And so the Hob and the Man, one who had stolen home from the other both in present and past, crossed blades, and fought a terrible battle there in the cold throne-hall. But the strength of the Hob King was great, and his skill with the blade surpassed even that of Jaris, and at last he inflicted a deep wound upon the once-Knight, who fell to the flagstones.

And Gareth lifted his sword to strike the killing blow upon Jaris, but Mara flung herself between them, and set at the Hob who called himself King with greatest ferocity and all skill and bravery she held within.

But even so, her skill was also no match for the mighty Hob, and after a fierce fray he struck the blade from her hand, and held his sword to her.

“Cease this pointless battle, brave Mara,” said he, “for you cannot defeat me. But I shall not harm you, for you are a jewel among Hob, one who can move freely among Men, and who fights with skill without equal for one of her years.

“But let me tell you of this Man who you call father. My spies permeate the lands of Man, and have brought me knowledge most interesting of the one named Jaris, who was once a Knight of the Realm. Many years ago, there was a village, near Myr, where Hob and Men lived in peace, and spoke a common tongue. This place had I created, that Hob and men might commune, and learn from one another.

“A war-party did come upon this village, and one of their number did make designs to poison all those who lived within, and cut down any who survived. This plan was carried out, most cruelly, and all within were slaughtered, save one young Hob child, which was you.

“The name of the Knight who executed this cruel plan was Jaris, and since that day he has bound you to him, and pretended to care for you, after taking from you all that you had.

“And now he casts further accusations, in order to turn you against your own kind, and bend you to his will. In his company you will find only deceit, something I and you have learned at great cost is all Man is capable of, while at my side you will find a place among your own. And I will give you means to exact revenge upon the Men of the Duke and the Realm who destroyed the place where you were born and put torch to the village of Haven where you lived, for the Fates have deigned it so.

“The enchanters under my sway shall use their magics to transform your shape, that you would appear as one born of Man, and can move freely among them, knowing their ways, and do greater damage to them than any other Hob or Man could.

“Give me now your answer, dear girl. If you know what I say to be true, that the one who lies there killed all that you knew as a child, take this blade and cut him down for his crimes and betrayal, and join my cause. See how he does not deny it.”

Mara looked to Jaris, and spoke not, but had question in her eyes. And in response, Jaris only nodded his head, solemnly, a single time.

And then Mara went to the King of the Hob, and took the blade from his hand. And she drove it into Gareth’s chest, full to the hilt, between the plates of his armor.

Lying upon the ground, the deceitful Hob grasped at the sword, and looked to her in greatest shock.

And she said to him, “What a sad and lonely place must this hall be for you to think that my father never spoke to me the truth of the wrong he did those many years past.”

For indeed, upon a warm summer day when Mara had reached the age where she was no longer a child, but could be called a girl, and her sword-skill was such that she could make her way alone in the world, Jaris took her to a place where the oak-trees parted, and a fallen tree lay amid green grass. Here had they often come to train in the warlike ways, but on this day Jaris bade Mara take up her sword, and he lay his own blade upon the fallen tree, and then walked from it and sat, facing away from the Hob girl, upon the stump nearby.

And he hung his head low and said to her, “The time has come where you are ready to make your way in the world, and I must now tell you the truth of how it is you came to be an orphan. Those many years ago, when the stream in the town you called home was poisoned, I was among the campaigners who took the lives of all within. And indeed the cruel scheme to do so was mine, and mine alone, born of hatred of Hob for what I myself had lost when raiders from far away killed my own wife and child.

“I said that one day you would regret your familiarity in calling me ‘father’, and that day has come. Your kindness showed me the wrong of my ways, and each day from then till now I have tried to atone for the evil I wrought, but I expect no forgiveness for that which cannot be forgiven.”

Then he placed his hands upon his knees, and made his back rigid, and raised his head high, and closed his eyes, and said to her, “I have done what I can in atonement, and now that you know all the truth if you would cut me down in punishment for my villainy, no just Man nor god would weigh it against you. I beg only that you be strong, and follow a righteous path, and live well.”

But the expected strike did not come. Instead, the girl threw her sword upon the grass, warm in the noonday sun, and placed her arms about the condemned who sat upon the stump awaiting the executioner’s blow.

These were her words to him: “Long have I suspected what you say to be so. But you have taught me that vengeance begets only vengeance, and forgiveness, hope. How heavy it must have weighed upon your conscience these many years. I forgive you, father.”

At these words Jaris wept, unseemly, for the second time, as he once had for loss of a family and now for the gaining of one.

In the chill throne-room years hence the one who called himself King of the Hob lay dying at the bite of his own sword, and said to Mara, “This cannot be, for none born of Hob can strike me down.”

“Perhaps it is because I was born of Hob, but am also a child of Man,” said Mara. “But in truth it was neither Man nor Hob that brought your end, but your own deceit and arrogance.”

And she left the Hob King, and went to the Man she called father, and said to him, “Are you injured greatly, father?”

“Nay, Mara, ’tis but a scratch. And are you unharmed?”

“Aye, father,” said she, and bound his wound, and placed his arm upon her shoulder, and raised him to his feet.

In the dungeons beneath the keep the two met Raakeh, who had once been the wise chief of the eastern Hob, and freed her. Then together the once-Knight, face concealed in rags, and the Hob girl who called him father left the court-without-a-King, to travel the lands in search of a place to call home.

Other tales are told of their journeys thence, but those are stories for another time.