Wow. SO true.

Just gotta boost this.

Like WOW this is just so deep.

Op really made some points here.

SIGNAL BOOST 🗣🗣🗣

say it again for the people in the back

I see you not reblogging this 👁👁

PREACH 🗣🗣🗣🗣

Wow. Speak your truth <3 <3

love wins <3 

THIS 👆👆👆👆👆

Why arent people talking about this 🦑

So brave …

SAY IT LOUDER

this is so important

FINALLY SOMEONE SAID IT

it doesn’t matter what your blog’s theme is, this should be on EVERYONE’S page

Live laugh love 🧡🧡🥰🦧

Okay to rb <3

i see you scrolling past this

the fact that so many people are ignoring this is truly a testament to the shallowness of today’s society. you should all feel ashamed.

Op is really sharing facts <3

Instant reblog…… stay safe everyone

really makes you think 😔✊

such a powerful message..

For all my followers who need it 🧡🧡🧡🧡🦀

HOT ROY4L SINGLES IN YUOR AREA CLICK HERE!!!! >>>> BIT,LY/PSI2NDM

Outta my way gayboy im boutta get it

Ive been trapped in a cursed coffin

Boost

if i dont reblog this assume im dead 

Yooo this is NOT COOL

Gotta hand it to op they really nailed it w this one <3

who fucking did this 😂😂😂

More of my twisted mind @lanzelet

op is doing god’s work y'all

so my followers can see it

wow so true bestie <3

HOW could u hide this in the tags!!!!!

Nighttime boost

Science side of tumblr pls explain

You know what? fuck this. fuck you.

Galehaut (or Galaha[l/u]t, Galeho[l]t, Gallehau[l]t, Galehot, Galhault, Galetto, etc.) is a very tall knight in the Arthurian legend. He is most prominent within the Lancelot-Grail prose cycle where he is a noble enemy turned an ally of King Arthur as well as an inseparable friend of Arthur’s champion Lancelot. The figure of Galehaut should not be mistaken with Lancelot’s son, Galahad (which is also Lancelot’s own birth name), and some other similarly named characters.

Galehaut, lord of the Distant Isles (le sire des Isles Lointaines),^[1] appears for the first time in the Matter of Britain in the “Book of Galehaut” section of the early 13th-century Prose Lancelot Proper, the central work in the series of anonymous Old French prose romances collectively known as Lancelot-Grail (the Vulgate Cycle). An ambitious, towering figure of a man, he emerges from obscurity to challenge King Arthur for possession of Arthur’s realm of Logres. Though unknown to Arthur and his court, Galehaut has already conquered lands and acquired considerable power, loyal followers, and a reputation for being a noble character. The Vulgate Cycle and the Prose Tristan describe him as “the son of the Fair Giantess” (fils de la Bele Jaiande), given the name Bagotta in La Tavola Ritonda,^[2] and the evil human lord Brunor, both of whom are later killed by Tristan who takes over their castle. Galehaut also has a sister, named Delice in the Prose Tristan and Riccarda in the Italian version I Due Tristani.^[3]

‘Lacelot’, ‘Gallehault’, and Guinevere: “How the first acquaintance was made with Galhault by the Lady of Logres.”

Lancelot en prose, c. 1494

In the ensuing war, it becomes clear that Galehaut’s army is going to win against Arthur’s. However, Galehaut is so awed by the battlefield prowess of one of Arthur’s knights, the mysterious Black Knight, that for his sake he renounces a certain victory and surrenders to Arthur. The knight, who turns out to be the young Lancelot, gratefully accepts Galehaut’s companionship. What follows is a tale of love, interpreted by some as friendship and some as homosexuality,^[4][5][6][7] in which Galehaut figures as the central character as he becomes the tragic hero in the story. Galehaut, just as he has surrendered to Arthur, gives way before Guinevere, yielding Lancelot to her. He also joins Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table, and later gives refuge to Lancelot and Guinevere in his land of Sorelois during the False Guinevere episode. He ultimately dies by longing for Lancelot, having been separated with him (Lancelot was first kidnapped by Morgan le Fay and then went mad and disappeared) and after receiving false news of his death. Lancelot, at the end of his own life, is buried next to Galehaut at his castle of Joyous Gard in the tomb that he had built to consecrate and eternalise their companionship. Long after his death, Galehaut continues to be commonly recalled as an exemplar of greatness.

