This is a furrised, translated version of a project from my writer\x92s course. The task was to take an existing myth, and re-write it in a different setting. Ten hugs to everyone who can identify the correct mythological story. One extra hug per character you manage to properly identify.
Any and all errors regarding the lives of desert nomads hang solely around the neck of the author, and are due to lack of research.

Re-worked story and characters are (c) Lars E Hellberg
Original story and characters are traditional

The Sword of the Prophet

Fasil stepped out of his tent and took a deep breath. The air was clear and healthy, with traces of moisture from the night\x92s dew. The sun had not yet breached the mountain range in the east. All around him, the day\x92s work was just beginning. Shepherds gathered their sheep and goats, ushering them towards an area of rich, tall grass. To the south, the night frost of the desert was gleaming in the early morning light. Fasil yawned, stretching his stiff limbs, then he went on to groom his bright red fox-fur. I don\x92t really like this place, he thought. Too moist. Gives me rheumatism. Some light exercise brought life back into his body, though, and he began looking forward to breakfast.
To the north of the mountain range lay a fertile valley, an place since long controlled by the clan\x92s enemies. Many clansmen used to dream about the rich soil, and about a life without wandering, as farmers. Fasil, brother of Ahmed, the clan\x92s chief, knew that all these dreams were in vain, and that they could never abandon the desert. They were born in it, and they would die in it. At times, when the draught was harsh and the oases ran dry, they used to travel along the north-east part of the desert, like they were doing now. All the time outside enemy territory, but there were constant skirmishes. Ahmed was now leading a campaign against a new-founded enemy fortification, which was being built far south of the unspoken border.
The clan\x92s city of tents had been erected just where the desert turned into a field of grass, where the cattle would graze until the rains returned. Fasil looked up at the mountains, but this day, too, there was no sight of clouds. The ache in his back this night had foretold a change in weather, and now that the change did not seem to come, he began to worry. Maybe the ache was foretelling other things. Anyway, it was an ill omen.

The serenity was suddenly shattered by a loud scream. A flap of canvas was torn open, and the clan\x92s acting chief, Razhid ibn Ahmed, raged out. He was still half-dressed, his bushy mane standing out in every direction. In his hand he held a water jug, which he smashed against the ground with a mighty roar.
"Fasiiil!" he shouted. "Fasil! Get over here, now and immediately!"
Behind him, Fasil could hear whispers and giggles; betting was already on whether he would keep his head or not. This time I haven\x92t done anything to upset him, he thought. At least that I know of. Razhid was fuming with anger, bolts of lightning seemed to shoot out from underneath the thick eyebrows, and his huge fists seemed to search for a neck to close around. Fasil stopped at a proper distance, carefully eyeing the huge lion.
"What is going on, nephew?" he asked, his voice low.
"Ah, there you are. About time. Come here."
Razhid grabbed Fasil\x92s shoulders, lifting him inside the tent and tossing him down onto a pillow. He then sat down in a worn wooden chair, and Fasil could see his anger ebbing away, partly replaced by fear and desperation.
"Fasil, the sword is gone," Razhid said. "Gone. Stolen."
"The Prophet\x92s sword?"
"Of course the Prophet\x92s sword! What did you think, my son\x92s wooden toy?"
"You haven\x92t misplaced it, then? Like the time when..." Fasil stopped himself when the lightning returned to the dark eyes. "But of course, you would never be that dumb. I remember when you were little, how..."
"Enough memories! This is far more serious. The world\x92s most powerful weapon, and I\x92ve LOST it! I really don\x92t want to ask your help, Fasil. You\x92re as wily as a snake, and whoever\x92s in your debt usually pays back triple. But you\x92re also the smartest man ever to walk the desert. I need your help."
Fasil smiled happily. That many compliments, all at once, was nothing he was used to. As he was about to answer, the tent flap opened, and a young lion boy entered.
"There is a message for you, my chief," he said, handing Razhid a slip of paper. The lion brightened up, a smile creeping into his lips.
"Father has won the war? He\x92s on his way home?"
"No, my chief. This message comes from Hassan ibn Muhammed. One of his men gave it to me."
Razhid\x92s eyes grew darker again, as he began slowly spelling out the message. In the meantime, Fasil brought the boy aside, a sly grin on his lips.
"Your name is Japet, is it not? Don\x92t you know what usually happens to bearers of ill news around here?"
"Yes, sir. No, sir."
"Well, Razhid here is timid and kind compared to his father, but a note from Hassan, Ahmed\x92s old nemesis, cannot mean anything good. Hassan\x92s messengers seldom return in one piece, that would be why he gave you the note. A more experienced man would not touch such a deadly object."
Japet swallowed, and glanced worriedly at Razhid. Fasil could not help smiling amusedly. Then, when Razhid gave up a grunt, tearing the note to shreds, the boy ran screaming from the tent.
"Who brought this!" Razhid roared. "I\x92ll cut off his ears and sew them to his muzzle!"
"Calm down, nephew," Fasil said soothingly. "What did it say?"
"Don\x92t call me that! Father may have taken you as his blood brother, but we are not family!"
"The message, Razhid?"
"Oh, yes. He has the sword."
"Hassan?"
"No, the emperor of China! Of course it\x92s Hassan!! His men broke in here tonight and stole it! Who was standing guard? He is to hang!"
"Calm down, Razhid."
"The captain of the guards! Bring him here! I want him brutally tortured!"
"Razhid, please, violence does not solve..."
"I don\x92t want to solve anything, Fasil! I want to kill!"
"Razhid, let\x92s try to think. What does he say?"
"He\x92s holding the sword hostage! He demands Aisha for his wife!"
"Why would his wife want her?"
"Stop joking, Fasil, or I\x92ll hack you!"
"With what?"
"Oh, yes. Fasil, he wants to wed my sister! And you say calm down?"
"That\x92s all? Then she will marry wealth. There\x92ll be a huge ceremony, with lots of good food," Fasil got a dreaming look in his eyes. "But, alas, no! We can\x92t trust him, Razhid. He would probably keep the girl and the sword."
"Fasil, I don\x92t know what to do! Aisha is my beloved sister, the world\x92s most beautiful woman. She will have better than that... worm! But the sword! It was given to the grandfather of my grandfather\x92s grandfather by the Prophet himself. It is enchanted. It has always been handed to the eldest son on his day of manhood. Father will fry me in oil if he finds out my son will never have it!"
"Yes, old Ahmed probably would. It\x92s clear, then," Fasil said. "We must take it back. Such a weapon in Hassan\x92s hands is no less than a disaster. But we cannot attack him, his palace makes him too strong, especially with half our warriors up north. This craves cunning! What if Aisha would pretend to wed him, then steal back the sword and..."
"Fasil!" Razhid roared. "You know the sword can be touched by a worthy man alone, or it would lose its power!"
"Yes, yes, I know. Well, then, I see only one possible solution. You will have to dress as a woman, taking Aisha\x92s place."

