Author's Note: Yes, I said there was going to be a certain dwarf in the story by now, but I needed a connecting chapter or else a time skip of epic proportions would have happened, and I hate those. But don't despair, I can assure you he will be in the next chapter (which is nearly finished as we speak).

And thank you again to all you wonderful followers and reviewers.


The Surly Lady and the Golden Sword

In which a tale is told and a boy learns to look past the obvious


The skies were clear, not a cloud to be seen. The sun baked them to a warmth enough that their tired muscles felt relaxed and loose, and not a single one of them was wanting for food or water.

But for the life of him, Tye couldn't reason out why she was in such a foul mood.

Once they'd dropped off the merchant – mostly intact and slightly terrified of their leader – and picked up their pay, Rhegda had made the announcement that she would be riding for a new destination, and would most likely not return any time soon. Of course, the youngest of their band had protested slightly in his own way: he pouted. Well and truly pouted. Rhegda had almost lost it with him again until Syloris, charmer that he was, had stepped in to smooth things over. He had suggested they all ride with her, using the opportunity to pick out a new client or two in a more hospitable climate, and maybe take in some new scenery.

She hadn't said yes, but she hadn't objected when they'd all departed with her.

So all four were trekking along a well-traveled road, sun warming their backs, and good nature filling them for the first time in a while. Well, except for Rhegda. And that was something that Tye couldn't understand. If she was riding to repay a debt, did that mean there would be something terrible asked of her? What if she would be required to be subservient, or even worse…a lady?

He wanted to ask her, of course, but he had the distinct impression asking her something like that would lead to another fist in his face. Even Carden was in a better mood, his face not scowling near the point it usually did, which did nothing to aid in his uncovering of the reason why their leader seemed so miffed.

Syloris, who'd been humming some elegant tune until that point, took notice of the perturbed look painted all over the boy's face. It didn't take an intellect larger than a child's to see why their bowman was do deep in thought, ignoring practically all that was surrounding him. Smiling to himself, the resident alcoholic cleared his throat and allowed his agreeable voice to interrupt the enjoyable silence.

"Did anyone ever tell you of the Trevel orc incident?"

Tye's head whipped around as though he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't, eyes darting from Syloris to Carden, taking note that Carden appeared practically asleep. He tempted a glance to Rhegda just ahead of them, but she didn't seem to either hear them, or care.

Naturally, she heard them.

She knew exactly what Syloris was up to, and though his topic of choice was…regrettable, if it kept the boy from falling off his horse from his apparent disturbing distraction, then she didn't particularly care. They were only a half day from her destination, and while the temperature was more amenable and the company at least bearable, she found herself surly and irritated. What was hinted at in the letter left to her formed a frown on her tanned face, and she didn't like the feeling; she might not have been the most jovial of persons, but at least she could smile a time or two. It seemed though that her lips had been carried down, and they weren't raising any time soon.

Rhegda's attention was brought back to her men as Tye eventually, hesitantly spoke up.

"No…"

Syloris broke into a wide grin, his eyes flitting to their leader before continuing.

"Then you are in for a spectacular tale."

When the boy's eyes lit up, the swordsman knew he had a good audience. He cut a glance to Carden, but it seemed the man was well and truly asleep. Satisfied with having at least one set of ears to tug, Syloris continued.

"A long time ago, there was a traveler caught in the most ferocious snowstorm conceived by the Valar above. White was the world, snow blanketing anything it touched, and ice forming on even the breaths of men. It is said the streams froze so quickly the fish were flawlessly preserved, and that they thawed out perfectly when the weather cleared."

Tye looked skeptical, but he was still listening, so the raven-haired rider continued.

"Now, our humble traveler had grown tired and weak, slow from the pain of cold limbs and drifts of snow so great they could have covered an entire house. So, this traveler, seeking any respite from the storm, discovered the opening to a craggy cave just off the nearly impassable road. Well, that seemed about perfect, but as the traveler grew closer, they could see a light escaping the cave's nearly snowed-in entrance."

Syloris shook his head, making a motion of "what can you do?" with his hand, noting slyly that the kid was paying very close attention.

"So what was the traveler to do? They were most certainly going to die if they stayed in the cold, but what type of creature inhabited the cave? Friend? Foe? They had no way to know. But with no alternative, the traveler floundered through the snow banks, reaching the entrance of the cave just as a voice drifted above the sound of whipping wind."

With a suddenly very serious face, Syloris leaned over to Tye, speaking softly.

"It was black speech. Nasty stuff."

He righted himself, nodding once before continuing.

"Orcs. Treacherous, despicable, vile things they were too. The traveler dared to peer inside, and saw twelve. Twelve murderous creatures marred with scars and boils and oozing places that brought a dreadful stench to the cave. Well unquestionably, that was a rather terrible turn of events for our traveler. But though there were many, remaining in the frigid cold would most certainly kill the traveler, and that had to be taken into account. However…"

The swordsman looked around, as though he were about to tell a great secret, prompting the bowman to mirror the act, glancing around as well. In a lowered voice, he resumes.

