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Camlann: Season 1, Episode 7:
"Under The Hill"

Transcript created: 19th March 2024

Last updated: 19th March 2024


Content Warnings can be found at the end of the show notes.

In the Otherworld.

Follow us on social media @camlannpod to stay updated. Share your thoughts with us using #Camlann. If you’d like to support the future of the show, you can do so on Ko-Fi and Patreon.

If you’d like to listen along live to episodes as they come out with Ella and Amber, you can do that on Tin Can Audio’s Twitch channel from 8-10pm GMT on Mondays. On Wednesdays at the same time, Amber will be going through the process of composing the score, and on our ‘off weeks’ on Mondays, Amber will go through the sound design for the show.  Camlann is made possible with funding from Creative Scotland and the Inevitable Foundation.

The Welsh folk song featured in this episode is Robin Ddiog, a nursery rhyme. 

This episode featured: Tobias Weatherburn as Dai, Angharad Phillips as Morgan, Robyn Holdaway as Perry, Nicole Miners as Gwen (or Shújūn), Felix Trench as Kay, Fay Roberts as Rhiannon, David Charles as Lapwing, and Peter Wicks as The News Anchor. Additional voices were provided by the cast. Special thanks to Hobbes the Lion for playing Gelert. This episode was written and directed by Ella Watts, with original scoring and sound design from Amber Devereux at Tin Can Audio, and additional Music Direction from Alessa Catterall. Our Production Manager is Ross McFarlane. With thanks to Méabh de Brún for her advice on Gaeilge, and thanks to Angharad Philips and Tobias Weatherburn for their guidance on pronunciation in Welsh.

This episode was written and directed by Ella Watts, with original scoring and sound design from Amber Devereux at Tin Can Audio, and additional Music Direction from Alessa Catterall. Our Production Manager is Ross McFarlane.

Special thanks to: Angharad Gilbey, Holly Thwaites Bee, Samuel Thompson, Sara-Luise Edge-Smith, Elizabeth Campbell, Marc Sollinger, Sarah Shachat, David K. Barnes, Rosenkranz Vermilion and Max Degan. We wouldn’t have got here without you.

Diolch yn fawr iawn am wrando. Thank you so much for listening.

Keep the fires burning.

Content Warnings: Discussion of Mental Illness, Brief Reference to Attempted Suicide (3:15-3:30), Discussion of Bereavement, Reference to Starvation, Emotionally Heightened Scenes and Dialogue.



[It’s a quiet morning and it’s raining steadily. We can hear the patter of rain on the tarpaulin over Perry’s head. The trees and the stream are loud in the background. The bonfire crackles.]



Agorwch dipyn o gil y drws,

O gil y draws, o gil y drws,

Agorwch dipyn o gil y drws

[A melody in tune with Perry's song plays over the bonfire and rain – jaunty, but melancholy.]

PERRY: We get the word fairy from Old French. We get a lot of words from Old French because of the whole Norman Conquest thing. In turn, French got it from Latin, fata, meaning the Fates. There’s something in that, isn’t there? 

In Gaeilge, they’ve got a lot of names for the fae. One is Daoine Maithe - the Good People. In Cymraeg, they’re y Tylwyth Teg - the fair folk. There’s the Gwragedd Annwn, the women of the waters. There are Coblynau in the mines, Bwbachod in the houses, Gwyllion in the hills. In Welsh literature, Annwn is the otherworld: the land of the fae, which can be accessed under hollow hills. 

In a lot of indigenous cultures, the ‘Otherworld’ is as close as the other side of a leaf. From one footstep to the next, you’re there. And then everything changes.



[Rain pattering on the tarpualin, the trees and the stream, the fire crackling, snapping, hissing. Gwen trudges down the track, splashing through the puddles. She hands Perry a hot thermos, which they unscrew.]


GWEN: Figured you needed warming up.

PERRY: Thank you.

[Perry takes a gulp. Silence.]

