Those Who Are Lost

Bridget moved quickly through the frozen wasteland, stopping a moment to look for the direction of the sun and make sure she was heading in the right direction. She had finally overheard tales of a witch enslaving men in the north. For what purpose, no one seemed to know, but Bridget was sure she had finally found Morgana.

She moved quickly, barely stopping to sleep as she made her way to Ismere. She wasn't sure what sort of fortress Morgana would have there but assumed that she wouldn't be able to just waltz through the front doors. No matter. She would work out a plan once she arrived and saw just what she had to work with.

A deep sense of purpose had filled her. Finally, she would be reunited with the sorceress and show her that she was loyal to the cause. And then, once Morgana had triumphed, she could return to the elves and see her homeland flourish once again.

Bridget's father had moved her family to The Willows nearly two centuries ago after their kingdom in the far north had faded. She had finally grown accustomed to the warmer climes of The Willows, but her heart had always longed for the land of ever winter where she was born and raised. She felt much more at home once she reached the snow-covered land where Morgana was rumored to be, able to move swiftly and discreetly among the snow, though she wished she had retained some of her cloaks and other assorted clothing from Geimhreadh.

She had just cleared the top of a hill when she heard voices and ducked behind some trees, cautiously peering down. She could see a group of men gathered around a fire, likely making camp early with the night quickly approaching and making it nearly impossible for them to continue travel. She noticed they had a group of prisoners tied up nearby, far from the warmth of the fire.

They must be taking new slaves for whatever task Morgana had in action. Frowning, Bridget quickly went through her options. She could always join them but worried she would end up in being taken prisoner herself. Not to mention, she could move much more quickly on her own. She decided then the swiftest route would be to wait until they were asleep and sneak passed them, continuing on her set course through the night. By the time they awoke the next day, they would still be unable to catch up to her with the prisoners and wagons slowing them down. She could also go around but feared that would add more time than she wanted to her journey and they would eventually catch up to her.

No, to wait was the best course, she told herself as she settled into the trunk of the tree, deciding she would conserve her energy for the time being and eat a bit. At least then she would be able to go for longer once she did set out later.

"What have we here?" a voice said roughly, rousing Bridget from her slumber. She jumped to her feet and looked around, unsure of just how long she had been asleep. She hadn't meant to but assumed the last few days of constant travel had finally caught up to her. Normally she would have heard them approach.

She quickly looked around, pulling a dagger out. She was surrounded by three men. She would not have worried, though two held their swords out while the third had an arrow trained on her. But she was a bit sluggish as tendrils of sleep held on to her.

"Been followin' us, have you?" one growled as he leered at her.

"Think she's got use for a woman?" another asked.

"Dunno if she does, but I certainly do," the first replied. Bridget narrowed her eyes at them. She quickly loosed her dagger, impaling the man holding the bow in the leg. He roared in pain as he fell to the ground and Bridge took the opportunity to run. She could hear the men huffing as they struggled to chase after her in the deep snow. She at least had that advantage over them, able to run atop the drifts.

She ducked through branches and around trunks, hearing their labored breathing soften behind her. Grinning, she glanced over her shoulder, seeing them far behind her. But when she turned around, she collided with a solid body, falling back into the snow. Before she could stand, the man grabbed ahold of her wrist and dragged her up.

"Let me go!" she shouted, trying to reach for another dagger.

"I'm not going to hurt you! And I won't let them either!" the man said, his eyes seeming kinder than the others.

"Then let me go," she said, still struggling against him. He grabbed hold of her other wrist and swung her around, seeming to easily take both of her wrists in one hand as he quickly tied them together with rope from a satchel.

"I'm afraid I can't," he said.

"And why not? Just tell them I overpowered you. Likely they'll believe you if I got away from the others," Bridget said.

"You aren't safe out here on your own," the man replied. "There are other Saxons and they will do far more than hurl taunts at you." He started dragging her back to the camp. "But at least if you travel with me, I can see you safely to the fortress. I'm sure the witch there would take pity on another woman."

Bridget stopped struggling as she looked over at him.

"If you are helping me, then why tie me up?" she asked.

"It's only for show. I'll make sure you can ride on the wagon. You look tired," he replied.