"What the orcs didn't know was that our traveler was a master with the blade, and deadly with a knife. They were so skilled that none had ever survived an encounter with them, not a single one. They fought in a cold fury, wielding their blade with such ferocious might that they would routinely take off heads and arms in one fell act, bifurcating bodies with ease. They were that good."

Syloris cleared his throat slightly, voice returning to normal pitch.

"Our traveler pondered for a moment, weighing their options, as surely twelve ferocious orc would give anyone pause. But the traveler decided they would rather perish in a fight than freeze in the cold. So, they loosed the ruby encrusted, golden sword from their belt –"

"Last time you told it, the sword was silver and the gems were emeralds."

Rolling his eyes with an exasperated huff, Syloris turned to look at Carden, who had unarguably spoken, but had fallen back to the look of a man completely asleep. Waving his hand in the other man's direction, the swordsman retorted.

"I had it wrong then. This is the true telling."

Tye seemed a bit confused by that point, but refrained from weighing in as Syloris returned his attention to the bowman.

"Where was I? Oh, yes. The traveler freed their ruby and gold sword from their belt, holding it up along the stone wall the road had been carved into. You see, by now, the sword was frozen to its sheath, incapable of being drawn. But again, the traveler was ready. They drew back, and then cracked the hilt on the dark stone."

The alcoholic outrider flapped his hands about, indicating some sort of ruckus. His horse did not seem amused.

"Clangcrack! The sword rebounded off the wall, leaving behind the sharp sound of steel…golden metal on the rocky face of the wall. Instantly, the terrible orcs were on their feet, shouting as they gathered what filthy weapons they could, a few peeking out of the cave, interested enough in what had made the sound to risk injury."

Now, Syloris decided to pour on the majestic feats by the cart load.

"And what should happen? Their heads! Snicker-snack went the traveler's sword and off came three orc heads, which was indubitably most fortunate for the traveler. Down rolled the heads to the feet of the remaining nine, enraging their leader. In that most foul of tongues, he ordered them all out in to the snow, intent on rending apart the thing that had spilt orcish blood."

Taking a heartbeat before continuing, the swordsman waggles a finger to no one in particular.

"But wouldn't you know it? Our traveler was ready and waiting, just itching to get at that last orc head. However, as they all piled out into the snow, the traveler was nowhere to be found. The orcs' vision was limited in all the flurrying snow, so they were caught entirely unawares as a figure rushed out of the white, slicing and shredding and cutting and killing. Black blood stained the perfect snow, and bodies lay forgotten near the cave. The traveler would leave none alive, and so skilled were they that not a single one of those wretched creatures would see the day again."

The story was engrossing to Tye, and it didn't take a masterful mind to know it; he sat rapt on his horse, drinking in every word. Silently pleased with himself, Syloris continued to weave his tale.

"But there was one, only one, that dared to stand against the traveler. It was larger than the rest, with a hulking brow and a sword of black iron. Dark was its armor, stained with the blood of its enemies, and a fetid stench brewed from its mouth. It shouted obscenities and threats, circling the traveler with evil intent. Of course, the traveler did the same, and as they danced in the snow, all time seemed to stop. Not a sound caught their ears other than their breathing. No sight could they see other than their opponent. So when the moment came…DEATH!"

After barking the word almost to the top of his lungs, the swordsman had a difficult time not laughing at the poor boy beside him. His eyes had grown wide, and he'd jumped enough to startle his meandering horse.

"Yes, death. For you see, the traveler had read all of the orcs movements, and knew each and every one of its attacks, before it had just a single opportunity to swing its sword. The traveler stopped it in its tracks when they lopped off an arm, then brought it to its knees when they hewed off a leg. And finally…with one strike…the traveler took off its gruesome head, the golden sword so keen that it looked as though the beast's head would never fall. But the traveler, knowing the thing was dead, wasted no more time on it, sheathing their sword and marching to the cave."

Syloris waved his hand through the air once or twice.

"Of course, it did fall, but that was only days later, when the weather warmed enough for the body to topple, but by then, the traveler was nowhere to be found."

He shrugged, then straightened, as if to work out a kink in his back.

"To this day, there are tales of a wandering traveler in Treval, one who can kill orcs by the dozen, yet leave no trace of themselves behind."

Tye blinked once, then twice, his mind turning over rapidly as he made an attempt to discern what had been real, and what had been pure fiction. He was having difficulty sorting it out when Syloris broke out into a wide grin, the kind that said he wasn't finished with his lively moment.

"Say Rhegda, would you consider that a fair telling?"

The young bowman jerked his head around, staring at the back of their leader's head for some time. That tale, was it her? Was she actually the masterful traveler? Could she really kill twelve orc on her own? His mouth opened and closed for a second before Rhegda's voice came drifting back to them.

"Aside from the fact there were only three orc, the cave was a wayward pine, and it was the middle of spring…yes, I would consider that a fair telling."

Syloris continued to smile, while Tye looked all the more confused, though he was overjoyed she had spoken up for the first time in miles. And her voice seemed lighter than it had been, a little less grim. He was about to question the golden sword when Rhegda turned in her saddle, glaring teasingly at her alcoholic swordsman.

"And I never flounder."