A/N: Thank you to those who have decided to follow my little story. I know it is not perfect in any way, but I am enjoying my time writing it. The headache it has produced has ebbed, so that I am grateful for. I am also grateful to anyone who reads this because at least some are recognizing my work, even if you don't leave a review. I just take comfort in the knowledge that you are reading it. It makes my day brighter.

Without further ado, here is chapter 4.

Happy reading!

Henny, that lucky Penny!

Introduction

"He didn't like that I wasn't married. He said I was getting too old and that I wouldn't make any man happy if I married old!" Gwyndolyn was talking very fast, almost like she wanted her brother to believe her, "He told me to find a nice dress and sit outside and wait for a man to snatch me up. I was twelve!" she nearly shouted. Tristan flinched at the volume.

"You are twelve, or you were twelve? Because you are Tristan's baby sister, we wouldn't want to get comfused." a smooth voice came behind the pair. Gwyndolyn gripped the dagger that Tristan had leant her in a white knuckle grasp. Tristan smirked at his sister.

"You were in the room when I told Arthur my age." she muttered, her voice still not confident in Latin.

"And how did you get to be here, at Hadrian's Wall, fair lady?" the flirtatious knight sat beside Gwyndolyn. Her back tensed. So much time had been spent alone and she was very bothered by the presence of others.

"Walking." she mumbled around a bite of potatoes. Tristan observed the pair talking. Her Latin was not bad for being self taught.

"Leave her be, Lancelot. She is trying to eat." a tall redish blonde young man tried to reign in his brother in arms. Gwyndolyn looked to Tristan who sighed. She was lost without names.

"Gawain. Galahad. Lancelot. Bors. Dagonet. Gheris. Gareth." he murmured to her while pointing to each man in turn, "Bradon. Kieran. Athdar. And Phelan." Tristan completed the group around the table. Gwyn had taken her time in studying faces. She was good at remembering names and faces, "This is Gwyndolyn."

Murmurs of greetings sounded around the table. Gwyn offered small polite smiles in return. Soon, the knights were being served their own meals. Ale was being passed around joyfully. The noise set Gwyn on edge. Tristan, normally one for quiet himself, sat comfortably in the background as his brothers celebrated being alive. They toasted those who had fallen recently and asked the Gods to keep them safe. Gwyn observed the happenings around the tavern.

A young woman, a dark red head, had a small one in a sling and two bigger ones nipping at her heels, was serving Romans and the knights. She looked completely comfortable working around two little ones at her feet. The knight named Bors would look on the swaddled babe every time the woman passed their table. She would let a small, secret smile float across her features at the small gesture. Gwyn surmised that those were Bors' children and that the red haired woman was his lover. She bore no significant markings that claimed she were married to the knight.

"Vanora." Tristan murmured after he caught Gwyndolyn following Vanora with her eyes, "You should ask her if she knows about any work needing to be done around the fort." Gwyn yawned loudly as the food settled in her gut. That was the warmest and largest meal she had consumed since she left home.

"Tomorrow." she murmured with half lidded eyes. Tristan nodded in understanding and rose from his seat.

"Good night, brothers." Tristan said over their excited talking. A few mumbled their responses and some waved at him. Gwyn hardly noticed.

The pair ambled slowly through the streets. Tristan kept his eyes moving and searching. His honed eyesight giving him access to the shadows. Gwyn had a hand on his arm to steady her uneasy footing. Tristan almost felt sorry for her, but remembering all those long days that had all of them walking for hours on end, he knew that she would be all right. She was bred and raised to endure physical stress. She was only tired because of all the excitement.

He held the door to his room open for his sister and closed it quietly. Gwyn looked around uncertainly and Tristan knew that she didn't have any gown for sleeping. He crossed the room to his trunk and pulled out a tunic. He handed it silently to her and busied himself with pulling the blanket down so they could crawl under it. He could hear her wrestling with the Roman dress and smirked to himself.

"Tris, are you happy here?" her soft voice broke the comfortable silence. Her exhausted mind had started thinking in Sarmatian again. Tristan set about taking off his boots.

"For the most part. It could be better." he replied as he tugged at his laces.

"The men appear to enjoy their time here." she commented as she sat down beside him on the bed. Tristan shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"We can't leave. We know that. So, we make do with what we are offered." he explained as he shrugged off his tunic. Tristan opted to leave his breeches on.

"I'm sorry." she said softly as she lined her sandals next to his boots. Tristan glanced over to her and saw Gwyn crying softly.

"If I remember correctly, you never took to being ordered about. That was father's most treasured feature about you." he stated quietly as he wiped a tear from her cheek, "You were his little stubborn girl. I am sorry that I was not there to become the man of the house to protect you, little Gwyn, and mother." a quiet hiccup sounded from the small girl as she shook her head.

"You couldn't help it. None of you could deny the Romans." she whispered as she crawled to the edge of the bed next to the wall.

"I am still sorry." he reiterated as he laid next to Gwyn and pulled the covers over them, "Sleep now. That is the only reason why you are crying. I never remember you to shed tears over things that could not be helped."

"Good night, quiet Tristan." she murmured, already half asleep.

"Good night, little Gwyn." Tristan murmured as he rolled over and kissed the top of her braid.

The next morning, Gwyndolyn woke well after sunrise. She stretched her limbs and let a small smile pull at her lips at how loose they felt. The combined hot bath and soft bed had healed her achy muscles from her terrible horse ride. She looked to Tristan's side and saw an apple perched on the pillow. Of course he would need to awake early. He had important knightly duties to attend to.

Gwyndolyn nibbled on the apple as she inspected her skirts that she had been wearing when she arrived. She found that they had been cleaned and dried. The leather mid-length breeches she wore under them had also been scrubbed of dirt. Her leather vest was washed and oiled the day before. But her boots were still caked with dirt. A little frown crinkled her petite features. She could tell they had tried to scrub the dirt, but only managed to clear a quarter of the soil. Did no one know how to clean boots at this fort?

Gwyn finished her breakfast and detached the animal furs from her long skirt of leather. It was much too hot at the fort to be wearing her cold weather furs. Gwyn donned her short breeches and then her vest. She attached a small dagger to the inside of her thigh before wrapping the soft skirt around her hips. After strapping the sandals on her feet, Gwyn snatched her boots from the floor and left Tristan's room.

Her first oder of business was to get her boots cleaned so Gwyn could wear them instead of the stiff sandals. To accomplish this, she had to make her way outside. So she manuevered herself through the halls of the fort and greeted the sun with blinking eyes. After taking a breathe of warm air, she set to work of finding a stone with a sharp edge.

When Gwyn located one, she found the nearest piece of wall and started to firmly hit the toes of her boots against the stone. Clouds of dust formed as she pounded the loose soil from her boots. When no more clouds appeared, she found the shade of a tree to sit on the ground and used the stone she located with the sharp edge and began scrapping the hardened earth from the leather.

Due to the pounding earlier, the dried mud came off fairly easily. It took Gwyn less time than she had predicted. She inspected her work and found she was satisfied with it. Gwyn rose from her patch of earth and dusted the flecks of dried mud off her skirt. Completing the task, Gwyn made her way back to Tristan's room to change into her boots.

Ridding herself of the awful sandals, Gwyn stood in the room and wiggled her toes. She loved the feel of her boots on her feet. They were comfortable and soft. A smirk graced her lips as she untied the plait from her hair. Her black tresses fell down her back in waves as she shook her hair loose. Gwyn combed her fingers through her hair quickly and then set out to complete her second task of the day; talking to Miss Vanora about where to work.