It was silent. The air was so heavy, it could have been nothing more then silent when the Prince of Orkney awoke. He rubbed his sore head, which had dried blood crusted over the back of it. He got up shakily, and steadied himself on a bent tree nearby.
He was positive that he wasn't in Orkney, in the field that he had been riding in or anywhere near it. It wasn't Camelot either. Mist curled around his ankles as he trudged on, Rallaidh nowhere to be seen. He stepped over gnarled tree roots and fallen logs and brush before he realized that he was in a forest, but not one that he knew of.
How did he get here? Where was Rallaidh? Where was HERE?
He walked on a little further before he could fully see that there was not end of the forest in sight. The distant howling of wolves sounded as Agrivaine tried to find dry wood for a fire. It appeared that it had just rained, so he was out of luck, the trees being mostly barren and not able to shelter wood. He trudged on.
The rocks and ground were slicked and the moss slippery, and owls hooted. He kept going, until he fainted.
A hermit in a nearby hut heard a sigh and a clonk as the Prince dropped. He looked out, and Lo! and Behold! A young knight unconcious on his doorstep. He dragged the poor lad inside and plopped him by the primitive fire, trying to dry him out. He felt the crusted blood and realized that the knight must have taken a fall-quite a nasty one too-and cut his head right open. He bandaged the lad up.
When Agrivaine came to, he thought he was home by his fire, until he discovered that there was a small, elderly man leaning over him. The prince reached for his dagger and found that it was gone. The man smiled at him, and said, "No, it's not there. Don't fear, lad. I'm trying to help."
"Help with what?"
"Ah," the man grinned at the hint of accent,"An Orkney laddie. Pray, what is your name?"
"Agrivaine." He sat up.
"Hmmm...." he was making some kind of soup,"A Prince. My, strange things do happen here."
"Pardon me, sir," Said the Prince,"But, where exactly am I?"
"The hut of Caird, in the Forest Sauvage."
"The Forest...ohhh.....how did I get here?"
"I'm trying to figure that out meself." Caird handed him the soup. "It doesn't bite."
Agrivaine leaned back. Forest Sauvage! Down in Pictish country, beyond Camelot! Three days ride and he had just gone out for a ride! "Did you happen to see a gelding anywhere near here? Black with a blaze in white and a white boot?"
"Sorry M'Lud. Nothing like that here."
Agrivaine stayed at Caird's hut in the Forest Sauvage for a week before the fainting spells began to fade. Caird had him help around the hut to get his muscles used to working before he decided to go off. He thanked the hermit, and left him.
Agrivaine wandered through the Forest Sauvage until he came upon a clearing with a pavillion in the center of it. Tied up right outside the pavillion was Rallaidh.
Agrivaine went right up to his old companion. Rallaidh nuzzled him and the Prince began to untie him, when he heard shouting. A knight rushed out of the chambers, brandishing his sword and roaring at the Prince. Agrivaine quickly undid the knots and galloped off before the fellow had time to realize what was happening.