Copyright 1999.

Chapter One (Set between Season Five and Six) June, 1997; Seacouver. [By the way, in my universe Richie isn't *really* dead. He'll be back!]

It was dusk in Seacouver. Amanda, Joe, and Methos were walking slowly down the sidewalk. Amanda was earnestly speaking, hands gesturing, "There has to be some way we can convince Duncan to come back. How can we help him if he won't let us even talk to him! After leaving Paris, I was sure if he wasn't in Scotland, that he'd come here."

"Amanda, there are some things even *you* can't fix! Mac has to deal with...," Methos stopped walking and his words trailed off. Joe halted and stared silently at the ground.

Amanda, who'd been slightly ahead, faced them and finished softly, "With losing Richie." Joe flinched slightly at her words and Amanda gazed at his bent head with sympathy.

"Yeah," Methos continued, his voice roughened with emotion. "He has to come to terms with it in his own time and in his own way." As he spoke, he gained control again and finished calmly, "He knows where we are and it's up to him to decide if he needs us."

Amanda turned to Joe, who still hadn't moved and said, pleadingly, "Joe, surely, you agree with me! Duncan is in no shape to know what he needs and he needs *us*!"

Joe shook his head sadly, not meeting her eyes, "Even if we could find him, I don't know *what* to say."

Amanda opened her mouth, but froze before she said a word. After a couple of seconds, she spoke slowly, "Do either of you hear that?" As both men looked at her questioningly, she exclaimed, "Swords! Someone's fighting! I wonder who it is!" and started to follow the faint sounds of metal clanging.

"Amanda!" Methos called after her exasperatedly. "You can't know for sure it's immortals or even if that sound is from swords!"

Amanda turned back towards the men, but walked backwards while she answered, "C'mon, don't be such an old fuddy-duddy. Besides, what if it's Duncan." She spun around and headed for an opening between buildings.

Methos and Joe looked at one another and then Joe said, "I'm a Watcher, so I guess I'll go watch." Methos shrugged fatalistically and fell into step with him.

As they came out of the opening between the buildings, they saw Amanda peering over a cement railing. The sounds of rhythmically clanging metal were louder now. Amanda glanced back over her shoulder with a nervous expression. Methos wondered who it could be that would cause Amanda to be concerned. Perhaps it was Duncan after all.

He and Joe reached the railing, but Methos didn't see the combatants at first. His attention was taken by a dark haired woman standing by the open door of a dark gray Bronco. "Cassandra", he whispered, startled. The last time he had seen Cassandra was in Bordeaux after the double quickening. All that stopped Cassandra then from taking his head was Mac's plea.

Cassandra was glancing around distractedly for the immortals causing the buzz. Her interest was more focused on the battle. Methos looked toward the spot she was watching and gasped, his eyes widened in shock.

As the others turned toward the suddenly white faced immortal, he stared in disbelief at the figures dueling below. Amanda questioned, "Methos, do you know one of them?".

With his eyes riveted to the female swinging the heavy sword two-handed, he neglected to answer. Joe said, "I don't recognize the woman fighting, but the man is James Shale. His watcher is on his honeymoon and he doesn't have a substitute. Do either of you know who the woman is?"

  As Amanda shook her head, Joe continued, "Maybe she's a new student of Cassandra's."

"No, she doesn't fight like a new immortal," replied Amanda, thoughtfully, as she continued to study the fight below.

Joe asked again, his eyes on the oldest immortal, who was still rooted in shock, "Methos, do you *know* her?"

"It can't be! She's dead!" Methos muttered to himself.

Cassandra called out, "End it now!! There are others around!" The other woman renewed her attack on the much bigger male immortal. Both fighters were bloody from several minor cuts. Shale stumbled back under the woman's blows and fell. As she delivered a killing thrust through the man's ribs, Methos started for the stairs leading to the lower level. Amanda followed.

Joe stayed where he was to watch the tableau unfolding below. The female leaned down and said something in a low voice to the man as he was dying, but Joe couldn't hear what she said.

Cassandra called out again, "Hurry, we have to go!! They could be friends of his!" Just as Methos reached the bottom of the stairway with Amanda close on his heels, the unknown woman climbed in the open Bronco door. Cassandra was already behind the wheel and gunned the engine. As the vehicle sped away, Methos called out, Gwennolaik!" The women turned at his voice, shock was evident on both faces.

Amanda reached out and grabbed Methos' arm to stop him from futilely trying to follow the Bronco on foot. "Methos, who *is* she?"

