Okay I saw 3x09 and it was like 'bam! fic time!' because holy crap how good was that episode. So this is directly after 3x09 and is mainly inspired by Gwen's statement 'where will I go?'.

Oh and Iseldir is not an original character. Remember the druid who saved Leon and warned Merlin about the tomb with the dragon's egg in it? Yeah, that druid is Iseldir and in my head because he hasn't gone all BAMF on Arthur yet and saved Leon, he's not immediately all 'RAWR death to Camelot'.

Bending down in the soft soil, Iseldir pressed his fingers into the earth and closed his eyes.

It took only the span of a heartbeat for the current that ran through the earth to reach his fingertips. The magic flew up his arm and through the very core of his being, connecting him to the land that he called home. This was his morning ritual and the magic that flowed through him at the moment might be the only true connection to the land he felt all day. The sorrow at the thought was almost enough to make him linger in his task, but the memory of what he risked in doing even this magic was enough to make him hurry.

The perimeter of their camp was safe, thank the Gods. They had spent the past three days in their settlement, which was not nearly enough time for them to gather food and replenish their dwindling water supplies. But three days was still unusually long for them to go untouched, especially when they came this close to the outskirts of Camelot. Under any other circumstance Iseldir would have refused the request but their supply of herbs was also low and they needed to come here. Still he would not rest until they were a much longer distance from the land ruled by the Pendragons.

Turning his attention northward he felt for the roads that led from the Capital. It was barely a day's ride and if the Knights got word of their presence he knew they would reach them sooner than that. But there were no disturbances on the road, none save for the woman who stumbled down the path pulling a heavy barrow. Iseldir almost withdrew his power when drops hit the web he had laid out. Frowning the druid held it there and glanced upwards, noting there was not a cloud in the dawn lightened sky.

The woman who staggered along the road was weeping hard enough for her tears to reach the dirt.

The road led to many places but given her labored and exhausted steps, Iseldir would have wagered much that the woman came from the Capital. Only those who had been banished came down the road weeping and not stopping for their exhaustion. Withdrawing his hand, Iseldir straightened up and looked at the ridge that separated him from the approaching traveler. Exhaustion, weeping, a woman who had walked all night, his heart began to beat in a frantic staccato as hope pounded through him.

Could it be that King Arthur had shown mercy to a Soceress?

Not a trained girl, of course, but a new one who had only done harmless magic in ignorance. She had been allowed to pack her belongings which meant that judgement had been passed, but she had no horse so while leniency had been shown there was still the need for haste. She had no time to sell her possessions to purchase a steed or had forgone one in her speed at packing. Iseldir did not need magic to know the girl was scared out of her wits, but her journey on the road though the night meant she was strong, probably stronger than she looked.

Wasting no time the Druid moved silently through the woods and over the ridge, crouching there in the shadows. Pressing a hand to the earth he felt for her once more and discovered she had paused in her struggle onwards. Taking care with his silence he moved towards the bend she had stopped before. Peering over the side, he looked down at the figure and felt his heart clench at the sight of her.

The poor creature looked half mad with grief. Perspiration matted her hair and stained her clothes. It mixed with the tears that slipped unheeded down her cheeks and stung the torn skin of her palms. The barrow she pulled was well made and well used, whomever had packed it took enough care to balance it well and cover the goods inside with a worn blanket. But the clothing she wore was much better made than he would have expected a woman without a horse to wear. Even in the dim light he could see the richness of the dye used in her cloak and the fine glint of metal on her boots. Her hair was long and well tended to, adding to what he imagined would have been an almost noble appearance had she not walked through the night pulling a barrow.

Iseldir did not think he had seen a girl who looked as ill defined as this one. Her hands were torn but not as badly as they should have been if she was not accustom to hard work. Her hair was long and well taken care of, but pulled back into an practical style no noblewoman would have dare worn. If she had packed the cart herself she knew enough to do it properly for balance but could not afford a horse to pull it for her. The woman was a mess of contradictions and her hysteria made it impossible to be certain if she had magic.

