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-- File: HBP1a.txt

A Ranma/Glorantha fic by PrinceHerb@netscape.net

Ranma and his friends belong to Rumiko Takahashi; Glorantha and her many 
inhabitants to Greg Stafford.

General Note: I apologise in advance for the no doubt bizarrely distorted 
version
of Glorantha I'm using here.   Purists will need to take this tale with a 
great
deal of salt.


Heler's Blessing - Prologue


"As true as I'm standing here, I tell you, Sora, I saw it.   A great black 
and
white bear as big as two men," Orlkarnth said as he helped the young 
merchant
into the boat, "and that's not the half of it, either."

Sora smiled at the fisherman.   "I should be honoured to hear as much of 
your
tale as you wish to tell."   Inwardly, she offered thanks to the Talking 
God,
Issaries, her patron, that this particular fisherman was not going to bore 
her
with tales of the one that got away, or of the monsters that dwelled in the
depths of the river.

The old man nodded and took up his position at the oars.   "Goldentongue, 
what I
saw was strange."   Orlkarnth said.   "The bear was walking on its hind 
legs, as
they sometimes do, but upon its shoulders, it bore a fair young maid, 
kicking
and screaming fit to raise the dead.   Ah, if I had been but a little 
quicker in
crossing the river, and had I my great spear in my hand, I should have tried 
to
rescue the poor child."

The Trader-Princess looked at the fisherman again.   Old and fat he might 
be,
but there was no mistaking the strength in his arms.   If his aim was true 
and
his spear strong, Orlkarnth might just be able to fell one of Odayla's 
children,
but the risk would be considerable.

Sora knew that she would not choose to face one of the great bears of the 
forest
on her own, no matter how fine a spear she carried.   The fisherman seemed
confident enough in his spear arm, but that might not be enough.   Many a 
would-
be hero had been as confident and had died nonetheless.   Orlanth, the 
Bringer
of Storms, called on his followers to be brave, Sora reflected, but very 
many of
them seemed to forget that he also called on them to be wise.

"As you say," Sora said carefully, trying to keep her doubts to herself, "it 
is
not unknown for a bear to walk upright.   But those that do are not known to 
be
swift or nimble.   I am surprised that one could outdistance you, one of the
finest boatmen on this river."

"On this river, or any other.   Aye.   I was surprised likewise."   If he
thought Sora was teasing him, Orlkarnth did not show any sign of it in his
voice.   "But, by the time I had swung the boat around and not even reached 
the
half-way mark, the bear was deep into the woods, maid and all, and likely 
well
on its way to the tula of the Nerimani.   That was no common bear, I think, 
and
I wish those madmen great joy in dealing with it."

"Well," Sora grinned, "mad they may be, but they are very good customers.
Whenever they knock a house or two over, I make a few pennies from the
rebuilding.   Though not as many as perhaps I should, for Nabiki bargains 
well
for her age.   She'll be a great credit to the Talking God, and the man who
takes her to wife will have won a great prize."

Orlkarnth sighed.   "True enough, Sora.   But they get those pennies back by
raiding their neighbours' herds, not least our own."

"That's so."   Sora knew the reputation of the Nerimani as cattle-raiders 
well.
"But it is the Orlanthi way; and if the gods themselves commend the 
practice,
who are we to object?"

"Aye.   You have the right of it, I dare say.   It is the way of the world."
The old fisherman looked thoughtful, but if he had anything further to say 
on
the matter, Sora did not hear it, for they had reached the opposite bank of 
the
river, where the trader's companions waited impatiently for her.

Notes:
1) Tula - Every Heortling clan has its own territory protected by the clan's 
own
guardian spirit or wyter.   This territory is called a tula, or sometimes an
allodium.

2) The Talking God - Issaries, the god of trade, communication and also the
psychopomp of the Storm Tribe.   The Goldentongue aspect of Issaries is 
proper
to travelling merchants, who follow the traditions of Gultha the Wanderer, 
the
third son of the god.

3) Odayla - The Great Bear, the god of hunting.   The Heortlings 
particularly
associate him with ringed bears.

4) Orlanth - The chieftain of the Storm Tribe, the pantheon which the 
Heortlings
venerate.   Orlkarnth worships Poverri the Fisherman, one of the many lesser
figures subsumed in Orlanth's cult.

