Chapter two

Tony and 'the guys', as our heroine had lovingly named them, were getting ever closer to their destination. They had been travelling for more than two weeks now, and Tony's outfit had started to smell, something awful. She was glad when her newfound friends had told her that there was only one more week of what she considered absolute torment, but what de guys thought was a lovely ride.

They had finally reached the mountains, and were nearly over them. This was the end of the last day but one, and Tony was happily curled up in her horse-blanket, and thinking of chips, and pepsi, and dvd's, and… well, you get my drift. Anyway, everybody was at ease.

Until all hell broke loose.

Cries were heard coming from nearby, and all of a sudden the orcs were everywhere. Erthador and Barahir were on their feet faster than you could say; 'Hey, where did my entrails go?'. Tony, however, was a bit slower. But still a danger, as we shall soon find out. At first, she was a bit reluctant. After all, her guys seemed to be doing just fine on their own. Until Barahir got hurt. And, as those who've read Part One of this quartet obviously know, Tony doesn't like it when her friends get hurt. With a roar, she jumped on the nearest orc and tried to wrestle him to the ground. What she didn't realise at that moment was that she had his neck in an arm-lock, and she broke it. The orc lay there, dead at her feet, but Tony didn't have time to mind that, as she grabbed the nearest weapon from another dead orc, and started chopping away at anything that dared come near her or her friends. It was a frenzy, worthy of many appraisals and songs, if only anyone had taken the courtesy of actually writing them. Alas, no one did. In the end,  most of the orcs were slain while some had fled, afraid of so much power. Tony, though she was a woman, still wore the clothes she came with, meaning a white jacket and matching pants, and a blue shirt underneath. Though this is not strange in our world, it did surprise the orcs rather a lot and threw them off balance. Not to mention the fact that Tony could seriously kick ass if she wanted to. She was now looking after Barahir, who had a very serious injury on his arm.

'We have to find some water to cleanse the wound with.' She said to Erthador, who ran of to fetch some for her. In between, something was stirring in Tony's mind again. Cleanse? That sounds familiar, she thought to herself. But there wasn't much time for thought, as Erthador returned with the water.

'Here you are, Lady Tony. If it isn't too much trouble, I shall take care of his arm for you. This is not the first time one of us has got hurt.' Tony stepped back, and watched Erthador work. He was very skilled, and it didn't take long for Barahir's arm to be perfectly  cleaned and bandaged. Tony also saw a lot of scars on his arm, memories of previous injuries. Barahir saw the look in her eyes and smiled.

'You needn't worry, My lady, they do not hurt me anymore.' He said, trying to be soothing. Tony, however, was thinking something different.

'Ow, it's not that I don't know that. It's just that you have so much more scars than I have. I think I have about nineteen in total, and you have about forty on that arm alone, it seems.' Tony answered. The men looked at her in wonder.

'Then, where did you get those scars? Not in battle, to be sure. A fine lady like yourself surely wouldn't…' Barahir said, but Tony interrupted him.

'I assure you, I did. I used to be quite the fighter. But lately, I have had it easy. The gang-wars are over, nobody bothers nobody these days. Everybody gets along. In the beginning I found it frustrating, you know, not being able to vent. Did some crazy shit that'll make your head spin if I told you. Anyway, I ended up with a serious problem on my hands and a lot of free time. That's when I started watching Hellsing. It's really good stuff, once you get what's going on. With Walter kicking ass, when he's only 69 years old. It's really great!' Tony's mind was drifting off into Hellsing-thoughts, until Barahir prodded her a bit. She started, then looked at the two men, who had lost what she was talking about when it came to Hellsing. She had talked about this "Hellsing" before, though, but it still didn't quite catch on with the guys. They got confused. "A series? What is that, Lady Tony? Something where Hellsings stand in a row, and you look at them? Is it a beverage that you must drink with your friends? Then maybe Walter is outlandish for glass, or sugar, or grog?" And other such things crossed their minds that are just to silly to name. During the night, Erthador and Tony took turns watching over Barahir and each other.

When they awoke shortly after dawn, and had refreshed Barahir's bandages, they were once again on their way. And things looked a lot sunnier this day. This last day of weary travelling would lead them to Minas Tirith, and hopefully to clean clothes.