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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1343824-Knight-of-Killamore
Rated: E · Short Story · Fantasy · #1343824
Killamore is not a real place.
Just about the borders of Camelot, rests Killamore. That whispers of war, death and a loud cheer that echoes through the miles. To remember the men who never returned alive, but haunts the empty streets at night in ghostly battered armour and horrific scars from battle

Cheers loud and exiting! But fearsome for those who have not returned and beneath the breast of each and every woman. Lies a burning lust to the sight of the broken hearts of the knights

And young boys aged 4,5,6 and 7. Watch eagerly from the crowds, amazed by the strength of the men posed upon the back of their gracefull animals trotting beneath their crotches with a certain air and pride. Comming the day when they too will handle those beasts and come to their fate upon the battlefields

'Shall this day belong to me forever!'
The young Delgador prayed to the Lady of the Lake outside of Camelot. His young face flushed within the heat of the sun, shining with enthusiasm.
The lady replied: 'The battles will continue if this day shall be yours.'
'Yes!' Delgador exclaimed
'Yes, battle after battle i will fight by the side of my King,
only to have the honour of this day'

The lady shivered, her voice shook...
'Careful Delgador, Careful!'

...And battle after battle were fought and Delgador where summoned knighthood. Again he left the lake and prayed his wish to the Lady:
'Let this day belong to me forever!'
He dropped his helmet to the ground as he knelt before the lake.
'Remember Delgador the battles will continue if this day shall be yours.'
'Yes, I remember and i understand, and still battle after battle i will fight by the side of my King only to have the Honour of this day'

Silence befell the lake
'Carefull Delgador, Carefull'

And Delgador fought battle after battle and soon became a knight in the honour of his King. His stride became magnificent, his grace unequal and the elegance of his manner agreable to many a young maiden.

Again he rode to the lake and spoke gently.
'Please malady, I begg off you grant me the honour i pray off you for so long'
The lady sighed deeply: 'Remember Delgador, each battle will be fought if this day shall belong to you'
Delgador touched her water causing a soft ripple
'I know,' he said and his smile was reassuring and firm.

Her waters became restless
'Carefull Delgagor, Carefull', but Delgador stood his ground.
'I have waited Malady and i have had patience, my heart knows what it wants only for you to grant me my wish!'

The lady became quiet
Her ripples uneven and cold
'Can i not grant you any other wish?' She tried one last time
'No! Lady no!'

She silently pulled back her waters, offering only a small pond within her banks for him to bathe. Delgador smiled gently upon his reflection in the water and the lady wept bitterly for his stupidity.

Day after day Delgador fought his battles and Day after Day the honour belonged to him. For years Delgador never rested from the battles, for years he never treated his wounds and he became older and weaker. The battles fought were still won in his honour, but his strength was leaving him. He could not strode upon his horse with the same pride he had before. His heart was not as true and as much in joy on his returns as when he was young and strong and withered battle scars bore harsh memories of his past and his promise. As the knights rode in from battle he would ride out with the next and on returning he would leave with the next cruisade. Battling one war after the other, having no time to remember or forget.

The lady became silent; her shores empty and dark. A sullen mist hung over her forbidden waters, as she reached out in painfull times to comfort the knight under her pledge. Silently hoping for an end to his doomed eternal life.

And so it carries on the knight returned battered and scared, the crowds cheered,
the knights stood swollen with pride. Except Delgador crouching down ashamed to show his face to the millions of admirers and on each return the Lady wept.

One night Delgador escaped the battlefield, the rain pouring down hard and thunder roaming the night skies, the pace of his warhorse furious and his grip on the reighns signifying the strength within his determination. Comming to an end as he stormed the horse into the lake.
'Lady!' the Lady fell silent...
'Lady answer me! Wat have u done to my life!'
The lady spoke not one word.
'Answer me! Now!'
She mourned deeply and Delgador sensed her presence
'You hear me Lady! Answer me, please!'
She rose her waters gently only to touch the banks
'I have warned you Knight of Killamore'
Delgador got impatiant: 'Look at me! Lady, Look! Would you call this a Knight of Honour!'
She fell silent again...
'As i thought! You have cursed me Malady! I have fought in honour of my country and became a knight in the honour of death!'
'Knight of Killamore i have wept for you, I have mourn your fate. Yet it is what you have asked off me. I have been comforting you for too long your fate is too harsh for me to bear!'
Delgador dropped his sword into her waters: 'Then i have nothing more to fight for,
Lady unleash me of this curse and leave me be'

She became restless: 'No, Delgador your fate is your own, i can only comfort you
But take back your wish, I cannot, I am deeply sorry'
'You have to! Lady, you cannot let me live this life!'
'Knight! You pledged your heart to me years ago and i have obeyed to warn you and still you did not listen. Now you carry a burden, which is too heavy for your weak shoulders! Sorry Knight! I Cannot Help You!!'

Delgador broke free a cry of agony: 'You Shall Release Me!'
He flung himself into the deep waters of the lake. The cool water soothing his wounds, causing him to shiver.
'No! I begg of you Knight!'
When he gasped. Water filled his lungs, relief filled his soul as he found his rest below the lake...

The lady mourned as the spirit of Delgador remained within her soul and the memories amoung the battlefields of the Knight of Killamore.

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