The Muse's Song

It felt like I was back in that lava tube in Hawaii. Pitch black, but with a cool dampness. There was a solid floor underfoot, and the wall felt natural, but without a torch, I had to pick my way carefully.
I still had a light at the end of the tunnel. It was there that I had found the helmet. It was made up of solid steel plates that were riveted together, forming a cross across the face with eye slits under the arms. I had this in mind earlier, when I was still at work. My muse has the most inopportune timing sometimes. I kept this particular story going through my mind over and over so as not to forget.
She usually inspires with poetry, and lately with Nero's somewhat half-boiled adventures. That night, she was singing, and a ballad at that. She sung a story of a knight that kept the face of his lady behind his shield. Of course, whenever anyone looked, there was no such image on the shield itself. The story itself is rather depressing, right up until the end. Sometimes the bittersweet stories are the best. Of course, I still have to write this one down.
With the helmet in hand, I followed the tunnel until it opened up into a dense forest. It felt more like a mountainous area rather then the rain forests of Hawaii, significantly cooler in the twilight and less humid. And yet the sounds still carried well.
I couldn't make out all the words, but she was singing. And as the song progressed, I caught glimpses of the narrative in the forest, the young knight and his lady, the battles he fought throughout the years, all were taking place in the trees around me as I walked on. When she came to the part about the knight facing an infamous rival in battle her voice suddenly became silent.
From the shadows of the forest came the rival from the story, a knight whose armor was rusted from the blood of those he's slain. It's ruddy hue wasn't much of a contrast to the black helmet in my hands. I hadn't noticed until then, but they were encased in blackened steel gauntlets, and I had matching greaves over my boots. Yet the rest of my "armor" was composed of jeans and a black leather jacket. And he had a horse. Doesn't seem like a fair match up at all.
While I was contemplating the large sword in his hand, he gave a kick with his spurs and came charging at me. I only just had enough time to roll to the side, his blade coming close enough to my head to slice at some strands of hair. That was much too close for comfort. And while I didn't know where it had been, I had no other protection on hand aside from the helmet. I took a breath and slipped it on, panicking slightly from the blindness until my eyes found the slits. Just in time to see the knight charging at me again.
What's the first rule of self-defense again? Ah, that's right. RUN! And run I did, through the trees and the brush, stumbling over roots and fallen branches with the sound of the rider in pursuit behind me. I changed direction, time and again, cutting through rough foliage that should have at least given him pause. Unfortunately, that last shrub I jumped over was at the top of a steep incline.
I landed with all the grace of a rock and found myself looking up at the stars between the branches overhead. The sounds of the bloody knight echoed off into the distance, but I was too tired to care. I just lay there, listening to my breath filter through the thin slits in the helmet. And then her song reached my ears once again. I closed my eyes to listen, and when I opened them again, they saw sunlight instead of stars.