GWEN: It’s been three days. Should we -

PERRY: He’s coming back.

GWEN: Right, but something could’ve -

PERRY: He’s coming back.

GWEN: Look, Perry, I can see how much Dai means to you but this is serious -

PERRY: Gwen. Shújūn. Trust me. He’s coming back.


[Silence again.]


GWEN: I’m kind of surprised this thing is still going. Have you been keeping it lit?


PERRY: We can’t put it out. I tried, yesterday, but nothing seems to work. Water does nothing, neither does smothering it.


GWEN: Is that a problem?


PERRY: I’m not sure. Whatever’s keeping it burning also isn’t letting it touch the cottage, so I’m taking the win. 


GWEN: Has this happened before?

PERRY: The fire? No, actually, I’ve never seen anything like it-

GWEN: (cutting them off) Perry.


PERRY: Not like this. Sometimes he swings too far up or too far down. Thinks he’s invincible or really doesn’t want to exist. When we were in Cornwall he tried to jump off a cliff, although I’m pretty sure that was mostly the Sirens. Normally I can see it coming.


GWEN: It doesn’t work like that. You can’t love the mental illness out of someone. 


PERRY: I know. 


GWEN: Perry, Dai isn’t going to last alone out there. If he’s manic, he could be taking significant risks. If he’s depressive, he could be doing the same in a different direction. We need to go and find him.


PERRY: I know. I just have this feeling.

GWEN: What is it?

PERRY: That he doesn’t want us to follow.


[The Camlann theme fades in over the rain.]

PERRY: Camlann. Episode Seven, Under The Hill.

[The theme fades out.]




[Morgan is in the garage with Gelert, working on something – metal scrapes on on metal, Gel's claws scratch on the concrete. Outside there is still rain; the leak drips and echoes.]

[Morgan exhales deeply.]

Morgan picks up an old, cheap plastic camera, opens it and switches it on. The lens buzzes out and as it beeps as she selects a saved file.]

[There’s static for a moment, the crash of noise in a park that you only hear on this kind of technology, muddled together in audio polygons.]

BEN: (at a distance) Morgan! Morgan! Check it out!

[Gelert whines intensely.]

BEN: I’m king of the world! Wait, Morgan, I think I can see our house from here!

MORGAN: (from behind the camera) Really?


BEN: It’s tiny


MORGAN: You only just noticed?


BEN: Shut up


MORGAN: Come on, get down before you fall down


BEN: I’ve got a better idea


[Ben runs and jumps off a big stone, landing in the gravel.]




[Morgan runs with the camera, fumbling on the plastic.]


[Ben gets up with a laboured breath.]


MORGAN: Are you alright?


BEN: I’m fine. You should’ve seen the look on your face.


MORGAN: This isn’t funny Ben! What if you’d hurt yourself?


BEN: As if.


MORGAN: Ben, that rock was six foot tall. You could’ve broken your spine.


BEN: Yeah, but I wouldn’t have


MORGAN: How? Magic?


BEN: You wouldn’t have let me do it if you thought I was actually going to get hurt


[Morgan, in the garage, watching the camera sobs lightly.]

[The camera beeps. We’ve reached the end of the video. Morgan clicks a button.]

DAI: (on tape) Is it recording? I cannot believe that thing still works.

[Dai's voice on the tape is coming from a busy city street, people walk and talk as they past, cars zoom by, horns beep.]

MORGAN: (on tape) Did you bring a camera?

DAI: Technically my phone counts. But you’re right, this is better. So, hello future us! This is Dai Thomas and Morgan Jones on our first night Bristol. If my lovely camerawoman will give us a three-sixty. As you can see, it’s pretty dark. But it is definitely not Aberystwyth! We made it, folks! We actually got out! Take that existential ennui! It’s almost worth the incredibly high concentration of English bastards.


MORGAN: Don’t say that so loudly!


DAI: Nobody cares (OFF) CYMRU AM BYTH!


