Sword of the Valiant: The Legend of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

Hey, Oawain, the king's armor.

That's the last that l shall ever make.

The last that he shall ever wear.

S9uires.

The more sumptuous the feast,

the more it turns my stomach.

Take it away, take it all away!

Away!

Each yuletide, we celebrate the thickening of our bellies

and the softening of our muscles.

Has your valor ded entirely in these times of peace?

Is this the court whose knights were feared

throughout Christendom?

L'm bored.

Bored with you all!

No!

We'll have no feasting yet.

We've drowned our knighthood in too much wine.

Not one drop more!

Not a morsel of bread until even one of you

proves that he's worthy of his spurs.

Oh, what's that?

What great feats have we to mark this year?

What tales of valor, what deeds of arms

enhance this crown that sits upon my head?

The old year limps to its grave, ashamed.

I shall have some proof tonight

that knightliness still lives within these walls!

Hm?

Strange indeed.

A feast without food, and a court without a king.

Strangers are welcome in this place,

but they must leave their insolence at the door.

And their horses.

I come in peace, great king.

All l seek is good sport.

By the look of you, you haven't come here

to bob for apples.

No.

My wager is you play a deadly game.

Ah, the king is wise.

The game l bring is more in keeping with the season.

The year is old, and death smiles out

from behind this merry time.

Our knights do lack for sport.

What is the game?

My ax.

See it?

Feel it.

Oo on, feel it.

Sharp, isn't it?

As sharp as your appetite, sir?

The east wind is not its e9ual.

Heavy.

Is it as heavy as your conscience, sir?

Certainly truer than the ladies of this court.

Sirs, l offer you my only weapon.

Unarmed, l shall stand here before you all,

my neck bare.

My challenge is simple.

Let any man among you worthy of the deed

take up my ax and hack the head from off my shoulders.

Fear not, brave knights.

I shall not move, nor dinch,

nor seek to defend myself in any way.

I am ready for the blow.

But one blow, and no more.

And l have but one demand.

Afterwards, if the power is left to me,

l have the right to return the blow in like manner.

If the power be left to him?

Oh, come.

The sport is simple.

A cut for a cut,

and yours to be the first.

Who's going to deal me my blow?

Who's the jolly gambler to play my game?

Who shall lay his pride,

his prowess,

his courage on the line of my neck?

Come, great knights!

Champion your king!

Come on, gentlemen, l'm waiting.

My neck grows cold.

I can remember a time

when l would have had 100 knights

begging the honor to be my champion.

Have we slipped so far?

Well, so be it.

If death is your resolve with this mad jest,

then, by heaven, you shall have it.

The king himself shall do the deed.

And may Ood have mercy on your soul when it is done.

My liege!

Oawain!

My liege, give me the ax.

Let the cut be mine.

Silence! - Peace.

I will have silence.

I see my earlier words now sadly proved.

A humble s9uire has set the seal on your shame.

Let him be s9uire no longer,

but my only true knight.

He is called Oawain, sire.

Arise a knight, Sir Oawain.

Now the challenge is accepted.

Strike well, Oawain, you have but one blow.

Make it pay.

Your own neck would feel the weight of any second.

The king speaks true.

Sir knight.

It may be too late, once l've dealt my blow,

for you to tell us your name and your home.

Such bold words.

You know of me all you have need to know.

Lay on.

Let the game begin.

Body.

Come to me, my body.

These young eyes have seen nothing of the world yet.

Shall l snuff out their light?

Shall these young lips grow cold

before they have tasted life

or touched a woman's cheek?

No, Oawain.

You shall not die yet to defend their lack of courage.

I came to challenge a man, not a beardless boy.

I give you a year's grace to grow your beard.

12 sweet, short months of life to do with as you will.

But when the seasons have come full circle,

we shall meet again, and you shall pay your debt to me.

Ls there no hope for me beyond this?

Must l spend the year awaiting death at your hand?

Only fools and priests do s9uander life

with thoughts of death.

So you would hope to cheat your fate, Oawain, hm?

Well, every man hopes that.

Especially the young.

L'll give you a riddle.

Mark it well, for if by the time we meet again

you have fully understood every line,

your life will be restored to you.

It has four lines.

Mark them all well.

Where life is emptiness, gladness.

Where life is darkness, fire.

Where life is golden, sorrow.

Where life is lost, wisdom.

But how do l know where to find you?

Never fear, Sir Oawain.

If you do not find me, l will most assuredly find you.

Hya, ha!

Sir Oawain, my helmet.

You have restored honor to this court.

May others take heart from your example.

And may my own armor and the Lord

protect you on your 9uest.

Let the feast begin!

I don't think l'm hungry.

Take your last look, Humphrey.

Now, there's just one thing they forgot to tell me

in my swift initiation into knighthood.

Oh, yes?

How the hell do l relieve myself in this tin suit?

What no lost knight should be without.

Oh, you don't know how happy l am to see that.

Anyway, which way do we go?

West.

Due west.

Why due west?

'Cause that's the way the wind's blowing.

What difference does that make?

Absolutely none at all.

L'm starving, what food have we got?

None.

Noble knights are supposed to hunt for it.

Or re9uisition it.

Catch it or steal it.

Now that's what l call chivalry.

Look.

Let's do the noble thing.

Ouick, raise your bow, Humphrey.

But you can't kill a unicorn!

Then what are we doing?

It's magical.

It's a sign of good luck.

Precisely.

Oood luck that we've found something to eat.

But it tastes like horse meat.

No, magical, you said.

That means it'll taste good.

Come on.

Damn.

It wants to make us earn our supper.

Let's just keep it in sight.

I see why they use hounds.

There's my beauty.

Now it's ours.

What the...

well.