Weeks later Bruce is locking up the sports store late at night when he realizes someone has slipped in through backdoor. When he checks he's shocked to find Adam in the back office.

"You asked for updates." Adam says and Bruce nods.

Adam smiles "She's doing well. I have something I want you to make." Bruce moves closer to see what Adam has sketched out on several sheets of paper, one of which is rolled. Adam moves back to let him look. "Can you do it?"

Bruce sits at the desk and studies the paper intensely. "I can… for Kenzi. It won't be easy."

Adam nods "It won't. But it is important."

"Do you know what this?" Bruce asks.

"Of course."

"Nobody has made one of these for… over a thousand years. Are you sure about all of this?"

"A few have been made, by talented mortal humans, but they were not modified like this."

"Are you sure about the dimensions and techniques?"

"I'm sure of the dimensions. I designed them for her. The techniques, I've researched but you may need to bring your own skills to fill in any blanks." Bruce nods and continues to study.

"Do you really want the name? Is it worth the risk?" Adam nods. "or I could put her name instead."

Adam shakes his head. "No. Another immortal seeing that on her blade… will have second thoughts."

"It means that much?"

"To those that know, it does."

"Is this the correct spelling? I've seen other spellings."

"Inferior copies, I want it exactly like I've drawn it out." Bruce nods. "I want to minimize our contact, but you'll need help with the forge and hammering out the billet, preferably someone who will not talk. Do you know anybody?"

Bruce ponders. "I'd like to get Dyson, but…." Adam understanding the difficulty of working with a light fae nods.

Adam writes out a location on a slip of paper and hands it to Bruce. "It is a little used fae way station. The proprietor owes me a favor. Can you get some time off?" Bruce looks at the location with a surprised look.

"I can get the time off."

"Good, I'll get it set up."

"Are you sure Dyson…?" Bruce asks, Adam just smiles.

"The materials you will need will be there, but bring whatever tools you will need. One other thing…" Adam puts a stack of cash on the desk. "For your trouble and expenses…"

Bruce looks at the stack, counts out a few bills and gives the rest back. "I'll need to rent a truck. But for Kenzi it isn't trouble, it will be privilege..."

Adam smiles "It is a surprise for her and I want you to give it to her." Bruce smiles in appreciation. Adam slips out the back.

Bruce looks at the plans and traces his finger along the name he is to forge into the sword and gives a low whistle – "Ulfberht" with a cross before and after it. He runs his hand over his head and begins to study what Adam left with him.

Later that evening Dyson returns to his apartment, as soon as he opens the door he realizes someone is there. He moves quickly passed the open door and closes it without turning on the lights. He sniffs the air searching for the intruder. Suddenly there is the light from the refrigerator and the click of beer bottles. Smiling, Dyson turns on the lights and accepts a beer from Adam. Adam opens one for himself and sprawls onto the couch.

"How is it going with Kenzi?" Dyson asks.

"It goes well. I believe it is time that she receives her first best friend."

"Huh?"

"I've commissioned a sword for her. Would you be willing to travel a bit to help forge it?"

"Of course. What do you mean her first best friend? She already has many friends."

"Dyson, if she were to get into a fight with another immortal, her blade will be her only friend. Nobody is allowed to interfere. If her blade were to fail…" Dyson gives a worried nod. "Her 'Geraldine' should be retired and she should begin practicing and learning to take care of a more dependable blade." Dyson nods and they click bottles.

"So when do we get to work?"

Adam shakes his head. "We don't. This will take someone with far better skills with forge and hammer than I possess. Bruce will be the smith." Dyson looks worried. "I know. I've arranged for you to work at a little used fae way station. You are to tell nobody."

"Where?" Adam hands him a slip of paper. "There's a reason this place is little used. Nobody wants to go there."

"Well, not for a long time, but it used to be nice."

"Yeah, like a couple hundred years ago. Now it's an industrial wasteland."

"Meaning nobody will notice a small forge." Dyson nods.

Several days later Dyson is hanging out in an old man's bar trying to appear to care as old fae tell their tales as a battered truck pulls in. "Now that's one big dude" one man says. Another looks and adds "Gotta an arm like a freaking eggplant." Dyson looks to see Bruce climbing from the passenger side. "Oooo La La" another says as Tamsin gets out of the driver's side. "Twenty says the carpet matches the drapes." "That big guy rip your jewels right the hell off if you tried to find out." Dyson listens with small amusement. Tamsin stretches much to the delight of the bar patrons. She bends over to touch her toes affording a glimpse down her blouse and the old guys are transfixed. "He's not the one you've got to worry about, she is." Dyson says slipping off the stool and walking outside with his beer.

"Hey Dyson." Tamsin says as she walks passed him into the bar. Dyson does nothing to stop her, but goes on out to Bruce who is looking around.

"Didn't Adam tell you to tell nobody?" Dyson asks.

"She was the only one who'd rent me a truck… and she lives in it so… Did you know that even if you're paying cash, they want a credit card to rent a truck?"

Dyson nods. "Five, four, three, two, one…" Dyson counts down just before a bunch of old male fae moving faster then they have for more than a century flee the bar. "I tried to warn them."