Since the early 13th century, there have been numerous retellings of the life, loves and chivalry of Lancelot’s career and the story of his adulterous liaison with Queen Guinevere has always been part of every significant account of King Arthur. The second, overlapping love story, however, the one related in the Prose Lancelot, in which Galehaut sacrifices his power, his happiness, and ultimately his life for the sake of Lancelot, has been largely forgotten. The character himself reappears in a number of Arthurian tales, in several different languages, but without the same significance. The best known retelling in English, the 15th-century Le Morte d'Arthur of Thomas Malory, reduced him to just a relatively villainous minor “frenemy” of Lancelot’s,^[8] leaving Guinevere without a rival for Lancelot’s affections, besides also relating a part of the Tristan side of the story in the part “The Book of Sir Tristrams de Lyons”. In Italian romance Tristano Riccardiano, Galehaut dies of his wound following a duel with Tristan in an attempt to avenge the slaying of his parents, forgiving him in the end.^[9]

One of closest companions of Lancelot in Malory’s telling, including during Lancelot’s war against Arthur and later joining him in the hermitage at the end of his life, is instead the similarly Knight of the Round Table named Galahodin (Galihod[i/y]n, Galyhod[i/y]n). Also known in other texts as Galehodin (Galaodin, Galeh[a/o]udin), he is Galehaut’s nephew and successor as the king of Sorelois introduced in the Prose Lancelot. In the Tavola Ritonda, Galehaut’s heir is his son named Abastubagio, a character partially corresponding with Galehodin (both appearing in their respective texts in the role of the host of tournament in Sorelois). Of note, Malory’s Galahodin should not be further confused with Lancelot’s relatives and companions (including together with Galahodin as Lancelot’s fellow monks at the end) named Galyhod (Galyhud) and Gahalantyne, two original characters from Le Morte d'Arthur. After taking over the lands in France, Malory’s Lancelot appoints Galahodin as the duke Saintonge and makes Galyhod and Gahalantyne the earl of Périgord and the duke of Auvergne.

As Dante says in the fifth canto of Inferno, Galehaut was the book that Paolo and Francesca had been reading, when they yield to their love. Dante mentions Galehaut [Inf. V, 137] as both the book itself and the author of it, intermediary between Lancelot and the Queen. And Boccaccio, moved by the great lord’s generosity, uses his name as the subtitle of his Decameron (“Il Principe Galeotto”). In Spanish, galeoto is still an archaic word for a pimp.^[10]

Subsequent novels, plays, poems, and films have accepted that simplification of the tale. Indeed, so obscure has Galehaut become that modern readers sometimes mistake the name for a mere variant of Galahad. Galahad is the “pure”, the “chosen” knight who achieves the quest for the Holy Grail in a part of the Arthurian legend quite distinct from the story in which Galehaut appears. There is no connection between the two figures.

SO true bestie

How does this only have 200 notes 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

reblog to make a lancelot feel safe

GALEHAUT 👏 IS 👏 THE 👏 LORD 👏 OF 👏 THE 👏 DISTANT 👏 ISLES 👏

How is he real 🧡🧡🧡🧡🥰

reblog to prove you arent homophobic !!! 

so important in this day and age  👊 👊 👊 👊 👊

Who said this 🤣🤣😂

seriously unfollow me if you don’t agree

More like gaylehaut 😅😀😀😼😹😹🐎

For anon

Okay op made some points 🤣🤣🧛‍♂️

Why arent people talking more about THIS

“My lord,” said Galehaut, “who are you?”

“Good sir? I am a knight, as you can see.”

“Indeed,” said Galehaut, “a knight you are, the best there is, and the man I most wish to honor in all the world: I’ve come to ask you, as a favor, to come stay with me tonight.”

And the knight spoke to him as if he did not know him and had never seen him before: “Who are you, my lord, who beg me to stay with you.”

“My lord,” he said, “I am Galehaut, son of the Fair Giantess, lord of all these troops against whom you have today defended the kingdom of Logres, which I had made a good start at conquering, and I would have conquered it, had it not been for you.”

“What?” exclaimed the knight, “You are an enemy of King Arthur, and you ask me to stay with you? I’ll never stay with you, God willing, as things now stand.”

“My lord,” said Galehaut, “I would do more for you than you believe, and I have already begun. Again I beg you, for God’s sake, to stay with me tonight on condition that I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

Then the knight halted, and looked fixedly at Galehaut and said, “Truly, my lord, you are a great maker of promises! But I don’t know how good you are at keeping them.”

And Galehaut replied, “My lord, I tell you truly that I make the fewest promises of any powerful man in the world. And again I assure you that if you come with me I’ll grant you what you ask of me, and I’ll guarantee this in whatever way you stipulate.”

“My lord,” said the knight, “you are considered a very worthy knight, and it would not be to your honor to promise something if you didn’t intend to keep your word.”

