Percival And Gwaine Summary

Percival had spent more time down at Rion’s cottage than he intended, and after mucking out the pig pen, he was ravenous. Unfortunately, supper wouldn’t be served in the Dining Hall until after sunset, and if he had to wait that long for nourishment, he might starve. Not really, but it sure felt that way.

Percival ate like a war horse, and Gwaine never let him forget it. During supper last week, when Percival took a third helping of roast parsnips, Gwaine made a loud comment in front of all the men (including King Arthur) about how much Percival ate.

“Good gods, Percival, the cooks will need a second garden to keep up with your appetite!” he roared. “There won’t be a parsnip left in the kingdom.”

Normally, Percival would have ignored Gwaine

“Meaning I am twice your size everywhere.”

It took a moment for the men to catch on, then the knights roared with laughter. For once, Percival felt as if he’d won an exchange with Gwaine. Gwaine rolled his eyes and drank from his tankard. Percival waited for the counter-attack, but none came.

Later, they’d both apologized to one another. That’s how their friendship went – push, pull, give, take. Though neither man would say it aloud, they regarded each other as brothers, and Percival trusted Gwaine with his life. Therefore, Gwaine was the first person Percival thought of when it came to needing advice regarding Rion’s family.

Percival trudged up the stairs to the knights’ wing of the castle; Gwaine’s chamber was right down the hall from his. As he approached Gwaine’s door, he breathed in the mouthwatering aroma of roast pork. Whether it was in a pie, stew, or a simple slab of it, it didn’t matter, because if Percival didn’t get his hands on some, he would perish. He’d make his visit with Gwaine a quick one.

Before Percival had the chance to knock, Gwaine’s door flew

“That’s bad, but I have an idea.”

“What?” Percival hoped this wasn’t one of Gwaine’s wild schemes that would end up with one of them hurt or clapped in irons in the dungeons.

“We take up a collection,” said Gwaine. “Some courtiers here have more money and possessions than they know what to do with. If their precious mug gets a scratch, they buy a new one. I doubt the mother would accept money, but if we drop off a few packages discreetly in the middle of the night, she’d never know whom it was from. What sort of stuff do they need again?”

“Clothes, blankets, cookware, furniture, firewood, and food, definitely food. But that’s not all. She needs help, Gwaine. Her roof needs fixing, the pigs need to be tended to…”

“Slow down. One thing at a time.” Gwaine dropped his feet from the table and stood. “Let’s go around and start collecting now. I can add a few things myself.” He crossed to his wardrobe and dug around, then began to fling clothing over his shoulder onto the floor. “Here’s a woman’s cloak, two shawls, a corset – that might not be proper to hand over – a few pairs of woolen