Methos shook off her hand and spun on his heel without answering. He walked over to the man lying dead on the ground. Amanda followed and was joined shortly by Joe. He said, "Yep, that's definitely James Shale." He pulled out his cell phone and started to dial. "I am going to check with headquarters to see if there is anything in the chronicles about that woman. I also need to let them know Cassandra's in town."

Amanda looked at Methos and replied, "You know, Joe, I think the Old Man here could probably tell us who she is, if he ever starts talking again."

Methos turned away and started to walk toward the stairs to the upper level. "I need a beer," he said, "No, I need a *drink*!" The others followed. The dead immortal would wake soon.

Settled around a table in Joe's Bar twenty minutes later with drinks, Amanda watched with amazement as Methos downed his second whiskey in as many minutes. Joe watched from behind the bar as he talked on the phone. Since it was a weeknight with no live music scheduled, there were only a few patrons.

As Methos picked up the bottle in front of him to refill his glass, Amanda's curiosity got the better of her. "Ok, I've got to know, who was that woman and how do you know her?"

Methos finished pouring, put the bottle down and picked up the glass before he answered. He studied the full glass as he said, "She's been a dead woman for the last, oh, 1200 years. I lived with her for almost a hundred years right before she 'died'."

Amanda said, admiringly, "Well, I hope I look that good after *I've* been dead for 1200 years."

Methos took a drink from his glass and set it down carefully. Before he could comment, Joe hung up the phone. When he reached the table, he informed them, "There is no record of a female immortal matching our unknown friend of Cassandra's, in either her or James Shale's records. Though her records do have huge gaps of time. She is a master at eluding her Watchers. I always figured it must be part of her abilities. Nor does our mysterious woman show up in the computer, in any fashion, for the last several hundred years. I've arranged for a couple of researchers to be reassigned temporarily to see if we can dig up anything in some of the older chronicles. I really don't hold out much hope we'll find anything. We also have Watchers out looking for Cassandra and her friend." Joe sat down heavily, looking troubled.

Methos smiled sardonically. Toying with his glass, he told Joe, "You won't find anything. Believe me, I looked. It's funny almost. Even knowing she was dead, I found myself looking for any mention of her in the chronicles and never found a thing. Of course, I didn't expect to find anything current, but I figured maybe I would find some mention of her in the past. Nothing, not one word, not even a hint of something."

"I heard you say 'Gwennolaik', is that her name?" Amanda was very curious. It wasn't often Methos talked about the women in his past.

Methos shook his head tiredly and replied, "It *can't* be her. I saw the hut destroyed from a quickening." Methos looked up suddenly and continued angrily, "She wouldn't fight! She wouldn't even touch a sword, much less use it like a pro! It must be someone who just looks like her! She *couldn't* be alive!"

"Calm down, Methos." soothed Amanda. She reached out to touch his hand. "Why don't you tell us about Gwennolaik and maybe we can figure this out."

Methos looked at Joe warily, "Off the record?"

"How about 'private record'?"

Methos nodded. It was quiet for a moment while he gathered his thoughts and decided how to begin. "I was in Ireland, northwest part of the island, I believe. I think it was 669 c.e., if I remember right. It's in my journal, but I don't read the entries from that time anymore. It was spring, I know that. I had been challenged by this huge Norseman, don't know that I ever got his name. The fight wasn't going so well. I was getting really tired. All of a sudden there was this *sound*, an unearthly scream that seemed to be echoing in my head till I couldn't think. We both clapped our hands to our ears and still it wouldn't stop. As we collapsed to the ground, my vision started going dark around the edges. I felt like my head was splitting apart. As I was losing consciousness, a dark-cloaked, hooded figure stepped out of the trees. I couldn't see a face, but I knew this was the person responsible for the sound." Methos stopped to take a drink.

"Sounds like Cassandra's 'banshee scream', but according to Mac, *it* didn't have that effect." commented Joe.

Methos laughed wryly. "No, Cassandra used it to distract Kantos to save Duncan. If she had caused Mac to pass out, she couldn't have gotten him away. But I...we, didn't just faint. I died from, what I now would recognize as, a brain hemorrhage."

"You are telling me this 'banshee scream' killed you?" Joe was skeptical. "How is that possible?"

"I never learned *how* it worked, but I know it happened! When I came back to life, and I have to say I wasn't expecting to, I was lying in a cave, on a pallet, on the floor. It was furnished as a home; bed, table, chairs, a fire and even food on the fire. I could feel an immortal and tried to sit up only to find myself tied down. I, naturally, panicked and started to struggle to free myself from the bonds."

