Two years later
Alennia was leaning lazily against a tree just outside the circle of firelight. Despite her drowsy appearance, she was wide-awake, taking in and processing every scrap of information. In the light of the large fire stood a tall man, with fierce tattoos and wild, matted hair. His name was Merlin. Around him was grouped both men and women, all armed and all warriors. They were arguing fiercely while Merlin watched with an amused look on his face – the outcome of their argument affected him little, since he commanded them, and therefore they would do as he bade them no matter what they thought.
"Silence!" Alennia finally roared, irritated by the constant bickering of the heads of the Woad tribes. "Listen to your commander," she said sharply. In the two short years she had fought with Merlin she had earned many enemies among the tribes. But she fought the Saxons with a ruthless skill, and was therefore vastly useful to Merlin, who now directed the amused expression at her.
"I thank you, Alennia," he said in his harsh, guttural voice, before turning back to the assembled leaders. "Arthur Castus has demanded a meeting. I go to talk to him tomorrow on the plains before the wall. We have agreed that each of us will have one of our people to accompany us, no more, no less. Coming with me is…" he paused, well aware of the enormity of his decision as to who would accompany him, for whichever tribal leader he chose would be considered exalted among the others, and therefore yet another feud would break out between clans. "…Alennia," he finished.
Alennia was momentarily taken aback, and uncurled her lean body from where she rested against the tree as she recovered her surprise. "My Lord," she said, bowing her head to him. Despite her shock, she could not help but grin at the incredulous expressions on the faces of the assembled chiefs.
Merlin nodded his head slowly, as if considering something to himself. "I have no doubt a battle is coming," he said slowly. "A battle that will decided the Roman – Woad war for the next year. Make your tribes ready, for when I call I expect them to come," his placid voice hid a scarcely veiled threat in his words, and all listening were well aware of it.
"That is all," Merlin said wearily. "Go."
The tribal leaders rose, some reluctantly, some willingly, and began to disperse. Alennia was aware of the looks thrown in her direction, full of loathing and malice, but she heeded them not. When the last Woad had disappeared silently into the trees Alennia approached Merlin.
"I am honoured," she said, bowing her head as a mark of respect for him.
"You will do well tomorrow, or I shall look a fool," Merlin remarked.
"I will not fail you," Alennia promised.
"Even if you do," Merlin said, with a ghost of a smile on his face. "It would be worth it to have seen their faces."
Alennia laughed as she retreated out of the firelight. "Dawn tomorrow?" she asked as she left.
"Dawn tomorrow," he agreed, watching as the wiry form of Alennia melted into the blackness.
He stood there for some time, thinking about the woman who faced life with a cynical, amused attitude, and fought like she had nothing to lose. She was a good warrior, he admitted to himself, a very useful weapon against both the Saxons and his own people.
And yet there was something in her that was not all it seemed. For all her sarcasm and cynicism there were times, Merlin reflected, when she seemed almost human. When she showed in her eyes that she hurt and loved like any other man or woman. He sighed and turned away from the fire. Who knew what the following dawn would bring? All he could do was hope that the mocking woman whom he had placed his trust in would not fail him.
Alennia strode out of the clearing and into the dark trees, her mind already plotting and scheming. She needed to do this thing right tomorrow – she had enough enemies as it was, and certainly wouldn't survive long without Merlin's protection.
A few hundred yards from the clearing where she had left Merlin, stood two horses, and a boy of about fourteen years curled up, half asleep at the bottom of a tree, his cloak wrapped tightly around him and his hand folded firmly over the horses' reins.
Alennia absent-mindedly kicked him in the side as she came up to him, and then turned to busy herself with her horse as he woke with a start.
"We have work to do," she said tersely, as the boy jumped to his feet, all traces of sleep gone from his face.
His name was Manat, and Alennia had found him a year back: the only survivor of a Saxon raid. Since then he had followed Alennia, caring for her horses, fighting by her side and keeping her sword sharp and her bow taut. She had saved his life, and now he insisted on serving her until he had pain that debt. Or at least that was how Alennia saw it. To Manat, Alennia was a chance to kill Saxons, and he would follow her to the ends of the earth if she bade him, so loyal was he to her.
"Where now?" he asked, as the two of them swung up onto their horses.
"To find some archers," Alennia replied with a quick grin at him, before turning her horse and wheeling away into the darkness, with Manat on her heels.
A/N – to clear some thing up: yes, for all you bright sparks this is indeed a TristanOC (sorry, that wasn't meant to sound as mean as it came out). It's set before the film, and starts in the knights' third year of service to Rome. Sorry this is still quite short – a nice long chapter coming up next. Promise! Any suggestions would be greatly welcomed – I don't really have much of an idea about where this is going: it just randomly came to me one day when I was climbing Snowdon actually (for all you Americans, on non-English people, that's the third highest mountain in Britain, and it possibly the best mountain I've ever climbed. Anyway, that's irrelevant, but…what was I saying? Oh yeah, this isn't one of those carefully prepared stories, it's a random collection of ideas, so any direction would be great! Love y'all, and keep up with those reviews please!