It was also a bloodthirsty profession that had been studiously rejected by the body’s honed-owner many many years ago, and instead: all of the Bothan Mercenaries had opted for a quieter life working for the Holy Orders, a tranquil place of repose and retirement, physically located in an imposing stone building with five tall towers, that was itself; perched up high on the side of a dominating blue mountain, but far far away.

Today, the last of the Fellowship were standing fast on top of yet another high mountain in the calm clear air, and yet again; they were engaged in armed conflict, but the holy pilgrim wasn’t at war with any mighty armies, nor even taking noble sides in a one sided conflict: here, they were doing battle with the blind bigotry of an uncaring world, that was slowly slipping into the darkness of permanent night.

.. Which is what the unwilling companion had told the remaining Brotherhood constantly, in fact, ever since being liberated from that restrictive glass cell; where he was placed on display, and had been so for several hundred (thousand), years.

Even physically handling the toxic prisoner proved to be a very expensive exercise, especially for the one who lost his own hand in getting it out of the glass display cabinet, but our timeless warrior didn’t even want it, which is why their own hand was left intact.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the exposed rescuers own frail heart, because it was in pieces after that brief fiery encounter of intimate contact.

Many Bothans died during that daring poisoner escape, dangerously depleting the already small numbers of the Holy Brotherhood: a noble Fellowship of retired warriors, that in itself was quickly formed to hold back the rising tide of dark corruption.

Those who passed-over during the fraught mission, had done so for a noble cause, and as such; their immortal souls had been cleansed of all sin, thusly enabling the fallen to pass freely into the Elysian Fields for all eternity, but that was a fate that would never be granted to the timeless-warrior and also the unwitting companion; whose sins were now so ingrained, that no amount of sacred benediction would ever cleanse the corruption that they now both carried.

Reflecting on all that had befallen the Holy Brotherhood to even get to this point, the honed body of the hardened timeless-warrior let out a long deep annoyed sigh; partly in exhaustion at the arduous climb, that had just been undertaken in scaling the mountain to even get to this high plateau, but mainly in pure frustration at this simple task of being hired as a glorified bodyguarded.

A job that the retired mercenary had happily agreed to do, a mere two weeks earlier; that now felt like a lifetime ago.

A paid task that had become more complex and more arduous by the day.

A contract of employment that was actually becoming much more trouble than it was worth.

An undertaking that they all really should have charged a lot more for.

One important fact that the Task-Master had omitted, when he’d enthusiastically recircuited all of them from the pensioned Holy Orders, was not mentioning the small army of paid mercenaries, on a permanent retainer: whose sole task in life was stopping the prophesied Holy Quest, and at all costs.

.. And if that wasn’t enough: then there was the maladjusted hordes that were all unconsciously drawn towards the dark-sided argument.

Dark-siders that the Holy Brotherhood of Mercenaries were forced to fight off at every turn.

Normal men turned into dark-minded zombie warriors, who were feared deformed creatures without any thought for personal injury or death, .. Normal men turned into night-time hell-hounds, that then relentlessly pursued the broken fellowship in an attempt to stop them, whereby the dark-siders would then bring about the promised Dark Times by the all powerful Dark Lord himself.

** Out of nowhere; the wind howled, and like a solitary black flag placed high atop the mountain: it whips and flaps around the Holy Brotherhoods long black stained cloak, with the other unwilling mouthy member staying hidden inside a nice warm pocket.

Being typical weather, it then started to snow: not that nice fluffy stuff held dearly in the flustered faux magician’s childish past, but that harsh cutting version in the dead of night; that the Death Valley under the mountain was famous for.

The deathly place far below, was also famous for the myriad of blood thirsty orcs and salivating demons who lived down there, (who it must be said), were now counted less in their vast numbers after crossing paths with the all powerful timeless warrior, now posing as the new mystical mage.

From that cutting windy outburst, howling in anger all around them: it seemed to the windswept holy pilgrim, that the hot weather wind below was getting a little above itself, perhaps in retribution for the appalling losses that the Ethereal-Overlord had suffered at their hands, but the undercover Mage, and the unwilling travelling pocket companion, had assiduously given them all fair warning, not to try and stop their Holy Quest from proceeding any further: unfortunately, the warning was ignored.

Putting the petulant sore-looser hot wind in its place, would be a job for another time: for time was moving on, and all without the now uncovered Marge to catch up.

The near vertical sheets of hurtful ice daggers made the job that they had to do all the more harder, and it had to stop before they went on any further.

With that, a disgruntled huff was heard coming from the colorful covered mouth, as a long thin ordinary brown twig, hidden under the cloak, was also flicked out and round, and as it did: the rough hewn thing was heard to say, ‘Shit — it’s cold!’

