Fic: Sword in the Stone part 3, fic, J2, PG
That night, a visitor came to Sir Ector’s home. As there was no more magic, Jensen struggled to get the cooking done and serve the men while avoiding Kay’s dogs and dealing with vociferous complaints. Still, he got to hear some of what was going on.
“Well, it’s been thirteen years since Uther of Pendragon died, hasn’t it? And no one’s been able to extract Excalibur, though thousands of Knights have gone to London to try. We’ve descended into lawlessness, haven’t we? So it’s been decided to have a jousting tournament, and the winner will be King!”
“A jousting tournament?” repeated Sir Ector. Turning to his son, he ran an appraising eye over him. “Well, and Kay’s one of the best jousters we’ve seen, isn’t he?”
“One of the best,” the visitor agreed.
Sir Ector slapped his hand on the table, just as Jensen was picking up the last stack. They wobbled, but he managed to hold on to them. “Then, that settles it! Kay, you’re going to London to try to be King. Wart, you will be his squire!”
“Squire?” Jensen squeaked, and promptly fell over, dishes and all.
*
The next day, Jensen rushed around, trying to make sure he had packed everything. Before he had checked the armor, he was grabbed by his furious foster father. “We have to be in London by nightfall, Wart, and we don’t have time for this. Get into the carriage.” Not seeing a choice, he held his hand out for the owl to perch upon and perched on the wheel by the door.
“Get rid of that ruddy owl, boy! Not going to take it into a lodging house, are we?”
Jensen looked at Jared in horror, but the owl winked at him and flew away.
When he got to London, there was a mad scramble and Jensen found himself pushed around every which way. Not for the first time, he wished he was a lot larger. Luckily, just before he was trampled by a carriage, a boy about his own age pulled him out of the way. “Jensen, come over here!”
The boy dragged him to the side, and sighed, but Jensen was a little wary. “Who are you? And how do you know my name?”
“Well, don’t you recognize me? Especially since I’ve been making a habit out of pulling you to safety!”
Jensen looked closer at those curious words. Who was this dark-haired boy who was so much taller than him? Then, he noticed those lovely hazel eyes, and knew at once. “Jared?” he whispered. “How did you become a boy? Is Jeff here?”
“No!” Jared grinned. “This is me! I’m training with Jeff too; I’m Jared Lancelot, and I can take any form I want! I’m not so good at the rest of magic though, and all those other normal things like reading and writing, and Jeff wants me to learn them all.”
Jensen was going to ask more questions, but he was interrupted by Sir Ector. “Wart! Wart! Confound it all, where is that boy?”
“Have to run!”
Jared grabbed his arm. “I’m coming with you, not letting you out of my sight!”
Sir Ector frowned but did not object to the presence of the taller boy. He ordered Jensen to get Kay ready for his joust immediately. “He’ll be on in a minute!”
It was while he was gathering all of Kay’s things that catastrophe struck. “Oh Morgan, I’ve forgotten the sword! Sir Ector is going to kill me, and Kay won’t get to joust!” He began to panic.
“Wait, as I was flying here, I saw a sword very close to this field. It was sheathed in a stone for some reason, but it looked like it was made of steel and fine to use! Besides, it isn’t as if they are going to be fencing!” Jared’s face lit up with excitement. “Come on, I’ll take you there!”
They ran down a street and came to a square, with a round stone at the center and, just as Jared had said, what looked like a fine sword in the middle of it. There was some writing on the hilt, but it was in old script and Jensen’s lessons with Jeff had not gotten that far.
When Jensen grabbed it, there was a strange light that seemed to come from the sky and shine upon him, and he thought he heard music. He balked for a second or two, but then remembering the urgency, he screwed up his courage and pulled it out. It was heavy, and he could not stand straight when it was out of the stone, but it came out smoothly, and it was obviously of the finest quality.
He ran back, and managed to get to Kay before Sir Ector blew a gasket. But the young man realized it was not his sword immediately. “Here, what is this? Whose sword have you brought me?”
“Oh, give me that!” Sir Ector grabbed it and examined it. “Nonsense, whose sword…” But the father’s sharp eyes lit upon the engraved words in the beautifully crafted weapon, and he gasped. “Why, this is Excaliber!”
“Excaliber!”
“The sword in the stone!”
“Why, someone has pulled the sword from the stone!”
As people began to shout, Jensen edged away, his only instinct to run. But Sir Ector grabbed him, and though Jared stood stalwart by his side, he thought he was going to die. “Please sir, I didn’t steal it. I saw it in a square, and thought it was abandoned. It was on its own, stuck in a stone.”
“In a stone? Do you mean to say you’ve pulled it out?” An older gentleman came up to him and looked at him closely.
“Him? Nonsense, this is Wart, our Squire!” Sir Ector, becoming nervous himself, tried to bluster his way out of the matter.
But they would not let him. The crowd bore them all to the park where Jared had seen the sword. The shape-shifter allowed himself to be carried alongside his friend and, reaching over, tucked his hand into his own. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “We’ll stick together.”
When they got there, they had Jensen return the sword to its old place, and pull it out again. Then they had him stick it in the rock again so that other knights could try to pull it out, but it would not come.
“Morgan,” a man in the crowd whispered. “The legend is true-only one man can pull the sword out of the stone.”
The woman closest to Jensen looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Why then, this boy is the rightful King of England.”
“What is his name?”
Sir Ector stopped and searched his brain. He couldn’t say Wart, but that was what he had called the boy for so long that in the excitement, he could not remember his ward’s name. Then, distantly, it came to him. “Arthur!”
“Arthur?”
“Long like King Arthur!”
As the shouts reverberated around the park, Jensen was far too caught up in his own shock and fear to correct them. Besides, he didn’t mind going by his middle name. Arthur was a lot better than Wart. He glanced around him wildly, and caught sight of Jared. The other boy was pale and shaking, but he gave him a smile that told him as clearly as if he had spoken that he would stick by him.
*
Some weeks later, Jared and Jensen were chasing each other around the palace. Finally, Jensen was caught up by his friend and dangled over a pond. “Uncle, uncle!” he cried, almost laughing too hard to say the words.
Jared was in a similar condition, and when he let Jensen fall on the bank, he collapsed by his side. As their laughter faded, Jared leaned over and brushed Jensen’s hair out of his eyes.
Jensen felt unaccountably warm, but he couldn’t move. “You have really pretty eyes, brown with green flecks in them,” he said, blushing at how idiotic he sounded.
Jared blushed too, and then pushed himself up. “Race you to the castle!” he cried, and then set off.
“Where does that boy get that energy from?” A familiar voice spoke from quite close by, and Jensen rose with a shout.
“Jeff!”
And Jeffrey stood there, smiling at him and wearing short pants in ridiculously bright colors that showed an indecent amount of hairy leg. “So you’re finally in your rightful place, boy? And ready to learn all that I have to teach? Or do you think that now you are King, you are capable of handling all this on your own?”
“Oh no,” Jensen said in horror. “I remember your lessons, and I know what I’m capable of. I think, I know, that I can be a good King, because a good King knows that he can and should ask for help.”
As Jeff put his arm around the boy and walked him back to the palace, he hugged him close for a minute. “I’m glad to hear you say that. And while I can provide you with advice, you should think about setting up a council of some sort. Representatives from around the kingdom can come and talk to you every day, as you all sit as equals at a rectangular table.”
“But it’s harder to hear people on a square table. Maybe it should be round…”
THE END