So there are two original interpretations of well known characters in the Arthurian legends introduced (kinda) in this chapter. These guys are supposed to be sons of other Knights, but in most of the legends they actually go on quests with Percival, so I didn't put too much stock in the ages. I'm trying to limit the characters introduced but they need to be here for the story.

As it turned out, the answer to Iseldir's question was yes, the day could, in fact, get more odd.

By the time Iseldir returned to the camp, he was half certain the ring in his pocket weighed more than the girl in his arms. Staggering into camp with his eyes gold and a fainted woman in his arms would only cause alarm. Thankfully most were out collecting herbs on Cairrean's orders and the tent that sat closest to the edge was Cairrean's own. He ducked into the structure, taking care not to smack Gwen on one of the poles that supported the tent.

"Iseldir!" Eithne gasped as he moved inside the tent.

"Eithne," he greeted, trying not to gasp as he set Gwen down, "my apologies, I did not mean to startle you."

"No, it is fine," Eithne said, "have you removed the enchantment?"

"Yes," he said, allowing the magic to flow out of him. He felt the world sway as he released the spell of strength and Eithne's strong hands grasped his shoulder, steadying him as she guided him over to the lone stool, "my-"

"Apologies, yes," she said with a smile, "Galahad , get Iseldir some water and tell Bors to make himself useful and heat some water for bandages."

Iseldir accepted the waterskin and drank gratefully, the world slowly coming back into focus. When he opened his eyes Eithne was crouched before him holding out a roll still warm from baking. Iseldir took it gratefully, the food pushing the lightheadedness back even further. It had been many months since he had used magic so freely and he could feel the toll it took on him. That in itself was worrisome but that was a worry for another day. There was much they needed to do before nightfall and he could not afford to be off his feet for any longer.

"Easy," Eithne said when he made to stand, "rest for a moment."

"I cannot," he said with a shake of his head, "we must move quickly from this place."

"And we shall but you'll be no good to anyone if you faint like your friend there," she added nodding to Gwen, "Cairrean has everything under control."

Iseldir looked at the young druid and felt like weeping for her nativity. He smiled instead, knowing that it would be disrespectful and pointless to imply that Cairrean did not. There were precious few leaders left for his people and even fewer who were willing to work together. But aside from her and a handful of others, he could not tell the rest what Emrys had told him. It would put Gwen in far too much danger. As much as he wished to tell her they had to run as fast as they could, he could not, not without raising far more suspicion than he had any right to.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"I'm not certain," Eithne said turning her head, "last I saw she was overseeing the packing," the younger woman frowned and turned her head to where a young man was entering the tent, "Galahad have you seen her?"

"She's packing," came the quiet reply as Galahad walked in with the pot braced between his arms and set it down nearby.

Iseldir looked at the druid. Galahad 's age belayed his experience, both as a leader and a druid. To a passing glance he simply looked like a quiet man, just old enough for the hair that sprinkled his upper lip. His long, red gold hair was caught back in a loose tail and tucked in his hood, a habit he had begun after being called a girl once too often. His gaze was somber but he did not carry the weight of his burdens in his eyes like some.

"Eithne, can you give us a moment?" he asked.

"I'll go find Cairrean for you," she said slipping out of the tent.

Iseldir waited until he was certain she was gone before he turned to Galahad .

"This is Gwen," he said nodding to the unconscious figure, "I removed the enchantment that lingered on her," Galahad nodded his understanding, "she was the target of Morgana, High Priestess of the Old Religion," the young man's features drew together in confusion, "she was used to harm another and it is not difficult to think Morgana or someone with her will try to harm her again."

"You wish me to see her safe," Galahad said.

"I do," Iseldir confirmed.

The young man nodded, his eyes moving to where Gwen was laying. Iseldir could see the young man taking in her appearance and analyzing it. He, in turn, did the same for Galahad . It was difficult to judge the young man's emotions on a good day but he was still sitting there and had not stormed out, which he was prone to do when upset. Finally he looked away from Gwen and back to Iseldir. Quietly he nodded and pushed himself to his feet.

"I agree," he said, "I must finish packing.

"Thank you," Iseldir said.

