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Elga stood full upright, threw her head back, and shouted,
"Gods, goddesses, men and women, I am sick of laundry, cooking,
children, and trees!"
Someone shouted approval, and she smashed her fist on the
table. "Show me steel. Show me armor. Show me a battle, and
something worth fighting for, and never stand between me and
those things. I love adventure. I lust for glory. I crave-"
"And you shall have it," Tumber slurred. "All of it and more, in
my great person. Come, queen of my battles, and worship my
greatness. Thrill to watch my adventures. Glory in my talents, my
prowess, my-"
"My god." Heads turned; Elga was no soft speaker. "YOUR
battles? YOUR greatness? YOUR adventure?" Tum-ber almost
cringed. "I'll have none of that. My battles, my conquest, MY wars.
Give me that!"
He gaped at her. She shoved him backward, hit his exposed jaw
with her left fist, and caught his sword as he sprawled. She waved
it above her head. "Now let all the world forget Elga the Washer
and beware Elga the Warrior. I leave Solace, to seek the combat,
the ad venture, and the glory I love!"
"You can't take my sword," Tumber said from the floor. "It's
my honor. It's my only battle companion- before you, of course.
It's my LIVING" He wavered. "It's borrowed," he finished
miserably as he rose.
"Borrowed?" She hefted it, spun it with a supple wrist, pointed
it at him.
He put his arms up. "Well, yes
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