Somewhere in the Riverlands…

Bodrin and Gendry were blindfolded, led by the arms by Thoros of Myr and Anguy to a hidden location in the Hollow Hill. Both didn't know where they were being taken to, but somehow Bodrin did not have a good feeling by being surrounded by the Brotherhood Without Banners group; had to be a small band of outlaws, nothing more. At least that's what the old man had previously assumed. Once he felt himself being tugged forward again, Bodrin had to guts to finally speak up.

"Seven hells, at least tell us where you're taking us," he spoke up.

Thoros looked back at Bodrin. "Sorry about that, old man, but it's better for you if you don't see where we're going."

"But why the secrecy?"

Anguy felt increasingly irritated. "Because we can't risk any of you selling us out to the Lannisters, that's why."

'The Lannisters? They're the King's maternal relatives,' he noticed.

Being led into a nearby cave, Hollow Hill, Thoros raised his hand up – motioning for the small team to stop. He pulled out a flask before taking a big sip; once finished, Thoros politely held it towards Bodrin. The old man thought there was something near his face considering the smell, but still couldn't see since his face remained hidden underneath the hood and his hands were tied.

"What is it?" Bodrin asked suspiciously.

"Blackstrap rum," Thoros answered. "Not easy finding molasses in war time."

"I'd have some," Gendry requested.

Bodrin did not seem to appreciate that. "Perhaps later, my boy; once we're someplace safer."

"What's wrong, old man? You don't feel safe here?" Anguy taunted.

"Nowhere is safe, child," Bodrin scolded, "not with Balon Greyjoy rebelling against His Grace King Daveth."

"Yet takes place along the western coast."

"Look, I don't know where you're taking us. Could be leading Gendry and I into a trap for all we know."

"Do you take us for bandits, cutthroats… or Lannister henchmen?"

"I take you for reasonable human beings, I hope."

Anguy shook his head and pushed the two into the cave. Thoros caught Bodrin before the old man stumbled forward, considering each step is steep and slippery – unsafe for men Bodrin's age. Gendry slipped and fell a while, but the young man quickly got back up. Around them in this damp, dark cave lit torches were hung on the walls with a campfire sitting in the middle. Bodrin felt chills running up and down his spine, yet felt surprising warmth nearby. It was then that Thoros and Anguy made both Bodrin and Gendry stop in their tracks before finally removing their hoods.

Both men blinked to adjust to the light before taking a moment to take in their new surroundings. They never seen this cave and wondered why they were brought here.

"What's this place?" Gendry asked.

Anguy looked at the former apprentice smith. "This place is somewhere neither wolves nor lions come prowling. Now leave it at that."

"What are you going to do to us?" Bodrin asked.

Thoros glanced to his left. "Just answer a couple questions for us and you're free to go. Do you know this man here?" he pointed.

Bodrin looked in Thoros' direction and saw a couple other apparent outlaws dragging a rather large man who still struggled in his restraints. His face was covered as well, but Bodrin noticed the armor he wore. Whoever this man was, the Brotherhood Without Banners must've wanted him alive for something. When they finally removed the hood, Bodrin's eyes widened as he recognized him: with long hair covering the right half of his face, unveiling severe burn scars on that side was someone Bodrin was familiar with all too well.

"Well?" Thoros pressed.

"That's the Hound. Sandor Clegane," Bodrin answered. "The Mountain's younger brother. Last I heard, the Hound quit the field during the Battle of Blackwater Bay when Ser Loras Tyrell laid siege to the capital – ignoring direct orders from King Daveth himself. No one's seen or heard from him since then."

Thoros nodded his head, appreciating the old merchant's honesty. Sandor, having overheard that, glared at Bodrin.

"Bodrin? The fuck are you doing with one of the Oathkeeper's spies, Thoros?" he asked bluntly.

"'Spy'?" said Anguy suspiciously; the other Brotherhood outlaws raised their eyebrows as well.

"I was one of King Daveth's contacts among the smallfolk back at the capital," Bodrin explained, hoping they'd listen before doing anything rash. "Whenever the poor, unfortunate and desperate had no one to turn to or any sort of issue that couldn't be resolved, they asked me to bring their complaints to the royal court, to King's attention."

"And how is that relevant? What's the difference?"