Dyson and Bruce stroll into the bar where the bartender has pinned himself against the back bar. The whites of his eyes are visible all the way around his dilated pupils. "Hey! Bottle, now." Tamsin says and the bartender nods nervously.

The bartender puts the keys to the place on the bar top. "You can do your work out back. I'll be back in a couple of days… a week… maybe two."

"Good man" Tamsin says as she pinches his cheek and gives him a pat. As soon as he's gone Tamsin goes behind the bar and finds the liquor is below even her standards.

"I don't recommend the beer either." Dyson observes and Tamsin pouts. "What took you two so long anyway?" he asks.

"We needed to get everything to build the forge to make the steel."

"He shops like a woman." Tamsin complains.

"Everything has to be just right." Bruce states.

"What are we making anyway?" Tamsin asks.

Bruce puts the rolled plan and papers on the bar. Tamsin looks them over. "My God." She says under her breath. "The proportions are correct but it is scaled down a bit… lighter, faster. The handle has been altered. They didn't have these ring guards on the sides, just a straight guard. The handle has a smaller diameter but it's been lengthened. The finial has been adjusted to maintain the correct balance point. The grip is improved as well." She studies it more.

"Makes sense she would know Viking steel." Dyson observes and Bruce nods.

"I've conveyed many warriors who lost their lives to such blades to Valhalla."

Tasmin continues to consider the swords design and a thought begins to take shape. "Who is this for?" Tamsin asks her eyes worried. Dyson and Bruce look to each other hesitating to answer. "WHO is it for?" Tamsin repeats more firmly.

"Kenzi" Dyson answers.

"Moms?" Tamsin asks in a pleading wimper and Dyson and Bruce nod.

"Why would she need a sword like this?" Neither of the male fae want to answer. "WHY?" Tamsin demands suspecting an answer she doesn't want to hear. She receives no answer. "There is only one reason to build a sword like this. THIS isn't a museum piece because it isn't accurate to the period. Those rings indicate it has been modified for dueling sword to sword instead of splintering shields. This sword is intended for actual combat against another sword. Now you tell me why Kenzi would need such a sword."

"Tamsin, take it easy…" Dyson tries to calm Tamsin who is becoming increasingly upset.

"Tell me."

"You've heard of immortals?" Dyson asks.

Tamsin gasps in a plea she says "No" but Dyson nods.

"What do you know of them?" Tamsin asks.

"Not much." Dyson answers as Bruce shakes his head indicating he knows even less. "They live a long time, thousands of years." Tamsin glares at them.

"Do you know they hunt one another? Did you? We have rules. It is against our rules to kill another fae. But they hunt and kill one another. It is their main rule is that in the end there can be only one. Did you know if she gets into a fight with another immortal none of us are allowed to help?"

"We aren't bound by their rules."

"She is." Tamsin points out. "If word gets out that she let one of us helped her in a fight, other immortals will seek her out thinking she's too weak to defend herself. Who is her teacher?"

"Adam. He's the one who designed this sword for her." Dyson says as Bruce watches.

"You know that isn't the name he's most famous for don't you?" Dyson nods. Tamsin fumes. "Do you know what he and his brothers are to the dark?"

Dyson nods. "I have some idea."

"I doubt it."

"When was the last time you saw him, before now?"

"A long time ago, perhaps three thousand years, I would not have recognized him if it weren't for the Morrigan's reaction and what he said."

"Bo told me about what he said later. Did she tell you?" Tamsin shakes her head. "Did you know that I knew him when I was a kid?" Tamsin shakes her head. "It seems to me that you might want to keep an open mind. I don't think he's the person that you imagine, at least not anymore."

"What did he say?"

"Several things, first he asked if Bo had given any thought to why you and Vex had been brought into contact with her and Kenzi. He pointed out that the dark have softened their position on humans over the long term. He hinted that you and Vex were part of a process."

"It doesn't matter. A guy like that… nothing is what it appears to be."

As Tamsin and Dyson talk Bruce has begun preparing an area to build his forge to create the very special steel the sword will require. Tamsin notices Bruce has wandered off and seeks him out.

"I heard he sought you out. Why?" Tamsin asks Bruce. Bruce shrugs. "And then he went to you to make this sword. Why?" Bruce ignores her and continues his preparations. "Why?"

"I don't ask those questions. As you said, nothing is as it appears. Someday the answers may become apparent. For now what is…" "…is." Dyson finishes Bruce's sentence in recognition. Bruce nods and continues to clear a work area. "I'll build the forge here." Bruce says pointing near the garage bay door. "The anvil can go over there."

Dyson and Tamsin go to the back of the truck and struggle with the large anvil bolted to a tree stump. They manage to drag it to the rear of the truck. Bruce comes over and puts his forearms under the horns of the anvil and with modest effort carries it alone to its appointed spot. Tamsin and Dyson look to each other in amazement.

"You two may want to get some rest while I set up the forge. Once we start the heating, we can't stop pumping the bellows until the ingot has formed. The ingot will take about twelve hours of pounding to get into even the rough shape of the sword. After that, you two can rest but I'll have at least a week of work before I can begin the polishing. He asked that I not bring the sword to life until we return."

"Bring the sword to life?" Dyson asks.

"He wants Kenzi to be there." Tamsin says, her eyes welling up with tears. "The sword comes to life when the letters are revealed."