Whee, random one-shots. This is a one-shot, I promise. Just something to get the creative juices flowing. Oh, I'm using -dashes- to represent Mindspeech in this. I know it's not the usual format, but ffdotnet has been stripping some punctuation with the :colons: for some reason that only they can fathom.

•••

Danny was not, in the great grand scheme of all things Heraldy, very important. At least, he didn’t think so, and thus really didn’t think he deserved to die. However, running out into the middle of the group of bandits screaming ‘but I’m just a Farseer!’ didn’t seem like a brilliant plan, so he stayed put.

And hyperventilated just a little, a perfectly understandable reaction considering the circumstances and the fact that they were getting shot at and Lys didn’t at all seem to mind. Then again, they probably could have dolefully informed Lys that the palace was on fire and he would just make that little noise in the back of his throat and look thoughtful – ‘best get some water, then’.

Lys was certifiably insane.

“Come on, Danny, it’s not that bad.” Case in point.

“Not that bad?” Danny asked, voice dripping hysterical incredulity. “Lysander, we’re being shot at! Arrows! Pointy arrows!”

“Yes,” Lys conceded, “I did notice those. But you see, we’re behind a rock, and arrows can’t get through rock.”

Danny would yell at him later on subjects involving patronization and not doing it, especially not during life threatening situations.

“What if they come around the rock?” Danny hissed.

“Then we stab them,” Lys said. “But I think Virge and Zin will have brought the cavalry by then, don’t you?”

Of course Danny loved and trusted his Companion beyond all rational measure, but Virge had the sense of direction of a dead duck, and Lys’s Companion Zin couldn’t keep his mind on anything for more than five seconds. They were probably halfway back to Haven by now, and both of them convinced that they were wandering the northern forests.

“Oh gods,” Danny groaned. “We’re going to die here. I’m too pretty to die.”

Lys looked thoughtful for a moment. “There’s a chance of death, yes. But you’ll go out with good self esteem, at least.”

“Do you take anything seriously?” Danny demanded, and then hurriedly pressed himself tighter against their Boulder of Safety as an arrow thudded into the ground a few inches from his foot.

“I am taking this seriously. I’m not panicking, am I? I’m waiting for the attackers to make the first move so that we may have the advantage of a defensible position; I’m having the utmost faith in our Companions. Who would not, may I add, be our faithful Companions if they could not find a town two miles away on their own, and I know you were thinking they couldn’t.” Not once had Lys’s tone or body language changed, he hadn’t raised his voice or stiffened in anger.

Still, Danny felt horribly rebuked.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Lys smiled the soft, awkwardly lopsided but forever casual smile of his, and reached over to ruffle Danny’s hair.

“First lesson of being a Herald,” Lys said, the warmth of his fingers lingering even when he moved his hand. “We are strangely, divinely lucky persons who do not get killed if we can help it. And I think I hear our back up.”

Danny cocked his head to the side and grinned when he heard the tell tale noise of horses speeding through the woods. Divinely lucky persons indeed.

The town Guard took care of the bandits quickly and somehow managed to come to the conclusions that the Heralds had, in a stroke of tactical genius, flushed the local menace out of their hiding place. Danny was too embarrassed to correct them, and Lysander evidently didn’t have the heart to. Or he just didn’t care, always a viable option with Lys.

They rode back to town slowly, immersed in comfortable conversation with the local law keepers. Lys was at the front, chatting lazily with the scarred old man who led the fine young men and women in less than rousing adventures of cattle thievery and none-too-bright bandits. Danny desperately tried to cover up the fact that he was staring at one of the fine young men, until he discovered that the Guard was unabashedly staring back.

Well, nothing in the Book of Heraldic Law (which Danny was sure existed somewhere, so that they could reprimand all the Trainees for doing things they had no idea were wrong) said anything against flirtations with the locals. At least, he certainly hoped not.

•••

- Hiding? - Virge asked, trying to sound innocent and failing utterly. - Well, that lacks a certain dignity. In fact, it lacks all dignity. -

“Shut up,” Danny grumbled.

So what if he was hiding? In fact, he preferred to think of it as a tactical retreat from someone who was obviously a little less than right in the head. A few horses short of a full stable, so to speak.

As it turned out, Fine Young Guard – Zachariah by proper name – was more than open to flirtation. His lover, on the other hand, did not take so kindly to Danny’s continued existence, especially if that existence continued within five feet of Zach.

- You sure know how to pick them, - Virge teased.

“Weren’t doing nothing,” Danny muttered, peaking around the edge of the stall to make sure Crazy Man wasn’t coming to kill him with a shovel. “And he can’t prove it, neither.”

- Of course not. You were two upstanding servants of the law having a civilized discussion on aforementioned legalities, you just happened to have your shirts off. And quite a bit of his pants off too, I think. -

“He took ‘em off. Incredibly willing participant, and you don’t see nobody coming after him with a shovel.” Danny ran a shaky hand through his ruffled blond hair.

- Don’t see anybody, - Virge corrected, more out of habit than actually caring about Danny’s grammatical errors.

