Jon-Tom felt that momentary dizziness that accompanied time travel. It was completely unexpected, disorienting and disturbing. He had the presence of mind to wonder if this whole thing was a gag of some sort being perpetuated by Eve. Alma wasn't stupid, but neither was she brilliant. The same could be said for himself. He could do a lot, but most of it was based on learned magic, not inherent talent. He counted off the seconds as they added up. They kept increasing at a worrying pace.

When the spinning stopped, he opened his eyes. Water covered his back. His hand patted around. It felt grass. The grass was covered in dew. His vision was clouded and obscured. The problem was not in his eyes, but in the air. The atmosphere was thick and swirling with moisture. The air was chill; not cold precisely, but not warm either. It might not have been so noticeable if he had on some clothing. He shivered involuntarily.

He stood and looked for Alma. Since she wasn't within ten feet of his position, she could be anywhere. He was wise enough not to simply shout for her. There were things in the mist that he might attract that wouldn't be nearly as hospitable as the unicorn. He would have to search for her. The best way to do that would be as a unicorn too. He willed the change. It balked a bit at first, then caught on and converted him to his alter ego. He sniffed the air. It smelled. It wasn't anything he could trace to a source. It just smelled.

He ignored all but the scent of equine. It didn't take long for him to find a familiar one. He trotted through the fog and mist until he found her sprawled on the ground. Her back legs were partially sunk in marshy ground. She looked up with fear in her eyes. When she saw it was him she fell back in relief.

“Thank the Winds of Halifay that it's you! I've been stuck here for an hour! Where have you been?"

An hour? “I guess I just woke up. Seems to me more like it was only a few minutes at best. An hour? Really?"

“Oh shut up and get me out of here. This peat will stain my hide permanently if I soak in it much longer!"

He just wrinkled his nose. “Peat? Maybe that's what I've been smelling. I can't see a damn thing and the air is so thick that, in the words of an old friend of mine, inhaling it is like sneezing backwards!" He leaned down, touched horns and locked hers to his. With gently but inexorable strength, he backed up until she was free of the brownish liquid.

He took stock of her mind, and she of his. He spoke first. “Just what the hell is going on here? Did Eve put you up to something? If so, I don't think it's funny. I have no idea where we are, and more importantly, when we are. That is, if we really time traveled. It seems to me that wherever we are is some place I've never been before. It smells like some place I've been previously, but I can't place it right now. Maybe the Muddletop Moors?"

She was shaking off the water staining her hide. “The Muddletop Moors? I've never heard of it. Where's it at?" He shook his head at her question.

“I thought everyone knew where they were. I had to pass through them when I was traveling with; well, with a tiger and an otter. The moors are a good distance from the Bellwoods."

She gazed at him with a look of amazement. “Are you saying these are places on this world? I've never heard of them. How is that possible?"

He gave her a how-should-I-know look. “I had never heard of Hobarrow until I was sent there to be its mayor. But those details can wait. Right now we need to figure out where we're at. We need to find some locals. I'd prefer a good wizard or two as well. I think, if we're lost in time, we're going to need a lot of help to get back."

They walked through a forest, recognizable only from the moss covered trunks. Even the leaves were obscured by the mists. The ground rose and fell until they found themselves standing on a rocky outcrop. The trees were to their back.

“I wish I could see a bit farther than ten feet," complained Jon-Tom. “This fog is like pea soup. And my nose can't tell one smell from another. They're all mixed and jumbled like pieces of multiple puzzles thrown into one box."

“I have an idea!" Alma no sooner said those words when she was back to being a dragon. She looked a little odd this time, with white hairs peeking out from around her scales. With a mighty roar she let loose a blast of flame that heated the air and dissipated the fog. Wherever the fire went, the moisture heated up and rose, leaving a fairly clear path. But little could be seen, and as soon as she stopped, the land-locked cloud converged and surrounded them again.

“It's no use. We either must travel until we find someone, or wait until this lifts. Your choice."

