A.N: Erm...well. Hello again. Been a while, hasn't it? I'm so sorry that you had to wait for so long, but rest assured, THIS STORY WILL BE FINISHED DAMNIT

Thanks to Xbakiyalo, who once upon a time (was it really that long ago?) gave me some invaluable pointers on the geography of Nottingham.

Also a big thanks to MissZoey, my beta, who not only spell checked like a grammar ninja but who also didn't laugh at me when I told her rather sheepishly that I'd lost the memory stick.

FINALLY: Oh my God he had a fez, an actual fez! Wow, I must be a mind reader...

The Doctor had a plan. If we're talking the truth here, then I'd probably just have to tell you that it wasn't a brilliant plan, but nevertheless it was a plan and thus the Doctor was willing to give it a try. It consisted of him running around the streets of Nottingham, yelling a garble of words at the top of his voice.

Well, I told you it wasn't brilliant.

Whilst his plan was simple his thoughts were most definitely not. He was in fact berating himself mentally, disgusted with the way he'd sort of left Laura in the middle of the street next to the mutilated body of Edward Shrike and a cracked jar of Marmite. Not entirely the gentlemanly character he'd built up for himself, and certainly not the depiction of the dashing hero that he'd wanted Laura to be aware of. Not that it mattered to him what she thought, anyway.

With a swift clearing of his throat, the Doctor quickly changed the subject of his thoughts. The point of interest: the Besswick statues. Somehow, he had to convince them to turn on the creature that had not only made them all powerful killing machines, but who was also their King, and someone who they followed with such unwavering loyalty that it was frankly quite frightening.

Quickly skidding around a parked car, the Doctor overbalanced heavily before clipping the wing mirror. This sent him into a tailspin that ultimately ended with him laid face down on the solid pavement with a mouthful of dirty snow and painfully soggy socks.

So, all in all, the plan was going altogether smoothly and really rather well, he decided, as the Doctor pulled himself up off of the floor and back onto near enough level ground. With that he set off, weaving about in an odd pattern and limping slightly due to his wet trousers.

To say that Laura was holding the clockwork sword wrong would have been a gross understatement. If any professional sword wielders happened upon her as she set about on her journey they would either fall about laughing their heads off, or sit down and cry at the blasphemy that was in motion. You see, Laura had learnt how to hold a sword by watching the Lord of the Rings, and therefore was holding the contraption up in a sort of blocking, parrying stance that was nowhere near a replication of Aragorn's movements. In fact, she looked like a three year old with a stick. Well, it was the thought that counted.

At least she had a specific destination in mind, which is more than can be said for the Doctor.

She'd been listening intently to what Phillip Reeve had been saying, because it's not everyday that you meet a fantastic author who just happens to be an alien. And, she'd tuned in quite carefully to his description of the weaknesses of King Arthur, as she rather valued her life and would very much like to know how to defend it. So, when Phillip had touched upon the subject of clockwork towers and church bells having a detrimental effect on the pseudo king of old, she'd had the first few inklings of an idea. However, before she could share it with the Doctor, he'd waffled something or other about danger and then hared off on a mad mission that would most likely get him killed. So, it was up to her.

There was a memory she had, of the summer before; herself, Fay, Fay's boyfriend Joe, Haneef and Jerry, all sat in a place called the Arboretum Park. It was the closest public park to the city centre, and also the oldest in Nottingham, making it a rather fitting showdown place, if you take time to think about it. They'd all come to spend the day away from studying, but Jerry and Laura both suffered from hay fever, and the garden certainly was abundant with flowers. So, they'd taken refuge under the Chinese Bell Tower in a corner of the park, and griped about the pollen count for a great deal of time. But the most important thing was that Laura had reached up and pushed the bell, though the mechanisms were stiff with rust and no sound was made. Jerry had turned to her and said, "You're a weakling, Perry. If it's given a good tug I'm sure it will come loose and make such a crashing sound that the whole of the park will hear it."

They hadn't done that, of course. The bell tower was a relic that didn't need that kind of treatment. Unfortunately, it was the only bell tower nearby that she could think of, and it seemed as if she had no other choice.