"I'm fine," she stated, holding her head up. "I can travel much easier without your help and I doubt the others would be able to catch me." He glanced sideways at her, a small smile on his face.

"Brave words from such a small woman," he said.

"I'm not some helpless damsel in distress," Bridget declared, starting to struggle again.

"Would you stop-"

The man froze as Bridget's hair flew back from her face and he caught sight of her ears.

"You're an elf," he said softly. Bridget stood still for a moment, glaring at him.

"So?" she said, challenging him. He quickly reached up and covered her ears. For a moment, Bridget was stunned. He did seem to truly want to help her.

"Why are you up here?" he asked, pulling her along. "I thought all elves had sided with King Arthur. You're not on some mission to assassinate the witch, are you?"

"Of course not. I'm seeking refuge with her," she said, starting to struggle again.

"Ah, seems Mordred's found the lass," one of the men called out as they neared them. He just glanced at them and continued pulling her towards the camp.

"Let me go," Bridget shouted again, managing to land a strong kick to this Mordred's shin. He loosened his grip briefly as he buckled and Bridget tried to run again. She was immediately caught by one of the other men, who easily picked her up and swung her over his shoulder.

"Don't take it hard, Mordred. She got Aart fairly good with a dagger," the man said, grinning. He then slapped Bridget on the rump, causing her to shout in indignation.

"No one is to harm her!" Mordred shouting, jumping quickly to his feet as he glared at the tall man.

"We won't harm her… may have a bit of fun with her, but we won't harm her," the man replied. Mordred started towards him but was held back by two others. "Ah… seems Mordred wants her all to himself, now…"

"That's not it!" he shouted, trying to throw the two off.

"You'll do good to remember who's in charge here," the man said before turning and starting to walk towards the camp. Mordred glared after him as Bridget continued to kick and struggle. He was let loose and fell in step behind the man.

"Be still," he warned her in her mind. Bridget froze as she stared at him. "They'll see your ears."

Who was this man and why was there a druid so far north? Working with Saxons, at that.

"Seems she's lost a bit of her fight," the man called out jollily. They were nearly at the fire. One of the others stepped closer, grabbing Bridget's chin to lift her face up to better inspect.

"Fair woman, she is," he declared. "Ah… what's this?" Bridget started squirming again as he lifted her hair. "She's no woman… it's a she-elf."

Bridget groaned in pain as she was roughly tossed to the ground next to the fire, her hands still tied tightly behind her. She glared up at the Saxon men. The group of prisoners perked up at the announcement, trying to get a good look at her.

"Now, what is an elf doing so far north?" the man who had carried her asked, bending down to look into her face. Rather than answering, Bridget spit at him. The man frowned and then slapped her, causing her to fall to her side.

"Stop it!" Mordred shouted. "She said she was seeking refuge at the fortress." The man stood and looked over at him and then back down at Bridget.

"This true, elf?" he asked brusquely.

"Yes," she said, still glaring as her cheek smarted. "My allegiances do not lie with the elves of The Willows." He studied her a moment and then nodded.

"We take her on and see what the sorceress wants with her. Not much she can do tied up," he said. "Take her weapons."

Bridget tried to squirm away as two men descended on her, one holding her down while the other made a quick search for all her daggers. She head-butted him when his hand strayed too far to where it should not go, earning another slap across the face.

"Let me," Mordred said, trying to push them away. "I won't set her free."

"Fine. See if you do any better," the man shouted, though he stood by to watch in case the younger man didn't keep his word.

"I promise, I won't hurt you," Mordred said softly as he began to pull out various daggers hidden about Bridget. She could help but smirk at the look of astonishment as he continued to find more. Once he had six laid out in the snow, he looked her over again. "Is that all?"

"Course," Bridget replied, carefully lying about the one hidden under the tight chemise she wore under all her clothes. Mordred then nodded and stepped away for a moment while the two previous men watched her closely. She continued to glare at them. Suddenly a heavy fabric dropped over her shoulders. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing he had put a blanket around her.

"I won't let her run off," he said, looking at the men. "But she stays near the fire tonight."

"Suit yourself," one replied as they sat nearby.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, kneeling next to her.

