Chapter 5: Masters of Subtlety

The two made for the east gate of Shadowdale with a rapid pace, Bugoron in the lead, and Willow following right behind.

Bugoron looked back to the young woman, "Will the guards give us any grief when we leave?"

Willow shook her head, "They knew me since I was just a youngin', we'll be fine." They passed through the gates without a word from the guards, but the half-elf stopped in his tracks as he heard a male voice shouting from behind them. The two turned as one to watch a young man wearing half a suit of armor trundle down the road toward them.

The man came to a halt in front of Willow, panting and puffing, "Willow...I'm...going with...you," he swallowed, regaining his breath, "I wouldn't feel right letting you go on this trek to wherever you're going without staying with you to protect you." He stood straight after regaining his breath. The man was well-built, head adorned with scraggly brown hair and eyes of a light blue hue. His tall, almost imposing figure, Bugoron believed, was not one to be reckoned with.

Bugoron watched the scene curiously, then gently brought Willow back toward him, whispering to her, "You know this fellow, I presume?"

Upon seeing the half-elf grab Willow, the young man's eye's lit up, and he drew a sword from the scabbard at his side, "Kindly take your hand away from her, sir, I will not allow you to harm her!"

Bugoron looked up at the man with surprise, raising an eyebrow and smirking, "Oh...? What are the repercussions if I refuse?"

Willow scowled, "Put that sword away Roddie, ye'll be sooner te hurt yerself than him!"

Roddie seemed to flinch at the words, but leveled his sword at Bugoron, "Should you refuse, I will drive you away by sword-point myself."

Bugoron's face seemed to light up a bit, as if he enjoyed that prospect, grinning at the young man, "I always was one to do things the hard way, son, show me what you can do with your big pointy sword." Bugoron ended with a smirk, watching Roddie's face go red, half in embarrassment, half in rage. The priest gently ushered Willow away, "Don't worry, I won't be too rough on him." He winked at her and turned just in time to watch Roddie rush him, raising his sword for a frontal attack. The half-elf bent slightly, spinning around the swordsman as the sword came down where he had previously been, and drew his mace from his scabbard as he straightened, facing Roddie's back.

Roddie turned to him once again, "You're moving around will not spare you my wrath, scoundrel!" The swordsman came at Bugoron again, this time keeping his sword down, bringing it back for a horizontal sweep. The priest met the blade with his mace, stopping the motion of the slash, but forcing him to the side a bit. Bugoron made a note of Roddie's obvious strength, and jumped back a step as the swordsman brought his blade back and swung again, connecting with the air.

Willow, watching the duel, but unable to do anything about it, shouted at Roddie, "Stop this right now!" She waited for Roddie to reply, but he stayed silent, focused on his opponent.

Bugoron waited for Roddie's next move, which was a diagonal slash. The half-elf easily pivoted to the side, avoiding the attack, but soon realized his foolish recklessness. Roddie kept the sword from hitting ground and spun himself around, bringing the sword through a vicious horizontal circle aimed right at Bugoron's torso. Bugoron saw little else for options, so he brought his mace back and swung upwards, meeting the blade with his full force before the cutting edge of the blade could get to him. The combined power of the attack and block caused a tremendous clang of metal that resounded in the air. Bugoron and Roddie met eyes and stared at each other, as the blade from Roddie's sword flew through the air to strike the ground hard. The blade sunk into the earth, stuck fast.

Bugoron eased a bit, "Whew, not too bad at all" His compliment was met with a fist to the left of his jaw. The priest was knocked back slightly by the force of Roddie's punch, but held his ground, head turned to the side.

Willow cried out, and ran at Roddie. As the swordsman eased so as to hold Willow, he was met with a nasty slap to the face. He blinked, staring at her for a moment, wondering why Willow would slap her rescuer.

The young woman scowled at Roddie, "Ye dummy, couldn't even find out if he were a friend before swinging yer sword around, now could ye? Bugoron saved my life, you know. It's just as well he broke yer sword, ye'd have ended up hurtin' somebody innocent with it!" She turned and went to Bugoron, leaving Roddie dumbfounded. She placed a gentle hand on the half-elf's cheek, opposite the one that had been hit, "Oh, Bugoron, are ye alright? Can ye fix it?"