“My lord,” said Galehaut, “have no doubt of that, for I wouldn’t lie to win the whole kingdom of Logres. And I pledge you, on my honor as a loyal knight, that I’ll give you what you ask of me, for I’m not a king, and I wish to have your company this night; and if I can have more of it, I’ll take it. And if you’re not satisfied with my pledge, I’ll make whatever additional guarantees you wish.”

“My lord,” said the knight, “it seems to me that you greatly desire my company, if your intentions are like your words. I’ll stay with you tonight, provided you pledge to give me whatever I ask.”

Your Fave Is Microwaveable: Galehaut! 

Damn is this true 😳😳 I have got to go to california

yaaay yayayayayayay!!!! Yay!!!!!

I want whatever ops smoking 🤣🤣

I really love when the galehaut!!!

😱 Instant reblog 🤤🤩🤩😄

WHY WOULD YOU KEEP THIS IN THE NOTES

D🥺do you love the col🥺🥺🥺the color of the galehaut🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

oh my god FINALLY someone said it, thank you op

not enough people talking abt this!!!!!!!

For anon 🥺😍

😱 boost

Hot take but

“Let me tell you what I intend,” I said, jostling my way through the crush until we drew abreast of each other. “I am a king and the son of a king; no one on this field will harm you while I am living. Also, you amaze me.”

“Well,” Lancelot said. “Lovely to meet you, king’s son. You’re, what, six foot two? Six foot three?”

“Six foot five,” I said.

“Six foot five,” he said. “Yeah. Okay. Lead on, then.” So we left the field together, and everyone else fell down around us. “Yon red tent is mine,” I told him. “Would you like me to surrender to Arthur tomorrow? Tonight? How do you take your tea? How can I embarrass myself for you? Everything I have is yours, you know—”

BOOST THIS. 🗣🗣🗣🗣📢📣
the addition is so important

GALEHAUT SIGHTING. SPOTTED!!!!

OMG

WTF SO TRUE !!! 🧛‍♂️🤭😳😳😳😲🤑🤑🤑🙀🙀🙀🙀🙀🙀🙀🙀🙀👺

i heard hes ripped. i heard he has a six pack

⚔⚔LIKE TO CHARGE REBLOG TO CAST⚔⚔

soooo important in this day and age..too many people have forgotten about galehaut 😔😭🥲

young people should know about this to grow into upstanding citizens

This is the future liberals want 🙄

☝️ For ios users !

For future reference!!!!

Happy new year 467 🥳

Who said that

source

especially important today reblog before its too late

😦 please tell me this is true

TODAY IS THE LAST DAY YOU CAN REBLOG THIS

Rip galehaut you would have loved gay sex 😔💪👹🥴

Me

Erik Lindman - Galehaut (2020)
“Boccaccio uses Galehaut’s name – ‘Il Principe Galeotto'– as the subtitle of his Decameron (1353), a story that could just as easily work in our strange current historical moment as it did in the fourteenth century. While my painting lacks Boccaccio’s humor, this central form, invoking the armless torso from Rodin’s The Walking Man (1907), is surrounded by the black mysterious unknown just like Bocaccio’s sheltered cohort, with only a few vertical collaged cotton bars to grab onto in order to resist falling out of the picture, or the void of our times, holding onto art as a refuge.

In the Arthurian myth, Galehaut, a half man, half giant, longs for the Black Knight, a disguised Lancelot. Despite a certain victory over Arthur’s forces, Galehaut lays down his arms in the middle of battle due to his awe of the Black Knight’s courage. The villain undergoes a conversion experience through (erotic?) beauty and becomes a comrade of Arthur’s.

Through his involvement in Lancelot’s grail quest, the story of Galehaut is linked to the Parsifal myth, the principal allusion underpinning this exhibition – ‘Fal/Parsi’ being a derivation of the Arabic origin of the hidden name of Parsifal revealed by Kundry, ‘Fal Parsi’, literally meaning ‘Holy Fool.’

I see the ‘Holy Fool’ as an analogy for the painter of modern life, the artist who can only manage to take a stab at creation through ignorance of its futility, and yet paradoxically because of this serves as a vital channel. Here stands a giant, defeated by love, who cannot raise a finger against what he finds beautiful.”