The only thing Iseldir was certain of was that she needed help.

There was a time not long ago when he would have helped her without a second thought. But he had his own people to worry about and this close to the border it was likely the hurt she had done the King as still fresh enough to warrant pursuit. They could not afford an attack this close to the Capital. Their best advantage came from their superior knowledge of the landscape but this close to the Capital the Knights would be on equal ground with them. They could not afford a fight with magic, not so soon after the hand magic had in Uther's death, not so soon into the reign of King Arthur.

Drawing his hand back Iseldir looked around to see if there was something he could do to ease the poor creature's wretched journey, some boon he could grant her without her knowledge. He watched as she turned to the barrow and reached inside of it for something. Surprise flew across her face as her fingers fumbled for something and pulled out a cloth. He watched as she unfolded it with shaking hands to reveal a hair ornament, something far too nice to be owned by a servant or even a minor noble. It seemed as though all the strength fled from the girl's limbs as she sat heavily down on the side of the road. Without warning she buried her face in her hands and began to weep in earnest, the steady trickle of tears replaced by a torrent.

Iseldir felt his fingers curl at the sight of her, knowing now that any choice he had was gone. He would be more of a coward than Uther Pendragon to leave the poor girl sitting by the side of the road, too distracted by her own pain to notice the world around her. Carefully stood upon the ridge, allowing his presence to be known but she paid him no heed, confirming his suspicions. Making his way down the ridge, he was able to stand on the road without the girl even noticing him. When she did she barely made acknowledgement of his presence, only lowering her hands and trying miserably to collect herself.

"A-are you here to kill me?" she asked looking at him.

"We do not kill, child," he said.

"Not even for those who would beg for death?" she whispered.

"No," he said kneeling until they were on the same level, "but I can offer you a place to rest."

"I am not worthy of such kindness," she breathed, her voice hitching on the last word.

"All are worthy," he said extending his hand to her.

She looked at his hand and then back up at him, as though she could not comprehend such compassion. Iseldir fought the fear that grew within him at the thought of what she could have done to think herself so unworthy. She wore traces of nobility, she had, if nothing else, a comfortable life. Yet here she was having walked through the night dragging her possessions behind and having convinced herself she was unworthy of anything but the most brutal treatment. What had this woman done? What business did he have putting all those he cared for in such danger?

It was ill luck when she reached out and placed her hand in his, accepting his offer with dirt and blood on her hands.

The old magic that gripped the poor girl raced across Iseldir's skin like a living thing. Suddenly the fear tat licked low in his belly turned into a raging inferno. Only his knowledge of magic kept him standing there instead of running as quickly as he could from the girl's presence. Her own breath came in a shuddering gasp as tears streamed down her cheeks, a low sound of pure heartbreak escaping her lips as her legs weakened. Iseldir gripped the girl, holding her upright as his lips found the words to push the enchantment back.

It was several heart pounding moments before Iseldir was able to wrestle the lingering spell that clung to the poor girl into submission. She gasped unevenly, the tears ceasing in shock as she stared at him with a mix of terror and confusion. Iseldir could feel the heat in his eyes and knew they were as bright as the sun. Even as the magic receded and the heat faded she continued to stare at him in shock. Iseldir was certain that if she had the strength to run she would have.

"I mean you no harm," he told her, "but the magic that held you is strong and it continues its hold on you."

"I-I am enchanted?" she breathed, seemingly not fully understanding him.

"You did not know?" he asked, feeling his brow draw in confusion.

"No," she said tears welling in her eyes again, "magic is forbidden in Camelot."

"Be that as it may," he said, "you have been enchanted and I cannot remove the spell this close to the Capital."

"No," she shook her head, "no you must," her fingers dug into his forearms, "please, you must!"