DAI: (to stranger) You have a lovely evening too sir!

MORGAN: Is there anything else you want to say for the record?


DAI: Yes, actually. (CLOSE) Future me, listen closely because this is important. You would not be here if it wasn’t for the divine grace of Morgan Jones


[Watching the recording, Morgan in the garage begins to cry.]

DAI: She got you through your GCSEs, she got you through your A-Levels, she got you through your UCAS application. This woman is incredible and you owe her your life! So don’t you ever forget it. 

[BEEP as the video ends.]

[Morgan cries and Gelert comforts her with nuzzles and small whines.]


[Rain pattering on the windows. Perry switches on the CB radio and is flicking through the station. Click, switch, static. Click, switch, static.]

[Muffled murmur of a voice a few channels away start to bleed through.]


KAY: I know you’re out there Peredur. I know you’re listening. And sooner or later, you’re going to find this channel and talk to me.

PERRY: Just this once...


[Perry finds the right channel. Abruptly, Kay's voice is clear.]


KAY: I know you’re there Peredur. Don’t bother pretending. 

[Perry makes a frustrated sound.]

KAY: Pick up the transmitter. Go on. Ignoring me must be terribly uncomfortable for you. You don’t even know what I have to say.

[Perry is breathing heavily.]

KAY: Pick up the transmitter. Go on. I never thought of pride as one of your weaknesses, Peredur. I realise now I was mistaken in that. How long are we going to pursue this charade? Until we find out exactly what happens when you try to break a geas?


[Perry picks up the transmitter and clicks a button.]


PERRY: You don’t know what you’re talking about


KAY: Can’t resist a lecture, can you?


PERRY: What is it now? Have you suddenly discovered feminism? Are you planning to make an apology?

KAY: Not exactly. You’ve lost someone. One of your merry band of thieves. 

[Perry takes a sharp inhale of breath.]


KAY: I thought so. We could all feel it. Your distress. Do you even know you’re doing it? Calling out for help like a siren. You’ve blown the horn of Gondor and we are coming to get you.


PERRY: I don’t want your help.

KAY: Part of you does. Part of you knows that whatever is scaring you so badly is not a fight you’ll win alone. That’s why it’s calling for us.

PERRY: I didn’t

KAY: But you did. I can feel it. Peredur I don’t actually want you to suffer. And I certainly don’t want you to get yourself killed. So why don’t you grow up and tell me what the problem is?

PERRY: Eat a dick, Kay.

[Perry presses a button and switches the radio off. For a long moment they sit in the quiet of the static.]

PERRY: Fuck.


[Rain still lashes the windows. Morgan heats some water on the camp stove, Gelert dutifully scampers alongside her as she moves around the kitchen.]


GWEN: You need to sleep at some point, you know?

MORGAN: I wish I didn’t

GWEN: Because of the dreams?

MORGAN: You know the worst part about magical, possibly prophetic dreams? Most people can just ignore their nightmares. You dream about your brother getting- and you just write it off as the mark that trauma left you with. But I have to take all of it seriously because there’s always a chance that it might be a matter of life or death. I feel like I haven’t been able to breathe for almost a year.

GWEN: So why do you keep the name?


GWEN: Morgan. You could use a different one. When I’m Shújūn, I don’t have to be Guinevere. Sometimes I don’t want to be her. You could choose a different path.

[The water boils. Morgan pours it into a mug, thinking.]

MORGAN: The troll wasn’t the only monster in Bristol. My family were visiting. My little brother - he was fifteen. I couldn’t...

GWEN: You don’t have to talk about this

MORGAN: The last word in his mouth was my name. Being her, being this person, being who I am, hurts every single day. But trying to be anyone else would hurt more. It’s like my name is a spell, an invocation, of everyone I’ve loved and everything I am and the culture that I carry with me. I can’t give it up. I don’t want to. 


[Long beat as Gwen takes this in.]