Bugoron smiled, patting her shoulder. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands together in a strange gesture. Willow watched him, and could hear him whispering a low prayer to his Lady, Selune. As Bugoron finished, Willow looked on in disbelief as the priest's hands glowed light blue. The half-elf placed his hands on his jaw, where he had been punched, and waited. Willow, who still had her hand on his cheek, felt a warm energy pass through Bugoron's face, as healing magic mended his jaw until it was completely repaired.

Bugoron tested his jaw, moving it from side to side, then nodded, "Good as new." He looked at Roddie and nodded again, "You've got some skill, you're obviously not some ordinary pup out looking for a fight."

Roddie frowned and lowered his gaze, "I apologize for my actions, sir, I was rash and unreasonable."

Bugoron furrowed his brow, "Oh bah, no one was seriously hurt, so don't go moping like that. Allow me to introduce myself, Bugoron Bearfang, Blue Moon Cleric, at your service." He bowed to the swordsman and smiled.

Roddie smiled weakly, "Roderick Hughes, sir, although most folk around town call me Roddie. Willow said you had saved her life. If that is true, then I am indebted to you. I would not have forgiven myself if something had happened to her while I was absent from her side." Roderick returned the priest's bow.

As the swordsman finished his last sentence, Bugoron began thinking to himself. It was obvious that Willow meant more than a little to Roderick. Perhaps there was some small amount of affection waiting to be kindled and fed, so that it might grow between the two. The half-elf smiled inwardly, as he ran the idea through his head again, thinking he may have found a solution to Willow's dependency on him. He motioned Willow over to him, so that they might speak privately.

Willow looked to Bugoron curiously, "What is it?"

The priest asked, "How long have you known Roddie?"

The young woman answered him, "Since we were kids."

He prodded, "Did you two have...affections, shall we say, for each other, if you don't mind my asking?"

She replied, "Yes we did."

The priest smiled and continued, "Do you still feel them?"

The woman stated, "No."

Bugoron's smile vanished. He blinked, "No?"

Willow shook her head, "Nope."

The half-elf pondered a moment, asking, "But it's obvious that he still cares very much for you, did something happen to make you change your mind about him, can you really just let it go at that?"

Willow shook her head again, "No, he hasn't changed at all since the time when I loved him, and he's done me no harm in me life"

Bugoron nodded, "So then, can you really end it like this, doesn't it seem a bit too cruel?"

Willow was silent a moment, then smiled, "Yes, ye're right, of course." She turned and walked toward Roddie. Bugoron smiled as he approached him. He saw Roddie tense up slightly as Willow got closer, and couldn't help but grin.

The young woman stood in front of the swordsman and said bluntly, "I'm sorry Roddie, but I'll never love ye again." She then walked away.

Bugoron's grin disappeared quicker than a shooting star. He sighed, shaking his head, saying to himself, "That's not what I meant..." He looked over to Roddie, whose jaw was slack from the declaration Willow had just issued, "Come with me a moment, would you?" The priest looked to Willow, "We'll be right back." Bugoron took Roderick by the arm, ushering him off to the side to convene in private.

As soon as they were out of the young woman's direct earshot, the swordsman gave Bugoron a wide-eyed look, "What was that all about?"

The half-elf calmed Roddie down and related to him what had happened in the last few days. The swordsman was deeply saddened to hear of Douglas's death, but was hugely thankful that Willow had been saved before she was brought to harm. Bugoron continued, telling Roderick of her new 'dependency' on him since the attack.

Roddie took it all in, and finally said, "So she clings to you in order to keep her mind off of the past events?"

Bugoron nodded, "I believe so, but now that I know that you two have a history, I have something to work with."

The swordsman furrowed his eyebrows, "By what do you mean, sir?"

"It's quite simple," answered the priest, "You two were in love before the attack, I take it, so that means that if we can bring you two together, her dependency for me should disappear.

"I see," said Roderick, "You may have a point, but how do you suggest we go about bringing Willow and I together when she has just flatly stated to me that she has no love for me anymore?"

the half-elf grinned, "That, my friend, is a road parallel with mine. You've already said that you were going to follow Willow on the journey she undertook, right?" Bugoron waited for the swordsman to nod, then continued, "I am a cleric, and although I have traveled for years, I still can only do so much in the way of fighting. A hearty warrior would be a good companion for the road, since I don't very well know what I'm up against."

Roderick smiled, "You mean you'd let me travel with you and Willow?" He stopped short, though, absently letting his hand drop to his empty scabbard, "But sir, I am now without a proper weapon, I can not defend you two if I cannot defend myself."