In fact, she was so certain it would work, this plan of hers. She was thinking about striking the bell with the sword, letting it make a such an almighty din that King Arthur would hear it and be well and truly laid low, and finally driving the clockwork blade into his heart in a theatrical swooping motion. Laura was even musing on all the gloating words she'd send the Doctor's way when something slammed into her with such ferocious force that she was not only knocked off her feet but also flung into the air.

Crashing into the ground, Laura could only watch in terror, taking deep wheezing breaths, as King Arthur's mechanical horse reared up in front of her.

"No, listen!" cried the Doctor, flailing his arms desperately at the Besswick statues. "He doesn't care for you; you're nothing to him! If it'd benefit him he'd kill you at a moment's notice!"

One of the statues cocked the upper half of Edward Shrike's eye in his direction. The orb, which was missing it's eyelid, oozed in a peculiar manner before the creature's head snapped straight again. "Ngh, arg, gurnle," it said.

The Doctor winced, stepping back a little. For not only were the words gibberish, they were spoken at great volume. "Sorry, what did you say? I didn't quite catch you the first time."

Another statue clunked forward, moving its brother aside with a quick roll of the shoulders. It opened its mouth to speak and this time actual words came out, albeit in a scratchy voice that resembled something like a badly abused rusty gate. "Forgive South, he did not get the share of the vocal chords. May I interpret his answer instead?"

"Oh, please do," came the amiable reply, and he waited quite tentatively.

"Go away, cretin." The statue said, the voice flat and monotonous.

The Doctor blinked before throwing his hands into the air. The four statues watched, motionlessly and uninterestedly, while he hopped up and down on the spot, spitting out bits and pieces of words that he couldn't shift past his tongue due to the indignation he felt. "Wha-but, that's not...well-"

Finally, after half a minute or so, the Doctor had gained his composure enough to straighten his shoulders and send a glare towards the statues. "Well, you're one to talk! How can you not see that all you do is follow Arthur's orders, but never gain anything as a reward? You were turned into statues for hundreds of years and yet you're still loyal to him? That's pretty much the definition of a cretin, if you ask me."

One of the statues that had not spoken previously thumped forward, Edward Shrike's left arm swinging slightly with its motions. The fact that the arm was on backwards was a completely different story. "I am East. I would die for the King. My life is forfeit."

"Hyngh," Said the one called South, and the Doctor presumed that it was expressing agreement with the statement.

Groaning, the Doctor thumped his screwed up fist into the side of his temple, desperately trying to think of convincing words that would make the four statues see sense. "Honestly! Can't there be anything I can say that will make you understand just what idiots you are? Anything that will convince you to agree with me?"

As one, the four metal (and slightly fleshy) heads turned to each other, obviously engaging in some form of mental communication. After a clunk and a whistle or two, the only sculpture that had not spoken opened his jaw, which seemed to be attached to his cheek plates by a set of stringy muscle fibre. "Well," he mumbled in a rough baritone, "I suppose you could keep on talking for a while. We'd like to see if your vocal chords will be adequate for South, as he is rather picky I'm afraid."

"Oh dear..."The Doctor sighed, as the statues converged on him yet again.

"ARGHHHHHHHHH-"

"Would you please stop screeching? I can barely hear myself think!"

With a self-pitying squeak, Laura let the noise trail off, before forcing her clenched eyelids open. Two flaring nostrils were mere centimetres from her face. After blinking for a few seconds, Laura thought it in her best interests to close her eyes again.

"Oh, really, I'm not going to bite you know!" Came the affronted - and definitely female - voice that was hovering above her. "Now stop being silly and open those eyes, missy!"

Obediently she did so, confronting herself with what appeared to be a horse's muzzle. Albeit a metal horse's muzzle, of course. "Erm, well...are you going to kill me?"

The horse's bright blue eyes widened, which was quite a disconcerting sight considering that Laura was looking down a long nose. "Why would I do that? I'm here to help you, you silly girl. Now we haven't got much time, so look lively and get up!"

Carefully, Laura pulled herself out from between two seemingly very solid front legs, before standing up shakily. After an awkward second where she stared at the horse and the horse looked kindly back at her, she suddenly remembered the clockwork sword. Quickly stooping low again, she scooped the weapon up and held it in what she thought was a vaguely threatening gesture. "What do you want?"

The horse, well, snickered at her actions, the copper wire forelock bobbing up and down with mirth. "Really, there's no need for that! We're all on the same side here, and I'm sure your chances of survival would be much greater if you let me take you to wherever you were haring off to."