"I— some people like to talk, you see; a lot actually. Most of the 'interesting' ones tend to come from brothels or even the local marketplace."

"How did you come to be one of the Oathkeeper's confidants?"

Bodrin shook his head. "I still don't understand why to this day, my lords. All I did was pass on some things to the King when he passed through the local markets. His Grace was just the Crown Prince at the time, you see. Turns out it was helpful. King Daveth rewarded me by naming me as the smallfolk's representative within King's Landing… and one of his whisperers."

"How many does the Oathkeeper have?"

"I don't know. Hundreds? Thousands? I don't know."

Before Anguy pressed further, Thoros of Myr raised his hand. "Was the Oathkeeper good to you? Did he… mistreat you or any of the locals in any way?" he asked.

"Oh no, His Grace was good to me," Bodrin shook his head. "He made sure we were taken care of from the Street of Flour all the way to Flea Bottom."

"Yet his brother, Joffrey Baratheon—"

"That little monster Joffrey was the reason why I'm this far out here. He started that horrible riot back at King's Landing," Bodrin blurted out. "It was near the end of Renly Baratheon's uprising. The brief civil war left the common people starving; the crops we received from the Riverlands were running dry. So I asked King Daveth and his then-Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark, when we would receive more food. We were so hungry. Before he could finish explaining, his brother ordered the City Watch to kill us all."

"Why's that?"

"Because someone threw cow shit at his head!"

Anguy and the other Brotherhood outlaws stifled with chuckles and quiet laughter as they heard the story. Thoros, meanwhile, continued listening.

"So the Oathkeeper had nothing to do with it?" he asked.

Bodrin shook his head. "No, ser. He and Lord Stark tried to get him to stop, but it was too late."

Thoros nodded his head. "And the deaths of Robert Baratheon's bastards?" he asked. "How did the legendary Oathkeeper handle that?"

"When he was made aware of the… the bloodshed, oh Gods, those poor children…" Bodrin choked. "King Daveth was furious. He executed the City Watch's Commander Janos Slynt before stripping his brother of all titles and powers and exiled him to the Wall. He's in the Night's Watch now."

"And you got out of there before or during?"

"During."

'No lies or any trace of deception. Good. Old man's being honesty with me. The Lord of Light does appreciate honesty,' Thoros was pleased. Sandor, meanwhile, still complained.

"Still doesn't explain why you or that bastard boy traveled all the way out here."

Gendry felt offended at the apparent insult towards him and Bodrin, mostly towards Bodrin since the old merchant's been looking after him since they escaped King's Landing when the massacre was being carried out.

"And you," Thoros turned his attention towards Sandor. "Quite the testimony, wouldn't you agree?"

The Hound simply ignored him. "You look like a bunch of swineherds," he told everyone in attendance.

"Some of us were swineherds," replied Anguy, "and some of us tanners and masons. But that was before. Now we're something else entirely."

"You're still swineherds and tanners and masons. You think carrying a crooked spear makes you a soldier?"

"No," a voice called out. "Fighting in a war makes you a soldier."

Bodrin recognized that voice, as did Sandor Clegane. All eyes turned towards a certain direction as the figure stepping out from the shadows was revealed to be the Brotherhood Without Banners' leader. He had red hair and a longer reddish-grey beard, though his hairline receded; an eyepatch covered his right eye and his face bore scars. He looked much older, but Bodrin was still able to recognize him.

"Lord Beric Dondarrion…?" Bodrin said surprised.

Beric looked at Bodrin. "Hello again, my old friend. It's nice to see that you're still alive."

Sandor narrowed his eyes. "You've seen better days."

"And I won't see them again," the Lord of Blackhaven said plainly.

Sandor looked around the cave, noticing each outlaw came from different backgrounds. "Stark deserters, Baratheon deserters," he examined them all. "You lot aren't fighting in a war, you're running from it."

"And yet based off of Bodrin's testimony you yourself ran from it," Beric countered. "And here you stand 1,000 miles from home. Which of us is running?"

"Untie these ropes and we'll find out," he challenged. "What are you doing leading a mob of peasants?"

"Two years ago, Ned Stark ordered me to execute your brother in King Robert's name."

"Ned Stark is dead. King Robert is dead. My brother's still alive," the Hound spat. "You're fighting for ghosts from a bygone age, no longer worth or meaningful to anyone anymore."