>>>>>>>>
Spring, 669 c.e., Ireland
Methos heard a woman's voice, out of the shadows, "You are in no danger. You are only being restrained to stop you from hurting someone else. If you continue to thrash around, you will only hurt yourself." Methos strained to see into the shadows for the speaker. From another direction the same voice came, "Are you hungry? I always find dying to make me hungry."

"Who are you and what do you want?" Angry now, Methos tried again to free his hands. He had been a slave in the past and had been shackled and chained, but this was different.

"I will keep you here only until the other one gives up and goes away. Then, I will release you on your way." The voice was behind him now and Methos again tried to spot the woman, but still saw nothing.

"Why did you interfere? It's against the Rules!" he snapped in frustration, then jerked against the ties again. They looked so insubstantial he couldn't believe he hadn't broken them already.

This time coming from in front and slightly to one side, "Neither of you realized it in the heat of battle, but during your fight, you had moved onto Holy Ground." At those words, Methos' bowels turned to ice and he was still. If she hadn't stopped them...! He didn't even want to consider what might have happened. "Thank you", he whispered, not sure if he meant her or whatever god had moved her to action.

"Believe me, I didn't do it for you! I would have preferred not to have any contact with either one of you." Now behind him again.

"Why did you choose me to tie up and let *him* go, anyway?", he frowned. Even if she did save his life he wasn't happy about the current situation. And why was she moving around constantly? It wasn't as if he was going to attack her, trussed up like a pig for roasting the way he was. At that thought, his stomach growled, reminding him it had been hours since his last meal. The smells from the fire weren't helping him forget again either.

He jumped, startled when she began to speak again. "It's not important why you're here and he's not. Are you hungry?" She brusquely changed the subject.

"Actually, I am starving," he admitted slowly. He wondered if this might be a chance for him to get free. He continued to sneak glances into the shadows. He vainly hoped he could see the woman who went with the soft, husky, sensuous voice which flowed almost seductively out of the darkness. It was strange how the room was so light from the fire and candles, yet still he couldn't penetrate the gloom enough to catch even a glimpse.

Methos realized he could no longer feel the immortal woman. Startled, he called out, "Wait, don't leave!"

He heard noises from behind him and twisted as far as the bonds would allow. He saw a raccoon coming toward him. It was pushing a bowl filled with chunks of meat. When the raccoon reached him, it picked up a piece of meat in its hands and put it up to Methos' lips. Totally nonplused, Methos opened his mouth, took the piece of meat and chewed. He stared at the raccoon in amazement.

"By all the gods," he swore after he swallowed, "she has trained a raccoon!"

The animal picked up another chunk of meat and continued to feed him. The meat was tender and moist and had been flavored with some kind of herbs or spices which he couldn't identify. It was good and he ate hungrily. When he'd had enough, Methos shook his head at the raccoon. The animal seemed to understand. It immediately took the bowl back to the table and returned with a cup. The water was cool, sweet and delicious and Methos drank it all. The masked creature watched him intelligently and Methos wondered if this was some magick-enhanced creature. He had seen many strange things during the last 3,500-odd years. He could believe many more things were possible than he had even dreamed. The raccoon took the cup to the table, then disappeared into the gloom.

Moments later, the feel of the immortal was back. "Did my little friend feed you enough?"

"Yes, but how ever did you train it to do that?"

"I have a talent for speaking with animals," she replied. Methos yawned widely and realized he was quite tired. He wondered briefly if there had been something in the meat or water, then decided it was more likely a result of the long battle and death. He would have to ask her when he awoke.

"You are protected here. It's safe to sleep. You will come to no harm." Her voice was soothing and the room warm. Methos decided, since she didn't seem inclined to kill him, he would rest for now and try to find an escape later once he had regained his full strength and wits.

Methos opened his eyes, aware that many hours had passed. The cave was now light as if the morning sun was coming through window openings. Try as he might he could not spy any. His stomach growled with morning hunger pangs and he became aware of other bodily needs. Wondering if she had trained the raccoon to deal with all contingencies, he began to study his surroundings as a means of distraction, hoping someone would show up soon.

The room was large and the ceiling vaulted high overhead. The walls were covered with woven hangings in bright colors. As he examined the one closest to him, he realized the pattern was a type of writing, but one he didn't recognize. Peering at the others, he was able to determin all the wall decorations were covered with the same type of writing.

"Almost like a school or library. Could she be a scholar of some kind?" Methos wondered aloud.