Footsteps sounded on the stable floor, and Danny pressed himself up against Virge, wondering if he’d escaped death by arrow just to be bludgeoned to death with farming implements.

“It’s all right to come out now, Dantin,” Lysander called out lazily, and Danny stood up, practically aching with relief.

“Is he gone?” Danny asked, taking it for granted that Lys would know exactly who ‘he’ was.

“Yup. Oh, and Heraldic Rule number two: Never engage in messy tangles, of the gossipy or sexual nature, with the locals. It’s bound to get you into all sorts of trouble.”

Trouble involving farm tools.

“Noted, Herald.”

“Good.” Lys smiled. “Now let’s get out of here, before the spurned lover stirs up a lynch mob and we end up violating rule number one and getting our pretty selves killed.”

•••

Danny respected Lysander, really he did. The Herald was a veritable fountain of knowledge and good humor, and never got too sharp with Danny when mistakes were made. But honestly, for someone with Danny’s natural pessimistic (realistic, Danny would defend to the death) nature, Lys’s languid acceptance and easy optimism were a sure recipe for aggravation.

“Will we be at the Waystation soon?” Danny asked, trying not to sound as incredibly irritated as he felt.

“We’ll get there when we get there,” Lys answered.

“Oh, that’s a help,” Danny grumbled.

- Well, he’s right. - Virge pointed out. - We will get there when we get there, no sooner and no later. -

The whole thing was, Danny concluded, a conspiracy against his continued mental stability.

“Calm down, Danny,” Lys said. “Nothing’s on fire, nobody’s in trouble, nobody’s assassinating, murdering, executing or otherwise killing anybody else – that we know of – and it’s not raining. There’s no need to be in a hurry, just enjoy the warm evening and relax.”

The Trainees in Danny’s year had once decided that Danny was completely and utterly incapable of ever calming down, and he was inclined to agree with them. Relaxing just wasn’t in his blood; Dantin Castill came from a long, proud line of horse breeders who had a tendency to be as paranoid and skittish as the foals they raised. It was a family attitude that had resulted in more than a few apologetic horse thieves.

But, despite his mind screaming at him that they should be under cover before the world did something horribly inconvenient like explode, Danny settled down and took in the scenic surroundings. Surroundings which consisted of trees, trees, more trees, a few trees, the occasional rock, trees, Zin twitching every once in awhile, Lys, and more trees. Oh, look, a bush!

Danny settled on Lysander as the most interesting thing to watch. The Herald was not, after all, bad looking. A little rough and home spun, but Danny had never gone after the fancy type- not that he’d go after Herald Lys, oh no. The man was practically rock, for all the romantic encounters he’d had. And that was straight from the mouth of the most gossipy Herald in the Collegium.

Oh well, lecherous in proper Herald fashion he may not have been, but Lys was just handsome enough that staring at him beat out staring at the trees.

“And, we’re here,” Lys ‘declared’, and Virge came to a halt without needing Danny’s attention.

Danny snapped out of the trance he’d worked himself into, which had slipped from staring at Lysander to staring at nothing at all. Thinking, and it was amazing how little Danny really slowed down to just think.

“Oh,” he managed, a little startled.

“Rule number three,” Lys intoned, “Heralds have to do a lot of rushing about, it’s practically our job. When you get a few quiet marks, use them well. Peace and quiet are richer than gold, you’ll come to know that.”

•••

“Do you promise not to seduce anyone this time?” Lys asked, and it was really hard to tell if he was actually teasing.

“I didn’t seduce him,” Danny protested. “It was mutual. And if anyone was seducing anyone, I’m not the one who knewhe was bedding a psychopath.”

“Of course,” Lys agreed too readily. “Though that’s the sort of background check you really should be making before a little rough and tumble.”

“I’ll whip out a bloody list next time, how’s that?” Danny snapped. “Are you bedding a psychopath? Do you have any relations that may object to this and will come after me with a shovel? Do you plan on stalking me afterwards?”

Lys appeared to be trying very hard not to snicker. “You do have the worst luck when it comes to romance, don’t you Danny?”

“If it doesn’t end in a black eye, I say I’ve given it a good go.” Which was a little embarrassing to admit, but there was no way to hide it.

“Perhaps if you knew more than their names...” Lys trailed off. “I’m sorry; I’m casting aspersions on your character.”

“You’re doing what to my who now?”

“Nothing,” Lys said in an annoyingly cheerful sing song.

“You’re an evil man,” Danny told him.

“No, Heralds aren’t allowed to be evil.”

“Oh, is that a rule?”

Lys looked over his shoulder to grin at Danny.

“No, more a suggestion. But the Companions really object to evil Heralds, truly it mucks up the Divine Plans or something.”

Virge and Zin whickered agreement.

•••

Lysander was laughing, which Danny thought incredibly unfair. Plants were vicious, evil things and Danny obviously couldn’t be held accountable for any damage they inflicted on his person. He could, however, kick Lys in the shin for being amused at his predicament, and did so with gusto. This did nothing to stop the laughter.

