FanFic Section

As he stepped from the buildings' shadows into the night darkness, the moon winked off the blade of his drawn sword, mocking those who might wait. Gliding quietly down the street, his eyes searched for that which his head felt. Another immortal was near. As he drew nearer to the car, the buzz intensified causing Methos to have a severe headache. Broadening his stance, he prepared for the attack.

Unexpectedly, a figure stepped forward into the pool of light spilling onto the sidewalk. The man relaxed his stance and lowered his sword, along with his guard. Methos could not stand any longer and dropped to his knees.

Methos" he stated," I thought you were still in London."

"Duncan?" questioned Methos "I don't feel so well, what happened?"

"I know, I'll explain when we get to my place." Duncan helped Methos into the car and they drove to the barge. Methos fell asleep for awhile and he woke up the next morning to the smell of pancakes and bacon.

"How are you feeling, Methos?" asked Duncan.

"Better thanks. Look Mac, you know this is hard for me to say, but..."

"You're welcome," interrupted Duncan.

Methos smiled and they sat down to eat. After breakfast they decided to go to Joe's Blues Bar. When they got to the car, they felt the presence of another immortal.

"Mac, I know this one is for me." stated Methos.

"I know, but I have to tell you who and why, " replied Duncan.

“No, I better just go."

"But Methos, wait... " Methos continued to walk toward the abandon warehouse. Suddenly he heard the whisper of a sword slicing through the stillness. Spinning around, he dropped into a crouch and looked into the eyes of his long-time friend, as the sword whistled throught the air where his neck would have been if he had not reacted instinctively.

Methos scrabbled away from the deadly path of the swishing metal and neatly propelled himself to his feet as he drew his own sword. The attacker moved to counter with a long blade. "AEfhild? you always had something hidden." Methos stated as he swerved and struck, yet the other lithely moved to the side. Her cloak fell, showing an auburn flame of hair.

"Yes, and you had to go and reveal it to everyone," returned a clear and bitter voice, coupled with a resounding "clang." Methos feigned the next parry, using the time to edge against one of the walls. His dark-clad form deftly lept up by a railing, and his eyes locked with the scornful azure orbs of the mysterious assailant.

Slowly, his perception of the surroundings began to morph into a grassy expanse lit by the fires of the sun. The flashing sapphire eyes remained the same, yet contrasting with waving tendrils the same color as the western sky, framing the face of a woman; lovely yet determined. "AElfhild? What are you talking about?"

"You mean to tell me you don't remeber?" she stated in anger.

Flashback: Methos remembered back to the 6th century in England when the Saxons were invading. AElfhild was the daughter of a Saxon father and a native celtic mother. At a time when women were looked at as weak, AElfhild masqueraded herself as a man and helped to fight and gain glory in battle. She found herself immortal after being killed in battle. Unsure of what was going on, she suddenly felt a headache and a man was approaching her. He introduced himself as Methos and he bent down to help her/him up. When he did, Methos realized that what he thought was a man was really a woman.

They became lovers, candestinely of course, since many thought AElfhild was a man. Methos cared for her deeply and was concerned for her well-being so he revealed her secret. AElfhild became furious because she was now condemned by her fellow soldiers. She approached Methos to fight, but he evaded her and she went off raging.

Back to present: "You are still angry at me? That was 1500 years ago!"

AElfhild's response was a swift cut to his arm. Gasping in pain, Methos clutched the open flesh with one hand and grasped his sword with the other. Watching AElfhild circle him, Methos repeatedly jumped back from the sword cuts and thrusts. Only when necessary did Methos raise his sword, but only to parry- never in offense. Methos could not force himself to fight against his one time love.

After a while, AElfhild began to tire. Noticing her slowing steps and weakening sword arm, Methos waited until the moment he could disarm her without threat of injury to her. Spying the moment, Methos lunged forward- blade clashing against blade. Unprepared for the attack, AElfhild's sword flew from her grasp, skittering against the concrete somewhere behind her.

Accepting defeat, AElfhild boldly stared at Methos as she waited for the cut of the blade. She knew well Methos' tricks in battle. "Weaken your opponent. Watch for his weaknesses. Wait for the time when he tires. Then strike." AElfhild silently laughed at her error. "Too bad I did not remember them earlier," she thought to herself.

Watching in disbelief as Methos lowered his blade, she plunged across the floor in search of her sword. She felt Methos grab her legs and pull her towards him. Twisting, she fought silently and viciously to regain control, only to lose it when Methos, with a grimace, punched her in the jaw and the world went black.