She changed back to a unicorn. “I guess we'll wander until we find something to indicate where we are." So they trotted over the ridge and down into the valley. Some miles later they found an open grassy expanse that was only lightly carpeted in fog. They could hear bleating coming from a few hundred yards away. Jon-Tom stiffened.

“This is not good. Stupid once, my fault; stupid twice isn't going to happen." He turned to Alma. “We really, really need to get out of here. I recognize those sounds all too well. And what they mean to our situation is far graver than I originally figured."

She hardly found the sounds to be threatening. Whatever was making them sounded kind of cute and dumb. If it was some sort of language, it was awfully primitive. She scanned the land searching for the animals making the sound. All she could discern were dirty white lumps dotting the grass. Then one of them moved. In fact she saw a second creature seemingly attacking whatever it was. She pointed it out to her companion. He peered into the fog.

“It's worse than I feared. While I haven't a clue when or where exactly we are, we are back on Earth. And that is one of my fellow species going at it with a sheep." Indeed, the man was pounding away with gusto. While it would be a good thing to try and talk with him, Jon-Tom felt an attempted conversation with him would be pointless. His mind was presently locked into getting off on a lesser species. It made Jon-Tom momentarily question his own life, but all his partner's had been equals in intelligence if not in form.

Alma was intrigued. “So this is your world? It seems rather wet and cool. I much prefer the region along the sea. Hobarrow is nearly perfect for my tastes."

The sea. There was a bit of salt suspended in the air, now that she mentioned it. And sheep. And a horny human. Still, that didn't go far to give him specifics. Depending on the century, there were hundreds of places that might fit that description. He steeled himself to confront the shepherd. He became human and stepped forward. Alma cautioned him. “Do humans normally walk around unclothed? That may startle him and make him run."

Jon-Tom chuckled. “So may a giant black unicorn. I'll take my chances. After all, he may assume I'm after the same thing he is." He strode forward and across the wet grass. The man was so intent on screwing his ewe that he never heard the other come up behind him. Jon-Tom cleared his throat. The reaction was instantaneous. The man pulled out and nearly wet himself.

“ Ye scared me out of me wee ewe!" Then he looked up at the giant of a man standing over him. Jon-Tom was indeed tall, but this fellow was small. He likely didn't hit five foot two inches. The sheep turned to look at the men, and seeing no future in sticking around, wandered off. The man looked from Jon-Tom the “giant" to the lovely white horse. A horse with a horn. He then did the only sensible thing when confronted by the inexplicable. He fainted.

Alma clicked her teeth in distaste. Jon-Tom shrugged. “I guess I'll just tap into his memories and see if I can figure out where we're at. I have a guess, and I hope I'm not right." He pressed his head against the man's and worked his way through the muck that was his mind. It was filled with farming and toil and sheep fuc…intercourse. The language was familiar and yet distant. But the pieces were falling into place.

“First Germany, and now Great Britain. It's funny I had to leave my world to get to travel it. The problem is that this fellow has no concept of time. I estimate we have to be farther back than 400 years in the past. I remember enough of my British history to know they were using fairly modern English by then."

Alma was lost. “Great Britain? British? English? What are all of these things? They sound like nonsense to me."

He sighed. “On my world is a group of rather sizable islands that make up an occasionally unified country known as Great Britain. There is England, Wales, Ireland, Scotland and a few other bits that make it up. In its early days it was war torn by tribes fighting for control over the prime real estate. I don't rightly remember now, but there were the Celts and the Saxons and the Picts and the Britons. I'm not very clear on it any more. Anyway, I seem to recognize some of the words as they are associated with places and things. We need to tread lightly where ever we go. Unicorns are not part of my world."

Alma was indignant. “Are you telling me that there are no others like us on your planet? How absurd. Had you ever heard on such a thing as I before you left your world?"

