I Used to Think Maybe You Loved Me | Gwaine, Arthur... and an apple tree | PG (part 2 of 2)
Gwaine crossed his arms over the chain, which was wrapped around his midsection and the tree trunk, and fastened with a big lock. "You are not cutting down this tree," he announced.
They glanced at one another. "We've been ordered by our master, who has orders from the king," the elder worker replied.
"If you want to cut down this tree, you'll have to go through me." Gwaine planted his feet a bit wider apart, in a more defiant stance.
Not particularly wanting to face off with a knight of the realm, they left to find the master of the orchards. "Sir Gwaine," he said, approaching with his workers trailing behind. "King Arthur has given me instructions to get rid of this tree for the good of the orchards."
"This tree sets the bar for the orchards," Gwaine countered. "To cut it down would be a crime."
The tree could not believe it. They wanted to cut her down?! But... Gwaine was defending her, protecting her from the axes.
"By blocking us, you're defying an order from the king," the orchard master pointed out.
Gwaine drew his sword. "Why don't you come closer and say that?"
All three men stepped back, despite the fact that they were already well out of range. Patiently, the master tried once more, "We can't risk the rot spreading."
Oh, dear. Suddenly, the tree realized what was going on. They thought she was ill-- and not just ill, but contagious. She had to convince them she was not; she had to produce a good apple.
She focused, pouring every ounce of energy she could into making the most perfect piece of fruit ever.
Meanwhile, the men faced off on the ground below her branches. "Go see if the king can come," the master said quietly to the younger of his workers, who took off running toward the castle. Gwaine knew exactly where he was headed and why, but was not going to budge. The minutes ticked by in silence, until Arthur arrived, the younger worker a proper distance behind.
"Gwaine, what the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded.
"You have to trust me on this, Arthur."
"No offense, but I think I'm more inclined to trust men who have worked with trees their whole lives, rather than someone who just likes to eat apples."
Gwaine could not come up with a ready retort for that one, but as he considered it, an apple dropped onto the ground between him and the others. It was not brown as the others had been recently, but a vibrant red; it was not misshapen, but a perfect apple shape. Gwaine smiled and sheathed his sword.
"If you can still say we should cut down this tree after taking a bite from that, I'll walk away and never speak of this again."
Arthur looked dubious. "I'm not eating a rotten apple."
"Does that look rotten to you?"
Arthur glanced at the orchard master, who shrugged. "Looks all right, to me."
Picking it up, Arthur reluctantly took a bite-- and then another. "This is amazing," he said around a mouthful of fruit. "Gwaine, unchain yourself. No one is chopping the tree down."
With a triumphant grin, Gwaine did as he was told.
"I'm sorry, Sire. I've no explanation," the master said.
Still eating, Arthur said, "Just see to it that this doesn't happen again." He started to walk away, but turned back. "And take extra-special care of that tree."
The master and workers all bowed and, puzzling over what could possibly have happened, went back about their other duties.
As Gwaine was gathering up the chain and lock, he heard something hit the ground behind him. An even more perfect apple than the one Arthur had been given was laying on the ground. He patted the trunk of the tree. "Glad you're feeling better."
She was feeling more than better; she was elated. Her well-being was assured now that she had the king's attention, and her fondness for Gwaine was reciprocated. From then on, whenever he walked down that path dappled with sunlight, there was always a perfect apple waiting for him.
Gwaine crossed his arms over the chain, which was wrapped around his midsection and the tree trunk, and fastened with a big lock. "You are not cutting down this tree," he announced.
They glanced at one another. "We've been ordered by our master, who has orders from the king," the elder worker replied.
"If you want to cut down this tree, you'll have to go through me." Gwaine planted his feet a bit wider apart, in a more defiant stance.
Not particularly wanting to face off with a knight of the realm, they left to find the master of the orchards. "Sir Gwaine," he said, approaching with his workers trailing behind. "King Arthur has given me instructions to get rid of this tree for the good of the orchards."
"This tree sets the bar for the orchards," Gwaine countered. "To cut it down would be a crime."
The tree could not believe it. They wanted to cut her down?! But... Gwaine was defending her, protecting her from the axes.
"By blocking us, you're defying an order from the king," the orchard master pointed out.
Gwaine drew his sword. "Why don't you come closer and say that?"
All three men stepped back, despite the fact that they were already well out of range. Patiently, the master tried once more, "We can't risk the rot spreading."
Oh, dear. Suddenly, the tree realized what was going on. They thought she was ill-- and not just ill, but contagious. She had to convince them she was not; she had to produce a good apple.
She focused, pouring every ounce of energy she could into making the most perfect piece of fruit ever.
Meanwhile, the men faced off on the ground below her branches. "Go see if the king can come," the master said quietly to the younger of his workers, who took off running toward the castle. Gwaine knew exactly where he was headed and why, but was not going to budge. The minutes ticked by in silence, until Arthur arrived, the younger worker a proper distance behind.
"Gwaine, what the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded.
"You have to trust me on this, Arthur."
"No offense, but I think I'm more inclined to trust men who have worked with trees their whole lives, rather than someone who just likes to eat apples."
Gwaine could not come up with a ready retort for that one, but as he considered it, an apple dropped onto the ground between him and the others. It was not brown as the others had been recently, but a vibrant red; it was not misshapen, but a perfect apple shape. Gwaine smiled and sheathed his sword.
"If you can still say we should cut down this tree after taking a bite from that, I'll walk away and never speak of this again."
Arthur looked dubious. "I'm not eating a rotten apple."
"Does that look rotten to you?"
Arthur glanced at the orchard master, who shrugged. "Looks all right, to me."
Picking it up, Arthur reluctantly took a bite-- and then another. "This is amazing," he said around a mouthful of fruit. "Gwaine, unchain yourself. No one is chopping the tree down."
With a triumphant grin, Gwaine did as he was told.
"I'm sorry, Sire. I've no explanation," the master said.
Still eating, Arthur said, "Just see to it that this doesn't happen again." He started to walk away, but turned back. "And take extra-special care of that tree."
The master and workers all bowed and, puzzling over what could possibly have happened, went back about their other duties.
As Gwaine was gathering up the chain and lock, he heard something hit the ground behind him. An even more perfect apple than the one Arthur had been given was laying on the ground. He patted the trunk of the tree. "Glad you're feeling better."
She was feeling more than better; she was elated. Her well-being was assured now that she had the king's attention, and her fondness for Gwaine was reciprocated. From then on, whenever he walked down that path dappled with sunlight, there was always a perfect apple waiting for him.
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