Is this guy single

galehaut saved my kitten from a tree hes a true hero

Misbehaving punish galehaut naughty war lords know what it has done naughty war lords atone for its sins naughty war lord accepts pain with the serenity of a Saint Sebastian war lord forgives you

forgives you

forgives you

Galehaut car piston cup

😦😦🤯 mind = blown #alwayslearning #galehaut

youd think it was from a shakespeare play but no its just a tumblr post

TLDR also

speak your truth fellow galehaut stan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

how

condividi questo messaggio con le dieci persone più sexy della tua rubrica se non vuoi che un'altroce maledizione colpisca te e la tua stirpe <3

Reblog if your blog is a safe space!!!!!!!!

is this trye

and yes, he smokes weed.

fuck op and fuck everyone responsible for the creation of this post i hope you all die

woah someone’s feeling a widdle grumpy this morning. mustn’t have had their daily cup of galehaut yet 🥰💖

feel better soon!!!!

G

A

L

E

P

O

W

P

E

N

I

S

great work everyone

This one goes out to all die galehauties reading this (thats galehaut in german)

ROM. sorry I mean. Gaylehaut eyooo. Haha. Hes a homosexual.

always reblog ^^^^^

if i dont reblog this i must be dead !!

Corporations during pridemonth ^

This sounds like it could be from shakespeare or a philosopher but its actually from faglancelot …. How inspiring

Follow my Patreon for more Galehaut Takes!

Https://www.crouton.net

- quote: Richard Silken

Galehaut sweep… first to sell four vulgillion copies

Think of your own joke for this reblog im too tired

How does this only have 999 notes!!!! Reblog to make a deranged knight feel safe 😳😎😎

i want whatever op was smoking

happy image limit increase day

Lost a follower for reblogging … just what koind of freaks wrre following me ……

watch this ^

i want whatever op was smoking 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

JONA GALEHAUT

The long dark passage of the winter and the light

Of Phebus approaches with his might,

That which, ascending in his altitude, 

Banishes Saturn with his storms rude.
The soft dew from the heaven down falls,

Upon the earth, on hills and on vales,

And through the calm and the mist
Up nourished are the herbs and in the flowers twist

Fill the earth with diverse hue

Decorate and dress with the tender new.

The birds may hide in their groves, 

From the hawk, who of their life robs.

And Scilla seen ascending in the air

That everyone may hear her declare

The joy of the season’s passing dance.

This was the time that Phebus began his advance

Into the Ram had his course gone

Before the truce and the year had run,

Which was set of Galehaut and the King

Of their assembly and their meeting. 

Arthur had only fifteen days before

Assembled all his barrage and more

That were ever under his renown

Or loved him or were loyal to his crown,

And had his journey done, unimpaired.

Onto the place which that was prepared

Where he had found before him many a knight

That had come with their whole might

All armed both with spear and shield

And full of tents was the field,

In the war for support and to serve

With all their might, his thanks they earned.

And Gawain, who was in the search

Of the Good Knight, of him he hadn’t heard,

Remembered him on this day

And to his fellows he did wisely say:
“So now knowing the mater, in which wise
Ways that the King had with his demise

A certain day now approaches near,

And brings us heaviness to hear

That he would be in peril or fatigued

And we away and he of us have need;

For we without him nothing could achieve,

And he without us his honor would leave.

For, be he lost, we may nothing withstand

Ourself; our honor we lose and even our land.

Therefore I say we go to the King,

Suppose our oath turns into something,

And in the field with him I will endure

Life or death and take my adventure.”
Thereto they are consenting everyone,

And without delay they have their journey done.

When the king saw them, in his tent,

He came right out in wonder and content,

For he presumed for nothing they would

Have come, faithful to their quest they’ve stood.

And thus the King his best assembly has

Again the time, again the day that was

Decreed and ordained to be,

And everything was set as agreed.

And Galehaut, who had not forgot

The terms which that he before had sought,

Assembled his, the best way he could,

His folk and all his other things he should

To a warrior long to provide

And came over to the other side.

op must have been on iron gall ink when it wrote this 😂😂

did you know gaming:

What was op on when it made this post 😂🤣

You sir, have won the internet! 🤣

i gotta google something

☝️😃 .

Guys.. they just discovered a new lost Galehaut text… on this posts BIRTHDAY even! Ill translate it to english now… heres the first book

Book 1

AN: Special fangz (get it, coz Im goffik) 2 my gf (ew not in that way) violet, xX_glimmer_ghoul_Xx 4 helpin me wif da story and spelling. U rok! Thomas Malory ur da luv of my deprzzing life u rok 2! CHAUCER ROX!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hi my name is Galehaut Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony blond hair (that’s how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy brown eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Mary Magdalene (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Thomas Malory but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Camelot in Logres where I’m in the seventh year (I’m seventeen). I’m a goth (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Camelot. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

“Hey Galehaut!” shouted a voice. I looked up. It was… Lancelot du Lac!

“What’s up Lancelot?” I asked.

“Nothing.” he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

AN: IS it good? PLZ tell me fangz!