“Of course I had heard of unicorns! Everyone knows about unicorns. There are all kinds of legends concerning them on my world, but it doesn't mean they were real!" Even as he said this his heart sank. Werewolves and Little Red Riding hood were just stories too. Stories which he knew first hand were true. This was going to be a painfully precarious visit.

“Alma, you have a point. I guess I'll stay as a human, and you had better stay as you are. I only wish we could hide that horn."

She snorted indignantly. “What's wrong with my horn? Is it not lovely to behold?"

He sighed. “Yes, it's quite lovely. But that has nothing to do with my point. As horses we could blend in better." But in his mind he knew that wasn't really true. The horses here would be far smaller than either of them, and the humans, such as they might be, would also be of smaller stature. Overall a human who could assume equine form and an equine who could assume dragon form were going to be dangerously out-of-place here in early England.

“Look Alma dear, I think we should start thinking about finding a way back to our starting point. The sooner we can get back to Hobarrow the better. An encounter with one horny, sheep-screwing peasant is one thing, but exposing the whole populace to something far beyond their simple understanding is another. I can't imagine what havoc that would cause. And there's something else."

She eyed him curiously. “And that would be what?"

He gulped once or twice before answering. “I think our powers and abilities will diminish over time. I can't be certain, but when I reverted forms there was a slight hesitation, and I notice that when you assumed dragon form there were white hairs peeking out from around your scales. It seems to me to be an indicator of something serious. So I would suggest we restrict our use of it unless it becomes absolutely necessary."

“No problem. I prefer being me again. But as far as finding our way back, I doubt we could do it. I have a good sense of direction and I doubt I'd find it thru all this mist. I doubt such a miniscule difference in our position is going to make a different one way or another. We are, after all, on a great big ball of rock spinning in space. I think it was mere chance that brought us here."

Jon-Tom shook his head. “I wish I was convinced of that."

With little else to discuss, the two traveled together for a while on foot. The ground was wet and both rocky and marshy. Stone outcrops rose up out of basins filled with water, mud, gorse and heather. Here and there they spotted crude huts often surrounded by sheep and goats. Whether or not they ever got spotted by the denizens of these miserable hovels was unknown. They just kept moving.

At one point they passed along a stone wall, straight, but in disrepair. The ground under their feet seemed solid and stable. He reached down and with his fingers dug into the grass and moss. They encountered stone a few inches below the surface. “Not done by the locals I think. The only ones who would have built a road and then abandoned it would be the Romans. That means we're a lot farther back in time than I thought. I don't remember when they left, but it was a lot earlier than 400 years ago. We might be as far back as one thousand." He actually shuddered at the thought.

Alma pressed her horn against his head. “There there! If we die here, we'll die together. I for one don't consider that a bad thing."

He choked a little. “I don't mean to be emotional, but I always figured I'd die at home. And before you go saying something stupid, this is not my home. It's my home planet, but not my home. As tired as I feel sometimes with all of the memories of what I've done back there; Hobarrow, and Lynchblenny, and the Bellwoods, and the Muddletop Moors, and Roseroar, and Talea, and Sybeele; they are my home. I didn't think that I would finally pass away with ignominy, rotting away in some cold barrow.

“Barrow? What's a barrow?"

He jerked to attention. “I assumed you knew. I thought it was how the city I'm presently mayor of got its name. A barrow is a pile of stones covering a grave. In some places these tombs were covered with gigantic stones weighing tons. I figured Hobarrow got started the same way."

Alma neighed. “Not that I know of, but then the town is far older than I am. When we get back I'd suggest we look into it."

He chuckled sadly. “If we get back. I have no clue what you did to bring us here, so I have even less of an idea of how to get us back." He pulled up short when he espied a dirty, disheveled youth sitting on the wall not far from them. He had been unable to understand the conversation, but it hadn't been lost on him that the man was talking to an extraordinary horse."

“Allo ye great naked giant!" Outside of his greeting he did nothing else but sit there. Jon-Tom's keen eyes noted the sling dangling, with a rock at the ready.

“Hello yourself, you little scrap of sheep dung. Are you useful, or are you just going to delay me in my journey?"

