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

or laughed off the moment. Yet that night, Gwaine’s words frustrated Percival. Percival was tired of being the butt of Gwaine’s jokes.

“I eat more than you because I am twice your size,” said Percival.

“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

open.

“There you are!” Gwaine grabbed Percival by the front of his tunic and dragged him into the room. “I, um, borrowed three pork pies from the kitchen and I wanted to share my good fortune…” Gwaine wrinkled his nose and pulled a face of disgust. “Damn, you smell like arse! What have you been doing?”

“Mucking out pigs. Long story. Can we please eat first? I’m dying of hunger.”

“Sure, but try not to move about too much and spread your scent around.”

“Says the man whose socks often stink as if they’ve been sitting in the belly of a dead horse for a month.”

Gwaine took a seat at his dining table and pulled all three pies close to him. “I don’t have to share…”

“Fine, I’ll do whatever you say if you let me eat!”

Percival took a seat and the men scooped at the flaky pies and browned meat. They didn’t stop eating until all three were gone. But the moment Percival leaned back in his chair and reflected on the delicious meal, shame niggled at the back of his mind. He’d just wolfed down a large and proper meal while Rion’s family subsisted on little more than bread and cheese. And when it came time to slaughter one of the pigs, who would do that? One woman alone couldn’t manage, nor could she butcher and preserve without help. Perhaps she’d sell them…

“Percival? What’s the problem?” asked Gwaine. “You have that look, the one where you’re thinking too hard and preparing to get involved in something you shouldn’t.”

“That’s not true!”

Gwaine rolled his eyes. “It is true.” He shoved away the empty pie plates, leaned back, and rested his boots upon the table. “Go on, I’m listening. The wise and all-knowing Gwaine is here to help.”

If Percival hadn’t needed Gwaine’s advice, Percival would have stood up, thanked Gwaine for the (delicious) food, and left. But, unable to figure out a reasonable solution to the Rion-problem on his own, he gave in.

“All right, here’s the situation – I went to visit Rion’s mother before –”

Gwaine’s eyes widened with surprise at that statement.

“Oh, gods, Gwaine! It’s not like that! I didn’t go see her for that. What I was saying is that his family’s struggling. There’s hardly any furniture or crockery – I assume the mum sold most of it – there’s not enough food, their clothing’s worn, the roof has a hole, she can’t keep up with the property… Rion said they don’t have help, and she would fight against it anyway.”

Gwaine gave a low whistle.

“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

socks…”

“I do not want to know how these things came into your possession.”

“Right. Best not to discuss it.”

By the end of Gwaine’s wardrobe cleanout, there appeared to be enough clothing to dress Idele for a week. The fact that Gwaine was, as Rion pointed out, “a ladies’ man” had paid off.

“We should head to the castle nursery next,” said Gwaine. “Children grow out of clothes all the time, don’t they? I’m sure they’ll have something for the boy. And he has a sister, right?”

“Yes, Dee. But why the sudden interest in all this?”

“I know what it’s like to grow up destitute,” said Gwaine.

That Gwaine did. Gwaine’s father, a knight, had died in battle, and when Gwaine’s mother had gone to their king for help, the man turned her away without a thought.

Percival and Gwaine set out to collect goods, and close to the bedtime hour, they’d stacked up more furniture, clothing, cookware and food than they could possibly deliver in ten trips. They stacked up everything in Percival’s quarters.

“Good haul.” Gwaine eyed the huge stack. “Now, about the money we collected…”

Not everyone handed over goods or food. For the most part, knights led pretty simple lives, especially the single men, and few had clothing or furniture to spare. Instead, the insisted on contributing money.

“For the time being, we’ll hold onto the coins until we can figure out what to do with them. We can always hold them in reserve for the children, or buy things we think they need,” said Gwaine. He stared at the pile again. “In the meantime, we need to make a covert delivery tonight. Let’s pick through this mountain and figure out what they need the most.”