"I will, child, I will," he soothed, "but we must leave this road quickly. Whatever this enchantment has made you do it is not unheard of for a Pendragon to hunt down those who have caused him offense."

The woman looked up at him, a flurry of emotion passing across her features before they hardened. Reaching up she swiped at the tears that fell from her cheeks and nodded her consent. Turning around she grabbed the hair ornament and folded it back into the cloth. Turning she tucked the cloth into the cart and grasped the handle. Iseldir shook his head, urgency gripping him at the unfortunate nature of the situation they found themselves in.

"Take only what you need," he said, "it is best if the King thinks you taken or dead," she turned to look at him, her lips parting as though to rebuke the statement and he stepped forward, "the magic that grips you is making your emotions change. Your loyalty to your King is ill place with your offense so fresh in his mind. We must leave this place before he sends his Knights after you," she still lingered and Iselidr forced his trump card, "whatever you have done to offend him in the grip of this enchantment you will do again, I can assure you, until I remove it you are not safe in the walls of the City."

She might not have been safe in the walls afterward either but the reminder of her banishment seemed to work. Quickly the woman reached into the barrow and pulled out the hair ornament. Hurrying to the back she threw back the blanket and began to dig through the possessions there. Iseldir turned his attention to the road, both to give her privacy and to keep an eye for the Knights. He was half expecting Arthur Pendragon himself to come charging down the road and demand the poor woman's head, forcing Emry's to watch as another died for magic.

"When you are finished leave the barrow as it is," he instructed, "the more it looks like your possessions were gone through the better."

"Alright," her reply came softly.

A sound reached his ears and Iseldir spun towards the Capital, his heart leaping into his throat. Dropping to his knee he plunged his hand into the earth with enough speed to make the dirt ripple. The magic only confirmed the pair of horses that galloped towards them. They were fast and the dirt pounded with their strength even as the air billowed with a pair of scarlet cloaks embroidered with the golden dragon.

"What is it?" she asked turning to him.

"They are coming," he said straightening up, "we must go."

She turned desperately towards the Capital, emotion shining in her eyes as her fingers tightened on the sack that held her most important belongings. Iseldir grabbed her arm and all but pulled her up the hill. Pushing her to the other side, he turned around and flung out a hand, power racing across his fingertips and hiding their footprints as well as upsetting the barrow even further. Turning around he flung himself onto the earth beside the young woman, making certain they were hidden as the Knights galloped around the bend.

"Gwaine-" the first Knight called to his companion.

"I see it!" the second, Gwaine, bit back.

Iseldir listened as the two men stopped their horses and dismounted. The woman beside him tensed, her arms encircling the bag in an attempt for comfort. One of the men went for the cart while the other looked around before cupping his hand to his mouth to magnify his voice.

"Gwen!" he shouted.

"Leon, all her jewelry's gone," Gwaine said jumping down from the barrow, "whoever took her had the sense to cover their footprint," there was a frustrated sigh from Leon followed by Gwaine's swear and Iseldir winced at the sound of a fist meeting wood, "what was she thinking heading off without a horse?"

"Gwen wouldn't take something she didn't think she deserved," Leon said.

"We should have left the moment we found out," Gwaine said furiously, "not waited a full day for Arthur to calm down. I swear-"

"That's enough Gwaine," Leon cut him off, "focus on what you can learn from the barrow, we need to see how far they've gone."

"Hold on," Gwaine said and moved towards the horse. A moment later warm light blossomed across the road, supplementing the dawn light. The cart creaked under his weight as he stepped onto the back of it, "looks like they've taken her jewelry, a dress and-" he stopped, "a few of her smithing tools are gone as well."

"That makes no sense," Leon said heading over to him, "bring that light over here," Iseldir heard the whisper of his cloak as he moved before silence followed. Desperately he thought back to when he used magic, wondering if he had somehow given them away but finally Leon cleared his throat, "no, just a broken wheel."