GWEN: That’s kind of how I feel about Guinevere. The people I was with - none of them had story names. A few had historical names or family names or religious names but I was the only one with a name from a story. And you know what Guinevere is? A damsel in distress.


It was like a curse. I kept pulling things towards us - monsters and things that looked like knights but definitely weren’t human. And none of them could save me, and I couldn’t save myself, because that’s not how the story goes. 

[Soft piano plays.}


And I knew it was because of her. I knew it was this name, Guinevere. But my Dad and I chose this together when I was sixteen. He was a lecturer in Western Literature at a university in Hong Kong. He used to tell me British legends like bedtime stories when I was a little kid. He’d keep talking until I fell asleep. 


It was just the two of us growing up and he worked so hard to build a life for me. 

And he was in Hong Kong when the Cataclysm happened, and I don’t know if he’s ok. So I can’t let go of this name. Because I got Shújūn from my mother, and my Dad gave me Guinevere. And I can’t let him go.

MORGAN: Oh, Gwen.

[Morgan and Gwen hug.]

GWEN: Sorry, ignore me, it’s fine. What I’m trying to say is that I know what it feels like to hold onto a name because it matters to you, even when it hurts. 

MORGAN: Yeah. You really do, don’t you?

[The piano music fades.]

GWEN: So, erm... what are you dreaming about now?

MORGAN: I - are you sure? We can keep talking about this if you want to?

GWEN: No, it’s fine. Talk to me.

MORGAN: Ok. I keep seeing this woman. She’s beautiful, with this gold silk dress. She’s always surrounded by birds. She’s playing some kind of board game.

GWEN: Do you know who she is?

MORGAN: I have an idea. Have you ever read The Mabinogion?

GWEN: No, my Dad talked about it sometimes, but I never actually got round to reading it. We were more of a Mallory household.

MORGAN: I’ll forgive you. No one said the apocalypse would have homework.

GWEN: I know, I feel cheated

MORGAN: The Mabinogion - that’s a mistranslation, it’s Pedair Cainc y Mabinogi. The Four Branches of the Mabinogi. It’s a book of old Welsh stories. Really old stories. Some of the oldest we have. It’s weird and medieval and very Welsh. It’s beautiful. 

One of the four branches, Pwyll, is about a Prince of Dyfed. He falls in love with Rhiannon. She’s a fairy woman from Annwn, the Otherworld. She’s associated with birds.

GWEN: What about the board game?

MORGAN: In another story, the Dream of Macsen, there’s this game - Gwyddbwyll. It’s described as a board where the pieces fight each other in this sort of miniature battle.

GWEN: Wait, isn’t that like wiz-?

MORGAN: Don’t even go there. Dai has a forty-five minute lecture on the subject. I’ve timed it.

GWEN: So what does this mean?

MORGAN: Normally Annwn can be accessed by going into or under or through a hollow hill. So we just have to figure out a way to do that. 

GWEN: That’s assuming Dai’s even there.

MORGAN: He’s there.

GWEN: How do you know?

MORGAN: Because it’s the most dangerous thing he could have chosen to do. And because I can feel it, like an anchor in deep water, pulling me down. He’s gone to the Otherworld.



[It’s dusk – insects and fae swarm outside the limits of the fence. It’s still raining.]

[Gwen, Morgan, Perry and Gelert are tramping through the mulch, slipping and skidding down the hill the trio climbed when they first got here.]


GWEN: I feel like leaving at night is making this more dangerous, not less

PERRY: We don’t have time to lose. If Dai is in Annwn, then time often works differently there. What could be a minute for us might have been years for him.

MORGAN: Let’s not think about it too much

GWEN: He’s going to be ok

PERRY: She’s right, Morgan. He’s stronger than he looks.

MORGAN: Let’s go over the rules again. Gwen?

GWEN: No food, no drink, no names. Be polite. No gambling, no promises, no deals.