"Then we will just have to find you a proper weapon, won't we?" suggested Bugoron.

Roderick frowned slightly, "Sir, I forged that blade myself, and I trust no weapon not made by my hand."

The half-elf looked curiously at the swordsman, "You forged that sword? Hmm...I must admit it was plenty sturdy up till the end, how long have you been smithing?"

Roderick replied, "Six months, sir, I needed money to help pay for food and equipment to train with. I know I am not very adept at it yet, but..." he trailed off.

Bugoron smiled, "You have promise, that is certain, but you must not keep the mindset that you can only trust weapons you yourself have forged, what would you do if you had to defend us on the road, and your blade had snapped then instead of now?"

The man looked down slightly, "Yes, you have a point."

Bugoron gave him a pat on the shoulder, "It's not the sword, but the one who wields it, my friend, that matters. Come, let us find another weapon for you." He led Roderick back over to where Willow was standing. With a smile, the priest said, "We have another companion, Willow. Roddie will be joining me on my trip to act as a bodyguard."

The woman leveled her gaze at Bugoron, "Ye've done a fine job by yourself, and I'm one for believin' ye can continue fine that way."

The priest countered, "Yes, that may be true, but how would you feel if I were to be wounded or injured because I was busy protecting you...?"

Willow stopped short, as was expected by the half-elf, lowered her gaze, and muttered, "All right, fine..." She nodded her submission in the matter.

Bugoron smirked, "Well then, now that this has been settled, it's time to go shopping for a sword."

The trio slowly made their way back toward the city proper; however, they were oblivious to the eyes that followed them. Orbs of emerald, large and beautiful, held their gaze on each of the three, but held the longest on the large man in the rear. Full red lips curved into a mischievous smile, as a melodic voice uttered, "Perhaps I'll perform today, after all..."

Roderick stood before his master, the owner of the blacksmith shop, in silence. The blacksmith, a robust man, with a bald pate and steel grey eyes, looked back to Roddie with a frown. The swordsman looked to his superior with wide eyes, "You mean they still haven't arrived?" He looked around the back area of the shop, where forging took place. The area was wide and open, with the forge set in the centre of the ground, belching out heat from the fire burning inside. Off to the side was a large anvil, its top worn smooth from many years of metal being pounded on it. Tools lined the walls of the forge area, and material was stockpiled on the floor, but the supply of materials, ore of many different types, was dangerously low.

The blacksmith returned, "Aye, that's right, lad, the shipment of metal and materials never made it to Shadowdale, far as I know. Either it never made its way back out of Westgate, or it's just late making it to Shadowdale from making its rounds out there."

Bugoron thought a moment, "Mr. MacNalty, sir, can you say for sure that the supply caravan always comes from Westgate back to Shadowdale?"

The blacksmith looked to Bugoron, "Please, sir, you can call me Robert, and yes, it do always come through that way."

The half-elf nodded to Robert, "I will be traveling that way soon, so perhaps I can investigate the problem."

Roderick smiled and nodded in agreement, "Yes, master, we will find out what has gone wrong."

Robert looked to Roddie, "Not without a weapon, you won't, lad. Wait here." Robert went into a room at the far end of the smithing area. He came back shortly after, holding a sword in his hand. He handed the blade to Roddie, "Here lad, some fellow sold this to me the other day, said he no longer had a use for it. He also said it was magically enhanced, but wouldn't say what enchantment had been placed on it."

Bugoron came forward, uttered a quick prayer, and held his hand out toward the blade. A light blue aura flowed from the priest's hand, enveloping the sword. Bugoron waited for the aura to change color, and smiled when it did not, "Whatever cantrip is placed on the sword, it is not evil, you should be safe using it, Roderick."

Roddie smiled and held the blade in his right hand, as he and the half-elf studied it. The sword's blade, about thirty-two inches in length, had a hint of blue in its metallic sheen. There was a set of arcane runes running down the length of the blade on one side. Bugoron attempted to decipher the runes, but could only make out '...amplify...self...'. He kept the thought in his mind as he looked to the hilt of the blade. The crosspiece at the top of the hilt was a set of stylized steel wings; however, one of the wings was a feathered wing, like that of an angel, while the other was a leathery wing, resembling the wing of a demon or dragon. Between the two, a bloodstone was set into the hilt. The handle was formed from numerous strands of metal spiraling down to the pommel. The design looked something like snake coils. Finally, the pommel was a golden orb half-protruding from the bottom of the handle, like a sunrise peeking out past the horizon. Roderick slid the sword easily into his scabbard, smiling, and turned to Robert, "Thank you, master, you shall not go unpaid for your generous act unto me."

