Sir Gawain Drabble Nine
The ninth of my four Sir Gawain challenge drabbles! (yes, really.) The aim was to write 100 words in response to a section of the poem. I have about four more of these to write and post (I'll try to spread the posts over the next couple of days) and then I will post the masterlist, probably on Thursday before I go home.
Our man, back on his mount
now hurtles home from there.
The green knight leaves his ground
to wander who knows where.
This isn’t over.
Merlin could still feel the other sorcerer in his mind, pressing against his consciousness, as he raced back to Camelot and to Arthur. The strange man was weaker now, yes, but not gone. He’d be back - if mischief hadn’t already been done to Camelot in Merlin’s absence.
Merlin spurred his horse on faster, murmuring words in the tongue of the old religion that went straight to the horse’s mind, bypassing its training. He would have to be swifter than the wind to get back before nightfall - and he must.
This isn’t over.
Our man, back on his mount
now hurtles home from there.
The green knight leaves his ground
to wander who knows where.
This isn’t over.
Merlin could still feel the other sorcerer in his mind, pressing against his consciousness, as he raced back to Camelot and to Arthur. The strange man was weaker now, yes, but not gone. He’d be back - if mischief hadn’t already been done to Camelot in Merlin’s absence.
Merlin spurred his horse on faster, murmuring words in the tongue of the old religion that went straight to the horse’s mind, bypassing its training. He would have to be swifter than the wind to get back before nightfall - and he must.
This isn’t over.