Branwe: Part 2

Fair citizens, come quickly out of your wattle and daub homes and listen, I beg. For it is at this point in my tale that Branwe doth fight in the grandest of battles! So, endure for a moment, the tales of the Fire Blood Sawmp, filled with treasure and disease, so we may be on with it.

At dawn, the pre-appointed meeting hour for guides and adventurers across the hill vasts of the whole willy world, Branwe and Garth stood and waited for their faithful companion, Flint Thongbeard. But Lo! Flint had taken ill, but would most likely meet up with them sometime a little later.

So, they set off south toward the vast nothingness of the Fire Blood Swamp. Their journey from city to swamp was uneventul and therefor not worthy of the breath to tell it and so it was into the swamp.

"What," Branwe wondered, "Should we do?"

"We could," Garth suggested, "Go back and collect our gold. I see nothing in there."

"We should," said Branwe, "Wait for stout handsome oak Flint to tether our steps towards the fell and fey recesses of said swamp forwith to ponder and patrol our very good fortune to the merry people of all Fellatio."

"It's Fellinia," Garth said. "So, we just wait here?"

"Yes," Branwe said. They waited a quarter of the hour. "Okay, perhaps we should go in."

"Alright," Garth agreed. In they went under twisted bough and knotted branch and doo looking trunk. A foul odor assailed them nassaly. They became despondent, and spoiled for a fight. Fate obliged them thrice.

The first encounted was with a Swamp Rabbit, oh so much larger than a hare, and breathing all fire upon them until they ran, burnt and angry. The second encounter was with a Swamp Spirit, which could not be seen or touched, but made them ill. They ran.

Ah, but then, then I say they did battle with a Troll. A proper Troll, all green and sticky. None of this singing, grumbling, fat happy troll. This was a mindless Troll of the Fire Blood Swamp, guarding a pile of silver!

"Look," Garth said, "Troll."

"Aye," Branwe said, "Let's kill it." They ran screaming at it. It dropped a mighty fist on Branwe's helm, causing a swoon in him. Garth hacked with his sword, but the beast had hide as thick as burnt pork. The Troll stabbed him in the thigh with a boney bone finger, causing Garth to flee.

The Troll picked up Branwe over the shoulder and gave chase to Garth. And a merry chase it was! Don not hide your faces, fair constituents, for hiding in the muck was a hardy and fierce Acolyte named Angus. He watched Garth pass. He jumped the troll with flain in hand. The hand of fate was upon him, or better to say, the hand of his god, Xezox, the god of war. He smote the Troll skullwise. Branwe fell into the mire, awakened by the water.

Angus had a bit of healing in him, just enough for the moment. As they counter Troll Silver, he told them his tale.

"I am Angus of the Blunt," he said. "Flint is ill. I have come to bring you back to Fellinia. We have new orders."

"Orders?" Garth raged, "I take orders from no man!"

"Fine," Angus said, "Branwe, you and I will return to town with this silver and collect our fifty gold..."

"Oi," Garth raged, "It's my treasure too."

"Fine," Angus said, "We'll return with our share of the treasure, and Garth can continue patrolling."

"No no no," Garth raged, "I'll not continue patrolling."

"You were quite good at it," Branwe offered.

"No no no," Garth narrowed his eyes, "Claim me dead and take my fifty gold, will you? That settles it. We go to Fellinia. No more talk out of you."

"Fine," Angus said.

"Eh! No more talk," Garth said.

"Right, you," Branwe said. "I saw by which magics you healed his leg and my head. You're trying to bewitch us of our treasure!"

"I," Angus said.

"Shhh shhh shhh," Garth said. "No more witching us with your kind words and healing and treasure. We're not that daft, you pile of sweet sweet smelling dung."

"Dung!" Branwe shouted at him. Angus began to walk away from them.

"Oi," Garth raged, "Where do you think you're heading without any treasure? We're not carrying the whole lot by ourselves!"

"He probably cursed it," Branwe said.

"Aye," Garth agreed, "You carry the treasure. And lead us to town and not astray for we know the way."

"Right," Branwe said, "This will be a good test of your loyalty to us. Perhaps we may even forgive you."

"Never," Garth hissed. "He stole our honor during battle. Unforgiveable. Then he took all our treasure to make off with it after he cursed it and healed us with poison so we may die on the way back and then he'll collect the reward!"

Angus continued walking.

"I like him," Branwe whispered to Garth.

"Aye," Garth whispered back, "He's of the noblest sort."