Robert snorted, "Oh bah, lad, I'm just glad we've learned to use someone else's handiwork. Use it well, and it should do the same for you." He smiled as he ended.

Bugoron bowed before Robert, who returned the bow, and said, "Thank you again," then turned to Willow and Roderick, "We should get on the road." Bugoron turned and headed out, with his two companions following behind. They once again headed out toward the gate of the city, passing by people going about their daily business. The cleric came to a halt, however, when he heard a startled cry behind him. He turned to see Willow staring at Roddie, who held an unknown young woman in his arms. Not the greatest of ideas, my friend, he thought to himself, as he wondered what was going on.

The woman looked up at Roddie, "Oh, thank you, I twisted my ankle. I was fortunate you were right here to catch me, how can I ever repay you?" She smiled sweetly at Roddie, deep green eyes full of gratitude.

Roderick blushed slightly, looking to Willow, who quickly turned the other way. He looked back to the woman he held, "Well, uh, that is...it was nothing, Ma'am."

The woman's full lips seemed to almost pout, "Oh, but there must be something I can do..." She stopped short as Bugoron came back to look at her, "Sit her down, Roderick."

Roderick nodded to the half-elf, leading the woman to a bench, where he let the woman sit down. She held his arm, pulling him to sit down beside her. She winced a little as she jarred her ankle slightly.

Bugoron stood before her, looking down at her ankle, then looking up at the woman, "You're in luck..."

The woman tilted her head slightly, "How do you mean, good sir? It isn't twisted"

The half-elf finished, "I'm a cleric..."

The woman blinked, "Oh..."

Bugoron smirked, "How do you wish to pay me for healing a faked injury, coin or song, or perhaps poetry, or a dance, maybe? I'm sure a bard has many ways of repayment..."

It was the woman's turn to blush a bit, she shot back, a bit flustered, "It wasn't that obvious, now was it?" She looked to Roddie, who seemed thoroughly confused.

The cleric chuckled, "I've known enough bards to pick them out of crowds, do not worry, I would be a hard one to fool, your...performance...was quite good, though maybe a little less fawning on your rescuer, next time...?"

The bard looked to Bugoron with feigned surprise, "Oh, but how could a young lady such as myself not be more than...pleased...to have such a handsome gentleman save her from a horrid fall...?" She let a slender hand rest on Roderick's arm as she once again smiled sweetly up to him, "Oh, do forgive me, kind sir, I haven't even given you my name. Icedea Rathi, at your service. Let me know if there is anything at all I can do for you..."

Roderick was quick to find his mouth quite dry. He'd never had a woman act like this toward him, not even Willow. He looked to his childhood love, who seemed to glare at him from the corner of her eye. Bugoron picked up on this, and mulled the situation over in his mind. If Icedea continued her 'act', Willow may just forget that she had decided to not love Roddie any longer. Bugoron made his way slowly to the bench, putting on a serious face, "Songstress, come with me, please, I'd like to talk to you."

Icedea turned, looking to the priest. She raised an eyebrow at his tone, but then looked into his eyes and saw the mischief in them, "Of course, sir," she turned to Roddie, "I'll be right back, dear Roderick."

The half-elf led the bard away from earshot of the others and kept his back to them. He looked to the songstress and asked, "You're playing him for a fool, aren't you?"

Icedea started, "How dare you simply-" then stopped, as she noted the grin on Bugoron's face, "...all right, maybe I enjoy flirting with handsome men, what is that to you?"

The half-elf inclined his head, while still grinning, "A great deal, actually, and I am willing to pay you as such to continue."

Icedea blinked, "...Come again?"

Bugoron nodded, "You heard it right, I'll pay you, the only thing is I have to ask you to accompany me on a journey where I know not where my final destination be, nor who my ultimate foe is. We will tell the other two that I have hired you to record this journey of mine for a book to be written later, when this is all over. Perhaps I could ask you to truly write the book, to make things seem legitimate, I will make sure you are given the information you'll need concerning what has already happened. How does that sound to you?"

The songstress played along, putting on a look of deep thought, as if deciding whether or not to take Bugoron's 'offer', "All right, you have a deal, might I have the name of the one whom I have given my service?"

