising from where she knelt, the maiden- looking out into the chasm beyond, and seeing the fox watching her from the dark- whistled and hummed a gentle tune. For a moment, the earth beneath her feet stood still, until the sounds of trotting hooves approached, and she knew well that she could return home with her prize soon.