Drifting back into consciousness, AElfhild saw Methos sitting on the floor by her. Attempting to move, she was astonished to discover that he had bound her hands and feet while she was out. With a scream of rage, she struggled against the ties, feeling the wetness of blood on her wrists. Sitting with his arms on his upraised knees, Methos calmly watched her struggle to free herself. Knowing she was not yet ready to listen, he waited silently until she was calmer.

After several minutes of futile struggles, AElfhild took a breath and lay back onto the floor. With a glare at Methos, she maneuvered to her side, facing away from him , and stared at the grungy wall about a yard away from her. Listening to him breathe in the silence, she promised herself that what ever he said would fall on deaf ears. There was no excuse for his betrayal and she would get revenge for it, even if it was the last thing she did. Listening to her own words echo in her head, she sighed and thought how childish they sounded. But they *were* how she felt. How she had felt for 1500 years.

After the silence continued to stretch endlessly, AElfhild sighed and turned back to her original position. Still refusing to look at Methos, she stared instead at the ceiling, tracking the girders and walks that meandered across it. Spying a beam of light drifting through a window near the top, her mind flashed back to the time when Methos was to be trusted.

With the sun blazing overhead, the soldiers trouped back to their camp. Although the battle was victorious, it had taken its toll. No man was left unmarked, whether by a newly produced wound or by the viciousness of the battle. Most wore the blood of their fellow fighters. Over twenty men had died in the battle, and their screams of agony continued to echo in the survivors’ heads. Methos and AElfhild straggled near the rear of the group.

As soon as they arrived, they separated. Methos went to provide assistance to those that were wounded, while AElfhild went to assist in preparing the dead for their final journey. After doing what each could, they walked separately to the stream to wash the death from their bodies. Upon seeing each other, they looked around by unspoken agreement. Seeing no one, they walked further downstream until they could no longer see the camp or hear the noise rising from it.

Once they were alone, they sat on the bank and quietly talked about the battle for a time. After a moment of silence, they stood and faced each other. AElfhild’s hands reached up to slowly untie the laces of the blood encrusted tunic Methos wore. Once the laces were free, she pulled the tunic over his head, caressing his ribs and chest, kissing the area of the now healed wound in his shoulder. Dropping the tunic to the ground, she crouched to remove the laces on his knee high leather leggings. Freeing his feet, she once more stood before him. Methos then reached toward AElfhild, unlacing her tunic and removing it from her body, returning the caresses to her ribs and chest. He, in return, crouched before her to remove the boots that she wore, identical to his. Standing, he stood before her.

Staring into AElhild’s blue eyes, Methos stepped forward to pull her into his arms. Titling her face towards his, AElfhild gladly accepted his kiss. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her fingers explored the contour of his head, combing through his long hair. Methos held her head in position, fingers wrapped tightly in her flowing hair. Deepening the kiss, Methos began to explore her mouth, engaging her tongue in a friendly duel. With a slight moan, AElfhild returned the thrusts with her own, acknowledging that there would be no losers in this battle. By unspoken agreement, they sank together to the ground.

In a well practiced move, each quickly loosened the other’s remaining clothing, unwilling to waste the time it would take to finish undressing. Laying chest to chest, they connected and moved in a familiar rhythm, increasing in tempo as the need built. Feeling AElfhild nearing fulfillment, Methos crushed his mouth against hers, muffling both of their groans as they reached the apex of their pleasure. Remaining in each others arms, they allowed the air to cool their bodies. After regaining their breaths, they finished undressing and entered the slowing moving water together. Frolicking in the water like children, they took their time washing their bodies and clothes, thoroughly enjoying the privacy.

With a deep sigh, AElfhild unknowingly spoke out loud. “That was the beginning of the end.” Knowing instinctively what time she was thinking of, Methos softly stated, “AElfhild, I had to tell them. I could not stand to see you be killed in a battle. You know as well as I do that if you had died, you would have had to leave the camp. It was your family. And I also could not bear the thought that I would not be able to see you or to leave with you.”

"Did you ever think about if you died and left, and I was without you? Or if I didn't reveal it, we would of had a couple more days together before you went into battle. Maybe I was selfish or perhaps completely wrong, but I made the decision 1500 years ago and I can't change it. We could play “what if...” forever, it's pointless," replied Methos.

"You can untie me now. You're right, I was wrong," AElfhild said.

"Are you going to attack me again?" questioned Methos.

"No, no I am not," she replied. Methos untied her, but kept his guard up. She reached over to kiss him, but Methos drew back. "What's wrong?" asked AElfhild.