The half-elf bowed, "Bugoron Bearfang, Blue Moon Cleric, at your service, as you to me. Come, let us deliver the good news to our waiting companions," he ended with a smirk. He led Icedea back to the group and looked to Roddie and Willow, "You should know that this kind bard has agreed to accompany us on the journey to record our experiences and keep us entertained with a song or two along the way."

Willow's leveled gaze found its way back to Bugoron again, "Ye're joking."

Bugoron held his ground, "I am not."

Roddie wasn't sure whether to be glad or appalled, "I, uh...will concur with whatever decision you make, Bugoron."

Icedea looked over to Roderick and gave him a wink, "Glad someone's happy to have me along," she grinned while watching the blood rise again in Roddie's face.

Willow looked to Bugoron in protest, "We don't need her to come along, what good will she be?"

Now it was Bugoron's turn to level his gaze on Willow, "She has been hired to accompany me, Willow. I have not hired you, so I leave you the option of staying here if it so pleases you. Roddie can still come along, and he will be reassured by the fact that you are safe back in your home." The tone in which he responded to Willow put her in a stunned silence. Her face went pale, and all she could do was shake her head. After a few moments, she meekly muttered, "I'm sorry, it doesn't matter, she can come..."

Bugoron walked over and gently patted her shoulder, "I'm sorry as well, I didn't mean to sound so harsh, please forgive me."

Willow's color returned, but she merely nodded weakly.

The half-elf looked to Roderick and Icedea, "Let's head out, we need to look for that caravan. Icedea, Roddie will fill you in on the way," he turned and headed to the gates, his three companions following behind.

The walk from Shadowdale was turning into a quiet one for Willow. Since their departure, she fell back to the back of the group. The young woman would occasionally look ahead of her to Bugoron, who led the band down the road to Westgate, blue robes swaying with his movements. The tone which Bugoron had used back in town had hurt her; she had not expected such an imposing voice could come from one so warm and kind. She looked at Roderick and Icedea, who were conversing casually. "Why," she thought to herself, "why did we have to let them come as well? I wanted to be with you, Bugoron...just you..." She had merely given in to Bugoron because she had no desire to anger him. In truth, she very much would have preferred if Roddie and Icedea hadn't shown up at all. She mulled this and other things in her mind for some time, until she heard a shout from Bugoron. She looked up to see her three companions running toward an uncovered wagon that had stopped in the middle of the road. The wagon was surrounded by armed and armored men, while two smaller figures stood defiantly on the wagon. Some men lay on the ground, dead from bolts from the crossbows held by the figures on the wagon, no doubt. As Willow looked on one of the dead men, a vivid memory of her father, Douglas, crept into her mind. The image struck her hard, and she dropped to her knees, unable to move as the distance between her and her allies grew.

Bugoron pulled his mace from his mace-loop with ease as he looked back to gauge his advance compared to Roderick's and Icedea's. Both were right behind him, Roddie with his new sword, and Icedea with a long metal staff that had been strapped to her pack. Willow was behind them, but running slower. He noted this positively, for he wanted her away from the fighting, where she would be unhurt. He looked forward again and began counting how many men stood around the wagon. The half-elf counted a dozen men, and the lack of any cover within close proximity reassured him he was likely correct. Still, the Moonpriest wasn't overly fond of the numbers, for his group was only three, meaning they would be fighting four-to-one, unless they received help from the two in the wagon. The highwaymen had noticed them by now, and were focusing their attention on Bugoron's group, obviously seeing him and his friends as a bigger threat. Six of the men ran toward Bugoron's group, while the other six stayed to hold off the shots of the crossbows from the two figures on the wagon. Bugoron quickly looked up to the wagon, attempting to get a better look at the two defending it. Upon his closer speculation, he found that the two were both dwarves. This revelation gave the half-elf hope that this was the supply wagon that had not made it to Shadowdale. The first attacker made a swing with his short sword, forcing Bugoron to block with his mace. Two others came around to either side of the priest and passed by to occupy Roderick and Icedea. Bugoron pushed his foe back, but narrowed his eyes as the three others reached their spot. Again, the group separated, to outnumber Bugoron and the others.

Options were few and far between. Bugoron looked behind him quickly, finding Roddie trying to hold off his two enemies, "Roddie, back up, back-to-back!" The swordsman took a quick glance behind him and jumped back, to which Bugoron did the same, meeting Roderick at the back.