AN: Fangz 2 xX_glimmer_ghoul_Xx 4 helpin me wif da chapta! BTW preps stop flaming ma story ok!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX666XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next day I woke up in my bedroom. It was snowing and raining again. I opened the door of my coffin and drank some blood from a bottle I had. My coffin was black ebony and inside it was hot pink velvet with black lace on the ends. I got out of my coffin and took of my giant Chaucer t-shirt which I used for pajamas. Instead, I put on a black leather dress, a pentagram necklace, combat boots and black fishnets on. I put on four pairs of earrings in my pierced ears, and put my hair in a kind of messy bun.

My friend, Isolde (AN: Violet dis is u!) woke up then and grinned at me. She flipped her long waist-length raven blond hair with pink streaks and opened her forest-green eyes. She put on her Marilyn Manson t-shirt with a black mini, fishnets and pointy high-heeled boots. We put on our makeup (black lipstick white foundation and black eyeliner.)

“OMFG, I saw you talking to Lancelot yesterday!” she said excitedly.

“Yeah? So?” I said, blushing.

“Do you like Lancelot?” she asked as we went out of the Lords common room and into the Great Hall.

“No I so fucking don’t!” I shouted.

“Yeah right!” she exclaimed.

Just then, Lancelot walked up to me.

“Hi.” he said.

“Hi.” I replied flirtily.

“Guess what.” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“Well, Some fucking bards are having a concert in France.” he told me.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God!” I screamed.

I love bards.

They are my favorite band, besides chaucer.

“Well…. do you want to go with me?” he asked.

I gasped.

AN: STOP FLAMMING DA STORY PREPZ OK! odderwize fangs 2 da goffik ppl 4 da good reveiws! FANGS AGEN VIOLET! oh yeah, BTW I don’t own dis or da lyrics 4 Bards.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

On the night of the concert I put on my black lace-up boots with high heels. Underneath them were ripped red fishnets. ThenI put on a black leather minidress with all this corset stuff on the back and front. I put on matching fishnet on my arms. I straightened my hair and made it look all spiky. I read a depressing book and I listened to some bards. I painted my nails black and put on TONS of black eyeliner. Then I put on some black lipstick. I didn’t put on foundation because I was pale anyway. I drank some human blood so I was ready to go to the concert.

I went outside. Lancelot was waiting there in front of his horse. He was wearing a NIN t-shirt (they would play at the show too), baggy black skater pants, black nail polish and a little eyeliner (AN: A lot fo kewl boiz wer it ok!).

“Hi Lancelot!” I said in a depressed voice.

Hi Galehaut.“ he said back. We walked into his flying black horse (the trimming said 666) and rode to the place with the concert. On the way we listened excitedly to bard tunes and Trent Reznor. We both smoked cigarettes and drugs. When we got there, we both hopped out of the car. We went to the mosh pit at the front of the stage and jumped up and down as we listened to Bards.

“SIÞEN þe sege and þe assaut watz sesed at Troye, Þe borȝ brittened and brent to brondeȝ and askez, Þe tulk þat þe trammes of tresoun þer wroȝt Watz tried for his tricherie, þe tre” sang a bard (I don’t own da lyrics 2 dat song).

“bards are so fucking hot.” I said to Lancelot, pointing to him as he sung, filling the club with his amazing voice.

Suddenly Lancelot looked sad.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as we moshed to the music. Then I caught on.

“Hey, it’s ok I don’t like him better than YOU!” I said.

“Really?” asked Lancelot sensitively and he put his arm around me all protective.

“Really.” I said. “Besides I don’t even know a bard and he’s going out with Hilary fucking Duff. I fucking hate that little bitch.” I said disgustedly, thinking of her ugly blonde face.

The night went on really well, and I had a great time. So did Lancelot. After the concert, we drank some beer and asked a bard and Trent for their autographs and photos with them. We got bard concert tees. Lancelot and I crawled back to the horse, but Lancelot didn’t go back into Camelot, instead he drove the car into… the France!

only true fans remember this one

he should have won the sexyman poll

tumblr sexyman poll:

Galehaut 100%

Sans 0%

congrats to galehaut on the win hes an icon like no other

NEW ALERT NEW galehaut content just dropped thank you to rey for getting Le Roman de Laurin and alerting me galehaut is featured in a single paragraph (!!! PARAGRAPH!!)

please reblog so we can get a better sample size :)

WARNING: YOU MUST READ THIS !!! If you stop now the curse will get upu even if you just read the word WARNING.

In 1100 a loser liege lord fell off his horse and died. Iif you dont like and reblog within 10 seconds he will appear in your house and throw you off a horse ‼️‼️‼️‼️

If you like and reblog within 29 minutes you will be kissed by your true love and get a million bucks this week!!!!!

