Keu-Nuadu has shed his Lugh mask and stolen some horses on his way out of the festival grounds. Now he looks more like his old self again, idling in the shade, lazily going over our new steeds to be sure they are ready to bolt from Tara quick as a sneeze splatters snot.

"What's keeping Hadaig? How long does it take to sell the best bull in Erin? And where's that eejit son of mine and his wee waif of a wife?" I growl. Every bone in my body aches from the thrashing I took during our Lugh-Crom fights. I've ridded meself of the black cloak and splashed the grime from my face and beard, what a relief. I pace, complain, rub my bruises and pace some more.

At the sound of a footfall in the glade, I whirl around expecting 'Daig or Seanbhuachaill. Instead there's a stranger tottering into our secret hiding place, hurling insults. And he's holding up a sword like he means to challenge somebody. What's this, a prank? Is he drunk? Lost?

I'm too tired and sore for this. Much to my annoyance, he points the sword straight at me and hollers, "Nion!!! King of Bandits!!! Ruler of Scum!!! I believe we have some unfinished business to attend to!!!"

That voice. The man saunters into a patch of sunshine and I can clearly see his face. Ah, this one's had a hard winter. Thinner, a bit pale, but eyes blazin' just the same. By the Bloody Crow! It's our old friend Faramir the ranger!

Keu is beside me now. His mighty sword arm could cut the fool in half with one easy stroke.

"You flatter me, Faramir," I sneer at him and look him up and down. "Fallen on hard times, have ya? Why don'tcha join up with us again, m'chara, still lots of summer left!"

Faramir takes a few more strides forward, close enough to spit in my face. He makes a hawking sound to dredge up the nastiest, most pox-ridden putrid bits he can possibly cough up, then ejects the brownish-green mass with a violent hack right onto my nose. Keu-Nuadu draws a deep breath. He's ready to swing. Faramir hears that breath too and lets his beady eyes slide over to that scarless, massive, sinewy arm that the healers made magnificent. His stare deadens with dread and lingers there for a heartbeat too long.

My sword leaps into my hand. I slash out, catching Faramir with just the tip of it across his throat. If I wasn't so tired. If I wasn't a crookback. His blood should be pooling at my feet just now. I've only scratched him.

He lunges forward and stupidly goes for Keu. "Back off!" I throw my weight against Silver-Arm, knocking him out of the way. "This one's for me!"

Off balance, Keu stumbles. What was to be Faramir's death blow turns sideways to a hard, flat bash against his shoulder. Silver-Arm bows to me and steps away. The ranger staggers. And grins.

He lashes out wildly. I may be stooped and small but I'm always faster than expected. His sword drinks the air where I stood. I hop backwards. He slashes again and this time he knows which way I'll go. There's a horrible screeching. Something wets the side of my neck. A flash of pain. I was the one screeching. When I reach up to where it hurts, I feel a damp gob of flesh hanging where my ear should be.

"Mar my beauty, will ya? Worm-gutted bastard! Spit in my face, hah! " I scream. In a blaze of rage and agony, my swordhand strikes like lightning. This time I don't fall short. A hard gash this way and another swift rip the other way right across his slime spewin' throat. Faramir opens his mouth before he drops to his knees. More insults? More challenges? There is only a death gurgle before he pitches forward to rest face down in the green grass of Tara.

(OOC - I know its against the sitewide Code of Conduct to kill another "character". In this case, the murder is at Faramir's own request, carried out with his knowledge, approval, and consent. Rest in peace, Ranger!)