Beric nodded at that statement. "Aye. That's what we all are. Ghosts; waiting for you in the dark. You can't see us, but we see you," his smug grin soon turned serious and intimidating. "No matter whose cloak you wear, Lannister, Stark, Baratheon or whoever, you prey on the weak. The Brotherhood Without Banners will hunt you down."

"Beric," Bodrin exclaimed rather surprised. "What's happened to you? You never acted like this before."

"A lot has happened to us these past two years, Bodrin, and some haven't been for the better despite your testimony."

Sandor scoffed. "So what? You found God now? Is that it?"

"Aye," Beric proudly admitted. "I've been reborn in the light of the one true god. As have we all. As would any man who's seen the things we've seen. We are brothers here; sworn to the realm, to our God and to each other."

One of the outlaws, Tom Sevenstrings, plucked a string. "We are knights of the Hollow Hill, ready to defend the weak from men like you."

"'Knights'?" Sandor sneered at the mention of that word. "If you mean to murder me, then bloody well get on with it."

Thoros of Myr chimed in. "You'll die soon enough, dog. But it won't be murder, only justice," he promised.

"And a kinder fate than you deserve," Anguy declared. "Lions, you called yourselves. At the Mummer's Ford, girls of seven years were raped before reinforcements arrived, and babes still on the breast were cut in two while their mothers watched before they were driven away."

Another Brotherhood outlaw, who they called the Mad Huntsman, stepped forward. "The very same thing occurred at Sherrer. No lion ever killed with such cruelty."

"I wasn't at the Mummer's Ford, nor Sherrer," the Hound denied the allegations. "Dump your dead children at some other door."

"House Clegane was built upon dead children," answered Thoros. "Do you deny it, dog? Twenty years ago, I saw them lay Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys before the Iron Throne."

The Hound's mouth twitched angrily. "Do you take me for my brother? Is being born Clegane a crime?"

"Murder is a crime!" shouted Anguy.

"I never touched the Targaryen babes! I never saw them, never smelt them, never heard them bawling! You want to cut my throat, get on with it! But don't call me murderer and pretend that you're not."

Another Brotherhood outlaw, Karrem, a local butcher from the Crossroads Inn, stomped angrily towards Sandor. "You murdered my boy Mycah! My only boy!" he screamed. "You remember him? Because I do. I wake up every morning during these last two years knowing that I'll never see his face ever again," his face twisted between anger and grief. "He was only 12 years old, unarmed, couldn't defend himself and yet you rode him down. Arya Stark told me she saw you slinging my son's corpse over your horse like he was some deer. You took him away from me, don't say you never did. You murdered him!"

Bodrin's eyes were wide with shock at hearing this still-grieving father retell the story. 'Why? How could someone murder an innocent child like that?' he thought horrified.

"Aye, he was a bleeder," Sandor admitted.

Beric exchanged glances between Sandor and Karrem, carefully examining each word carefully. "The butcher has named you a murderer. You don't deny killing his boy?" he questioned.

The big man shrugged. "I was Joffrey's sworn shield at the time. His boy attacked a Prince of royal blood."

"Lies!" Karrem shouted. "Three witnesses, including the new King and Queen along with her sister all saw Joffrey hurting my boy! Mycah just ran away fearing for his life!"

"Then I should have killed all of you. Not my place to question Princes."

Back and forth, Beric turned back to the Hound. "You stand accused of murder, but no one here knows the truth of the charge. So it's not for us to judge you. Only the Lord of Light may do that now," he spoke firmly before issuing the words. "I sentence you to trial by combat."

In Westeros, a trial by combat is a custom by which can determine the guilt or innocence of a person when accused of a crime. In lieu of a standard trial where a lord – or a council of them – hears the testimony from the involved parties and makes a ruling, one or all parties may choose the option of a trial by combat. Only highborn noblemen have the right to request such a trial, whereas smallfolk do not. As such, this right of demanding a trial by combat is held to be so inviolable that even a lord that is fully convinced that the accused should die would be hesitant to simply deny such a request (if it is made in public, at least). Even members of the royal family or high officials such as the Hand of the King would feel incapable of denying the request if it was made publicly. The accused could then represent themselves or, if unable, may ask for a champion to represent them.