Only REAL galehaut heads scroll this far. If you want to show your galehaut support be sure to hover over this support and hold down the “R” key on your keyboard for a fun surprise !!

how does this only have 2000 notes (crying laughing face) (crying laughing face)

Here anon ^^ have u seen this guy????

Daniel Lavery’s “How, after Long Fighting, Galehaut Was Overcome by Lancelot Yet Was Not Slain and Made Great Speed to Yield to Friendship; Or, Galehaut, the Knight of the Forfeit”

King of the Distant Isles, Galehaut, King also of Norgales; Overlord of the North Marches and Escavalon; Master in Lothian, Gore, the Long Isles, Sorestan; King in Orofoise, Roestoc, Pomitain, the Isle of Servage, the Straight Marches, Stranggore; Duke of Sorelois, Garloth, and twenty more besides. Now in Tintagel, afterward in Joyous Garde; lover of good knights; unhelmeted at last by Sir Lancelot; formerly excellent, currently happy and awaiting burial:

There are too many young men on the earth these days for true friendship to flourish. The flower of knighthood is thereby strangled in the bud, for, without a true friend, the knight can never temper his martial spirit with the cooling breath of love. He charges about from place to place, ever steaming, foundry hot, irritating maidens, stirring up quarrels, distressing shepherds, cluttering the courts, frightening curates, heedless of invitation and mindless of direction. He is a liability to his comrades, a burden to his master, a clod and a pest to his bedmates, and the terror of farmers and livestock alike.

Now the year 1000 was a mutation in time, a warp in the wheel of fortune, and from that cracked year a thousand young men crawled over Christendom and savaged her, bored and voracious after their schismatic birth. So it was that comradeship was introduced to gentle them, the peace and truce of God to restrain them, interdicts and excommunications to quiet them, monks to puzzle them, pilgrimage to weary them, and chivalry to better them. Yet there are so many men, and so few friends among them, that one might search the world twice over without ever encountering him.

The aim of the play of chivalry is twofold. It is perhaps rather truer to say that there is both a known and an unknown aim to chivalry. The first is to keep bored youngsters busy; to teach both boys and horses how to behave, how not to embarrass their mothers at the table; to fill up their afternoons with activity and intrigue that they might end the day tired and ready for honest sleep rather than trouble; to accumulate honor and marks of distinction from kings and ladies, that they might feel themselves trailed about by glory and slow their pace accordingly. The second is to get themselves rid of all honor and glory for the love of a true friend.

Many knights never learn of this aim. They are horse riders and cow-handed, fit only to sire sons and to round out the guest list at court. They can carry a cup across a tiltyard without spilling, say “Pleased to meet you” in French, and die in war. Not for them is the increase of the soul, the swelling up of merit, the augmentation of grace, the tournament in disguise, the leap from the window, the taking hold lightly and in secret of a dearly loved hand, the token worn tight against the chest, the exchange of hair locks, the midnight marriage by a tree-wild monk, the flight in disguise, the trade in clothes, and the setting out across the wasteland. The true knight longs for shame, awaits eagerly the day when he may cast aside his honor and trample it under the pounding of feet as he rushes to his friend. A knight is a humiliation-seeking device, and the point of knighthood is to renounce everything, to give up all, to cast honor and dignity and title aside and tumble headfirst into perfect degradation, perfect friendship, perfect trust, perfect felicity. In this collapse may knighthood, at last, flower. All else is horsemanship and table manners and may as easily be learned from a book (or, for that manner, a well-trained horse) as from a fellow knight. It is better than nothing and nothing else.

Of the first aim of chivalry, and the first class of knighthood, of which the greater bulk of all knighthood in Christendom is part, I will say little. It is because of them we have tournaments and men enough to fill them; that is sufficient. I left home to collect kings; in the tearing apart of kings’ households I might expect to find good knights. Gloier I killed, the son of Loholt, killed him for Sorelois, for her low and sunken bridges, her splendid merry rivers, her rich forests and untrammeled views to the sea. (Then I trammeled them.) Galegantin I sent away smarting. Bagdemagus, Cleolas, Maleginis, valiant men and well-appointed, leading armies blistering with a hundred lances, masters of the islands of tar and gold, Kings Aguissant and Yon—all fell before me and yielded their lands, their swords, their sons to my captains’ mess. I had many friends in those days, either proudly dead or cheerful in defeat, every one of them generous, frank, openhearted, pleased to find me as gracious as handsome, as wealthy as sporting. I knew every good sport from Orkney to Armenia and carried all their helms behind me in my war chest. “Galehaut, welcome; welcome, Galehaut,” the word came. “Knock me down, my darling.” There are so many men, and so few friends among them, that one might search the world twice over without ever encountering him.