"No," she said defiantly. Mordred just rolled his eyes and stepped over, retrieving a rough bowl and dipping it into a pot over the fire. He then returned and held it up to her. "I said I wasn't hungry."

"Just… eat. It's still a few days from the fortress and you'll need your strength," he said, pleading slightly with her. Bridget rolled her eyes and bent forward, putting her lips to the bowl as he tilted it up. She grimaced slightly at the taste but managed to swallow it.

"Whatever are they cooking? Poison?" she asked. He chuckled slightly.

"Might not say that too loudly. Might not allow you anything else for the rest of the trip," he said. Bridget just rolled her eyes and looked at the fire as she shifted around, trying to get comfortable. It was hard with her hands still tied behind her. "I'm Mordred."

"I know," she retorted.

"Might be easier if I knew your name," he pushed. She glanced at him and then back at the fire.

"Bridget…"

Despite Mordred telling her she would ride in the wagon, when dawn came, Bridget was tied in line with the rest of the prisoners and made to walk. She didn't mind it so much - she was much more comfortable with at least her hands now in front of her. And she knew she could walk a lot farther than the others without tiring.

But she did not like that they had taken her pack. Or that her guard, Mordred, was at her side constantly. He said it was for her own protection, but she felt it had more to do with his curiosity.

"Why did you leave your home?" he asked after they had been walking a couple miles.

"They are my reasons and my reasons alone," she replied curtly, keeping her eyes forward.

"Why are you seeking out the witch?" he then asked.

"No reason for you to know," she said. The man in front of her stumbled, causing her to run into him and then the long line behind her to run into her. She cursed in Elvish, glaring at him.

"What language is that?" Mordred asked.

"The tongue of my people," she said, still not looking at him.

"Could you teach it to me?" he asked.

"Why?" she asked, finally looking over at him. He shrugged.

"I would like to learn," he said. Bridget rolled her eyes.

"No mortal could learn it," she said, not sure if it was true, but feeling the need to exert some sort of pride or control.

"I might if you gave me a chance," he thought, causing Bridget to narrow her eyes again. "You know my secret… you could tell any of them now if you wanted. You can trust me, Bridget."

"I fear there is not enough time to even begin with the basics," she replied. He nodded and continued on in silence for a few minutes. "I was born in a land not far from here…" Mordred looked over at her, a smile beginning to form. "At one point in time, there were elven kingdoms all over…"

The caravan came to a sudden stop just two days later. Bridget was in the middle of another story from her childhood when a shout went out. She looked around, eyes wide.

"What's happening?" she asked, looking at Mordred. Despite her earlier trepidation, she found his company slightly enjoyable as they walked. It at least helped pass the time.

"You're going ahead to the castle. Here is where we must part," he said.

"Why aren't you going?" she asked.

"Most of us must head back out to find more men. But it's a short walk from here. No one will try anything before you reach the castle," he said. She nodded and glanced around.

"Will I see you again?" she asked before she could help herself.

"Perhaps," Mordred said, smiling at her. "And careful how you use that last dagger you have hidden." Bridget's eyes widened as he walked away and the caravan started moving forward. She shook her head slightly and put her focus forward. Now came the moment of truth… whether Morgana would once again accept her into her fold.

Bridget stood still, wondering if she should step forward immediately to announce her presence once Morgana walked into the courtyard or patiently wait her turn as the sorceress made her way down the line, inspecting the men the Saxons had brought her.

She didn't say much and Bridget could feel her heart start to pound as she grew nearer.

"Ah, nearly forgot. Found an elf," the leader of the group said. Morgana's head snapped over as she glared at him.

"Why did you not mention this when you arrived?" she said curtly, now starting to look down the line.

"Said she was seeking refuge," the man continued.

"I am here, my lady," Bridget said, stepping forward and then bowing. The men next to her, glowered in contempt, though she paid no heed. "I've searched for you the last two and a half years."

"Bridget?" Morgana said, stepping up to her. Bridget looked up, almost afraid to meet her eyes.

"I left shortly after the Queen left to help King Arthur defend Camelot," she said, looking back down to her feet.

"You spent all this time… searching for me?"