5) Heler - The god of rain and loyalty.



Chapter One


Shampoo sniffed the air.   The rich earthy fragrance of the autumnal forest 
filled her
nostrils, a scent that was not as vibrant as that of the woodland in summer, 
but rich and
mellow, and filled with the expectation of all good things.   Shampoo loved 
the fiery reds
and browns of the forest too, but not with the same intensity.   Everyone 
could appreciate
the visual world, but only a select few would ever have the access to the 
olfactory world
that she enjoyed as a devotee of Yinkin, the alynx god.

Today's air was still, with barely a whisper of wind amongst the leaves, but 
it was
permeated with the aroma of Earth season.   There was the scent of 
birthwort, the musky
odour of fat roebuck in rut and many other familiar smells, and the young 
huntress
luxuriated in them all.   It was the season of the harvest and that was 
good, though for her
and for the other hunters of the Nerimani, it was a harvest of blood, not of 
grain.

Shampoo's nose crinkled as she realised that there was an unusual new scent 
in the forest.
It was a bear of some sort, she thought, though not one of the ringed bears 
that Odayla
cherished so.   Curious, and eager to see this new visitor to the woods of 
her clan,
Shampoo stood up and leapt from the branch, where she had been sitting, to 
the ground,
thirty or more feet below.   Glowing briefly with the magic of Yinkin, 
father of alynxes,
she landed softly and noiselessly on the earth at the base of the great oak.

Shampoo smiled as she stood and flipped her long bluish-purple ponytail back 
over her
left shoulder.   Some excitement was always good in a hunter's life, in her 
opinion, and
capturing a strange new beast could bring her honour and fame.   Moving 
quickly, but
quietly, she began the chase, casting around for the places where the 
strange scent
seemed strongest, thinking to run the beast down by scent alone.

As she set off down the forest trails that she knew so intimately, Shampoo's 
ears picked
up a faint rustling in the bushes behind her.   Even with her keen hearing, 
she would have
missed it on a breezier day, so slight was the noise.   Today, though, she 
heard it and
knew what it meant.   Shampoo's alynx familiar, her own loyal companion, was 
joining
her on the hunt.   She smiled; for all his loyalty, Sponge went where he 
wished, when he
wished.   If he chose to come with her today, then that was a good omen, in 
her eyes.

For all that the pair excelled in the skills of the hunt, they soon 
discovered that great
hunting prowess was not going to be necessary to find this particular prey.  
  For one
thing, it was heading straight up one of the better used and hence wider 
forest trails, one
often used by the clan's pigs to move between the creek where they would 
cool
themselves in the mud on hot days and the forest where they thrived on 
acorns and other
good things.   For another, it was extraordinarily noisy.   "A blind man 
could track this
beast during a thunderstorm," Shampoo thought to herself, "and if there were 
any game
birds within a kilometre of here before, they'll all be gone now."

As Shampoo drew nearer to the creature, she became aware that in between the 
growling
of the bear, she could hear human speech.   A girl's voice, angry and 
shrill.   Shampoo
stopped for a moment to see if she could make out what the girl was saying, 
but only a
few words came across.   "...whaddya mean, marriage?" the girl's voice said, 
"Damn
you..."

Shampoo blinked, and shook her head, almost in disbelief.   Now she was more 
curious
than ever, and quickened her pace, caring less and less with every step how 
much noise
she was making.   With such a racket going on up ahead, she reasoned, it 
would hardly
matter.   And the bear was close now; if she was quick, she knew, she would 
catch up
with the beast before it had time to pass through the large clearing ahead.

She was not wrong.   As she reached the edge of the clearing, Shampoo saw 
the bear's
broad back not more than twenty metres away.   The bear was not very great 
in size,
compared to some of the Lone Walker's winterling children, but big enough, 
and very
well-fed.   Its strange black and white colouring made it look slightly 
comical, but with
those great paws, Shampoo knew, it could easily tear her head from her body 
with a
single blow.   This was no great risk at the present, since both of the 
creature's great
paws were full of struggling, not to mention screaming and shouting, girl.