The Hound frowned suspiciously, but looked around with contempt. "So, who will it be?" he looked at Thoros. "Should we find out if your fire god really loves you, priest?" he turned towards Anguy. "Or you, archer? What are you worth with a sword in your hand?" he turned towards Karrem. "Or is the butcher the bravest one here?"

"Aye. Karrem might be," he said. "But it's me you'll fight."

The Mad Huntsman sliced apart the ropes that bound Sandor Clegane's hands together, making the Hound massage a sore wrist. As preparations for the Hound's trial by combat began, Beric Dondarrion knelt before the campfire and closed his eyes in prayer. The red priest, Thoros of Myr, stepped forward and clasped his hands together in prayer; the other Brotherhood outlaws lowered their heads to pray.

Gendry bit his lip. "Mother have mercy."

Thoros lifted his arms. "Lord, cast your light upon us," he recited.

All around the cave, the brotherhood without banners lifted their own voices in response. "Lord of Light, defend us."

"Lord of Light, protect us in our darkness."

"Lord of Light, shine your face upon us."

"Light your flame among us, R'hllor," said Thoros still reciting the religious prayer. "Show us the truth. Strike this man down if he is guilty. Give strength to his sword if he is true. Lord of Light, give us wisdom, for the night is dark and full of terrors."

"For the night is dark and full of terrors," the others chanted.

The Hound ripped a sword free from one of the Brotherhood attendants and threw away the scabbard. The Mad Huntsman gave him his oaken shield, all studded with iron and painted yellow, the three black dogs of Clegane emblazoned upon it. Lord Beric was given his own shield, so hacked and battered that the purple lightning and the scatter of stars upon it had almost been obliterated.

Unsmiling, Beric Dondarrion laid the edge of his longsword against the palm of his left hand, and drew it slowly down. Blood ran dark from the gash he made, and washed over the steel. And then the sword took fire.

*WHOOSH!*

Startled, Sandor Clegane stepped backwards – still afraid of fire. "Burn in seven hells," he cursed.

Beric waited silent, calm as still water, his shield on his left arm and his sword burning in his right hand. Lit from below, his face was a death mask, his missing eye a red and angry wound. The sword was aflame from point to crossguard, but Dondarrion seemed not to feel the heat. He stood so still he might have been carved of stone. But when the Hound charged him, he moved fast enough.

*CLASH!*

*SLASH!*

*SWISH!*

*CLANG!*

The flaming sword leapt up to meet the cold one, long streamers of fire trailing in its wake like the ribbons the Hound had spoken of. Steel rang on steel. No sooner was his first slash blocked than Clegane made another, but this time Beric's shield got in the way, and wood chips flew from the force of the blow. Hard and fast the cuts came, from low and high, from right and left, and each one Dondarrion blocked. The flames swirled about his sword and left red and yellow ghosts to mark its passage. Each move Beric made fanned them and made them burn the brighter, until it seemed as though the lightning lord stood within a cage of fire.

As Sandor edged back, Beric went on the offensive, filling the air with ropes of fire, driving the bigger man back on his heels. Clegane caught one blow high on his shield, and a painted dog lost a head. He countercut, and Dondarrion interposed his own shield and launched a fiery backslash. The outlaw Brotherhood shouted on their leader.

"Guilty," they chanted. "Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!"

"Kill him!" Karrem shouted.

The Hound parried a cut at his head, grimacing as the heat of the flames beat against his face. He grunted and cursed and reeled away.

*CLASH!*

*SLASH!*

*SWISH!*

*CLANG!*

Beric gave him no respite. Hard on the big man's heels he followed, his arm never still. The swords clashed and sprang apart and clashed again, splinters flew from the lightning shield while swirling flames kissed the dogs once, and twice, and thrice. The Hound moved to his right, but Dondarrion blocked him with a quick sidestep and drove him back the other way… toward the sullen red blaze of the firepit. Clegane gave ground until he felt the heat at his back. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him what was behind him, and almost cost him his head when Beric attacked anew.

Three steps up and two back, a move to the left that Lord Beric blocked, two more forward and one back, clang and clang, and the big oaken shields took blow after blow after blow. The Hound's lank dark hair was plastered to his brow sheen of sweat. Karrem thought he could see the beginnings of fear wake in Sandor's eyes. Lord Beric's flaming sword whirled and slashed. In one wild flurry, he took back all the ground the Hound had gained, sending Sandor staggering to the very edge of the firepit once more.