Galahad left the tent and a few moments later Eithne came in with Cairrean. Iseldir was not surprised to see that she had returned and lingered outside the tent. The druids love of gossip was perhaps the most human thing about them. By nightfall he imagined the entire camp would know that Iseldir had asked Galahad to help keep Gwen safe. It was unusual for a new girl to be given a guard, but not unheard of. Iseldir imagined that Gwen had caused her fair share of rumors and would continue to do so.

"Thank you Eithne. Carriean," he said standing, "I feel the need to stretch my legs."

Eithne barely managed to suppress her curiosity. Iseldir knew him leaving with Cairrean twice in one day would be even more suspicious, but he needed her council. Cairrean followed him out of the tent and into the main encampment. They walked through the main camp and to the outskirts. Cairrean walked to one of the trees and turned to face him with a faint smile on her lips.

"Twice in one day you pull me aside, by the time we make camp next Eithne will have convinced everyone we're lovers."

Iseldir gave a humorless smile. His bachelorhood was the subject of much conversation, the reasons for which he had never been entirely certain. He hated the fact that what he was about to tell her would wipe the smile from her face, maybe for a long time to come.

"Emrys found me," he said.

"What?" Cairrean gasped, surprise robbing the smile from her lips, "when?"

"He came to me as I was removing the spell," he said, "Gwen is a dear friend of his."

"Does she know who he truly is?" Cairrean asked, the hush lingering in her tone.

"No," Iseldir said, "she knows him only as the King's manservant. She is a maid in the palace."

The mere mention of Arthur's title was enough to purse her lips in distaste and Iseldir felt his heart sink. His willingness to help was shared by all, but too much had been lost at the hand of the Pendragons. It was the silence of Arthur Pendragon that drove him from the druid's favor. Even the promise of the Kingdom that he would build was not enough for some. There would always be those who could not forgive the King while he stood by and watched their families be killed. Sometimes Iseldir wondered if he was a good enough person to forgive the King, and he prayed that Cairrean would be good or better than he.

"There's more," he said when Cairrean opened her mouth, "Gwen was enchanted to hurt the King."

"Spit it out, Iseldir, I have no time for games," she snapped with a harshness she reserved for conversations about the Pendragons.

"Gwen is-was-Arthur's bride."

The shock on Cairrean's face was almost comical. Never in a million years would she have expected that Arthur Pendragon would love a maid. Truthfully the shock was not so much that he was marrying a maid but that he was marrying for love. It had always been assumed he would marry for an alliance, probably with a Princess from a kingdom that had been alienated by Uther's insanity. But to marry for love, that was a strange thing. Perhaps it spoke to the best of Arthur Pendragon that he would marry for love, regardless of class.

"She needs to go back to Camelot," Cairrean said when the shock had worn off.

"No," Iseldir said without a moment's hesitation.

"She cannot stay here. Iseldir, it was mad enough that you took in a girl who had offended the King so recently. But we cannot fight both Morgana and the Knights at the same time! The fight will come to magic at the very least and all will be lost."

"Which is why we must keep her safe," he said, "Cairrean, think for a moment. If we help Arthur's beloved, think what this could do for both our people."

"If she has been banished she is not his beloved," Cairrean pointed out.

"She is," he said, "enchantment or no, she was to be his bride days ago. Do you think that the heart can grow cold that quickly?"

"I do not presume to know the heart of a Pendragon," Cairrean spat, "if they even posses such a human attribute."

Iseldir forced himself to hold his silence, not rebuking her like he wished. Under the anger she felt there was pain. The pain of a husband and two sons lost to the executioners axe, the youngest of them barely older than Arthur when it fell. She had every right to hate the King and more right than most to wish for revenge. Iseldir fought not to regret the decision to inform Cairrean of Gwen's true place, but he knew that lying to her would be worse in the end. Honesty was the cornerstone of their united clans, if he lied to her now their tribes were as good as scattered.

The worst of it was that by refusing to send Gwen away he may have done that regardless.

"A girl needs our help," he said, "she has been hurt by magic and is afraid and alone. Would you really have me turn her away?"

"We have no reason to help her," Cairrean said.

"We have every reason to help her," Iseldir said, "how long has it been since someone without magic came to us? Not since Galahad ."

"Galahad was already with the druids," Cairrean said dismissively.