Shampoo considered her options.   The girl had to be rescued, that was 
clear.   Whatever
the bear was, it had no right to hold anyone against her will.   A lesser 
hunter might have
run for the fyrd to come and deal with the creature, but that would take 
time and put the
girl herself in danger; the spears of the fyrd were as likely to hit the 
redhead as the bear,
Shampoo thought, rather ungenerously.   She herself was confident in her 
ability to get the
girl away from the bear without subjecting her to the uncertainty and peril 
of such a
skirmish.   The warriors of the Nerimani could then deal with the strange 
bear at their
own pace.

Her mind made up, Shampoo stepped forwards into the clearing, readying 
herself for
action.   Her small bow would be useless against such a large creature.   
The arrows
could not hope to pierce the thick layers of fat and muscle that covered the 
bear's vitals,
but she had other weapons available; the King of Claws had certainly not 
left his
followers helpless.   Still, speed and daring were the two strongest cards 
in her hand, and
she intended to play them to her best advantage.

Keeping low, taking advantage of every centimetre of cover offered by the 
scattered
shrubs and low bushes, Shampoo circled round to the side of the clearing, 
placing the
sacred stone between herself and the bear.   "Forgive me, watchful uncle," 
she whispered
as she leapt to the top of the boulder that helped protect the Nerimani 
against intruders.

The rock was no great height, no more than a couple of metres, but Shampoo 
knew that
she needed every extra centimetre she could get.   Her second leap would 
have to carry
her right onto the back of the running bear, and the higher up the 
creature's back she
landed, the better her chances would be.   She barely paused an instant on 
the top of the
rock, before leaping down upon the animal, her own claws now clearly visible 
and
shining with the magic of Yinkin.

Shampoo performed Yinkin's Cat's Leap feat almost flawlessly.   But, as her 
great leap
carried her through the air, claws outstretched, the little red-headed girl 
looked up and
spoke.

"Uh, Pop..."

"Growf?"

The bear slowed, and turned slightly, causing Shampoo nearly to miss her 
landing, but
one of her outstretched claws caught the creature's furry nape, and that was 
all she
needed to pull herself home onto his broad back and dig her claws in as deep 
as they
would go.   The bear yowled in surprise, and reflexively loosened its grip 
on the red-
head, letting her fall to the ground.   "Sponge!   Get the girl!" Shampoo 
called out, hoping
that her companion would do as he was asked, for once.

Now, though, Shampoo had to look to her own safety.   If the bear rolled 
over on her, or
attempted to squeeze her between his back and the nearby Tarard Riel, the 
consequences
would not be healthy.   Holding the bear off long enough for the red-headed 
girl to get
away was going to be tricky, never mind herself, especially as she could now 
see that the
piebald forest-walker was beginning to glow with its own magics.

This was a new and unwelcome development.   Shampoo had guessed that this 
bear was
possessed of full sentience as a very few members of every animal species 
were, but had
not thought that it might be a powerful magician in its own right.

Shampoo abruptly released her grip and kicked herself away from the bear, 
spinning in
the air as she did so instinctively, landing with cat-like grace in the 
grass by the trackside.
The bear turned to face her, assuming some kind of fighting stance as it did 
so.
Shampoo did not wait for the creature to make its move, but leapt forwards 
once more,
aiming for the stubby lower limbs, and hoping to keep out of the reach of 
the powerful
upper ones.

She met the bear in mid-air.   Ordinarily, Shampoo would have boggled at the 
idea that a
bear could make a standing jump at all, let alone that it could try to fell 
her with a flying
kick, but right now she was far too heavily engaged in the fight to do any 
more than make
a surprised exclamation and fend off the kick with her outstretched claws.   
Her left claw
struck the bear's leg somewhat clumsily and then she was past the bear, 
coming to rest a
few metres away.   She landed badly, barely keeping her balance, but the 
bear had come
off rather worse, landing heavily on the floor of the clearing and 
temporarily winding
itself.   Shampoo scrambled away, looking to see where the redheaded girl 
had gone.

The girl was not far away.   She was backed up against a tree, quivering 
with fear and
holding on for dear life, whilst Sponge poked her with a paw, trying to get 
her to move.
"Get going, Sponge.   I'll take the girl," Shampoo called out.

The red-headed girl did not seem to have even noticed her.   All she did was 
stare at
Sponge with her big blue eyes, and say "C-c-c-cat..."