His immortal sense flared suddenly and he jerked around, looking for the source. From a opening that could have been a tunnel or even another room, the dark cloaked figure from the woods approached. The hood still covered the head, so he couldn't see a face. This morning he could tell, even from his pallet on the floor, that the figure was quite small, perhaps only five foot or slightly more. Methos assumed this was the woman from last night.

Before he was able to study her more, his attention was taken by the lynx which had followed her into the room. Ambling over to him she began to sniff him, drawing her lips back and showing sharp fangs. Methos found himself pulling away cautiously, wondering if the cat was about to make breakfast of him.

"Niamh, leave the man alone! He doesn't need you scaring him first thing in the morning." The lynx backed up a step, then sprawled on the floor and watched him. Methos had the feeling this feline was laughing at him. ~~What kind of woman can tame and train animals like this?~~ he wondered. As he gazed into the cat's eyes, he found himself curious to learn more about this unusual situation. Niamh decided bathing was more interesting than the man. She applied herself industriously to cleaning her already immaculate fur. "Don't mind her. She's really harmless unless threatened."

Methos jerked back to his surroundings, realizing he had forgotten the woman in his fascination with her pet. He turned toward her voice and caught his breath. She had removed the cloak to reveal a petite, yet shapely figure dressed in green. Her long dark auburn hair was caught back in a single braid cascading down her spine. She was turned in profile, showing a delicate nose and chin, and a neck so slender it seemed it would snap under the weight of the thick, heavy braid of hair.

She was stirring something in a pot over the fire. She continued, seemingly unaware he was staring, "The Norseman is being particularly stubborn about leaving. I thought he would have left by now, especially after I set up wards to encourage him to do so. He is extremely determined or extremely dense, but either way, he isn't leaving."

She turned to face him. Methos was completely entranced with her eyes, dark lashed and slightly tilted in a heart shaped face, giving her a vague cat-like appearance. With the distance between them he couldn't tell the color of her eyes.

She continued, "It isn't safe yet for you to leave, but I don't wish to keep you tied up for the duration. So, I would like your word that you will not leave this place until I say it is safe." The delicate chin brooked no opposition and the eyes met his with confidence.

Methos remembered she was the one who killed him with just a scream. He shuddered to think about the pain. He knew she was not afraid of him and would not hesitate to do it again if she felt it was necessary. He had died more times than he could count and in more ways than he could list, but that was one he could do without repeating. He realized she was still waiting for his response. He answered, "You have my word. I will not leave until you say it is safe." As she started to nod, he added, "If you will answer one question."

Her eyebrows rose at his impudence, he was in no position to bargain. Methos was counting on her curiosity to overcome any anger he might incur. Apparently he was right, as she returned, "Tell me your question and I will decide if I will answer." Her haughty regalness made him briefly wonder how old she was. In appearance, she might only have been 30 years old. As an immortal she could be older than himself.

Methos pondered the numerous questions which clamoured in his brain. He finally settled simply on, "What is your name?".

"I have had many names, as I suspect you have also, but you may call me Gwennolaik. As long as we are introducing ourselves, what do you wish to be called?" she returned.

"I have been using the name Aidan lately." He decided the way she phrased the question, she would know it wasn't his real name. Since he would be moving on soon, Methos could have told her the truth, but discarded the idea of confessing his deceit. He didn't think she would care one way or another.

Gwennolaik narrowed her eyes and studied him for a moment. With a decisive nod, she pulled a knife from a sheath on her belt. She walked over and around behind Methos. He found himself free, the cut ties turning to dust as they touched the ground. He stood up slowly, a bit stiff. He rubbed his wrists as he watched her closely. She seemed to be a very powerful witch. He wondered if she was one of the Druids he had heard about, but had never met. He'd thought they were just legends. In the stories he'd heard the Druids had always seemed to be men. ~~Can a woman be a Druid?~~ He decided it didn't matter what she was called, she was dangerous. Methos stretched, glad to be able to move. He became aware of his now rather urgent need to relieve himself.

She showed an incredible confidence by turning her back on him and walking away. As she returned to the fireside, she tossed casually over her shoulder, "Through the door are facilities for you to clean up, including a clean tunic, which should fit you. We can eat as soon as you are ready."

Her instruction, coming so close on his thoughts, made him consider if she might be able to read his mind. The thought made him very uncomfortable. As he headed toward the door she indicated, he decided he would proceed with caution. ~~Until I learn what her capabilities are, anyway.~~ He had learned long ago to size up an opponent before acting. This could be interesting. Methos smiled.

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end chapter one

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On to: Gwennolaik - Chapter Two