The boy seemed to lack both sense and fear. He slid of the wall, landing on his bare feet like a ballet dancer. He came up to the human, walked around him once before stopping in front of him. “Aye, yer a biggun!" He reached out and flipped Jon-Tom's cock a bit. “Oi! The ewes not stand up to the like's o'that. Good that you have yer horse for company." Jon-Tom's eyes grew in size. This kid was straight forward if nothing else. He watched as the youngster walked around Alma.

“What a lovely beastie you be. Ain't no such thing like you in all the kingdoms methinks." He callously grabbed her nostrils and pulled her head down. But it was with complete awe that he beheld her horn. “Tis either wondrous or freakish. Methinks the first mayhap.“ Suddenly he was done inspecting.

“Giant, do ye have a name?"

Jon-Tom twisted up his lips into a smile. “I have many names. You may call me Aiden." The boy's eyes lit up.

“Aiden? You be named for the flame. Where be yer home? Might you be a Roman?"

“No, I'm not a Roman. Where I'm from would only confuse you. Let's just say I'm from somewhere by the sea. But perhaps you can tell me your name and where we're at presently?

The boys drew himself up tall. “Me mother named me properly, she did, but everyone calls me Arf. This place here is referred to as Lott. There be a town not far away. I might show you, if you wish. Not a good place."

“And why is that, Arf?"

“Sickness. Tis some sort of plague. Tis better to stay away, unless ye fancy the dying and the dead. Any sensible folks avoid Vere if they be wanting to stay alive."

That got his attention. There was always some sort of plague during these early days of European civilization. The Black Plaque had decimated the population at one point, but there was always typhus, cholera, and malaria. “Boy, I'd suggest you take me there. I may be able to help."

Arf looked up at him. “Ye sure? Ye can't even drape yer shoulders in a cloak. How be ye able to help fight death?"

Jon-Tom had noticed that the boy had a recently acquired burn on his arm. It was scabbed over and ugly in appearance. “Give me your hand boy." He complied readily enough, but not without a bit of hesitation. His hand felt tiny in the giant's grasp. All at once he felt the wound begin burning again. The giant wouldn't let go. Then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped. The big man reached over and grabbed the edge of the scab. He clamped his eyes in preparation for the pain. There was none. He cracked open an eye. The scab was gone. The arm was healed!

The boy threw himself onto the giant. “OI! Yer a wizard! A healer! Hurrah!" He climbed up and straddled Jon-Tom's shoulders. “This road be the way to the village." They set off down the mossy path. On the way the boy jumped from human to unicorn, reveling in the novelty of it all. Alma had remained silent. Arf leaned in and whispered to her. She didn't understand him at first, but since he was in contact with her, she tapped into his mind. It was bright and curious, but rather simple and undeveloped. However, she got the basic of his language. “I don't speak boy, because horses don't speak."

He giggled. “Aye! But ye ain't a horse, now is ye? Ye both be sent by the elder gods to help end our problems." He continued to chatter away for the rest of the journey. Alma found that she liked him very much. It made her wish all the more for a child of her own. She tried to broadcast the idea to her companion, but the thought never seemed to reach him. It was just as well. They needed to get home to finish that bit of business.

The village was a miserable excuse for a pimple on the face of civilization. It smelled of mud and dung, and quite frankly, a morgue. Few people were out and about. Those who were and saw them ran screaming back into their hovels. The boy blew his nose in their direction. “OI! I bring them help and the buggers run off. Bastards don't have no more sense than the sheep they look after. Come on, I'll take ye to the tailor. If he ain't dead yet, ye can fix him up and maybe he'll get you a cloak to cover yer massiveness."

The tailor's place wasn't much better than the rest of the town. There was no sign indicating his profession. Arf didn't even knock on the sorry excuse for a door. He walked right in. Jon-Tom had to duck nearly a foot to gain entry. Inside it was dark and mildly disgusting. The smell was a mix of herbs and death. The man of the house was lying on a cot near the fireplace. On the other side was a small girl, her chest barely rising and falling.