So I knocked everybody down. Men begged me to hit them. Men who had never known what to ask for in their life, men who fell silent at the sight of the Grail maiden and neglected to ask the Fisher King what ailed him, men who could barely mumble along in Mass suddenly found their tongues on my field and chased me out: “Galehaut, best of knights! Galehaut, so courtly in victory! Galehaut the forbearant, the loyal, the hardy, test your hardiness on me—throw me down—dismount me—knock me off—grant me the honor of your fist, Galehaut, fuck me up, Galehaut, fuck me up, Galehaut, I haven’t seen my father in sixteen years but send me home to him wearing your bruises and I can say I was truly a knight. Galehaut, I’m begging you, trample me, make much of me, make a mess of me, just this once lay waste to me and I’ll gladly follow you wherever you go.”

So I knocked everybody down and had their honor added to mine, till I was so heaped with glory it took three days to go a mile. I moved slowly over the earth as I approached Arthur, stopping often to knock and absorb knights inasmuch they begged for absorption. As soon as a man fell before me, weeping in gratitude and joy, I knew two things about him: first, that he was not the true friend I sought, and second, that I had just done away with another rival for the friend I still sought. So I made progress, but also wasted time, as I neared Logres. We fought two wars against each other in Selice, Arthur and I could have swept the Summerlands, could have pushed Tintagel into the channel, would have walked to Rome on my knees, had Arthur fought alone. I carried the cloud of thirty kingdoms behind me; I had the best and most lovestruck knights in the world by my side; I arrived at the field of battle eminently lovable and ready to knock again. Arthur had red hair, a lovely wife, a ready arm, a handful of marsh barons and reed knights, and tenacity. I liked him. I knocked him down. He collapsed very prettily. “Would you consider,” he asked from the ground, “giving me a bit of time to collect myself and my men before trying again?”

“Verily,” I said, “and with a right good will. Shall we meet again at Pentecost, on this same field, under our same banners, and with our best men?”

He nodded—I hoisted him up—he saluted me with the best of manners—departed—I collected the dazed and tumbled-down knights wishing to join my party—a year passed.

The same field. More knights on my side, more knights on his. You may well wonder whether I found the process of friend-seeking tiresome, if I ever wearied going all over the face of the earth and turning over men to see if my friend lay hidden underneath. I did not; friend-finding is painstaking work and cannot be rushed. Moreover, each man I knocked down was one fewer rival against me. On the field was Yvain, who fought brilliantly; Gawain, who fought better still; Arthur, who was a bit of a mess but had a certain undeniable energy to his approach. There was a man whose name I did not know, whose armor and horse were all black. His next horse—the first being cut out from under him—was black, too. Black was the third horse, then the fourth. Around him in a great clatter piled up the helmets and arms of fallen knights, their shields in pieces, their flags tattered, all swooning in turn at his feet.

The number of the Trinity is three and perfect. Lancelot is, and is, and is.

A friend, then. I wondered if I would fall from my horse. “Sir,” I called out, trying to steer my own horse closer to him, feeling for all the world like I was trying to chase down the chit at the end of dinner, “sir, hold a minute. Be not afraid.” “Nor was I, friend,” he called back (friend already!). “Go ahead.”

“Let me tell you what I intend,” I said, jostling my way through the crush until we drew abreast of each other. “I am a king and the son of a king; no one on this field will harm you while I am living. Also, you amaze me.”

“Well,” Lancelot said. “Lovely to meet you, king’s son. You’re, what, six foot two? Six foot three?”

“Six foot five,” I said.

“Six foot five,” he said. “Yeah. Okay. Lead on, then.” So we left the field together, and everyone else fell down around us. “Yon red tent is mine,” I told him. “Would you like me to surrender to Arthur tomorrow? Tonight? How do you take your tea? How can I embarrass myself for you? Everything I have is yours, you know—”

The next year. At the great tournament of Sorelois. We were sitting around—Guinevere, Gawain, Yvain, and myself— talking about the things we would do for Lancelot and the love of Lancelot, if his love happened to be ours. Yvain, who was of a practical cast of mind, spoke first: “I’d give him my best hawk, my best horse, my best armor, and my place in bed.”

“What is your place in bed, Yvain?” Guinevere asked. Merry, not brutal; Yvain laughed and threw a crust of bread at her.

“And what of you, Gawain?” I said. “What would you give him?”

