Hi. How was your Christmas? Mine was awesome! I got a computer, so that means I can update quicker.

Also, sorry if the story's starting to get boring. I'm trying to speed it up, but- well, let's just say that this story didn't turn out the way I wanted it to. It progressing so damned slow! Even I'm getting annoyed.

And I have a question- anyone is free to answer through either PM or review. Okay, so, I tried to send this chapter to my BetaReader, but I can't find ANY button in DocX that says 'new message' or 'send' or even 'attach file' so that I can send the chapter. Advice, anyone?

Chapter 13:

The Shaman

Grover wasn't a fighter. In fact, he was a bit of a wimp when it came to fighting. So you couldn't blame him when the bandits attacked, and he hid in his basement and recalled the events of the day. Visiting the Shaman with Percy, the enchanted reed pipes- it all whirled through his head so fast that he hadn't even realised that his village was under attack until the gong was sounding and Percy was racing past him to get Chiron and Beckendorf.

Flashback:

The two boys scoured the market place for the hidden tent of the Shaman. When you hear the word Shaman, you probably think: old, haggard, powerful, mystical.

The Shaman was actually a young girl of fifteen or so. She had long, black hair that shone like diamonds in the bright sun, emerald eyes that swirled like tornadoes and were deep as a mountain billabong, and super- naturally white teeth that, if you looked close up, were slightly pointed, like a vampire's.

Nobody liked to be too close to the girl due to these strange little differences.

The Shaman also gave those trying to find her a hard time. She dirtied their sight, hid herself from their view up until the last straw, and then her little tent would magically appear just as the seeker would give up hope of ever finding her.

So, while Grover and Percy were scurrying madly from tent top tent, the Shaman was giggling in delight while she whirled herself from place to place. Just when the boys were about to give up, her deer- pelt tent appeared right in front of the pair.

"Enter, boys," her voice floated out of the tent. Grover found he couldn't exactly place the pitch- it sounded like three different people talking at once- the deep voice of a man, the normal pitch of a teenage girl, and the high squeak of a small child.

Percy and Grover exchanged wary glances before entering the tent. "I'm blaming you if anything happens," Percy muttered to his best friend.

"Why me?" Grover whined.

"'Cause you dragged me into this mess, G- man."

"I can't do this alo_"

"Shush!" Percy hissed, standing erect. "She's coming!"

And suddenly there was a girl in front of them. She was exactly as the tales had described her mother- tall, with an evil glint in her eye, and a dark, ancient aura about her.

"How can I help you two?" The Shaman threw back her head and laughed. "Please forgive my inhospitality. I rarely get visitors."

Grover whimpered under his breath as the girl fixed her gaze on him. Percy patted Grover's back.

"I am this village's one and only Shaman," the girl started in an attempt to ease Grover's uncomfortableness. "My mother was the magic deity Hecate, immortal being of magic. My older immortal half sister was the famous Circe. Surely you have heard of her magnificent deeds?"

Grover nodded, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

The Shaman waved her hand and three chairs, a coffee table and a tray of butterscotch cookies appeared. Unseen hands pushed Grover and Percy into the chairs, while invisible servants served the snacks.

"What do you wish of me, Mr Underwood?" she asked softly, her eyes boring holes into Grover's. It didn't even occur to Grover to wonder how the Hades she knew his name.

"Ugh," the boy muttered. He dug through his coat pocket, and brought out a set of reed pipes. A faint blush crept up his neck as he held the hand carved wooden instrument out to the Shaman. Percy's fingers tapped impatiently against the armrest on his chair. Grover shot him a look and Percy stopped, grinning sheepishly.

"What have we here?" The Shaman mused, turning the pipes over in her fingers. She glanced up with an amused expression. Either she was a brilliant actress, or she really had no idea how much she was intimidating Grover.

"Ugh, um, they're reed pipes," Grover stuttered.

The sage's face morphed into an expression of annoyed agitation, but it was gone in an instant. Her blinding smile was overly large and grotesque.

Percy was uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat, wanting Grover to hurry up and get to the point.

"I'm quite aware that this is a set of reed pipes, Grover. I merely meant, what do you wish me to do with these?"

"Enchant them. I – I suppose you could say I have a crush on a girl." Grover's face was on fire. Percy bit his lip. It was all he could do to stop himself from bursting into laughter at his friend's mortified face. "I want to play for her, but my skill needs some improvement."

"Understatement," Percy muttered. He was ignored.

The woman looked up, the unnatural smile wiped off her face (thank god, Percy thought). She exhaled sharply.