The only one on her feet was the wife. She saw Jon-Tom and her eyes widened in fear. She would have run, but between her dedication to her small family and the fact that the one entrance was now blocked by a giant made the decision for her. “What might I do fer ye; uhhh, sire?"

Jon-Tom smiled and knelt down next to her husband. He said nothing, but held his hand. Using up his power had not been high on his list of things to do, but leaving someone to suffer when he could do something to alleviate it was appalling to him. He forced his healing into the man. The infection retreated until it was nothing more than a memory. A little more forced a bit of strength into his system. He opened his eyes. His wife let loose a joyful cry. Jon-Tom moved over to the girl. He did the same, finding that she barely had minutes to live. But he pushed until she was safe. He left her and returned to her father.

The man watched him without fear. “Ye saved me life. I wish ye could do the same for me wee Marion. But it is too late methinks." Jon-Tom patted his hand. “Rest. She will be fine."

The man pulled himself up on his elbows. “If this be true, than I am yers to command. Ask anything and it shall be done!"

Jon-Tom pushed him back down. “When your feeling better, you can make me some clothing. I was hardly dressed for a journey when I can." He was about to continue when another voice broke in. “Uhhhh, Aiden? I think you need to come outside." It was Alma.

It turned out that several of the villagers had gathered their courage, and with what little they had that functioned as a weapon, were advancing on the poor unicorn. When he came out of the hut and stood his full height, a few stopped for a moment. The fear was evident in their eyes. Alma could run away fast enough, but she had decided to stand her ground. It looked like there was going to be a reckoning. Another voice called out. “Stop! Ye will not hurt these travelers. They be here to help!" It was the tailor. He was still weak and sought the support of his wife, but his voice was clear and strong.

The others gasped. “Witchcraft!" cried one. They backed up a little. But one woman ran back to her hut and returned carrying a small child. “Please sire, cure my little Gwen. She be all I have left!" She fell to the ground in front of him. He crouched in the mud, put a hand on her and willed out the disease. As it left her, her eyes fluttered a moment before opening. “Mama?"

The woman was beside herself with joy. Alma shed a tear. “What a pretty child and a pretty name." No one seemed to hear here. The woman couldn't find enough composure to hug her child and the giant, but she tried. Others brought out their sick, or boldly grabbed his hand and dragged him into their huts. But the end of two hours the village was cured, and Jon-Tom, aka Aiden, was proclaimed the village's ruler. He finally had a chance to rest, but he was pestered with stories of who he was. He kept it simple.

“I'm and my, uhh, steed, are from a city by the sea. My name is Aiden Drake, and my horse is called Alma." One old man, who had weathered the disease because his degenerative hips had kept him from mingling with the others, came forward. He now walked with the step of a much younger man. “From the sea is it? That be where the old Romans came from, and the Norse, and the Gauls. As the Romans called it; mare. Ye will be known as Mare-Aiden, so no one will ever forget what ye did fer us this day!"

So the word spread of Mare-Aiden, The Healer of Fire and Water. With him was a wondrous horse (they knew nothing of unicorns) all in white. News traveled fast, and not always to good ears. After a few weeks of miracles, the news had spread to the closest fortress. It wasn't much as far as castles go, but it was of solid construction and with a strong compliment of soldiers. The local chieftain in charge was ill. A force of men was sent to retrieve this healer. If Jon-Tom had been at full power, he would have dealt with them right away, As it was, he allowed himself to be taken away. He told Alma to run and hide until he was gone. She had reluctantly agreed.

He was taken to see the young chieftain, who was dying from a festering wound to his leg, received on a boar hunt. Jon-Tom wasn't about to heal him without knowing more about what kind of man he was. He tapped into his mind. What he found was sadly typical for the time period. He was brutal, but not without kindness. It was a rough time and place and only the strong survived. Strength often meant using deadly force. Jon-Tom sighed loudly before exerting his power. However he didn't have to be kind about it. He allowed the pain to flow through the man without any of the narcotic effect he normally applied so liberally.