Sir Gawain bethought himself awhile before saying, “If God and the saints would grant it, I’d immediately ask to be refashioned into his maiden true, his good sweetheart, with my own acres and ten manor houses, a writing room full of copyists and clerks, barns of linen; one field for hay, one for beer barley, one for wheat, one for rye, one for oats, one for peas; an abbey full of brewing nuns, an almshouse, and a mill; a fort and a trench; a tin mine; two smiths; a glove maker; a pepper house and a courtroom and a judge; a deer forest and a pig forest; two rivers, nine chalk streams, a wash, three swales; two chapels; a salt flat, a saddler, and the toll profits from seven different bridges. I would be mistress of my own keys and castle, with a keen eye, more lovely than the southern winds in May, hair like heavy ropes of gold, lips like figs, a figure like a prayer drifting up to heaven, the worthiest damsel to ever draw breath, and I’d save all my love, all my riches, all the tributes produced by my land and all the tributes produced by my good, tight body for him, and I’d give him them.” “Sir Gawain,” I said to him, “you have offered much. God grant it you,” and I pledged him until he blushed. His blushes were flashes of robin’s breast in a dark forest. “Pledge him again,” I told the rest of the table, “lift your cups in praise of him, until he grows wine-colored all over; I like it.” I liked Gawain; I held it against no one in court that they should love Lancelot as I did. It seemed to me personally reasonable that they should. Is the Father jealous of the Son? Or of the Holy Spirit that issues forth from both? So we all touch the best knight in Christendom; so we all issue forth.

Queen Guinevere spoke next. “Gawain has offered all a lady can give and quite cut me out. What is left for me to offer? I’d turn into a barn owl,” she said, “and scratch out his eyes and carry them around in my feet and trample all over his sight.” A lovely girl, and worthy of him. He would receive death and dishonor from her; I death and dishonor from him; she would have to find death and dishonor all on her own somewhere, but I didn’t doubt her ability for a moment. “And you, Galehaut? You can’t give him the armies of the Distant Isles again.”

“Turn my honor to shame,” I said, “bury my name in filth and degradation, ride in a cart, dishonor my father and my mother, strike a monk, steal deer, filch livestock out of pasture, burn a house in Easter week, frighten noble ladies and widows during Lent, defile relics and saints’ bones—”

“Piss in a baptismal font, steal Canterbury, yes, yes,” Gawain said dismissively, “collapse into foolishness for him—we get the picture.”

“He offers a great deal, Gawain,” Guinevere said, smiling at me. “It gives me joy to see it.”

“What can I say?” I asked them. “God has not struck me with misfortune yet; I am a man unused to sacrifice. I know how to woo and to give gifts—to dazzle and to intimidate—”

“That’s six foot five, everyone,” Gawain stage-whispered. “But of all the knights in Christendom, I have had the best luck of all and never lost to another man. So I think I do not know well what it means to give much in exchange for love. And then one day my luck ran so strong I received everything I had ever wanted. Now I have nothing left to win and can only lose.”

“Trying to win through an appeal to our sympathy,” said Yvain. “No, it won’t wash, Galehaut; you’re not going to make me pity a tall, well-favored duke who’s lord of thirty kingdoms and best friend to Lancelot besides.”

“Let me add this, then,” I said. “I will not outlive my friend—will not outlive this tournament, for even now I see his flag falter and fear him undone by treachery and false knights, enemies of true friendship. Take me out to Joyous Garde and lay me there; even if he should get up by some miracle, Galehaut will not survive Lancelot touching earth.” So it was I won that day and thereafter died. Lancelot got up again after touching earth, but I was not there to see it—he touched it, and I went into it. To go into ground now or later, now that I had done what I had set out to do, was a matter of supreme indifference to me.

After me, for Lancelot: to ride in the cart, and humiliation, disgrace, talk of treason, of felony, next the contempt and loathing of the crowd, the cloud of shame, the publicly unsatisfying reunion with Guinevere, the tepid reception of former friends, the stink of degradation, all without me to strengthen or console him—oh, how lucky he is, my darling boy, to sink so low for me.

BOOST !!! havent seen ANYONE talking about this yet

after what he did in iraq?

How

-2 grams of weed in this bad boy. you smoke this and you get less high

it’s not a blunt it’s a sharp

you light this and it shatters and explodes like a prince ruperts drop

this is what the character looks like btw

If you guys don't start behaving I'm going to turn off reblogs for this post. This post is about launching matchbox cars into your wall at high enough speeds to lodge them there. Nobody cares about how strong the walls in your house are, and I'm suddenly learning that a lot of people on this webbed site don't know what drywall is, but none of that matters.

The only thing that matters is shoot cars into your wall.