"And you would have us choose who to save?" he asked, trying to appeal for her love of the druid's ways, "what kind of people does that make us?"

"He has cost us everything!" she said, her voice rising in fury, "he cost you everything!"

"And you would have us do the same in return?" he demanded, his voice sharp, "we have spent the past decades fighting to keep our ways alive because of what Arthur will do, because of the world that he will build. We are so close to that world and I will not see you or anyone in this camp ruin that."

Cairrean pressed her lips together with a huff and Iseldir looked away, fighting the urge to press his fingers to the bridge of his nose. It was rare that he snapped, even rarer that he lost his temper. He wished that mention of what had been lost in Uther's quest to eliminate magic did not inspire such anger. But it did, and his pain was not unique among the druids.

"I understand your pain but I will not see us become like Morgana and her sister. We are going to help Gwen and we will see Albion rise in all its glory," Cairrean looked down in anne "if you will not do it because I have asked and you will ignore my orders," she glared at him, "then you will do it because Emrys has asked this of us."

Cairrean's eyes narrowed in anger but Iseldir held firm. He was loathe to order people, despite the fact that as leader of the clan he had the right to. He was also not foolish enough to think his orders would be enough to keep the hurt and anger at bay. Iseldir had something of a reputation for being quite bad at punishing those who disobeyed his orders. But Emry's requests held weight far greater than the words of the highest chief. Even if one day magic returned to Camelot and Arthur took his place as their King, it would still be Emrys whose words were followed without hesitation.

"This changes nothing," Cairrean said finally, her voice tight, "I assume you are planning to tell the other council?"

"Yes," Iseldir said.

"I suggest you do it one by one," Cairrean said, "and bring a shield. Lionel may very well try to kill you for this news."

She was floating.

That was the first thought to occur to Gwen. She could feel the ground moving underneath her, but warmth and softness cocooned her. The next thing to occur to her was that she was not in her bedroom. It was too soft and the place smelled of musk and herbs, not the pale flowers she placed in her house. Nor did it smell like the bright pink lilies she had seen Arthur attempting to smuggle into his bedroom in an apology for the not-quite finished state of the rooms they would move into after their wedding.

The wedding.

Gwen's eyes snapped open as her body jolted up. Her eyes darted around the interior of the wagon she found herself in as the heavy blankets that covered her fell to her lap. She was dressed in the same cloak and pants that she had worn when she left her home. Though it had been two days ago, her entire body felt painfully sore and her cloths looked and smelled as though she had worn them for weeks. Closing her eyes she reached up and pressed her hand to her forehead. Pain shot through her hand. Wincing she moved her palms down and looked at the bandages that lined her palms.

The past two days were cloaked in a haze of misery and pain, but she remembered staggering down the road. She had been grateful for the pain, the more her body hurt the less her heart seemed to ache. She had been praying for bandits or infection from her cuts, praying to die so that she would not have to feel the way she did. She was supposed to wed. She and Arthur were supposed to finally finally have their happily ever after. And she had gone and ruined it. She deserved the pain of a slow, agonizing death and just as she was about to sit by the road and wait for death she had found her hair clip. And a moment later a druid had found her.

Kicking off the blankets, Gwen scrambled to the front of the wagon and pushed open the folds of the covering.

She was in a procession.

That was the only way to describe what was going on around her. A large group of people were walking despite the night road, their way lit by lanterns held on long poles. Tents and heavy equipment seemed to be in the carts and distributed among the handful of horses she saw. But every person seemed to carry a thick pack and the children held smaller parcels. The group seemed to take over the road, spreading their footprints across the path.

"There's water to your left."

Gwen turned to look at the man who held the reins in his hand. He kept his eyes on the road but Gwen got the distinct feeling he had studied every inch of her in the moment that she had been peering out of the carriage. Hanging around Knights, Gwen was used to the feeling of being inspected and the smallest, strangest details being noticed whether she wished it or not. Sternly Gwen pushed back the pain that laced her breast at the thought of the Knights of Camelot, none of whom had even seen fit to see her off.

"Thank you," she said quietly reaching up for the skin and taking a long draught, surprised to find that she felt as though she could drink the entire thing dry and still be thirsty.

"You walked for two days pulling a barrow and cried yourself to exhaustion," the man said quietly, "and this was first time you've had a spell removed from you," he glanced at her, "it is normal to be thirsty."