PERRY: And don’t forget the earplugs. Thank you Odysseus, you horrible little man. I don’t know if this will actually help with being put under some kind of thrall, but it’s story logic.

GWEN: Are we sure they won’t take the crossbow as some kind of pre-emptive insult?

PERRY: I’m playing my part.

MORGAN: All you need now is a suit of shining armour

PERRY: And a spear. Peredur is supposed to have a spear.

GWEN: Dream big

[Distantly, a hunting horn – barking and storming paws from a pack of hounds and someone riding a horse incredibly fast. These sounds are getting closer.]

MORGAN: Did you guys hear that?

GWEN: What?

PERRY: Oh holy - get down, now.

[Perry scrambles under a fallen tree, pulling Morgan and Gwen with them.]

GWEN: (hushed) Those dogs are beautiful

PERRY: (hushed) Hounds, technically

MORGAN: (hushed) Who is he?

PERRY: (hushed) Wait for it

[The sound of the hounds get closer, as does the horse. The hunting horn trumpets into the night.]

[Slowly the sound of the woods comes back: the rain, the tree leaves. Gelert whines and morgan lets him go.]

GWEN: What did we just see?

PERRY: Gwynn ap Nudd. And his hounds, the Cwn Annwn.

MORGAN: What does that mean?

PERRY: Nothing good. Come on, let’s go.


[Gwen, Morgan, Perry and Gelert are still tramping through the mulch. An owl hoots into the night.]

MORGAN: This is it

PERRY: How do you know?

MORGAN: How do you know how to use a crossbow?

GWEN: What do we do now?

[Morgan starts walking as she speaks.]

MORGAN: I think we just...

[There’s a massive rumbling of stone grinding and crumbling of earth breaking, the organic tearing of roots pulling apart, a shower of earth hissing and rattling into the mulch.]

PERRY: That works. Okay, everyone get behind me.

MORGAN: (whistling) Gel, heel.

[Gelert trots over to Morgan.]

PERRY: Let’s go under the hill.

[They all start walking forward into a narrow earth tunnel. For a moment we hear the rain, trees and distant night.]

[A deep tone cuts off the sound from behind the group.]

MORGAN: Did you both just feel something?

GWEN: My ears popped. I hate it when that happens.

PERRY: I think I can see a light.

They keep walking. Ominous and otherworldly strings begin behind their footsteps.]

[We can hear birds singing, an impossible number of them.]


GWEN: It’s so bright

MORGAN: I didn’t know these colours existed

PERRY: They don’t. Not in our world.

[Stumbling, awkward an old man walking with the aid of a wooden cane approaches the group. His voice is unsteady, shaking like in a blizzard, but polite.]

STRANGER: Oh my goodness, people! Real people! You are real, aren’t you?

MORGAN: What -

GWEN: Are you alright? How long have you been here?

STRANGER: I don’t know. It’s so cold. I’m so very, very cold.

PERRY: But there’s blazing sunshine

STRANGER: For them, maybe. Whatever it is won’t seem to sink into these old bones. 

GWEN: Here, let me take a look at you

STRANGER: Oh that’s very kind, very kind of you. What a lovely young woman you are. Tell me, young lady, what is your name?

GWEN: It’s G-


PERRY: (interrupting) She’s a seamstress. And you’re not a lost old man, are you?

[The Stranger's demeanour changes entirely. His voice becomes Welsh, mercurial, sharp, confident and fey.]

LAPWING: You’re much sharper than you were the last time you were here, aren’t you little knight? It hardly seems fair. I only wanted some sport with the lady.

MORGAN: What are you talking about?

PERRY: Our friend here is one of the Gentry

[With a flourishing bow, the fae reveals his wings. Throughout this conversation, the soft buzz of human-sized dragonfly wings.]

LAPWING: Fairly discovered, good knight. You may call me Lapwing. Sister, it has been too long since we have welcomed you to our meadows.