"I think we should just leave things be, our love was in the past, not now. Anyway, I wouldn't want to risk making you angry again."

"Oh come on Methos, one more time?" She asked.

He replied, "No."

AElfhild gets up to leave, "Well, you know what you are missing."

Methos smiled and she turned and walked away. Methos stood up to leave as well when under his breathe he stated, "I sure do."

Collaborative effort by:

kizmet
Old Soul
irys
Missing Link

In the beginning, the Earth's caves hid families of magical wizards and their offspring, elves. Most of the world’s peoples did not know that these wizards and elves existed. If an elf or a wizard was discovered by a human, the person would be absorbed into the family, thus disappearing from the human world.

One day, eons ago, a couple discovered the home of a wizard. They crouched outside the cave, peeked in and listened to the conversation being held inside. They witnessed several elves playing games of chess. After a while, two of the elves began to argue.

Now, among the family, Raine and Bolte were known for their disagreements. After several minutes of continued arguing, the couple heard the wizard tell the elves, "There can be only one winner, so fight it out with your magic. The one with the best magic will be called the winner and can have a special treat."

Bolte and Raine took turns casting spells- changing frogs to logs, flowers to butterflies and other assorted magic. Unbeknownst to them, the sky had darkened whilst they continued the contest. As Bolte cast a spell to change a rock to a lady's slipper, a flash of lightning charged from the sky, hit the rock, exploding it into a million tiny shards.

Regretfully, one shard pierced the heart of Raine. As Bolte and the wizard watched, Raine began to glow and disappeared into a puff of smoke. As the last wisps floated from the cave, the wizard , recognizing the moment, solemnly intoned, "There can be only one." The wizard then handed Bolte a golden key that he stated held the secrets of the universe. Placing the key into Bolte’s upstretched hands, the wizard chanted,

At that time, another flash of lightning flew from the sky. Entering the mouth of the cave, the lightning ricocheted off the back wall, hit the overhang of the cave and struck the couple listening outside. Both were knocked out.

Looking out of the cave at the sound of a thump, the wizard and Bolte saw the couple lying on the ground. Realizing what had happened, they began to invoke a spell that would remove their memory. Before they could finish, a third flash of lightning struck the wizard and Bolte, lifting them into the sky and then plummeting them down onto the man. As the two connected with the man, there was a shower of sparks and they disappeared, leaving an unearthly glow around the man.

When the man woke up, he remembered nothing of the current events and little of his life. Standing, he took up a branch and began swinging it. Each time it would strike something, sparks flew and as the object fell, the man would say, "You’ve learned after battle, in the end there can be only one." Getting tired of saying that all the time, the man started saying, "In the end there can be only one."

During the remainder of his life, which lasted thousands of years, the man would occasionally sense a member of the wizard's extended family. At that time, the wizard's chant to Bolte would ring through the man's unconscious mind and he would once again go about repeating, "In the end there can be only one."

As word of his skills spread through out his land and to lands across the waters, a man named Kikkenbut, who was a legend in his own land, came to believe that he could defeat Ownleewun. Kikkenbut traveled many months to reach the land of Nevvahdiy. Disembarking from the ship and setting foot upon the shore, this stranger went directly to Thare's house. Now, Kikkenbut was not known for fair play, so he crept into the bed-chamber where Thare was ensconced.

Thare's wife, Touken Plaie, who had a horrible speech impediment, heard the stranger enter their bed chamber and yelled, "Thare play!" Thinking she was warning Thare, Kikkenbut quickly silenced her before she could explain that she was calling for fair play in any fight.

Thare rushed from the antechamber at his wife's cry and was attacked by Kikkenbut, thundering a challenge, "Thareken B. Ownleewun". This challenge alerted the household staff to the contest about to take place. As they wrestled around the room, Thare's servants came to watch the contest. After several hours of combat, Kikkenbut pulled a dagger and stabbed poor Thare in the heart. As Thare lay dead on the rug, Kikkenbut attempted to escape, but the servants grabbed him and dragged him into the streets, stringing him up against the town gates to alert everyone to their grief. For days, the towns' grief could be heard for miles around as they lamented their hero with the cry of his name, "Thareken B. Ownleewun! Thareken B. Ownleewun!"

From that day on, when ever a battle takes place between two legends, the name of this former legendary fighter is yelled as a battle cry- "Thareken B. Ownleewun!" Given the fact that foreign names are difficult to pronounce, over time Thare's honorable name has been Anglicized to "There can be only one!"