After blinking in shock for a few moments, Laura managed to scrabble around in the back corners of her mind for the remaining threads of her composure, eventually finding enough to pass for mild bravery. "How do I know you aren't working for King Arthur? That this isn't just a trick?"

At the mention of the King, the horse snorted derisively, tossing her head about in distaste. "That cruel man? I've been under his slavery for nigh on one hundred years now, and I have no loyalty to that barbarian!" She snorted again, before flicking her neck up in a pointing gesture. "Look at my flank! He whipped me so hard that he left marks!"

Tiptoeing around the impressive bronze shoulders, Laura lay her hand against the scratches on the horse's haunches, feeling the welts that had been left there. Swallowing thickly, she turned back to face the creature's head. "I believe you."

Now, Laura had ridden a horse before. In fact, she'd become quite good at it, having taken numerous lessons in her youth. Unfortunately her instructor, Sarah, had never really prepped her for a situation where she would be riding a fast paced metal horse though a city covered in copious amounts of snow, and therefore you might say that she was struggling slightly.

Okay, so she was clinging to the martingale in terror, alright?

"The Arboretum, you say?" Puffed the horse as she clattered over the cobbled streets, winding quickly around minor obstacles such as telegraph poles and phone boxes. "What a lovely name! In fact, it's almost as nice as mine!"

Laura's breathing was laboured as she struggled to ask the rather obvious question. "Oh really? What's your name?"

"Gladys," she said, a touch proudly.

"Ah...how...lovely."

"Isn't it?" Gladys boasted as her hooves swept easily over the icy ground. "Now, I want you to go over the plan again, please."

Laura tried to settle more comfortably into the saddle, which was invariably made out of metal and therefore also quite chilly. She had clamped the clockwork sword under her knee to stop herself from losing it, and she had an unsettling feeling that the blade was glaring at her for it's less that dignified positioning. Shaking her head, she tried to get herself back on track. "Well, we find the clock tower in the park, and you help me ring the bell. Then, I stab King Arthur with the sword. Sorted."

Gladys harrumphed, obviously not keen. "What if he's not there?"

"...what?"

"I said, what if King Arthur's not there?"

Laura winced. "I heard perfectly, I just didn't understand."

"If he isn't present when we ring the bell, then we have to go and find him. By the time we do, he'll have probably woken up again." She changed stride mid-canter and set off down another lane, bearing right. "What will we do then?"

"Erm," said Laura, sounding mildly hysterical. "I don't know, I hadn't planned that bit."

As if sensing the rising panic in her passenger's voice, Gladys replied in a kindly tone. "Don't you worry dear, I'm sure it'll all work out for the best."

Deep down, neither of them fully believed that.

"Come and get me, you metal blockheads!" roared the Doctor as he sprinted away from the lumbering statues, all of whom were in dogged pursuit.

"What did he say?" whined East, as his legs loped forward on a combination of four of Mr. Shrike's toes and a number of carrots that had been intended for the unfortunate man's wife. "Only my eardrums aren't that complete; they can't listen over long distances."

"Gryngle vurg anwin hurr." Said South.

"What?" East snapped as they ran after the man in tweed. "Speak up!"

Meanwhile, the Doctor ran full pelt onto one of the remaining sections of Nottingham canal, skittering over the frozen water in an attempt to reach the other side. Once he had managed this feat, he turned and faced the oncoming statues that had followed him onto the ice.

Now, some important facts here. Metal is heavy. Clockwork stops working when it encounters water. Got that? Good.

With an almighty cracking noise, the ice screeched and finally broke under the weight of the statues, sending them plunging into the depths of the canal. All of them chattered and wailed in agony as the Doctor watched dispassionately, and one by one they fell silent.

The last one to go was South, who looked at the Doctor with hatred in his metal blue eyes. "Grhn uwhyu!"

"I'm sure I would be terrified," said he, "if I knew what that meant."

A.N: This story is nearly finished. There is only one (possibly two) chapter left to go. I had planned a sequel which will most likely be written, but please understand that between writing fanfic and studying for exams, it's always going to be exams.

Thanks to everyone who has sent in reviews so far, as when they pop up on my Blackberry's inbox I get an instant happiness boost, not to mention a jolt of motivation ;)

~NWN