"I wanted to show you that I can be useful. And that my loyalties lie with you," Bridget said. She could see the toes of Morgana's shoes peeking out from under her gown as she stood in front of her. Softly, she felt fingertips on her chin, lifting her face up to look at her.

"It seems you have indeed proven yourself… finding me in this barren land," Morgana said. While the smile on her face was surely meant to be soft and warm, Bridget could not help but find an icy edge to it. "Release her at once. She is no prisoner, though I should flog you for treating her as such. Take the rest to the tunnels and then you will receive your pay."

Bridget stood up, holding her hands out as one of the men cut the rope around her hands.

"I should like my pack and daggers," she said coldly, staring down her nose at him. He huffed slightly and walked over to the wagon, retrieving her pack, bow and arrows, and the daggers wrapped up. She grabbed them, being sure to count everything, then turned on her heel, following Morgana into the castle.

"You must be cold and tired. I will have a servant take you to a room where you can have a warm bath. I'll also send you some warm clothing," Morgana said.

"Thank you, my lady. I am so grateful," Bridget said, meaning it with all her heart. The thought of a warm bath had her heart soaring.

Morgana abruptly stopped and turned to her, her face dark.

"Make no mistake, Bridget. You still must prove yourself useful to me. There is much to be done and I will tolerate no more mistakes," she said, her voice low with warning. Bridget nodded quickly.

"Yes, of course, my lady."

Later that night after dining with Morgana and Ruadan and being appraised of their current plans, Bridget retired to her rooms, her mind reeling. It seemed much had happened in their years apart. And now Morgana sought something she called the key to all wisdom which would help her defeat Arthur.

She was part elated to finally find a purpose after all her years of searching, but there was something unsettled in her mind as she crawled into her bed that night. She could not quite place what it was, but pushed it aside, grateful for a warm bed.

No sooner had she closed her eyes, Bridget found herself deep into sleep. Before her stood the young man who had befriended her. Mordred.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, unsure of why he would make an appearance in her dreams.

He smiled at her and said nothing as dark swirls of smoke encircled him. When it cleared, she found herself standing in the midst of a great battle. Her eyes widened as she saw Mordred and King Arthur locked in combat. She started to run for them, shouting Mordred's name as she feared for his life.

Suddenly, Mordred struck a fatal blow. Before he could fall, King Arthur delivered his own. Bridget stopped, her hands flying to her mouth as she fell to her knees. More smoke appeared and she found herself in the midst of The Willows, dead and empty. Her kin nowhere to be found.

"NO!" she shrieked as she shot up in her bed, looking around the dark room. After a few moments, she managed to drag herself out of the bed and over to a pitcher of water where she shakily poured herself a drink. Gulping it down, she poured another.

Never had Bridget been gifted with the sight. She looked around the room as though the meaning were hidden somewhere there in the shadows. Why would Fate allow her to see such things?

But part of her knew why. She had chosen to come to this winterland with the desire to bring magic back to her people. This vision… she was to somehow use it to determine her role in all this. The shaking now gone, Bridget walked back over to her bed, crawling into it.

She was not sure what to do with what she had seen, but she knew one thing.

She could not mention a word of it to Morgana.

Just checking in with Bridget. Haven't forgotten about her.

Arthur here - Haha! That's coming. And it's fun.

Fullshadow - Seriously, I want to move to The Willows. Haha, I still don't have much figured out with the sequel, so it'll be a while coming. But I have a couple chapters written. Just need to figure out the plot and then I'll start writing more. Thanks!

Gingeraffealene - Still have a bit more to write, but it's finally coming along. ^_^ Haha, and Gwaine can be annoying, but he thankfully can keep a secret.

Redwood - Thanks! There's more than 5 chapters left to the story, but I've got about 3-4 chapters left to finish writing. I haven't set the plot for the sequel, but it will be another Merlin story. I've got a couple sequels in the works - the one to this story and another for a Twilight story that I've written. And I do write original fiction (I have sooo many stories started) just haven't gotten around to posting/publishing any of it yet.

OechsnerC - Haha, I actually struggled with that a little bit, wondering just how Gwaine was going to find out and then this little nugget came out of my head. ^_^

Thanks everyone for reading and following!