4

Fletcher stiffened at the nerve of the suggestion. He struggled for a moment and then let it go. Four shillings were worth a

night in his own bed, and to Didric it was nothing but pocket change. He groaned and took out his skinning knife. It was

Razor sharp, but it was not designed for cutting through antlers

minute later and with some sawing at the vertebrae, the

head was in his hands, dripping blood all over his moccasins. He Grimaced and held it up for Didric to see. "All right, Didric, come and get it" , Fletcher said, brandishing it.

"Throw it up here", said Didric. "I don't trust you to hand it over if I let you in. "

"What?" cried Fletcher in disbelief.

Fletcher held up the grisly trophy, what could Didric ask?

"Throw it up now or the deal is off. I can't be bothered to... " Didric paused.

"wrestle it from you and get blood all over my uniform" , Didric said. "

pompous, lying m*********ing d***head " Fletcher groaned and hurled it up, spattering his own tunic with blood as he did so. It flew over Didric's head and clattered on the parapet. He made no move to get it.

"Nice doing business with you, Fletcher. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Have fun camping in the woods" , he said cheerily.

"Wait!" shouted Fletcher. "What about our deal?"

" I held up my end of the bargain", Fletcher. "I said I'd call it a night, and we'd both get what we want. And you said earlier you would rather sleep in the woods than give me your elk. So there you go, you get what you want, and I get what I want. You really should pay attention to the wording in any agreement",

"It's the first lesson a judge learns" . His face began to withdraw from the parapet.

Fletcher cursed his Naivety.

"Get out of bed, Fletcher. This is the only time of year I actually need you up on time. I can't mind the market stall and shoe the Pack horses at the same time." Berdon's ruddy face swam into view as Fletcher opened his eyes.

Fletcher groaned and pulled his furs over his head. It had been a long night. Jakov had made him wait outside for an hour before he let him in, on the condition that Fletcher bought him a drink next time they were in the tavern.

Before Fletcher had a chance to bed down, he had to gut and skin the elk, as well as trim the meat and hang it by the hearth to dry. He only allowed himself one juicy slice, half cooked on the fire betore he lost patience and crammed it into his mouth. In

The winter it was always best to preserve the meat for later;

Fletcher didn't know when his next meal was coming at the best of times.

"Now, Fletcher! And clean yourself up. You stink like a pig. I don't want you driving customers away. Nobody wants to buy from a vagrant" . Berdon yanked his furs away and strode out of The room.

(Fletcher's tiny room at the back of his forge.)

Fletcher winced at the loss of his covers room was warmer than he had expected. Berdon been at the hot forge all night, preparing for trading day. He

had long ago learned to sleep through the clanging and the roar of the bellows and the sizzle as the red-hot weapons were doused.

He trudged through the forge room to the small well outside where Berdon drew his dousing water. He hauled up the bucket

and, with only a moment's hesitation, poured the freezing water over his head. His tunic and trousers were soaked as well

but since they were still covered in blood from the night before, it would probably do them some good. Several more bucketfuls and a brisk scrub with a pumice stone later, Fletcher was back in the forge room, shivering and clutching his arms to his chest.

"Come on then. Let's have a look at you." Berdon stood in the doorway to his own room, the light from the hearth illuminating

his long red hair. He was by far the largest man in the village,

long hours of beating metal in his forge giving him broad shoulders and a barrel-like chest. He dwarfed Fletcher, who was small and wiry for his age.

"Just as I thought. You need a shave, My aunt Gerla had a thicker moustache than that. Get rid of that wispy fuzz until you can grow a proper beard."

Though Berdon was a hard taskmaster Fletcher still loved him, for he had taken him in and adopted him. Fletcher hoped he could make a bit more money today as then he could buy a nice fur jacket and a very good set of gloves which would help him maintain blood flow to his fingers when he drew his bow.

Fletcher, after having a good shave, went to the stall to set up all of the weapons.

"AND THE OTHER ONE! " roared Berdon over the growls of the forge.

Fletcher went and retrieved a interesting sword made from a metal so rare it is near impossible to find it in such quantities. It had a dark blue hue to it whilst the surgically sharp edges were a greenish colour.

The Bell rang sounding the arrival of the travelers headed for the northern kingdoms or beyond to the unmarked lands of the elves.

Whom we were at war with... Scum they had a tendency to murder children in brutal ways spawn of evil.

Then there are the orcs who ****, steal and kill.