Meeting of Two Worlds.

Galahad dressed, and searched for something that would be easy to put on Meagan. He was not very familiar with the modern fashions, and when he lifted a contraption that had two things like pouches he scowled at it and tossed it away. Going to the bed he grabbed the top coverlet and decided she could dress herself when she woke.

Lancelot tried very hard to not let his gaze linger over the naked woman. Turning his back to where she lay upon the sofa he saw Tristan boldly gazing over her. “Galahad will be angry with you,” he said.

Tristan’s gaze slowly moved from the naked woman to the knight. “For not touching her? Unlike you, Lancelot, I am not afraid to look my fill.”

“I am not afraid,” the curly-haired knight snarled. To prove himself he turned to let his gaze blatantly roam over her.

Galahad entered. “If you are quite done ogling my lover…” He put the coverlet over her.

Lancelot could hear Tristan chuckling, and his cheeks warmed. Glaring at the scout he then went to where Dagonet lay prone upon the floor. “Has he moved?”

“No.” Bors sighed heavily. “This worries me. If the shadow has not taken their souls then why do they not wake?”

Arthur and Gawain entered. “We have put some of the content of that pouch at every window and door. It should keep the shadow from entering again.” His green gaze took in the two prone figures. “If she does not wake I do not know what we will do. We cannot defeat Germanus without her powers and knowledge, nor without Dagonet’s strength. And we will never return to our world should she never awaken.”

“Is that all you worry for?” Galahad had finished tucking the coverlet about her. “Can you not feel a thing for them?”

“Galahad…” Gawain warned.

Arthur calmly met the glower of the other knight. “Have you ever known me to so carelessly dismiss the life of one of my men?”

“Meagan is not one of your men,” Galahad returned. “You held blame over Meagan from the moment you met her. Though that did not stop you from wanting her. I saw you in that room. My one consolation is that it was me she wanted.”

Grabbing his friend by the tunic collar Gawain dragged him out of the room. “Do you go out of your way to seek a battle with Arthur?” Pushing the other man away he glared. “We all know you love her, Galahad, but it does not mean we will excuse your foolish behavior.”

In the living room Bors shook his head. “He worries, and does not know how harshly he speaks.”

Lancelot nodded. “Yes, Arthur. When she awakens he will realize his foolhardiness, and will come to you to apologize.”

Arthur went to where Meagan lay. One large hand reached out and touched the smoothness of her bare elbow. He tried very hard not to recall the roses and cream color of her skin, the tempting curves of her body, and how glorious she had looked facing Germanus in her nakedness and outrage. His brows lowered, knitting in a frown, and he felt her face next where the shadowed mark remained upon her. “She is cold as ice.”

“What?”

“Bors, is Dagonet icy to the touch?” Arthur glanced over towards where the prone knight lay. When Bors nodded he did so as well. “We must warm them. Perhaps they do not wake because they are frozen.”

Lancelot’s eyes widened in understanding, and he grinned. “Like a man who falls in the water in winter. Yes!”

Tristan was already heading for the doorway. “I will gather all the furs she has.”

Bors stood. “Earlier, when she said this house was cold she turned this.” He went to a small box upon the wall. “Hmmm,” he touched the buttons. “I hope this works.”

“We will soon find out,” Arthur told him.

Lancelot went to the door. “Gawain, Galahad! Hurry!”
………………………………………


Dagonet stirred, a low sound coming from his throat. With a gasp he inhaled deeply, and then his teeth began to chatter, and he trembled violently. His eyes flew open, and they were filmy and pale, but focused upon Bors and Tristan.

Bors cackled, his delight knowing no bounds. “He lives!” He slid an arm under the other man’s shoulders, lifting his head so Tristan could tip the small cup of hot tea to his lips. “Drink, Dag. It will help.”

“Take him to the bathing room,” Arthur advised. “Hot water will help to warm him.”

Even Tristan smiled as he and Bors lifted the big man and half-dragged and half-carried him towards the bathroom and shower. “You have no idea how heavy you are,” Bors gasped. “You need to take it easy on the food, Dagonet.”

Meagan woke with a deeply indrawn gasp, her eyes flying open, and her whole body shivering madly. She could feel tender hands upon her shoulders, holding her down, and a gentle voice soothing her. She was so cold! Bone deep. Soul deep! Her toes and fingers were beginning to tingle, the sensation telling her that circulation was returning to her limbs.

Galahad laughed, his eyes bright with joyful tears. He lay beside her, his hands rubbing vigorously at her icy back. “It is well now,” he whispered to her. “It is well now.”

She burrowed against him as best she could, none of her limbs yet responding to her thoughts. He was so warm! “G-g-g…” She couldn’t speak yet, her jaw chattering too strongly, and still too stiff for her to use her tongue and lips to form words.