As the simple conjoined magical spell was finished, all around the weather-beaten holy pilgrim, and also the conjoined complaining travelling companion: an oasis of calm air was formed, with the hot windy plains wind, .. being whipped up into an angry howling blizzard at the boundary, whereby the winds anger increased by the second at finding itself being causally dismissed like this and then forced to go around the protective bubble as if it wasn’t there, to the conjoined pair standing square inside the tempest; the winds feelings were the last thing on their melding minds.

The slowly growing parity companions had much bigger fish to fry, which was a meal of revenge best served cold: that the pair of them didn’t want to eat either, because afterwards; no death was awaiting them, a no-death of the living dead was what was promised to aid their digestion, so what the wayward hot-wind wanted from them was irrelevant, and truth be told, it wasn’t even worth dealing with.

** That powerful shield forming on the rude ground as it did, actually upset the highly revered Spirit of the Mountain from going about its very important mountaineering business, but the ethereal entity was also in awe at the puny creatures apparently considerable power.

Then the mighty Mountain-man idly wondered why the obviously powerful Mage; hadn’t simply put the hot headed mouthy windy plains-interloper in its place; for once and all, (and all by just sending the childish sore looser back to where it belonged), a place far below where the cocksure kid could attend the appalling injures that were inflected by the death-eater magician.

The place down there was where the Mountain-man had personally witnessed a battle royal between the conjoined partners.

A bloodthirsty vicious encounter that he had enjoyed immensely, but before the engagement had even begun; the holy interloper had given them all fair warning of trespass, as they were on a quest, (the mountain would not have), the spirit on a quest himself: would have just ploughed right through the lot of them.

So that means, that if the terms of engagement were set, then why hadn’t the magician permanently dismissed the ineffective petulant wind-trap with an antiflatulence spell like simethicone, to then rapidly move the troublesome gas-bubble ever on and quickly flush it from the world.

Unable to answer that crushing and pressing question of the wind’s continued existence on this crushing and pressing plain of static existence, and also unable to move on himself with that powerful magical shield in place, actually holding the ground in its permanent stasis, the mighty Mountain Spirit decided that it would just continue to watch and wait.

In the protective bubble, and finally out of the harsh cutting wind; the confident conjoined Mage then drew in all of the four elements, and all by simply raising the unwilling brown twig out in front, whist also adopting a wide legged confidant stance in the eye of the calm storm: a commanding stance that saw the raw power flowing in.

** The elemental controller, now in the guise of an all powerful magician; raises a withered hand to the grey threatening skies above, in it is that long thin twig, that seemed to cut the very air in front of it.

The stolen magic wand is held aloft in the firm unweaving grip, and the tip of the fearsome weapon glowed a pulsing blue, as the (new owner) below, of the very (old wand) above, then began uttering an even older runic chant, which was an old poem learned as a young child long ago.

Words are powerful, ..

Pure blue light erupts out from the wooden tip and flies up into the dark threatening heavens, where the Black World of Mordor hangs menacingly in the sky, .. the warning beam-shot across it bows  worked, because the vast travelling city slowly stops it’s forward momentum.

As that wand is lowered, the timeless-warrior: coming down off of the powerful magical high from the blue ejaculation quietly askes, ‘Was it good for you?’ To which a small voice of the wood, that was almost lost in the noisy wind; groggily replies: ‘Man, that was more than good, but I’m totally fucked, and will be for about three days. You’re on your own from now on, good luck! Masss,’ .. then silence followed as the spent wand falls into an exhausted blissful slumber.

** The immoral union between master and slave is now complete, and neither can take back what they’ve just shared: a sharing spell made up of corruption incarnate, a spell of conjoined madness that was freely and sinfully agreed upon by both parties.

All that’s heard as the withered spent wand is put away in the nice warm warm pocket, is the slowly diminishing wind in the increasingly quiet background: because even the petulant Ethereal-Overlord couldn’t keep up that sort of childish outburst and foot stamping tantrum forever, which was something that the exhausted timeless-warrior was very glad about: because putting the naughty windy boy over the timeless-knee for a damn good spanking, was something that the tired warrior just didn’t feel inclined to do.

The Backend Story, .. our defender has inadvertently stolen the only magical weapon that is capable of defeating the overpowering dark forces gathering above, and it’s only (their) solitary stand against them, that will then ultimately save mankind, and all of the other free races from total domination, .. but that illegal conjoining has condemned the pair of them to a life of servitude towards the terrible powerful Light Queen, of whom the ancient elder wand had sworn his total devotion and loyalty towards.

The elven witch Galatia, didn’t think that humanity, nor even any of the other free races for that matter were worth saving or defending. So in a dark threatening mood, the powerful witch then threatened physical harm on her supposed bodyguards, (the Holy Brotherhood), who had simply been recruited to protect Galatia on her own personal quest to the place of the Dark Reckoning, as it was foretold.

