Sir Gawain: A Short Story

Decent Essays
PHe wasn’t well at all. Perceval was as far from well as one could get. “Yes, just fine. I’d um, better get back to the others.” He rushed back to his seat.
“What the hell happened?” Gawain quizzed as Perceval arrived.
“It was terrible,” Perceval answered miserably, ashen-faced, as he flung his body into the chair. “I told her I didn’t know how to read Frankish and then I ran away like a frightened little girl.” He dropped his head onto the scarred wooden table with a heavy thunk and groaned.
Gawain reached out and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. “Calm down. You haven't made a total mess of things just yet. Why don't you come back after the tavern closes and offer to walk her home?”
Perceval lifted his head slowly and peered at Gawain.
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But Perceval needed time to himself if he was to face Joan later. He rose and said, “I have to leave now.” He tossed his coins onto the dining table. “See you men later.”
Without another word, he fled from the building and settled himself beneath a tall elm tree down the lane. He sat there in the dark, waiting for the tavern to close. He needed to be alone with his thoughts for a time without Gawain needling him.
Perceval used the time he spent waiting in thought: What if Joan laughed in his face when he asked to walk her home? It was one thing for her to be friendly while she was at work, but perhaps she had no interested in dealing with Perceval outside of the tavern. And if they went for a walk, would he and Joan talk about? Various thoughts and scenarios spun in his head, but before he knew it, it was closing time for the tavern. He stood, dusted off his trousers, telling himself, What’s the worst that could happen, other than her laughing in my face?
Running his fingers through his shaved, dark-blonde hair, he ambled back to the tavern. Tonight, Sir Perceval Gales, Knight of Camelot, would face his biggest fear – a beautiful
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