unharshly, "I thought you were done for this life, you Irish bastard!!"
      "Takes a bit more than a love tap like that tae keep an Irishman down." came the reply. Timeras winced as he felt the back of his head. His hand came away stained red with blood. "'Tho yer warnin' was a bit helpful, too." He forced a grin.
      Longshanks felt moisture welling up under his eyes. "Timmy, I don't know what I would..." he started, grabbing his friend by the shoulder.
      "Now, now, none o' that. Not while the foes 're watchin'!" O'Cuire said, disapprovingly, but clasped a hand to the ranger's arm passionately nevertheless, and the shadow of a grin dusted his lips for a moment.
      Duril felt his throat tighten and a warmth flow throughout his chest. A broad smile began to creep across his features.
      Timeras' vision swam a bit. "Unnh." he groaned. "Where is that cowardly bastard that smote me, anyway?"
      Longshanks wiped off his smirk. "Dead.

 
 
Toasting his stones in Hell."
      The Irishman nodded, then swayed on his own feet, recovering his balance. He noted the impasse they were surrounded by. "Ooooo." he murmured, then glared around at the hostile host. He put his back to Duril's and picked up his sword. "Right. Just like old times, eh, Longshanks?"
      The archer nodded, and locked his gaze back on the Black Knight.
      The other swordsman, almost shaking in rage, could take no more. He brandished his sword and shouted, "You are surrounded! Surrender, or face no quarter!"
      Longshanks saw, as if for the first time, the number of troops that had amassed. He got a bad taste in his mouth, and a sharp pang stabbed into the pit of his stomach. He swallowed dryly, and tightened his grip on his sword. Then he heard a sound that gladdened his heart. A sound that lifted the heaviness from him, refreshed his spirit, and allowed him to draw fresh breath again. It was music to his ears.

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