"Where am I?" she asked.

"Heading north," he said, "we should make camp by the border of Mercia in two days."

Gwen nodded, digesting the information. The last time she had been that far from Camelot she had been in the company of Arthur, Merlin and the Knights. Swallowing another mouthful of water to try and loosen the tightness that closed her throat, she moved forward and sat on the lip of the carriage just to the left of the man driving it.

"I'm Gwen," she said quietly.

"Galahad ," he greeted, "here," he held the reins against his thigh with his other hand and reached back, grasping a sack she had not seen, "you should eat something."

"Thank you," Gwen said opening the sack and pulling out half a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese, "would you-" she began offering the food to him.

"Thank you, but no," he said looking over at her, "that's for you. Eat," he encouraged, a note of warmth entering his voice, "my first time having a spell removed I nearly ate my own arm before I found food."

At the first bite, Gwen was suddenly ravenous. She could not remember the last time she had eaten, too intent on leaving Camelot to bother with such things. Within moments the food was gone and her fingers found the apple in the bottom of the bag. Ignoring the memory of Gwaine and his love for the fruit she bit into the flesh, feeling the sweet juice run down her throat. Perhaps it was the exhaustion but the fruit tasted better than anything she could remember eating. Galahad kept his eyes ahead but Gwen got the distinct impression that he saw and took note of everything she did. Foregoing every deportment lesson she had been given, Gwen wiped her mouth messily on the back of her hand.

"Good evening, Gwen." Ignoring the hot blush on her cheeks Gwen turned to see Iseldir walk along side the wagon, "how are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you," Gwen said, "how long have I been asleep?"

"You've been sleeping since midday," he said. Gwen frowned in confusion and Iseldir smiled, "I used magic to help me bring you back to camp," he explained at her unanswered question.

Gwen blanched. She was with druids, she remembered Iseldir lifting the lingering enchantment from her but suddenly it all seemed so real. She was traveling with a pack of people who had magic and as though that was not bad enough, they were leaving quickly because Leon and Gwaine had come to look for her. They were afraid of the Knights and of Camelot, because Camelot had wronged them thanks to the hatred of magic instilled by Uther. How many had seen family members on the executioner's block?

Quickly Gwen thought to what she carried with her. There were jewels, yes, but she had made certain to take smithing tools as well. They could think her family wealthy artisans, perhaps her mother had been an exiled noblewoman whose family lost everything but the jewels she was able to smuggle out. Her collection was not grand nor fine, but each piece had been a gift from Arthur and she found it impossible to throw them away. She had already left the thick gold band he slipped on her finger behind, her heart could not take giving up the rest. Not yet.

She had been in a haze of misery when Gwaine and Leon had rode up but she could not remember they had not said anything to give her away. They simply had been looking for her. Only she would know the snippets that meant they had come to find her without Arthurs permission-

Gwen fought to keep her face neutral at the realization. Leon and Gwaine had come looking for her. And from their conversation Elyan had confronted the King and been locked up because of it. While Gwen did not relish the idea of Elyan suffering in prison, the notion that her brother would do that for made her feel warner inside than she thought possible. Only Merlin had seen her off and while she had expected the Knights would side with their liege, the fact that none of them came to even speak to her had hurt worse than she would have thought possible.

"Is the enchantment removed?" Gwen asked looking at Iseldir.

"Yes," Iseldir said, "do you feel more in control of your emotions?"

Gwen frowned but nodded, realizing that she could push the agony of causing Arthur such pain to the back of her mind. It seemed wrong that she was capable of doing something like that, but Gwen knew the last time she had been conscious that was an impossible feat. Forcing herself accept the gift, no matter how she may not have deserved it, Gwen looked at Iseldir and nodded once again.

"Good," the druid said, "while you would not be the first to exhaust herself past reason and health, it is best if you do not."

"Certainly not while we are on the road," Galahad said with a kind smile.

"I see you've met Galahad," Iseldir said, clumsily changing the conversation, "he too is without magic."