What wasn’t foretold, was that the powerful elven witch would turn her back on the urgent command for assistance, that had actually come directly from the elven King himself, who also acted as the Holy Orders most revered Bishop, and who was also someone that you didn’t cross, but Galatia had done just that in refusing to come to the King’s aid, an aid package; that even the powerful and terrible Light Queen wouldn’t have dared refused.

From that rather noisy public rebuttal at the witch’s reinforced front gate: it was mooted, rather loudly amongst some of the more bolder members of the now broken fellowship, that the dark-siders had somehow got to her, but she’s unbelievable powerful to go up against, ventured other more cautious broken members, and then wondered why they’d even said it. With an undertow asking if they could even take the witches fortress, we could at night via the left tower was the response, but then the responders were left wondering why the undertow was even was mooted.

Thusly so did it come to pass, that Galatia’s dark belligerent refusal, literally threw the hired bodyguard’s orders into turmoil.

Orders that very soon turned into a noble Holy Quest in obtaining the powerful ancient wand for another worthy warrior to carry into battle, ..

** Though it must be said: that no one in the initial planning committee, actually knew just where that weird thought had come from, but the undertow of conformed concessive on using that wand, and not destroying it in Mt Doom so the other side could get it, instantly formed the very basis of the Fellowship operation as it was known to be called.

Plans set, then warranted the daring theft, the handy loss, the dramatic escape; which then led to the unexpected manic pursuit by a well equipped army: that then resulted in the rest of the brotherhood leaving for the north very fast, and in a seemingly blind panic, that then immediately drew the army of paid mercenaries after them, ..

Then under the cover of bright day-light, the timeless-warrior, now in the guise as a common peddler travelling from town to town, and the old wooden wand as the unwilling pocket companion, then made their way south, to the little known secret place of the Dark Reckoning; which was located atop the mountain, as it was foretold in the Bishop’s own chronicles.

** At camp, round a roaring fire on the peddlers first night alone: it was estimated by the unwilling old wand, that most of the decoy volunteers wouldn’t make it more than fifty miles before being cut down, the rest would probably fall within a year, but some might survive to tell the tale: the timeless-warrior, however, knew better, and actually felt sorry for the bulk of the unwitting army being stalked and cut down by their seemingly panicked pray running in front, but didn’t share this with the overly chatty companion; who did like to talk when they were alone.

The first part of their long uneventful journey was very easy, but then on the tenth day out; they had to make their way through the dreaded Death Valley: where their own magical bond became semi formalized in battle, with their placid conjoining membership becoming a real penetrating force in dropping the hordes of mildly threatening seminal demons, but their combined phatic power was never going to be hard, or even strong enough to take down that city in the sky.

Combined words are powerful, ..

That sort of maternal bond of master and slave: between the old elder wand, and the young inexperienced handler; would also take years to develop, and the timeless-warrior knew full well who would be the slave to the rhythm in this one sided marriage of sinful convivence.

** Ancient wand lore also stated that the bond of free masturbatory use by both parties (hand and wood) in the revered act, was a contract of mutual respect, and that neither of the participants could simple walk away from their exchanged vows either, .. it went: in sickness and in health, and till death us do part; according to God’s holy law.

There was also a divorce clause built right into all of the high born noble contacts, (a conditional clause that everyone was made painfully aware of). A legal condition that simply stated that if one of the parties refused a direct legal (and or) lawful order from their rightful liege, then that party in question: would thusly be permanently removed from the legally binding contact, — and then damned to burn forever in the very mind and the very dark core of whatever White Queen was on the throne at the time. The current incumbent was called terrible, because of her white hot temper, which some said was merely a state of mind.

What would physically happen to the disobedient servant, would resembled a body (wood of flesh), expiring violently up and outwards in a huge engulfing ball of white hot flame. Which was a fate that had befallen the powerful elven witch Galatia, who obviously thought that she was above that sort of thing: especially as she alone owned the most powerful one-sided elder wand, that was even reportedly able to take down a god.

The witch burning was set up by Galatia’s adamant refusal to aid her rightful King, that she’d sworn an undying allegiance too, and also her absolute lifelong obedience to the terrible Queen of Light: of whom she had been promised a very wealthy release into Elysian, but only after her long term of servitude was up.

Unfortunately, no such bargain was in place where the new conjoined pair were concerned, they had basically condemned themselves to perpetual life of living dead: in indentured service to the immortal White Queen, who would no doubt like the company throughout the long yeas.

The wand’s rapid divorce, had physically happened at the exact moment when the timeless-warrior had absentmindedly picked up the errant one-way elder wand off of the floor, along with that withered hand for good measure.