The Hound screamed and had fought his way back to his feet with a reckless counterattack. Not until Beric retreated a pace did Sandor seem to realize that the fire that roared so near his face was his own shield, burning. With a shout of revulsion, he hacked down savagely on the broken oak, completing its destruction. The shield shattered, one piece of it spinning away, still afire, while the other clung stubbornly to his forearm. His efforts to free himself only fanned the flames. His sleeve caught, and now his whole left arm was ablaze.

"Finish him!" Karrem urged Beric, and other voices took up the chant of "Guilty!"

Then, as smooth as summer silk, Beric slid close to make an end of the man before him. Sandor gave a rasping scream, however, and knocked Beric to his knees and raised his sword high in the air and brought it crashing down with all his strength. Beric raised his sword up to block the blade…

*BLEARUGH!*

All was silent as a tomb. Beric's burning sword suddenly snapped in two and Sandor's cold steel plowed into his flesh where his shoulder joined his neck and clove him clean down to the ribcage. Blood came rushing out in a hot black gush. Beric's knees folded slowly, as if for prayer. When his mouth opened, only blood came out before collapsing onto the ground, dead.

Sandor Clegane jerked backward, still burning. He ripped the remnants of his shield off and flung them away with a curse, then rolled in the dirt to smother the fire running along his arm.

Thoros rushed to the body of the fallen Beric Dondarrion, placing both hands on the corpse and kneeling in prayer. "Lord, cast your light upon this man, your servant. Bring him back from death and darkness. His flame has been extinguished. Restore his flame. For the night is dark and full of terrors."

Unwilling to accept the outcome, Karrem unveiled his concealed dagger and ran to Sandor – who remained squirming on the ground ridding himself of the fire shield.

"No, don't!" Bodrin shouted.

Thoros still kept reciting the prayer. "Lord, cast your light upon this man, your servant. Bring him back from death and darkness. His flame has been extinguished. Restore his flame. For the night is dark and full of terrors."

Before Karrem could reach the Hound, Gendry found himself sprinting after the butcher and made a grab for him with only moments to spare. As he led the Crossings Inn butcher away, Karrem struggled in the boy's grip.

"No! Let go of me, bastard!" Karrem shouted in anger. "Let me go! He killed my son! He killed Mycah!" he shouted once more, daring the Hound to deny it.

Sandor taunted with a mocking laughter, panting for air. "Looks like their god likes me more than your boy."

"Burn in hell, you murdering piece of shit!"

"He will, Karrem," said a voice scarce stronger than a whisper. When Bodrin, Gendry, Karrem and Sandor turned, Lord Beric Dondarrion was standing behind them, his bloody hand clutching Thoros by the shoulder. "But not today."

'How is this possible? I saw him die! What kind of magic is this?' thought Bodrin. The old merchant eyed Beric Dondarrion as he stood to his feet, apparently unharmed and allowing Sandor Clegane to leave the hideout. Things simply didn't make sense, and with this... 'Lord of Light', Bodrin felt increasingly uneasy. 'It's not safe here. I got to take Gendry out of here, and quickly!'

######

Author's Note: A quick cameo appearance, the Hound's trial by combat and the introduction of Rh'llor's powers. With that out of the way, we're moving onto the next chapter! What do you guys think? What was the history between Bodrin and Beric Dondarrion? What do you think of Bodrin's testimony, or Sandor Clegane? Thoughts? Let me know.

0sef: I think i just read a well canon chapter :) boring :)

—Can't appease everyone, I guess.

mpowers045: Something tells me that Karrem would go behind their backs and try to kill the Hound anyway

—Can't say I'd blame him considering what happened near the riverbanks of the Trident several chapters ago.

Magi Tail Welken: I only hope Daveth doesn't get pulled in by the Lord of Light.

—He's not particularly the religious sort; besides, he was born in the eyes of the Faith of the Seven.

The Three Stoogies: a great chapter keep up the great work like always though I think the brotherhood should be sentenced to the wall for operating outside Daveth control

—It's possible that Daveth doesn't know of the Brotherhood Without Banners' existence.

ZabuzasGirl: Wonderful! :)
Update immediately, please!

—Thanks.