Gwen looked at the young man, too surprised to hide the emotion. Galahad caught her eye and his gentle smile did not waver, as though he was used to people gawking at him. But she did not recognize him and she was certain she would if he had been banished by Uther's hand. She remembered the way every face had twisted when Uther ordered banishment, torn between gratitude at being spared the executioners axe and fear at facing a world without the home they knew. Her heart had ached for them, but never had she thought that she would join there ranks. And certainly not as the first to be banished in Arthur's reign.

"Were you saved by the druids?" Gwen asked.

"Yes," Galahad said, "I was."

"Galahad is far too modest," Iseldir said, "he was saved, yes, but he has also saved more druids than you see here."

Gwen looked over and was surprised color spread across the young man's cheeks. Even in the darkness he blushed quite furiously, looking more delicate and feminine than Gwen would have expected. But no denial fell from his lips and though she knew little of Iseldir she could not see the point in him lying about another's heroic deeds.

"I only sought to return the kindness that had been shown to me," the young man said, meeting her eyes for a moment before looking ahead at the horse.

"Will we walk through the night?" Gwen asked before the silence could get too dampening.

"Yes," Iseldir said.

Gwen nodded, there was much she wished to say to the druid. Iseldir looked at her carefully before moving forward and stepping onto the wagon with a lightness she would not expected from the man. The horses snorted but did not spook at the additional weight. Gwen eased back into the wagon and Iseldir followed, lowering himself onto a tied down pile of tents as Gwen seated herself on the unmade bed. She glanced over at where Galahad's back was visible and looked back at Iseldir.

"I wished to thank you for what you did," she said, "I know it could not have been easy to use magic on one from Camelot."

"No, but I welcomed the challenge," he said. She frowned, confused, "your fear of magic, however understandable, makes it more difficult to work with you."

"Really?" Gwen raised her eyebrows, "it has never seemed to stop those who wish to use magic before."

"A rule of magic, as with most things, it is far easier to make a mess than it is to clean it up," he said.

Gwen tried to smile, realizing that he had probably changed some long held proverb around for her to understand. But the mess she had made in Camelot was so great, Gwen wondered if it was even possible to clean it up. And worse, if she found a way to clean the mess she had made and set things right, what would Arthur think if he found she had been traveling with those who used magic? In her wildest and most closely held hopes she could imagine forgiveness for one offense so great, but not for two.

"The magic which held you was very strong," Iseldir said, "can you think of any who would wish you such harm?"

She looked up at him but in the dim light of the lanterns it was impossible to read his features. Her mind immediately went to Morgana, the one who wished to harm Arthur more than anyone else. Gwen was no fool, she knew that even with love as the driving force for marriage, she had a duty. The throne would not truly be safe until Arthur had an heir and a line of succession was established. But if she told Iseldir that a High Priestess of Morgana's reputation wished her to come to harm, he would ask for explanation.

And she could not tell them who she had been in Camelot.

"No," she said with a shake of her head, "I cannot," she forced herself to yawn, "forgive me," she said with a self conscious smile, "I thought I had slept all I could."

"It is fine," Iseldir said, "you should rest. I will see that Galahad wakes you when we make camp."

"Thank you," Gwen said as the druid stood.

He acknowledged her thanks with a nod and ducked out of the wagon, leaving her to the darkness. Though Gwen had only meant to avoid answering his question, the moment her head laid against the softness of the bedding consciousness left her and she fell asleep.

On the other side of the wagon, Iseldir listened to Gwen's breath even out. He knew the girl had sought only to avoid answering the questions he would pose. Mentally he commended her for realizing that revealing her past position in Camelot would only put her in danger. He looked over at Galahad who kept his eyes to the front, moving only to pull his hood up higher against the night chill. A loud peel of laughter broke through the silence and Iseldir saw several druids wince at its volume.

"I must speak to Lionel," Iseldir said, fighting against the knot of fear that settled in his stomach at the thought.

Wordlessly Galahad reached into his cloak and pulled out a curved blade, offering it to him hilt first. Iseldir glared at the blade and looked at the younger man, mentally cursing the druid's penchant for gossip.

"I will not need that," he bit out, swinging off the cart and landing.

Galahad smiled at him and slid the knife back into the folds of his cloak as Iseldir followed the sound of laughter towards where Lionel was riding.

Next time:

Gwen stays awake longer, Iseldir's honesty and faith in his council gets him into trouble and a friend of Camelot finds Gwen.