“I fell,” Danny grumbled.

“Right into a thorn bush,” Lys reminded him, as if he’d somehow forgotten that his palms looked like so much raw meat.

“And it hurts!” It did.

In fact, Danny was pretty much keen on passing out at the moment. Unconsciousness would have been preferable to the pain and mockery he was currently facing, but alas, not an option. They were still riding, and passing out when not strapped into the saddle would have more ill effects than his tumble into a thorn bush. Lysander, bless and curse him at the same time the damn laughing fool, produced a first aid kit from one of his saddle bags and had Zin walk level with Virge.

“Give me your hands,” Lys said.

“What are you going to do with them?”

“Chop them off, they’re obviously infected and have to go.” Lys shook his head, smiling. “I’m going to bandage them, don’t be melodramatic.”

Danny presented his battered palms to the older Herald.

“Why don’t we drag Healers along on these expeditions?” He asked, mostly facetious.

“Because we’d all drive each other absolutely nuts within a fortnight; our tendency to throw ourselves into dangers and thorn bushes whenever they present themselves makes Healers a little twitchy, I think.”

Lysander covered Danny’s palms in goop that smelled like the Healer’s Collegium, and that hurt. When he wrapped bandages around Danny’s hands, it all really hurt. Everything at that point was just a smorgasbord of ‘dear gods ow’.

“Number four – be prepared for anything. You’re as likely to get impaled as you are to fall in a river and get hypothermia, don’t overlook planning for the little dangers.”

“How do you prepare for sadistic Heralds?” Danny muttered.

“Oh, those there’s no cure for, I’m afraid. You just have to deal with us, put on a brave face and all that.”

•••

The Waystation was damn cold, but getting warmer with a fire lit. Danny often envied Firestarters, who didn’t have to muck about with flint and kinder and all sorts of things that became increasingly inconvenient when your palms were sliced up and your fingers numb. On the other hand, the mere thought of being able to kill someone with a Gift made him sort of nervous and increasingly glad that his was benign.

Though he thought that the gods would have been nice to add a ‘Food Magically Appears’ Gift to the litany, because if he had to eat rations and porridge one more night he was liable to do something crazy. Danny was very carnivorous; he needed meat, fresh meat.

- Well then, go hunting. - Virge suggested, though the stallion knew full well that Danny couldn’t hunt if his life quite literally depended on it.

- Shut up before I go insane and decide to see what Companions taste like. -

- Horse, I imagine. Mystical horse. I think mysticism tastes rather oily, though, so we wouldn’t be very good. -

Lys appeared with berries to add to the porridge, as if this were the most triumphant return ever. Danny had been hoping for a dead rabbit of some sort. Dead bird, dead something that had once been living, anything! This living off of vegetables and what not had to be unhealthy, somehow.

“Don’t pout,” Lys said. “We’ll be in the next town soon and then you can feast on cow or what not.”

“Cows are only useful when they’re dead.”

“You’re absolutely barbaric, you know that?”

“Yes.”

Lys was staring at him, which was more than mildly disconcerting. Danny found himself blushing, he who never blushed because he’d done every embarrassing sexual thing on the planet and nothing could faze him anymore, was blushing because Lys was staring at him. The Herald had these absolutely hypnotizing green eyes, and Danny wondered why he’d never noticed before. Lysander smiled.

The next morning Danny decided that Lys needed to keep his cold feet off certain parts of Danny’s anatomy if they ever wanted to do that again, but couldn’t bring himself to wake up the other Herald. It was, after all, fine time to bask in the afterglow of something that hadn’t ended in his being threatened, stalked, or otherwise inconvenienced by his partner.

Life was good.

“Rule number five,” Lys mumbled sleepily. “Take advantages as they come.”

•••

Lys had been shot. Danny figured that it was ironic or there’d be foreshadowing or something, but he was honestly too busy freaking out to care. They’d gotten back to town, and Lysander was lying on a pallet in the Healer’s House, but he honestly did not look very good. Skin was not supposed to be that pale, and the only thing Danny could really think was a steady litany of ‘ohgodsohgodsohgods’.

Stupid bandits, so close to home and a stupid, stupid ambush by stupid bandits that couldn’t seem to leave them alone and now Lysander was going to…going to…

Not die. He couldn’t die. Violation of rule number one!

“Danny,” Lys rasped, and Danny clenched the injured man’s fingers tighter in palms that were still scratched up and sore.

“Stop talking, damn it,” Danny ordered, and wasn’t sure why. Surely talking couldn’t hurt Lys now.

“The sixth and final Heraldic rule is that we can’t follow rule number one forever.” Lys smiled, awkward and handsome and bloodstained. “Eventually we just can’t help it.”

“Lysander…” Danny had never felt so helpless in his life.

“And here’s a rule, just for you. Slow down and enjoy life, Danny, please. You’ll do good at this, if you don’t fret yourself into an early grave.” It was painful even hearing Lysander speak, his voice heavy and raspy. “And take up with a Healer, won’t you? I need something to amuse me when I check in from the Heavens.”

Danny hated rule number six.