Percival And Sir Gawain-Personal Narrative

“I am telling you, I heard him,” drawled Gwaine, as he lay back on a bench in the castle armory, half-dressed after the knights’ sword training session.

"No!" Gwaine stopped Neirin from believing the worst. "We broke free. Don't tell me it's too late.

In 'Sir Gawain and the Green Knight', the narrator, who is also the character Morgan Le Fay, discovers what truly makes a man throughout the course of a quest that she devises. Sir Gawain, a seemingly perfect knight, answers her questions by showing how imperfect he actually is.

Fleur stood and faced Percival and Gwaine. “I have to return to the nursery with the girls, today was lovely. Thank you both so much.”

Standing in front of her vanity, Judith started to rip and tear at the pages and only kept the important pieces in hand. She slipped them into crevices of the mirror and used the warm, sticky liquid on her mirror to glue some pictures to it. She got up to look at what she created but flinched instead at the sound of something rolling across the floor behind her. She turned around only to see a man, with wide hazel eyes, crouching in the corner of the room. Judith examined him closely before going anywhere near him. She let her eyes wander from the ends of his soft blonde hair, across his face, down to his gallant body which was covered in simple beige rags. She studied him some more and her mouth watered the more she stared. He broke the silence with a quiet voice.

Joan grasped her friend’s hands. “I’ve only come out to ask Gawain to fetch Perceval. As soon as he’s here, Pawl and I will remove the wood

Fearing the worst, Percival slowly knelt in front of his friend and gently clasped Gwaine's head, raising it up. The other man was pale, his normally bright eyes dulled and filled with pain. Gasping for breath, Gwaine murmured, "She's riding for Avalon"

Gawain dropped his arm around Lionel’s shoulder. “I, Sir Gawain, am in love with my wife and son, and wish such good fortune on you, one of my best friends. That’s all. So let’s not grow terse, prickly, or bizarre.”

Percival cringed at the sound of ominous music. “No,” he groaned. “No, no, no! Not this again.”

End note: I can't believe I am actually writing these words, but this brings us to the end of "Sir Percival's Choices." Really, this is a story about love, all the different kinds (familial, romantic, and brotherly/sisterly), and how that love can find us when we're least expecting it.

There are not any records for the poet of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, but this literary work exemplifies the characteristics of Medieval Literature. Sir Gawain, a true and honorable knight of Camelot’s round table, does his duty and defends his king against the Green Knight’s plea of game. Sir Gawain’s chivalry comes into question once on this journey to defent his king.

A week later, during the late evening hours, Percival approached the knights’ wing of the castle, yanking off his leather riding gloves while rolling his head on his shoulders. His neck cracked with the movement, and his tight muscles loosened a fraction.

Startled, Merlin quickly stood, nearly knocking Igraine’s tapestry on the floor. “I came the moment you sent for me.” Merlin tried to steady his voice, but his words came out in a high-pitched youthful tenor. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his wits long enough to add, “I did not wish to interrupt your meeting.”

Percival hopped up and helped Gwaine to his feet. When Percival considered the fact that these days of fun and comradery would end sooner than later, his heart grew heavy.

Following her mother into the textile shop, Allie snuck a quick peek in their direction. Jeanette, her fiancé, and her mother had turned and were walking toward Jemison’s; Thomas Jackson was standing there staring directly at her. When he saw her looking his way, he smiled and nodded his head in her direction. Their eyes met, and in that instant, something passed between them. She felt it, although she was not exactly sure what it was. That was when she noticed the crinkles around the corners of his eyes and how beautiful his smile was. He wore his long, blondish hair tied at the nape of his neck with a ribbon. Even from a distance, the color of his eyes was vibrant. The color of them reminded her of the Spanish moss that hung from the oaks and junipers near the pond when the late afternoon sun shone on it.