The man cried out. A few guards drew their weapons and advanced. Jon-Tom shouted at them. “If you want him to live, then you will let me do my job. I can heal him, but there is always a price to pay. Right now he's paying it!" The man thrashed around on the bed for what seemed like an eternity. When he finally collapsed, Jon-Tom unwrapped his wound. The purulent cloth stank of fetid infection. But the leg underneath was as white and unblemished as the rest of the skin. One of the guards had watched with blatant interest. Now he fell over in a faint.

The healer was taken to a small room, not spacious, but clean and well appointed. He sat on a bench, glad for the robe and trousers the tailor had managed to make him. It wasn't his normal fare, but it was better than nothing. He laid back and contemplated his present predicament. Alma was loose yet, somewhere, and he was here locked up. True, he wasn't in a dungeon, but he was still a prisoner. He had no idea how long he would remain.

It was a day later that he was brought food. The man who brought it in had a large bruise on his face. As he turned to leave the room, a gruff voice was heard. “And if ye ever do something so stupid again, I'll lock ye in the hole and feed ye feces for a week!" In strode the chieftain. “Aye, I see they speak the truth. Ye is a giant among men! And a healer to boot! Tis no wonder the men be sacred of ye! But I felt yer mind walk thru mine. We be more alike than different methinks." Jon-Tom started to protest. The man cut him off.

“Look me big fella. I don't like being ruler. Someone needed to be in charge of this lot, and the fates picked me. The men be rude and crude, but many have good hearts. I does the best I can. Ye didn't do me any favors in saving me scabby skin. I much would have preferred goning to the great hunting grounds. I'd rather shoot me arrows into a hart than a man any day." Jon-Tom only hoped Alma wouldn't hear such talk.

“Look, whoever you are, I healed you because it was the right thing to do. If you have no further use for my services, then I'd like to be on my way."

The man raised his eyebrows. “Ye speak strangely, yet I understand everything ye say. As for leaving, ye be free to go. They tell me ye name be Maraiden. Tis a strange name. Mine, if ye not be informed, is Pike. Yea, I be named for a weapon. Me blessed mother was not graced with brains, only good looks. She spent most of her time on her back. I grew up as a soldier's bastard. I got the back of the hand more often than deserved. I vowed never to do that to another. That jackass that locked you up is an exception. One doesn't bite the hand that heals ye!"

Jon-Tom was impressed. True, the man had mangled his newest moniker, but who the hell cared? All the better to confuse future generations and therefore eradicate any permanent effects his presence might make. “Well Pike, I'm grateful for your hospitality. If you don't mind, I'll be on my way back to the village where your men found me. I have a friend there."

“Certainly, if that's what ye wish. But be it known that I owe you me life, and as such I am indebted to ye. I do not like have such an onus dangling over me head like a sword. Can we settle this now?"

Jon-Tom shrugged. “I doubt you have what I want or need. I wish that you did. I don't belong here. But it seems I'm going to be stuck here for a while."

“Follow me. This fortress has any number of valuables. Perhaps I can interest you in something." They walked out into the hallways and down a flight of stairs. They walked across the great hall and to a room whose entrance was blocked by a huge oak door. Pike pulled out a key and turned it in the lock. With a strenuous push for a fully healthy man, he swung the door open to reveal a room full of treasure. The average man would have succumbed to avarice. Jon-Tom just sighed. He never really had a taste for this stuff. Sure it was beautiful, but what else could you do with it? To be polite, he wandered around the small room, turning over trinkets, goblets and the like. Nothing struck him as interesting. Even if he took something to give to the villagers, it would only cause fights and attract thieves and brigands. That was when he noticed a compact, but very sturdily built chest.

“What's in here?"

