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Ruth was lively that morning, skipping about as Beatrice tried to dress her.

"Please stand still..." she finally cornered her new mistress and tugged the dress down over her head, before spinning the girl with a practiced dexterity, born from many younger siblings, and lacing up the back.

"There"

Ruth bounded free and gave herself one cursory look in the mirror, jumping with joy "It's not orange, it's not ORANGE" she chanted.

Beatrice laughed, her charge's mood infectious. Indeed the dress wasn't orange, it was a deep rich brown known as Sienna. For once, to celebrate a peace with most the purge-wounded Druids, the king had allowed anyone who wished to, to celebrate Samhain in an older way, though extreme use of magic was curtailed. Decorations had exploded over the town and now, on the full day, celebrations were in full swing.

"Ruth" Igraine's voice came through the key hole

"Coming... see you later Beatrice" she dashed out of the room, leaving the poor maid shaking her head in bemusement.

Igraine laughed with abandon as Ruth bounced along next her. Her daughter's scarlet hair ribbon mirrored her own, which was Sienna. Mother and daughter were matching opposites. Caring not one whit who saw she leapt level with Ruth and skipped beside her, kicking her scarlet dress from her ankles with each movement.

Arthur joined them as they crossed the courtyard, taking Ruth's other hand and helping to swing her into the air with each third skip. In that laughing fashion they made their way to the platform in the central square where Uther was already waiting on his throne. With a final swing Ruth leapt up to join him, closely followed by her mother and sibling.

They had barely sat down when the music started, a flighty pipe swirling up old memories of friends lost and old, brave and new. Igraine shut her eyes and let memories of Amy, Bessie and Tristan overwhelm her. Samhain had been a good time with them around, full of wild games and tricks, the sort you wouldn't expect grown people to get caught up in... but they did and caused all sorts of mischief, aided and abetted by Uther when he was fed up with being king, or in the earlier days, just being a knight.

A hooded figure stood in the crowd, watching the royals on their platform. With a long breath the figure started to move away, only to be snared by the magic of the entering dancers.

The Morris men came marching in; two abreast at a time, five pairs of them. Igraine began to grin, they had deliberately left out two of the troop, it meant they would pick a hood and a maiden; someone unidentified and a young girl.

One man advanced, his face black as tradition demanded, the hooded figure drew back but hands met and they found themselves being pulled out into the clear area. Another man was walking toward the Pendragon's platform...

Ruth locked eyes with the man, then glanced sideways to her mother

"Go on" Igraine gave her permission. Ruth walked forward and let the man lift her down onto the ground

"Princess" he addressed her softly "please go and join the hooded one"

She obeyed, ignoring her father's belated attempts at protest. Together she and the 'hooded one' walked forward to complete the ring that the men had formed around the apple pole.

The dancers were in pairs, as the fiddle began to play they held their partner's wrist and circled around the link. When the second fiddle started as well they joined arms or hands to form a ring and began to pace round it in a slow circle. As the pace quickened the strides turned to skips, then complicated foot patterns and hops. When the fiddler slowed and played a different melody they broke apart and turned on the spot with their hands in the air before rejoining and moving in the other direction to the same pattern, slowing to a steady walk and turning a circle once more.

Suddenly a faster beat gripped the air, Ruth and her hooded companion felt their hands released and stepped backward quickly to the crowd's edge. The pace shot skyward, the circle broke as the Morris's turned acrobats, leaping, vaulting off each other's hands. On the final beat the oldest man grabbed an arrow, lit it and fired it to the top of the pole, where an apple drenched in ale sat. The aim was good, the apple caught fire. The pair of redundant dancers watched as waiting druids intoned their traditional song.

As the song ended Ruth felt hands on her shoulders and looked round to see, not the hooded unknown, but instead ....

"GWEN!!!"

It came out as a scream; of delight, not terror or misery. She twisted around to face her friend, flinging her arms around her neck.

"I've missed you" she buried her head in Gwen's shoulder, breathing in the warm comfort that the girl seemed to emulate.

Gwen fell to her knees, clutching Ruth as though her life depended on it. No words could express what she felt at that moment... she didn't even know what it was. Ruth released her neck and instead offered a hand to help her rise. Grasping it she let the old cloak fall from her shoulders, fully revealing herself to everyone as they walked back towards the platform, hand in hand.

Uther could only gape as Ruth came towards him... leading a girl with long brown hair which curled as it fell down her shoulders and back. He heard Igraine cry out, saw her leap off the platform, run to the girl and embrace her... then it finally clicked; it was Guinevere. The girl had actually come back from Cornwall. He'd have to honour his promise...

Even through she saw Igraine leap down and run to her Gwen didn't expect the force of love that was in the embrace she received.

"You came back" whispered the Queen in her ear "I thought I might never see you again"

Gwen pulled back and looked her mistress full in the eyes "No, Igraine I didn't come back..." the Queen frowned in confusion "I came home"

"Yes" she nodded, pulling them tight again "Home to me, home to us"

Gwen gripped her silk dress like a child, not wanting to let go, fearing it was all a dream. In a daze she felt Ruth take one hand and Igraine the other, guiding her the final meters to the platform.

"Sire" she sank into a wobbly curtsey, not minding that the already grubby dress hem got a bit muddier

"Guinevere." He nodded then sighed, not meeting Ruth's triumphant grin beyond.

"Gwen!" Tom came charging through the crowd to his daughter "My Gwen safely home..." He looked down at her clothes "But not so dry I think" Everyone within hearing laughed, knights offering hands as she climbed up onto the platform to stand behind Igraine and Ruth.

"Come on Gwen" Ruth bounded ahead as they climbed the stairs on the outer wall.

"Wait" Gwen laughed as she chased her mistress "Why are we coming up here anyway?"

Ruth didn't answer, but led the way out onto the battlements. She peered out in the distance, as though waiting for something to appear

"Tintagel is a long way away isn't it Gwen"

"Yes" the maid sighed and moved away; Ruth didn't follow, respecting her friend's privacy and regretting bringing up that subject in the first place.

Gwen lent over the battlements, looking toward Cornwall. For the last time she wove her voice to the Cornish tongue

"lowen Samhain Elsed, Freya ha Padraig... lowen Samhain cothmans"

A draft of wind tugging her hair made her look back, over Camelot. Down below stretched the entire city every building seeming like a toy. Above on its hill sat the white stone castle, red flags waving in the breeze. Camelot was many things; capital of a kingdom, a grand city, a trading centre, the seat of the Pendragon family... but now as she looked over it, it was something more, something simpler yet grander....

It was her home.

So Gwen has returned and this story winds down... Don't worry, there is still the Epilogue to come.

Translations

lowen Samhain= Happy Samhain

cothmans=friends

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