DISCLAIMER: See other chapters!

NOTES: This is very short, but it is very late and I'm really tired. I'll make it up tomorrow, I promise!

Thanks to all who read and review: I cherish your interest and am very glad you like the story! Thank you.

This chapter is dedicated to my friend Franzi…..who will move to Glasgow soon.

SHADOW

They were sitting around the fire like they had always done; eating, drinking …..Laughing. But there was no laughter now ….they were too aware of the fact that there was just the three of them. No jesting was going to change that. Galahad sat on a thick tree trunk, gnawing on an apple. His eyes were fixed on Gawain whose face was tight with concentration. They were once again trying to best each other in throwing knifes at a tree several feet away.

Arthur was inside, meeting with a suddenly white haired Merlin and a few other woad –chieftains. No doubt he would have rather stayed to drink and talk with his men …..

Guinevere had gone to see Arthur's sister and to inquire after Lancelot, promising to bring them any news she might obtain.

Bors did his best to ignore the unnerving sound of steel burying into wood over and over as he was pondering what to do about his lover and all his bastards. Should he really go home and take them with him, or should he stay?

Now that Arthur was likely to become a king, his commander might have use for a strong arm like his. The life of a warrior was all he knew, all he was good at……and there was really nothing to go home to in Sarmatia, where he was concerned ….all his family was dead and buried. Just like poor Dagonet ….

The ear deafening screech of a hawk brought Bors out of his sad reverie the same moment that Galahad threw his knife. The bird flew low over the fire, missing Gawain´s head by an inch, and circled around them once before it finally perched down in the low branches of the tree…..watching them with bright, alert eyes. Another knife hissed by Galahad, close enough that he could feel the draft of the spinning blade on his cheek. They both whirled around to find the blade firmly stuck on the hilt-back of Gawain´s knife. They stared at each other open-mouthed, turning around slowly, searching the darkness around them. Bors got to his feet, drawing his sword as Tristan stepped into the circle of the fire's red light. The flames painted dancing shadows across his skin, as though the fire had come alive and was reaching out for the slender man. They had not heard his approach …..He was still as quiet and imperceptible as ever.

"How do you do that?" The words tumbled from Gawain´s mouth in a breathless whisper. They all stood frozen, staring at the friend they had seen falling, whose body they had carried from the battlefield, not sure if they could trust their eyes. Their faces were anxious, torn between the joy of seeing him alive again, shock and doubt of what had been done to him, what he might have become.

Tristan took them all in for the time of a few heartbeats, noticing the awe as well as the silent terror in their expressions. Then he shrugged, as though he did not notice any change in their behaviour towards him, the hint of a secretive, bemused smile playing over his lips.

"I told you once before …aim for the middle."

Bors stared at the other man, perplexed, before he threw his head back and exploded into his loud, contagious belly- laugh. The other two knights exchanged baffled glances, but the tension was broken and they quickly joined Bors in his laughter. They hurried over to Tristan, hugging him to them in bone crushing embraces, clapping him on the shoulders.

"It's really you, isn't it?" Galahad asked wondrously looking him up and down.

"Where you expecting somebody else?" Tristan returned with good humour while Bors patted him down front and back as though to make sure his friend was complete and not missing a limb. Once he was satisfied with his findings, he patted Tristan's back hard enough to make the smaller man stumble.

"Good old Tristan!" he yelled. "Too stubborn even to stay dead!"

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"So…" Gawain said hesitantly after they had settled down around the fire, handing around a jug filled with warm, honeyed wine.

"What do you think of her?"

Tristan watched his friend's face carefully, caressing the hawk's feathers in slow, reassuring strokes. The bird nibbled at his finger affectionately.

"The woman?" he asked after a while.

"Arthur's sister." Galahad clarified, taking a deep sip from the jug. "The one he called upon to save Lancelot…." His eyes widened shortly, realizing what he was saying……it had not been meant as a reminder that Merlin had practically brought Tristan back from the dead. He did not even want to ponder that fact ever again ……Galahad looked at his friend and then quickly looked away. Staring into he fire he took another deep swig of wine before handing the jug over to Bors.

"He thought her dead, but it seems he was deceived on that account. Now that she is back, he seems unwilling to let her go away again." Gawain said thoughtfully

"She's all the family he's got left….."

"But does it not strike you as odd that she returns to him now …like this?"

"She's a witch, that is what she is …." Bors cut in, wiping the wine that had spilled from the jug off his chin. He did not condemn her for it. If it would save Lancelot's life, just like Merlin's arts had brought Tristan back to them, Bors did not care about the circumstances. What counted for him was the result. Still ..He liked to call things by their names.

Tristan still watched them carefully, with his dark, attentive gaze that never failed to see details of importance.

"She's more than that", he said slowly, quietly. All eyes turned to him as they waited for him to elaborate, but Tristan just took a sip of wine. He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the sweet, full taste of the alcohol mixed with honey …the warmth spreading through his body, making him indeed feel alive again.

"What makes you say that?" Galahad asked.

Tristan mulled over his answer for a while, trying to choose his words carefully.

"I do not think there is deceit in her actions towards Arthur ….but there are secrets that she keeps. She holds power Bors, that much is true…but there is more to it."

"Like what?"

Tristan let the hawk fly, watching the bird until it was swallowed by the darkness of the night.

"She's their seer, their priestess ….and she is afraid."