From down the hall a long and loud wail of pain began, and lifted slowly until it was a howl. The knights tensed, waiting to hear a shout for help. It did not come. What did come were Tristan and Bors aiding Dagonet who trembled beneath a heavy coverlet, but had color returned to his face. The shivering knight glowered at his two companions. “T-thank y-you,” he managed to tell them.

Galahad quickly lifted Meagan, and returned to the bathing room with her, hurriedly starting the water in the shower, and climbing in with her. The steam rose to fill the already humid and hot room. After a moment she began to slip in his arms, her limbs trembling so badly they could not keep her upright. Whimpers began to fall from her lips, and then moans. Even through the heat of the water he felt the iciness emanating from her.

“Come on,” he growled, rubbing at her skin as the hot water rained down upon them.

It was like billions of icy-hot little knives cutting into her skin, and plunging deep. The tingling increased so badly she began to sob, life returning to her body, and the pain of it unbearable. She could not stand, and felt Galahad slowly sink with her to the floor of the shower. His hands tried to hurry the circulation by rubbing at her skin, but the sensitivity of her flesh at the moment only added to her pain. Worse and worse, it reached a crescendo, and her eyes rolled back into her head, all sound she made halted, and her breathing stopped.

Galahad paused, his heart hammering so strongly against his ribs he thought it would burst through and kill him. “Meagan?” he hesitantly spoke. Fear knotting in his chest he shook her. “Meagan!”

She exhaled sharply, and flung her arms about him. “G-goddess I-it’s c-cold!”

He laughed, hugging her hard, his lips moving over her face, pressing kisses everywhere until they found her lips. There they clung, unwilling to relinquish hers for a moment. She broke the kiss, and trembled. “G-get me o-out of h-here.”
…………………………………

Morning dawned cloudy and cold. Meagan was still cold despite lying beside a nude man who radiated heat like a furnace all night. Dressing in sweats she went out to make breakfast. She knew she did not have enough bacon or eggs to feed seven grown men.

She did scramble the dozen eggs she had, and cook up the two lbs of bacon she had. She also toasted a whole box of pastries, and cut up apples, oranges, and bananas. She had a pot of coffee brewing and one of tea. The small television was on, so she could listen for the news and weather. Perhaps the news would have some information on the dig or the team.

“It has tiny people!” Gawain tapped on the glass of the screen. “You are a sorceress! You have taken their souls and put them in this box!”

“No. It’s more like moving paintings,” she told him, nearing. “People act out books and stories to entertain us.”

Gawain snorted, not understanding the complexities. “I would garner more pleasure from a willing wench.” He tapped the glass once more. “You cannot even touch them! Why would you want to see this? Did Galahad not entertain you well enough?”

Flushing darkly she glowered at him. “Whether Galahad ‘entertained’ me well enough or not isn’t your concern. Hungry?”

“Famished,” he admitted. He neared the coffee pot, and was reaching out to touch it. “What is this?”

Meagan stopped his hand. “Hot coffee. Some people like it with milk, sugar, or just as is. There’s some tea too.”

“Any wine or ale?” Lancelot entered, yawning and stretching.

“Over the centuries we’ve discovered the wonders of water and other beverages,” she snorted.

Lancelot neared the small television set, warily reaching out to touch it. Gawain grinned and put a hand on the screen. “You cannot touch them,” he told the dark haired knight. “They entertain people.”

Lancelot snorted. “I would rather get my entertainment from a willing wench.”

“Wine and wenches,” Meagan rolled her eyes as more knights entered. “Don’t you think of anything else?”

“Killing,” Bors grinned. He sat. “Smells good.”

Dagonet lifted a pastry. “What is this?”

“Good,” Tristan took a large bite out of one. He beamed around his bite as he chewed. “Apple!”

Galahad came out, tunic-less, and looking sexily disheveled. He neared Meagan, kissed her, and sat at the table. He loved how she blushed and turned away to do something as though shy that he’d shown affection to her before the others. “What are you drinking?”

“I do not know, but it is good,” Gawain told him. “Taste.”

“It’s orange juice,” Meagan announced, sitting with a coffee.

Tristan was watching the television. He poked at it. “How do you make them do that?”

“I don’t,” she replied, reaching for a piece of banana. “It’s a special box. It takes images of people, lots of them, and when they put them together they make moving images. It’s to entertain,” she finished.

“Huh,” he tilted his head, watching a commercial for laundry detergent. “I would rather…”

“Be entertained by a wench?” Meagan snorted, having heard this one before, a few times.

Tristan glanced at her. “No. Hunt Woads.”