Shampoo ran over and grabbed hold of the girl by the collar of her 
fashionably baggy
tunic, hoping to drag her from the tree and away to safety, but the girl's 
grip was strong
and she seemed extremely unwilling to release it.

And then Shampoo heard a strange sound behind her.   "*swif*"   She ducked
instinctively, but too late.   A hastily hand-drawn sign saying "Take that!" 
crashed down
upon her head, and that was all she knew for some time.

***

It was dark before Shampoo arrived back at the house of her 
great-grandmother, Cologne.
Very often, the huntress would emulate the Preening One and sleep out in the 
forest on
some tree branch or large rock, but tonight she felt that a much more 
reinvigorating,
restorative kind of sleep was going to be necessary, as well as some kind of 
poultice for
her poor aching head.   Her great-grandmother's house was the best place for 
that that
Shampoo knew.   Cologne's stead was one of her favourite places, and felt 
much
more of a home to her than her father's noisy, bustling smithy ever did.

The doors of Cologne's house had been locked at nightfall, as was the 
ancient tradition,
and Shampoo had to shout loudly to alert the porter to her presence.   The 
man opened
the tiny door in the main doors just wide enough to admit the girl and her 
companion
alynx, then firmly shut and barred it behind them.   The porter looked 
somewhat askance
at Shampoo's battered appearance as he greeted her, torch in hand.

"Good greetings, Miss Shampoo.   Look at the state of you, though.   Is it 
bandits you've
been fighting, then?"

Shampoo shook her head.   "I fought a magical bear in the forest.   I lost."

"Well, thanks be to the Father of Clouds that you were not worse hurt, or 
killed, then.
I'll get the mistress to look at your wounds."   The porter led her into the 
living quarters
of the house, still dimly lit by a few sputtering reed torches.

The interior of the longhouse was warm and sweet smelling, just as Shampoo 
always
remembered it as being.   The scent of spices mingled with the gorgeous 
fragrances of the
timbers of the building and of the fresh green reeds that covered the floor. 
   The rich
aroma of the evening's meal still permeated the air as well, and Shampoo 
suddenly felt
hungry for the first time that day.

Shampoo dined well on bread and cold meat whilst her great-grandmother 
dressed her
wounds with care.   "So, Shampoo, you fought a bear tooth to tooth and claw 
to claw and
lived?"   Cologne chuckled at her great-grandchild's discomfort.   "We 
should thank the
gods for giving you such a thick skull."

"And curse them for making it so empty, too..." Shampoo blushed as she 
thought how
rash and stupid she had been in tackling the bear on her own.

"Don't take it so hard.   At least you lived, and you'll be wary of the next 
black and white
bear you meet."

"How did you know it was black and white?" Shampoo asked, quite surprised.   
She knew
she hadn't mentioned that detail yet.   "Did the goddesses bless you with a 
vision?"

"Why, no.   But I did see a big black and white bear heading over to the 
chief's hall with a
red-headed youngster in tow," Cologne cackled in expectation of the strange 
events she
was sure this heralded, "It didn't take the wisdom of the gods to put two 
and two together.
I'm not senile yet, you know."

Shampoo sighed inwardly, forgetting her own hurts for a moment.   
Great-grandmother
had taken an interest in something again.   This always spelled trouble for 
someone, in
her experience.   She just hoped that it wouldn't be her this time.

"You and I should pay the chief a visit tomorrow, eh, Shampoo?"

"Damn!" Shampoo thought, as she nodded in agreement, "Too late..."


Notes:

1) Fyrd: The clan militia, based around a few professional warriors, but 
mostly composed
of a levy of able-bodied men and women.
2)Yinkin: The god of alynxes, and brother of Orlanth.   He has few human 
followers.
King of Claws, Father of Clouds and The Preening One are some of his common
kennings.
3) The Lone Walker : One of Odayla's kennings.
4) Alynx : A kind of lynx-like feline species that the Heortlings keep 
instead of dogs.
There are many breeds, varying in size from that of a normal housecat to 
that of a large
dog.   They are not an entirely adequate substitute in many ways, being 
wilful and
independent, but the Heortlings would not be without them.
5) Heortlings : The culture to which the Nerimani belong.   They are 
barbarian farmers,
somewhat akin to the ancient Celts, Saxons or Vikings, as long as the 
analogies aren't
pressed too far.




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