MORGAN: I am not your sister

LAPWING: No, I suppose you wouldn’t think so. All of you have forgotten much since Camlann. No matter - you’ve come for the witch, our cousin, I assume? He’s playing games with Queen Rhiannon.

[Lapwing begins to move away.]

LAPWING: Hurry up! I can’t imagine you want to be late.


[The group begin to walk through the meadows. As they do, we hear various insects and birds humming around us. A donkey and cart come trundling past. Music is everywhere, hypnotic, layered and repetitive. ]

[Eventually, they approach to some kind of festival. A crowd are cheering and applauding.]

MORGAN: Oh my god

[Morgan goes to run forward, Perry stops her.]

PERRY: (holding Morgan back) No, don’t!

MORGAN: He’s barely conscious!

LAPWING: It has been a source of great distress for Queen Rhiannon. He will neither eat nor drink, as if his father’s blood does not protect him from our gifts in the way it always has. 

GWEN: He’s been here before?


PERRY: (urgent) If you say his name then he’s trapped here forever. 

MORGAN: He can’t even see us.

LAPWING: He is focused on the game. Playing Gwyddbwyll is a matter of intricate strategy. They have been engaged in the struggle for nine days and nights.

[We can hear the Gwyddbwyll itself - tiny soldiers shouting war crys, followed by the shattering of wood and ivory pieces. The crowd reacts, variously gasping and cheering.]


GWEN: Since when does he play strategy games?

LAPWING: The half-devil has long been a master of such things. There were centuries in which all we did was discover new ways to confound him.

PERRY: What are the rules? When they started playing, exactly what rules were set out?

LAPWING: It was not necessary to explain how to play a familiar game to an old friend. The wager was set: the spear Rhongomyniad and the dagger Carnwennan if he bests Queen Rhiannon, his company if he does not. She has missed him terribly.

PERRY: Right, great.

[Perry marches away from the group toward the game. As they get closer, we hear Rhiannon and Dai in conversation.]

[Rhiannon's voice is soft, yet commanding. Mystical, sound bubbling in the air as if being heard underwater.]

RHIANNON: Ydych chi'n cofio unrhyw beth am bwy ydych chi?

DAI: Mi wn pwy ydw i nawr, eich mawrhydi. Dyna ddigon

[Perry grabs the game board and throws it onto the ground, breaking it. The board and pieces shatter, many of the pieces yelling as they go.]

[The crowd gasps in shock.]

PERRY: (to the crowd) I have defeated the Gwyddbwyll

[The faerie crown murmur, unconvinced.]

RHIANNON: What is the meaning of this, Ser Knight?

PERRY: Your majesty. No rules were set out as to how the game might be defeated. I think it is clear enough that I have conquered it.

RHIANNON: (amused) After a fashion. You have not changed, Peredur.

PERRY: Your majesty?

DAI: (passing out) Oh, hey Per.

[Dai collapses into the grass.]


[A sudden, vicious hush falls over the crowd.]

RHIANNON: Do not worry, little knight, that is only one of many names. 

DAI: (coughing) Rhiannon?

RHIANNON: Take him home. Sister, these were won fairly enough.

[Attendants, chittering and chirruping, hand Morgan the dagger and the spear. She takes them.]

MORGAN: What are they?

RHIANNON: Arthur’s weapons, once. His spear and dagger. It should please you to take them from him. [TO GWEN] And you, dear lady. You have not visited my court before, but I know your face. It is written across a thousand dreams.

GWEN: (uncertain) I mean no offence, your highness.

RHIANNON: No, you never did. 

[Perry picks up Dai.]

PERRY: Let’s get you out of here

[They start walking. Crossed swords stop them with a shing.]

MORGAN: Your majesty?

RHIANNON: Do not break my things again, Peredur.

PERRY: You have my word, Queen Rhiannon.

[The swords uncross. They start walking again.]

RHIANNON: (calling to the group as they leave) Cousin. About your lover. You didn’t fail him. You just needed more time. 



