Sorry for the previous mix-up; this is hopefully a rather better formatted 
version of the fic.


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 though, 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 your, 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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