Touching words are powerful, ..

That physical contact was the trigger in unwittingly adopting the old childlike wand, and because the ownership wasn’t sort: it was naturally given to the brand new unwilling parent.
In that intimate contact, both the unwilling parent and child: mentally witnessed the all-powerful witch Galatia, running headlong towards them down the heavily paneled hallway, and gathering her own formidable powers about her as she ran, innate powers that saw one members of the forlorn-hope vanish in a violent cloud of dust, as the other three took shelter, but they all knew full-well their fate, especially once the all powerful vengeful woman had finished with the two lightly armed thieves in the breached wand room.

** The enraged elven witch wasn’t supposed to be here, but outside dealing with a complex diversion that should have kept her busy for an hour at least.

As the screaming banshee ran on, the witch then screamed aloud in howling pain, as she then simply erupted violently up and out in unimaginable burning pain.

In total bemusement the alarmed wand room, the newly conjoined couple then mentally saw the continuously screaming woman; rapidly take up her new residence in a fine white marble decorated state room, that was prominently located on the first floor of a nicely furnished hotel, that was itself: tucked away into a pleasant recess by the lake in the warm blissful mountains; where the concept of pain was all in the mind, that was five times to the power ten as intense.

The newly married couple in total astonishment, then gently moved away after the separation degree nisi was awarded, that slowly became a degree absolute in the eyes of the justifiable law, and as they left the hot valley: both of them still heard the renewed screams of the regretful plaintiff who had lost her foolish court case.

** The timeless-warrior would never have brought such a weak case to court in the first place, and idly wondered just what the dark-siders message was, that then saw people like Galatia do what she did.

** The mystical elder wand didn’t understand the law, it didn’t need to: all it knew was right and wrong, orders and noncompliance, which were sometimes called dark-orders in refined social circles: dark social orders that he could legally refuse to obey.

In mentally witnessing Galatia move into her new state rooms, and for all eternity at that: both of the newly conjoined companions, (both) vowed to each other to never willingly book into that particular hotel, sited as it was; right beside the red hot roiling bubbling lava lake.

The old elder wand knew that its actual placement was all part of the holy blissful plan, where the renewed prisoner was replenished and revitalized by the second to stop them from going completely mad, and yet also in eternal living in blinding burning pain, but they would ever be allowed to take a nice cooling dip in that boiling lava lake: a vast area that they would forever see it out there, just out of reach as a blessed relief to the hot burning hell that was inside their fine stately rooms.

With that, the ancient wand quietly told the timeless-warrior of the horrid cruel fate that awaited the condemned soul once brought here.

The hot blooded warrior shuddered as the cooling darkness surrounded them again, and then the sounds of a heated battle assailed their conjoined ears once more. At that, the hot blooded warrior gathered up the other wounded thief, and then took off in a sprint: with the flaccid wand glowing light blue held out in front.

What we know, .. the timeless-warrior has climbed the freezing mountain all alone, (the brotherhood is broken, but not lost.) Now in the guise of a powerful mage, has even battled through the Death Valley demons below, (killing many), just to get to this holy place of the Dark Reckoning, but our fierce warrior, rippling with honed muscles: is now once more standing in the angry howling ice-cold hot wind, that has now got in once more to harry the faux magician: it did this when the shield fell as the warning blue beam shot up into the heavens, but the harrying annoying wind has lost its bluster.

What we don’t know, .. our Mage is also playing a dangerous game of double bluff, and all by pretending to be a powerful magician: that’s capable of handling the wand of Galatia: that’s now called the wand of the timeless-warrior, but even though the mystical powerful wooden wand has now got a new name, the pair of them know full well that (they) are not capable of the mystical conjoining required to pull it off: at least, not yet.

** As soon as the Spirit of the Mountain finally realizes that fascinating truth, that’s actually and joyfully standing right in front of him in a wonderful jest: he once more goes about his droll empire building, because as everyone and anyone in the know knows, dominating mountain ranges don’t grow by themselves.

And now we know it all, .. but nowhere in the above text: is the actual gender of the old timeless-warrior actually mentioned.

Oh’ – Yes!

The reader of the story is making assumptions, and that’s what you, (the writer) is going for: the ultimate punch-line.

Quote:- ‘An old brown leather skinned warrior’s body, that was made up entirely of hard rippling muscles; that were themselves honed over the long years in the trade of armed warfare, ..’
— Is that of an old woman.

Words, have real power, ..

{Google traps:} cheap computer chip that is capable of running Windows 10. What’s the best computer for word processing. Buying a 128GB flash drive. Personal word processor. Writing novels. Writing a book. Writing solutions. {/Google traps.}