[The sonic landscape is vividly different. Our gang exit the fairy tunnel into three foot of deep snow, which is still falling. It’s the middle of the day.]

MORGAN: Since when was there three feet of snow out here?

GWEN: Did you see that deer? It was completely white.

MORGAN: Perry, what’s going on?

PERRY: (strained, still carrying Dai) Time is weird in Annwn. Sometimes you’re away longer than you think.

MORGAN: So we have no idea how long we’ve been gone?

PERRY: Gwen, I think he’s passed out


GWEN: Right. [kneeling down to Dai] Shit. He’s freezing.

MORGAN: It was midsummer in there!

PERRY: To them, maybe. The herald said he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything for nine days.

GWEN: He should be dead twice over from dehydration alone.


GWEN: But he isn’t. We need to get him inside, now.

[Perry heaves Dai over their shoulder in a fireman’s lift.]

PERRY: (strained) Up we go.

GWEN: Let’s go home.

[The three stomp and trudge through the snow.]



[Dai is in bed and Gwen is tending to him. Gelert is lying in bed with him. There’s a creak on the stairs as Morgan climbs up.]

[Morgan knocks softly on the door. Gelert whines softly.]

MORGAN: What’s the prognosis?


GWEN: I’m still not an actual doctor. And even if I was, I’m not a miracle worker.


MORGAN: You don’t sound like you’re about to tell me that my best friend is dead.


GWEN: It’s impossible. He’s dehydrated and starving but neither are anywhere near as far along as they should be, even if it was just the three days on our side. Honestly, as far as I can tell all he needs is some bed rest and soup and he’ll be fine. Morgan, that only happens to people who have-

MORGAN: (interrupting) Thank you for doing this. I realise it isn’t your job to babysit us through the apocalypse.

GWEN: It isn’t. But I’m not going to watch anyone else die if I can help it. 

MORGAN: You should take a break. I’ll keep an eye on him.

GWEN: You sure?

MORGAN: Yeah. Go.

[Gwen walks quietly out of the room. Morgan sits on the bed. We hear the thump thump of Gelert’s tail wagging against the mattress.]

MORGAN: I should be furious with you, you know. And I am angry. But mostly I’m just glad you’re ok.

[Morgan lies down and slowly, carefully cuddles up beside Dai.]

MORGAN: Please stop doing this to me, cyw. I don’t think I can do it again. 

DAI: (weak) Morgan?

MORGAN: You’re awake.

[Rustle of the sheets as Dai rolls over.]

DAI: (soft) I feel like I got hit by a truck.

MORGAN: According to Gwen you should be dead. Twice. But somehow, magically, you’re just fine.

DAI: Morgan -

[Morgan sits up with a rustle of sheets.]

MORGAN: Does it actually matter to you that you’re the only person I have left? Does that factor into your decision making at all?

DAI: Of course it does-

MORGAN: Really, Dai? Because you don’t act like it. You act like you’re invincible. You act like you’re responsible for no one but yourself. You act like that responsibility doesn’t matter. Like you’d throw away your life for a flip of the coin just because you thought it was funny.

[Dai sits up with a whine.]

DAI: (frustrated) That’s not true.

MORGAN: Isn’t it? You disappeared in the middle of the night, left your meds behind and went under a faerie hill. What were you thinking?

DAI: (raising his voice) That I didn’t want to lose anyone else!


DAI: Look, groups of names make stories stronger. Acting like your story makes it stronger. Story weapons work better than modern ones. So what if I could get an actual magical weapon from a story? Isn’t that the silver bullet? I could protect you. I could keep you safe.

MORGAN: No, you can’t.

DAI: Why not?

MORGAN: Because your name is Dai!

DAI: No it isn’t! No, it isn’t and you know it isn’t. I’m Myrddin. I’ve always been Myrddin. It doesn’t matter what people call me. It matters who I know I am. The name my mother gave me. The person I’ve always been. 