"Very well." Grover looked surprised that it had been that easy. The Shaman breathed on the pipes, and muttered an ancient incantation under breath. A gentle breeze wafted through the tent. Grover shivered. He'd heard about the Language of Magic; about how even a mere word spoken of it, and an explosion that rocked the world could occur. He shuddered. He didn't want to blow into his pipes and some ancient magic messed with his life.

The Shaman seemed to be reading his mind. She chuckled. "My practise of magic is completely safe. No doubters, please." Then her tone turned serious. "You do realise the price that has to be paid for such magic as this?"

Grover gulped. Price? That didn't sound very good. "What kind of price?" he asked, dreading the answer.

The Shaman laughed. "I'm flattered, truly, Grover. I appreciate your high regard for my skills, but even I cannot read the tapestry that the Fates knit, known as the future. All I can tell you is that you will come to regret your actions in years to come."

Percy and Grover exchanged glances. They made a silent agreement. It was time to get out of there. Now.

Grover started to get up. "Um, thank you, er… My Lady?"

The Shaman waved her hand like before, and Grover flinched, expecting a crow to pop out of thin air and start pecking his eyes out. No such thing happened. "Oh, please. You can call me Lou Ellen. None of this 'My Lady'. That's my mother's title. But, I suspect that you must be off."

Grover nodded, extending his hand towards Percy. Percy took it and pulled himself up. His palms were sweaty. Both boys were eager to be out of that suffocating tent, and away from this creepy woman with her even creepier grin.

"Pleasure," Grover said, trying hard to sound believable. The Shaman, Lou Ellen, grasped Grover's hand in a firm handshake, her fingers deathly cold and palms raw and callused.

"Truly a pleasure, Grover Underwood," Lou Ellen's face contorted freakishly. She might have been wrinkling her face against a disgusting smell. Or it could have been a smile.

The Shaman nodded curtly towards Percy, and he waved back. The two boys turned and tried not to race towards the tent flap.

Flashback Off

Now, all Grover need to do was find his love interest- a sweet girl by the name of Juniper- and play his newly magicked pipes.

Well, after the village was safe from the bandits, of course.

As Percy and Grover strolled through the village, chatting about nothing in particular, Grover studied his reed pipes suspiciously.

"I don't really trust her," he muttered, inspecting the instruments for any sign of magic. Nothing.

"Neither," Percy replied. "And to think that –" But he didn't get to finish his sentence. Because just then, he saw a mob of dark- shrouded figures approach the outer walls via horseback.

They obviously had a shaman with them, because only magic had that- how to describe it? Poisonous?- smell to it.

There was only one word that came to his mind.

"Bandits," he said. Percy looked at Grover and came to a split second decision. "Get to safety, G- man. I'll get Chiron and Beckendorf. Be safe."

And then he was dashing off in the direction of the Big House, leaving Grover clutching his precious reed pipes to his chest.

Percy bounded up the wooden stairs leading to the porch of the Big House, bashing on the door.

When nobody answered after a moment, he barged straight in.

He saw Beckendorf, and immediately started blabbering, before he realised that Beckendorf was in the middle of talking. "Beck – oh, oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, but_"

"Spit it out, Jackson," Beckendorf chuckled.

"Bandits!" Percy gasped, quite out of breath after hi mad dash across the village. "Bandits are attacking. And_"

And just then Percy noticed exactly whowas in the room with Beckendorf. He nodded to Chiron, then his gaze landed on two girls. One had long blond hair. The other was a brunette.

A memory came rushing back- skinny arms wrapped around his abdomen, long, curly hair blowing in his face, getting tangled in his mouth, the wind pushing at his face, the adrenaline of the ride, the pure thrill of feeling Blackjack flying underneath him- and it hit Percy.

This blond girl standing before him, the girl who had had her arms wrapped around him, a mere peasant boy, was the heir to the Olympian throne- Princess Annabeth Chase.

But Percy didn't have time to dwell on that fact, because suddenly Beckendorf came alive. He sprang out of his seat and grabbed Percy's arm, pulling him out of the building, yabbering on about something to do with gathering the men.

Percy threw one last glance over his shoulder as his older mate dragged him along. And his eyes happened to meet a pair of startled, curious, wary and very beautiful grey eyes.

Percy shook his head and focused on the task at hand. He had some outlaws to dispose of.

Thoughts? All reviews (apart from flamers) appreciated. And please, please answer my question from the first AN.

MashPotatoeSquishBanana