Pike smiled. “Ye be a true hearted man who asks about what he cannot see. This is said to be the greatest treasure in the room, though to my eyes it be nothing more than a lump of ugly rock." He opened the chest to reveal a dark, pitted chunk of stone. He ran his fingers across it. It was cold. Just to satisfy his curiosity, he attempted to hoist the chest. It was movable, but damned heavy.

“Meteorite. A nice one at that. In my time, these are worth more than gold and jewels. Of course, that's rather irrelevant." He closed the chest. “ I wish I had a use for some of this, I really do, but I just don't. I don't like having people feel that they are beholden onto me, but I don't suppose you would agree to allow me to release you from your onus?"

“Nay. I must repay the life debt. If there is nothing I have that ye desire, then go. But if ye find that I can help ye in any way, just let me know." Jon-Tom half expected to have to find his way back to the village on his own, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that Pike was going to accompany him. They set off at a leisurely pace.

“Maraiden, you said “your time". Are you not from this one? I must admit I find the idea intriguing."

“Pike, I'm not too clear on whether I should tell you much or not. But I'll say this. This is my world, but not my time. I got here from another world. It was an accident. I really need to get back. There seems to be a chance that the longer I stay, the less power I will have. If it runs out altogether, I think that I will die."

“We all die, me friend. It is the way of things. But ye are young and strong. Why do ye think such things?"

“Because I am well over a century old. I have outlived my normal span and am heading into numbers no human should have to reach. But it's magic that keeps me going. Without it, this body will fail."

Pike looked over at him. Deciding he was being serious, he gave some advice. “I know nothing of magic. I doubt ye be as old as ye say, but if ye be it, then ye look good. Ye find anyone about these parts that be the old and they be long buried, rotted and food for mother earth. But this magic has not so much to do with it, methinks. Love, they say, is the key to youth. I will die early, no doubt, despite yer help, for I have no love. But there is mayhap time yet. What of you?

Jon-Tom was introspective for a moment. “I have a lot of love, and a lot of loves. But none are here right now."

Pike raised his eyebrows. “The men mentioned a horse. They got the understanding you could talk to this creature. Is this true?"

How to answer? “A man may talk to a rock or a tree. What of it?"

Pike laughed. “Aye, a man may, and be considered either doddered or extremely wise. The matter be more marked if the tree or rock answers back. I would see this horse if I might. She be said to be something to behold."

Jon-Tom wasn't certain he fully trusted this man, despite his apparent noble behavior. “I will leave it up to her. It is not my place to dictate to her any action that puts her in harm's way.

Pike got momentarily angry. But he calmed down before speaking. “Ye have no reason to trust me, whereas I have every reason to trust ye. I will sit where ever ye chose and await this beauty. If she comes, fine. If nay, then her neigh will forever be left alone. You have my word on it." Jon-Tom bowed his head in acquiescence.

When they arrived at the village, they were greeted by the entire population. Pike was at first overwhelmed with his reception until it sank in no one really gave a crap about him. The healer was who they were ecstatic over. In fact, no one even knew the chieftain by his face. It taught him a lesson that day that to rule a people meant to be known and loved by them. He chose wisely to remain quiet as to who he was.

No one was happier to see Jon-Tom than Alma. She touched her horn to his head. Once she had greeted him, she started with the questions. “Who's the straggler?"

“That's the local ruler, such as he is. Not a bad fellow really. Seems like if this land could get a bit under control, he would make a good king. But that's neither here nor there. I have no intention of interfering in the local politics anymore than I have to. I saved his life, so that's as far as I intend to go."

She appraised the man from afar. “He's kind of cute, for a human. He appears a bit young to be playing at being a ruler. But then, this lot isn't the brightest. I suppose it doesn't take much to control them."

He was a little remonstrative. “Don't put them down for being what they presently are. With a little guidance, they'll end up ruling half of the world." She gave him a look that said “I doubt that."

“No really. There will come a day when English influence will stretch around the planet. There was even a saying that said that the sun never set on the British Empire."