MORGAN: Then why not just say that? Why bother with the lie? It’s been nine months, Dai. I’ve been lying for you for nine months. Why? What could possibly be so important that you’d risk giving up your real name for the sake of helplessness? You could have all the power in the world at your fingertips, you could have saved all of us three times over. Why not just be him?

DAI: Because I’m not important! I’m not the main character, I’m the comic relief! I’m Welsh and bi and funny in the head. I don’t want to control the narrative. I don’t want to be some all-powerful kingmaker. I want to go home. I want to see my Mum. I want to be stupid and pointless and free.

MORGAN: You can’t have it both ways! You can’t lie to everyone around you, and ask me to lie, and then go and take stupid risks that endanger everyone on the assumption that a name you never use still holds power.

DAI: But it does! Morgan, it does. I can feel him the way you can feel her. He’s never left.

MORGAN: So be him! Actually be him. Stop telling yourself that you can’t.

DAI: That’s rich coming from the woman so terrified of who she is that she’s eating herself alive from the inside out.

Shocked silence.

MORGAN: (suddenly angry and cold) Our whole story revolves around you. Have you noticed that? Whenever you want something, we do it. Whenever you need something, we get it. You’re puppeting us around your fantasy whilst you get to run away and pretend to be someone you’re not. You’re just as bad as Arthur. Worse. At least he was honest about it.

[Morgan leaves and slams the door behind her.]


Hi, it’s Ella! I’d like to give special thanks to Meabh de Brun for advising us on the pronunciations in Gaeilge, and thank Angharad and Tobias for their help on pronunciations yn Gymraeg. Fun fact, Myrddin is the Welsh name for Merlin, and Carmarthen is the anglicised name of Caerfyrddin, which means Merlin’s castle.


If you’d like to follow us on social media, you can do that wherever the internet is found @camlannpod. If you’d like to give us a tip, we’d be very grateful for your support. 


Whilst series one of Camlann was generously funded by Creative Scotland and The Inevitable Foundation, we currently have no guarantee of future funding for more series. If you like the show and you want to give us a bit of cash, you can give us a tip on Ko-Fi dot com slash Camlannpod or on Patreon. 


This money will be used exclusively on the show for things like producing merchandise, performing live shows and producing future seasons. As a team, we are committed to only doing these things if we can pay our creatives a fair wage, so none of this is guaranteed. But much like our core trio, we live in hope.


If you’d like to join Amber, Ella and occasionally other members of the cast and crew for a live listen along of each episode of Camlann as it releases, you can do that on Mondays from eight til ten pm GMT. On Wednesdays at the same time, Amber will be taking you through the process of composing the music for the show, and on our off-weeks, Amber will be doing a behind the scenes stream on Mondays where they break apart the project file for each episode and explain how they did the sound design.

These streams are always a fun and cozy time, and if you have any questions about the show for Amber and I, it’s a good opportunity to ask them.


Finally, I’d like to give you a podcast recommendation! Specifically, two podcast recommendations. First, I’d like to recommend The Tower. This is cheating a little because it’s a show scored, sound designed and written by our very own Amber Devereux. (Aaand I worked on season three). But! It’s extremely beautiful and I think it deserves a recommendation. It’s a show about a person who leave their old life behind to try and climb what is essentially the abandoned ruins of the Tower of Babel. If you like the video game Celeste, you’ll love it.


The second recommendation I have for you is from our good friends at Audacious Machine Creative, formerly Hartlife NFP - Jeffrey Gardner and Eleanor Hyde. You might know them as the folks behind the gorgeous ghost story come small town drama series Unwell. They’ve just teamed up with Jessica Best from The Strange Case of Starship Iris to make a long distance chat show run by two friends in a magical apocalypse. This show is adorable and hilarious and I really think you’re going to love it.


Thank you so much again for your support, and remember - keep the fires burning. Diolch am wrando.

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