Roderick swung his sword defensively, holding back the two in front of him, "Good decision, friend, we shan't be flanked now!"

Bugoron replied, "Yes, indeed," he watched his enemies closely, "You work metals. Do you have any smelted ore on you?"

Roderick grabbed a lump of iron from his pocket and dropped it behind him, where it landed just in front of the priest, "Only one I had on me!"

The half-elf bent quickly to grab the metal with his right hand, and started uttering a prayer to Selune. At this, one of Bugoron's attackers, fearing a spell was going to be cast, rushed forward to try and strike the half-elf before the spell could go off.

He swung his sword down hard and fast toward Bugoron's head.

He almost made contact.

Bugoron's prayer finished, the metal disappearing, just as the thug was overhead. The thug was still overhead, but was perfectly motionless. The man's eyes widened and looked around, panicked, as he found his whole body unable to budge from its current position. The highwayman's partner, standing behind, blinked at his fellow thug in stunned disbelief. The priest caught this lack of attention and rushed forward quickly to slam his mace into the man's stomach. The bandit fell over with a groan before going unconscious. Bugoron looked back to see if Roddie was still alright. Roderick was doing well at holding back his two foes, but one of them looked behind and nudged his partner to do the same. The other man did so, and both took a moment to look back at Roddie, then turned full around and ran the other way.

Bugoron looked to the swordsman, "Why would they - " he stopped as he looked past Roderick. His eyes went huge as he saw Willow on her knees, unmoving on the ground even as the men came nearer. The priest cried, "Roddie, go, now!!" and pointed toward Willow.

Roderick turned and also saw Willow. As soon as recognition struck, his feet launched him into a full-tilt run to intercept the two heading for the young woman.

The half-elf turned again, this time seeking Icedea. He quickly judged that she was holding her two foes with relative ease. She looked as if she was performing an intricate dance for a crowd of onlookers, and indeed, it was a dance. Her staff before her, she twisted and spun, hurling the steel pole in windmills and sweeps, while keeping a perfect balance. The length of the weapon and the speed of Icedea's motions kept the bandits from even getting close enough to make a decent attack. Bugoron began to shout, "Songstress, do you - " but stopped as a chunk of metal skidded to a stop beside him. He looked to the wagon, and saw one of the dwarves looking back at him. Bugoron quickly took the metal and looked back toward Willow, focusing his eyes on one of the men coming very close to her. He again uttered a prayer, and watched the metal in his hand again vanish. He was somewhat relieved to see the man he had been focused on was stuck fast in his current stance. He looked to Roderick, and was taken aback at the speed at which the swordsman was running. Roddie covered the ground between himself and the highwayman with amazing ease, and took a great swing with his blade.

The bandit hadn't even heard anything behind him.

The sword dug in hungrily, tearing through metal, leather and flesh as if it were all cloth. The sword passed through the torso of the man, coming out the other side soaked in blood. The man fell over with hardly a cry. His body, from the waist up, skidded on the ground, landing a small distance from his legs and lower torso. He was already dead by the time his two halves came to a stop.

All looked on in a stunned, unmoving silence. The other highwaymen were dumbstruck by the gruesome scene they had just been witness to. The dwarves atop the wagon were hooting their admiration of the blow. Bugoron and Icedea looked to each other, then back to Roddie in amazement. Willow turned, looking over at the man, shorn in half by a single swing from her childhood love.

Roddie threw down the blade, running over to Willow. He dropped to his knees, taking her gently by the shoulders with his hands, "Willow, are you alright?"

The woman looked blankly at Roderick, still unable to speak. She simply slumped forward, into his arms, and cried. He held her close, not saying any more, and looked over to the others.

Bugoron look into Roddie's eyes a moment before turning to the bandits, "Unless you would all like to meet the same fate as your comrade over there, leave now!"

The men were quick to oblige. The two who had been frozen by Bugoron's prayers had been released from their entrapment, and had joined their fellows. They all scattered in numerous directions, getting as far away from the group as possible.

After the highwaymen had vanished, Bugoron and Icedea walked over to Roddie and Willow, "Is she alright?" asked the priest.

Roddie nodded, "I believe so..."

The half-elf continued, "Just what happened there, Roddie? I've never seen anyone strike a blow that devastating before. I realize you have great strength, but I never believed even you could accomplish that!"