“Well I don't know about you, but I don't fully trust all of them. I've had to keep ahead of bands of rogues who were obviously up to no good, especially at night. Are you certain that the sun never set on this empire because they couldn't be trusted in the dark?"

Jon-Tom stifled a smile. “That's not nice. Rather funny, but not nice. My own country was originally part of this empire before we broke away. But that's a matter for future discussion. Right now, we are lost in the past with no way of getting home. What do you suggest we do?"

“Mingle." With that she wandered off towards Pike. His eyes lit up with unadulterated joy.

That left Jon-Tom to his own devices. He had none. He was at a loss as to what he could do. Sure, if he was stuck here he could help out until his power ran dry, but what damage would his help induce onto the timeline was the biggest question on his mind. He sat down on a lump of rock to think. Arf came up to him. “Allo mister. What be ye doing?"

“I'm thinking on what I can do to get back home. I shouldn't be here."

The boy scratched his head. “I aint got no home. Lost me ma and pa a few years ago. I was taken in by me father's brother, but all he does is call me a wart on his wanger. Wart he says, ye be a pox on me house. If ye father were alive, I'd punch him in the mug fer having such a useless daydreamer. So I live outside with the sheep and keep watch o'er em. That be part of me name. I be the sheep dog, ya see.Then you came along. I say ye be where ye need to be."

Jon-Tom ruffled his grimy hair. “You may be right Arf, but I still wish I wasn't here. I suppose I should get over it. It looks like I'm stuck here for the duration. But outside of all the healing I've done, I don't know what else I can do."

The boy tugged on his robes. “Methinks ye be wonderful. Why couldn't ye do something bigger, like banding the tribes together under yer leadership?"

Jon-Tom stood up, rather angry for no good reason. “That's absolutely out of the question. Everything I do has repercussions. If I were to do something so blatant as vying for kingship it would send ripples through time that may never get expunged."

“Ex-punged? Ye words are unfamiliar to me ears. But I say ye should try. The Lord Pike there would back ye, I'm sure. Ye did save him, didn't ye, just like ye did those folks here?"

“You're cute kid, but I have been a king several times over. I hate the job. And your uncle is right. You're too much of a daydreamer. Being an idealist is fine, but there are times when practicality gets in the way. It would take more than an army to bring this place into line. It would take an ideal; something for the people to get behind."

“Oi! Like ye yerself. Ye have done so much good that if ye kept it up, the people would support yerself over any lord or chief. Think of all the good ye could do as a ruler!"

Another voice cut in. “The brat be right Maraiden. Ye are something greater than all of us. And yer fabulous horse has touched my mind as well. I would throw all of my support behind ye if it ended the fighting. I'm sure others might feel the same way, though others not. We need a leader who doesn't want the task. A good man. A powerful man. Ye be that man."

“Pike, I can't and I won't. Besides, being a healer doesn't make me a ruler. I don't have the power to back up any claims that I make."

“I think I have a solution to that." He whispered into the tall man's ear. Jon-Tom's reaction was both one of bemusement and bewilderment.

“Let's say that you're right. If no one else has been able to do it, why do you think I can? It's not like I can exert my power over it. Maybe, just maybe I could have once upon a time. But now? Besides, I don't have the skill necessary to do this by hand. So it's moot. It can't be done!"

Pike was not to be deterred so easily. “The problem has been in the heat. Yer extraordinary companion has deemed that not to be a problem. She seems to believe she could handle that end. As for skill, I can bring in a blacksmith who knows his craft."

Jon-Tom's mouth puckered up. “Alma has a big mouth. I suppose that if I'm going to do this, then it's all or nothing. But I had better do the smithy work myself. I don't think any of your people will be able to handle the heat of the forge she's talking about." Pike knitted his eyebrows in consternation.

“What kind of forge be she thinking of?"

“She's thinking of using her vastly superior internal fires. It's a stupid idea, but sadly, one that might work. I only hope she has something left in her when she's done. The man was no wiser for this information than he was before had had asked.