The Green Knight

(whispering) Look, see a world

that holds more wonders than any since the Earth was born.

And of all who reigned o'er, none had renown like the boy

who pulled sword from stone.

But this is not that king...

...nor is this his song.

Let me tell you instead a new tale.

I'll lay it down as I've heard it told.

Its letters sent, its history pressed,

of an adventure brave and bold.

Forever set, in heart, in stone,

like all great myths of old.

(church bell continues tolling)

(indistinct shouting in distance)

(man shouting indistinctly in distance)

Christ is born.

Christ is born indeed.

(laughter and indistinct chatter)

Where are you going?

To church!

Why?

My boots. Hello, Agnes.

Where are my boots?

You a knight yet?

What?

You a knight yet?

- Not yet. - Better hurry up.

(panting) I've got time.

I've got lots of time.

Hey! Essel.

- Hey, slow down. Hurry up!

Essel.

Essel.

Let's just stay here. Come on. Let's just stay here.

- Get up. No.

I'm not ready yet.

I'm not ready.

Brought to you by Sailor420 !!! Hope you enjoy the film !!!

Merry Christmas, Gryngelot.

(church bells tolling in distance)

(church bells continue tolling)

- (bells tolling stops) - (panting)

Where have you been?

At Mass.

You, at Mass? Yeah.

All night?

Yes.

Well, where are your boots?

What?

Where are... - (kisses)

You do smell like you've been at Mass.

What, have you been drinking the sacrament all night?

I love you, Mother.

You are not dressed.

I've got no guts for merriment this year.

But it's Christmas.

There'll be more Christmases,

more feasts, more glad tidings.

You go, make merry.

And tell me what you see.

(festive string music playing)

(woman singing in medieval language)

(pensive choral music continues)

Bring young Gawain here.

The king would speak with you.

(light medieval music playing)

Where is thy mother?

She was not feeling herself, my lord.

Then come. Sit here, besides us.

Besides me and my queen.

That is not my place.

No. Let it be, today.

Its owner is away.

Who knows when he will return?

Please.

Good to see you, Gawain.

Good to have one's family by one's side.

One's blood.

Surely your knights have

spilled enough blood in your name

to bind them closer to you than I.

True.

But you are my sister's boy,

queefed from her womb.

They are not.

I look out upon my friends here today and I see...

songs...

no muse could ever sing or dream of.

But I turn to thee and I see what?

I recognize but I do not know thee.

I say this not in reproach, but regret

that I have never asked you to sit at my side

before this day

or upon my knee when thy was newborn.

But now it is Christmas,

and I wish to build bridges.

So before we make merry...

you make for me a gift.

You tell me a tale of yourself,

so that I might know thee.

I have none to tell, King.

Yet.

You have none to tell yet.

Yet.

Look around you, young Gawain.

What do you see?

I see legends.

Do not take your place amongst them idly.

Hmm.

So who else then...

hmm?

Friends...

Brothers...

Brothers...

Brothers and...

- sisters all. - ...sisters all.

I thank thee

for breaking bread with me this blessed day.

And it is blessed...

for out my window

this morn I looked,

and I saw a land

shaped...

by your hands.

You have lain those same hands upon our Saxon brethren,

who now in your shadow bow their heads

like babes.

Peace, peace you have brought to your kingdom,

so it is in peace that I...

I now say to you...

that I...

I am the luckiest here today...

because I am amongst thee.

I am amongst thee.

So before we celebrate

the birth of our Christ,

let us honor one of our own

who has done great things in His name.

So a tale, or...

- Or a show perhaps. - (thunder crashes)

What have thee?

Who can regale me and my queen

with some myth

or canto

of thine own purport?

Hold.

Oh, Greatest Of Kings,

indulge me in this friendly Christmas game.

Let whichever of your knights

is boldest of blood and wildest of heart

step forth, take up arms,

and try with honor to land a blow against me.

Whomsoever nicks me

shall lay claim to this, my arm.

It's glory and riches shall be thine.

But...

thy champ must bind himself to this :

Should he land a blow,

then one year and Yuletide hence,

he must seek me out yonder,

to the Green Chapel six nights to the North.

He shall find me there and bend the knee

and let me strike him in return.

Be it a scratch on the cheek or a cut on the throat,

I will return what was given to me,

and then in trust and friendship we shall part.

Who, then, who is willing to engage with me?

Help. Queen.

This challenge is thine own?

Though my will longs