The swordsman shook his head, "I'm not sure, to tell the truth. I just remember seeing Willow in danger, and I suddenly felt as if my strength had increased tenfold..." he looked down at the ground, where he had dropped his sword, "and the sword, the gem in the hilt was glowing red..."

The half-elf looked at the sword. He looked at the runes on the length of the blade again. ...amplify...self...

Bugoron began to make some assumptions as to what the enchantment on the sword was. It seemed the sword had the ability to increase one's strength and speed based on the emotional state of the wielder. A powerful weapon, indeed, he thought to himself. His thoughts, though, were interrupted by a shout from behind, "Ah'm fer believin' we owe yeh fellas a big thenk yeh!"

Bugoron and the others turned to see the two dwarves from the wagon walking over to meet them. The priest met the two with a bow, "You're most welcome, sirs, I'm just glad we were able to find you in time to be of any help to you."

One of the dwarves nodded to him. He looked to Bugoron with dark blue eyes and a thick set of eyebrows. His face was set with wrinkles, though they were more work wrinkles than ones of age. His hair and beard were a pale red color mixed with some small spots of grey. The dwarf offered a short arm, and a thick hand to the half-elf, "Name's Golmer Granite-Arm, tha's meh brudder, Gimbur," he nodded to the other dwarf, who offered a similar hand to the priest. Gimber seemed younger than his brother, his face less wrinkled, but not less hearty. His hair was a dark red hue, and he wore a gold earring in his left ear.

Bugoron took Golmer's, and then Gimbur's, hand, shaking them, "Well met, friends."

Golmer looked back to the wagon, where the bodies of the other dwarves were still left, unmoving. He frowned, "Taked us by sup'rise, th' did. Lost good friends, an fer what? Nothin!"

The cleric frowned, kneeling slowly. The others could hear uttered words part from Bugoron's lips, as he offered up a prayer to Selune, asking Her to guide the souls of the dwarves' fallen friends safely to their respective Lords. He then stood, "I am very sorry we could not find you sooner..."

"S'alright, yeh did wha' yeh could, an' we's thankin' ye fer it," replied Gimbur. "We still 'ave teh make it teh Shadowdale an' deliver these goods, cannae be turnin' back now, we'd be defilin' our brudders an' their sacrifice."

Roderick came forward, "At least allow us to escort you the rest of the way to –"

"Bah! Be none o'that!" interrupted Golmer, "Ye folks are goin' the other way, and ye'll be goin' that way when we leave. Ye've done more than enough for us, an' don't ye doubt, we'll be repayin' ye for it sometime later!" The dwarf's mouth widened as he grinned.

Bugoron smiled weakly, "If that is what you wish, then we will do as you request. Please be safe on the rest of your journey." With that, Bugoron began chanting a prayer, and laid protective wards over the dwarves and their wagon.

Gilmer went over to the wagon and rummaged around until he found a long, slender sword. The blade gleamed brightly in the sun, looking as though it was only forged days before. The dwarf came over to Roderick and handed him the sword, "Ye be givin' that teh the girl fer somethin' teh fight with, that's a dangerous game she were playin' back there!"

Roderick admired the sword, so light to hold and perfectly balanced. The metal was mithril, the metal so synonymous with the dwarven race. He smiled, "I shall ensure she can handle her blade as well as I can handle mine own."

Gilmer grinned, "Good, I'd like teh be seein' her cutting fellas in half!"

After some hearty handshakes, the dwarves were off on their route towards the Dale. The group watched them trundle off down the road.

Icedea smirked, "A shame those two weren't taller..." she whipped her staff behind her back, lashing it in place, "They might have been quite the catch." She winked.

Bugoron turned to Willow, who had now regained herself, "Are you alright? What happened back there, did you injure yourself?"

Willow shook her head, "I'm so sorry, I just...I saw one of the bodies with a bolt in the chest and..." she trailed off.

Bugoron sighed, feeling sorry for the poor girl, "I know it's hard, Willow, and I know you loved him, I've seen it far too many times, but Douglas has gone on to a better place, he would not want you to be like this, he would want you to be strong..."

Willow seemed to take the cleric's words to heart, "You're right...you're absolutely right." The girl looked as though she had come to some great epiphany, and had finally become stronger from the loss of her father. Or, perhaps, she had just come to realize the danger she could have put her allies in with her carelessness. She held her head high, and looked Bugoron straight in the eyes, with a look that gave the half-elf hope, "We must get going, for there is no time to waste."