The duo took a moment to admire the tranquil pond. The sun and clouds reflect clearly on the slow water.
"So, that's a 'no' on the silver?" asks Loomy to the pond.
"Doesn't matter," says Bacon, "We should keep on."
So they do.
"No idea what you're talking about," says Bacon, glancing about the forest, "What kind of forest is this anyway?"
"Uh, cedar, i think," says Loomy, looking about for what prompted that question, "What about it?"
"It's nice, isn't it?" asks Bacon, face still hidden, "Trees are nice; I need to spend more time with them My favorite is cherry. What's yours?"
A: I'm fond of the candelabra spurge. D: Palm trees are cool, too.
"I don't.. have one...?" says Loomy, "Who does? How old are you?"
"Are you really asking me that question?" Bacon's voice strains against an unwanted emotion.
The bugs chirping and birds calling echoed over the silent valley between them. It would be another half hour before either would speak again. There were no encounters, no odd sights, nor clues of any kind.
"How far away does this woman live?" asks Bacon, "We have to be close, right?"
"Yeah, right over this next hill," says Loomy, "Wish she lived closer."
As the two top the hill, Bacon sees the old cabin. And if the old woman who lives here doesn't know anything, then this, the only remaining straw to grasp, is a dead end.
J: Mum, we know this woman did something. L: But ya don't know exactly what yet.
Loomy knocks on the door and something inside shuffles, muffled within.
As the door creaks open, an elderly voice beyond calls out, "Is that you, dear Luminița?" An eye peeks through the slowly widening gap. "You look like Loomy," says the old wolf, "But you don't smell like Loomy."
"Your granddaughter couldn't make it this week," says not-Loomy, "I can explain if you let us in."
"Ya must be Ioana," says the mysterious person formerly known as Bacon, "Nice to meet ya."
"Who are you? Where is she?" asks Ioana, words sliding toward a growl "Take off that disguise."
"To what end are you traveling, Loomy and Bacon?" asks the radiant lady of the pond, looming above the water, staring down at them. The two speak over each other.
"Visiting my bunica," says Loomy.
"Searching for danger," says Bacon.
"Both of these things?" Ms. Aurocor tilts her head, "And nothing more?"
The duo look at each other for a moment, understanding the risky nature of their situation, then Loomy says, "Some kids are missing. Have you seen any come by?"
"No, I have not," says Ms. Aurocor, "But, alas, I have been here nary a week." She sits in midair, crossing her legs. "And of that time, my focus has been inward. Only these discarded blades have stolen my attention, cast into me by parties unknown."
"Can we see them?" asks Bacon.
"Verily," says the lady diving into the lake, "Mayhaps, you can identify their owners." She emerges four swords held awkwardly in her arms.
The iron sword is a straight short-sword with a typical elven hilt, somewhat fancy, but not overly so. This could belong to anyone who could afford a blade.
D: What's a short-sword? L: A big knife. A: Technically, not wrong. They're usually no longer than sixty centimeters and are built to be used with one hand.
The steel sword is a great-sword with a dwarven-style hilt, a weapon for a true warrior. Unfortunately, warriors are common to Rankedge, but someone who lost a blade this well-crafted would surely be searching for it.
D: What's a great-sword? L: Bigger sword. A: Unhelpful, but still not wrong. It'd would be longer than you are tall, Dalini.
Held carefully between the other weapons, so as to avoid direct contact with Ms. Aurocor, the silver sword is a horrifyingly serrated bastard-sword of crude goblin-make; more an instrument of torture than anything else. It is stained with hardened blood. The girls cannot identify its owner, nor would they care to meet them. Yet, still, this may prove useful.
D: What's a bastard-sword? L: It's a b*****d's sword. J: Mum, don't say that. L: What? This bloody bastard-sword belonged to a b****y b*****d. A: It's just a weapon of a very specific size; longer and heavier than one-handed weapons, but shorter and lighter than two-handers.
Finally, the gold sword is a not a sword at all. It is a wave-bladed dagger with an upturned spiked hilt. This weapon is easily recognizable.
A: Silver, I understand, but why gold? L: Gold's a good conductor. Mages are creative.
"That's the sheriff's Tei Zing dagger," says Bacon, "Who could have taken that?"
"Whose to say she didn't drop it?" asks Ms. Aurocor.
"No way the sheriff would've thrown his favorite weapon away," says Loomy.
"Oh, 'his'?" says the lady of the pond, "Then it can't have been; I've only heard two fellows around here. One I know is not your sheriff, and the other I should hope isn't."
"Who are these blokes?" asks Loomy.
"My friend has business around here; he's an educator, of sorts," says Ms. Aurocor, "The other is a svelte ne'er-do-'ell who comes forth, looming around at night. He leaves strange notes and letters on trees. Avoid him."
"Is he dangerous?" asks Bacon, "That sounds important."
"No, he's just... annoying," says the lady of the pond, she retreats, blade in tow, back into her aquatic home, "Good luck, honest travelers."
Adjusting the tie on her red hood, a young lycan, barely a gnome tall, looks down the trail into the woods. The birds are singing, bugs are buzzing, and sun shining through the canopy. She picks up her picnic basket.
"Do you really have to follow me?" she asks the dark-hooded figure behind her, "It's just my bunica's house; I go every week."
The masked figure nods. "It's not safe to go alone," she says.
"You're shorter than me," says the lycan, "I'll have to protect you if anything is actually out here."
"Not the poi~ent~," sings the masked figure.
"Don't do that." The lycan skips along the path and her shadow drags behind.
"Just keep your eyes open for any queer sights."
"Like a pond that wasn't there last week?"
"Right~io~," sings the shadow, "Wait, is that it?"
The two stop and cautiously approach the waterfront through the grass. Because of their tall boots, the two feel safe from ticks and other bugs.
The shadow skips a stone across the pond. "Seems like real water to me," she says, "But where's it from?"
"Oh, you two, right there," says a sweet voice from the lake, yet unimpeded by the water itself "You wouldn't have happened to drop a sword in here recently?"
"No?"
"Are you sure?" asks the voice, sounding closer to the girls, "There are a few down here; one is iron, one is steel, one is silver, and one is gold."
"Not ours, sorry," says the lycan.
"But the silver could be useful," says the shadow, "Can we borrow it? Just for today?"
A light shines from the lake as an elf-like woman emerges. Her skin shimmering silver, her hair gold. The water flowing around her as a shawl, barely concealing her dignity. She stares down at the children. She attempts to smile warmly to them, but it just creeps them out.
"Greetings, honest travelers," she says, extending out an open palm, "You may call me Argentalms Aurocor. May I have your names?"
"I'm using it," says the lycan, stepping back, "Sorry."
"Mine was a gift," says the shadow, stepping forward.
Ms. Aurocor rolls her beautiful pearlescent eyes. "Then what may I call you, travelers?"
"You can call us Loomy and Bacon," says the lycan, "It's nice to meet you, I guess."
"Really nice to meet you," says the shadow presumably called Bacon.