"That's it then?" Gwaine's angry voice came back to them, "a broken wheel and some missing jewelry? That's all we have to go on? We should ride back to Camelot and break out Elyan or get Percy, someone who can really track. Or better, we should tell Arthur whats happened here."

"No!" Leon cut him off with surprising harshness, "we barely snuck away, would you really put another Knight in danger? Have I taught you nothing?" Gwaine made a sound in the back of his throat and Leon continued, urgency in his voice, "missing jewelry and a broken wheel are not nothing but leading a furious King to a barrow where the only tracks are our is a foolish idea. Arthur is furious and I'll not see him take that out on Gwen."

"So you would have us sit on our asses and attend to the King while she's been kidnapped?" Gwaine demanded.

"No, of course not," Leon said, "but we cannot just go charging after her."

"Why not?"

"I will not see another person banished!" Leon bellowed, matching his furious tone before continuing in a tighter, softer one, "especially not you, seeing as this will be your third banishment."

"Second," Gwaine gritted out, "I was still banished the first time when I came back."

Iseldir tore himself from the strange argument to look at the young woman, Gwen, for that was who she had to be. She looked positively agonized, torn between running to the knights and fear of the magic that still gripped her. She knew the two men, well enough it seemed that they would run after her at the first opportunity and risk infuriating the King. Iseldir felt entirely like an outsider, as though he was missing some crucial piece of information that would make all of this fit together. Gwen knew the King well enough that someone would risk putting strong enchantment on her. Iseldir could count on one hand the people he knew who could work a spell similar to the one the young woman bore and as he thought of them all had reason enough to wish the son of Uther Pendragon dead.

"I'm returning to Camelot," Leon said, "I'll meet up with the dawn patrol outside the city."

"Hold on," Gwaine said reaching up and unfastening something, "take this with you, if they find it gone-"

"Of course," Leon said, "there's a village down the road. Start there," Gwaine made a sound of confirmation, "here," he tossed something towards him, "see if anyone recognizes that."

Iseldir pressed a hand to Gwen's shoulder, holding here there as she struggled to look up at what the two men had exchanged. Her eyes went to him and he shook his head, praying she would remember the position she was in. Tears welled in the young woman's eyes but she nodded her silent confirmation, wrapping her arms tighter around the sack in her lap. It seemed like hours before the two Knights moved, Sir Leon back to the Capital and Sir Gwaine to the village. Iseldir waited until the two men were truly gone before he removed his hand from Gwen's shoulder.

Pushing himself to his feet he resisted the urge to curse. He and his people were effectively sandwiched between two Knights who cared enough about the young woman next to him to come search for her in spite of their King's orders not to. Gwaine was willing to risk other Knights, one of whom seemed to have been imprisoned in what Iseldir could only imagine was a defense of Gwen. Iseldir turned to look at the strangle bewitching creature beside him.

"We need to leave before the King sends more men for you," he said.

She nodded, silently getting to her feet and looking over her shoulder at the road. Longing was etched on her face, longing for a life she could no longer call her own and despite the knowledge that trouble seemed to follow this woman, Iseldir felt his heart soften at the look on her face, for it was one he recognized all too well.

"I understand your pain," he told her softly. Her tearful gaze turned towards him, confusion in her eyes, "who better than a druid to understand the pain of leaving a life in Camelot before you are ready?"

Her eyes widened in surprise and belatedly he realized that perhaps she had simply thought him a magic user. But the expression on her face smoothed out quickly, leaving only a hint of unease in her gaze. Iseldir recognized it as a mark of training and politeness, he doubted there was a person in Camelot who would not look on a druid with suspicion. And here he was about to bring that to the people he had sworn to protect. It would not be the first time that Iseldir had risked everything for one loyal to the Pendragon line and as he turned towards the camp, he sent up a silent prayer that it would not be the last.

Iseldir stepped forward and after a moment heard her follow him into the darkness of the woods.

Next time: Gwen's enchanted, the Druids are confused and Iseldir's really just trying to help.