By Christopher Thomas 

“You are ever in my mind, as the sun is in the day; and, as the sun does mark the days, my heart does seek the very days to forge ahead, and reforge our company,” said Sir Percival bitter-sweetly.

“Aye!” cried Sir Lionel – his brother Sir Bors, the Finest Knight, agreed saying, “Aye, we may recreate the company, that the company may recreate.”

Then the King, Arthur Pendragon, spoke with his majestic voice, “We many, who are sorrowed in the parting, myself not one of the least, are as the willow in countenance. However, we all are greater than our sum, invested as we have become. Sewn are the seeds of our willowy analogue, upon the waters which flow and have flown, surely to reap the greater returns, upon your return.”

At his side Sir Gawain, the Maidens’ Knight, echoed, “Upon your return.”

Sir Ector de Maris joined the chorus, “Aye, cousins, upon your return!”

Ensorcelled by affirmations, Sir Bors dared suggest a tryst, “Mortally we cannot pause, declare a rendezvous, and relieve our anticipation.”

“Indeed,” the King, Arthur Pendragon, assented and continued, furthermore, to bless the entreaty, “an apple island.”

Sir Lancelot du Lac, the King’s most Trusted Knight, avowed, “The breaking of our company has seen my broken-hearted days pile up.”

Sir Galahad, Lancelot’s son, and at once the Purest Knight and the most Gallant Knight, put out a cheer, “Percival, you have given identity to own our dolorous state. Return anon and there will be apples for vinegar.”

“The blacksmith and the ironmonger,” sang Sir Ywain, with percussive accompaniment.

Ywain’s cousin, Sir Calogrenant, boasted, “I have a shiny new visor, but none of your sport to put it to.”

Sir Ector de Maris rejoined the chorus, “Aye, apples, upon your return!”

Sir Percival sighed outwardly, “Golly gosh,” and confessed, “I am besotted. We’re all girt by the pimbles, and equally all render the condition tolerable, as its circumference is thinned by our juxtaposition,” and saluted, “To apples!”