The small crowd of clan members that had gathered outside the tent heard a yell of horror, and then Fasil flew straight through the canvas. The fox landed with a grunt, quickly leaping to his feet. Razhid followed him, bright red with rage.
"You say that again and I\x92ll bite your head off! You devil of a man!"
"You are swordless, Razhid. You have no choice, unless you know of a better plan."
Moaning, Razhid stretched his arms to the sky in a sort of prayer. In the end, he sighingly relented, reaching out to take Fasil\x92s hand.
"As you will. But I won\x92t be in this alone, you\x92ll have to come with me, as my maid servant. I can\x92t take a woman, that would be improper. We will surely share bedroom."
"Surely. I won\x92t like it, but I\x92ll help you, nephew."
"And we\x92ll need a man to deliver the bride. I mean me. I mean Aisha, although it\x92s me. Isn\x92t it?"
"Calm down. How about the boy Japet? I\x92m sure he\x92s willing to risk his head, in order to keep his ears."

Aisha gave her brother an admiring look. She tilted her head and searched him from top to toe. Razhid was dressed in an ankle-length, grey travelling dress, adorned after family tradition with bright jewels and pieces of pure silk. Their mother, a very skilled seamstress, had worked hard to fit the dress to Razhid\x92s impressive frame. He was twice as broad as his slender sister.
"You look adorable, Razzi," she said, wagging her tail and not really suppressing a giggle. "The big sister I always wanted."
"Yes," Fasil agreed. "If we weren\x92t family, and if you weren\x92t already spoken for, I would fall to my knees on the spot, and propose to you."
Razhid cast surly glances around himself. Most clansmen knew to stay away from there. Thick bonds of blood was all that kept him from instantly killing everybody present.
"We aren\x92t family, I\x92ve told you," he muttered.
"Never mind my camel-headed brother, uncle Fasil. I think your idea is excellent!" She pouted at Razhid. "Now that he refuses to let me help!"
"He can\x92t help his temper," Fasil said, smiling devilishly. "It\x92s probably the wrong time of the month."

Hassan ibn Muhammed left his great ballroom, happy with the way things were turning out. The large jackal wrung his hands, smiling. This would be a feast to be spoken of for centuries. From every direction, wedding guests were arriving, and soon the only one missing was the most important of them all. His future wife, the fair Aisha. The reputation of her beauty had set his heart beating faster, and his head felt light. The confirming reply had made Hassan so happy that the messenger had not only been allowed to keep his head, but had left the palace with three shining golden coins.
A blaring trumpet announced the arrival of the bride, and Hassan hurried to the gate. Oddly enough, Aisha came with only two travelling companions; a young lion boy, whom Hassan presumed was the one who would deliver the bride, and an ugly, bony old hag of a vixen, apparently some kind of lady\x92s maid. Aisha rode in front of the other two as they entered the courtyard, and Hassan noticed that she sat on the horseback like a man, with one leg on each side of the horse. She held in the horse, and hopped off, nimbly landing beside him. She seemed to be a bit larger than he had expected, and the hands that left the reins to the stable boy appeared to be both strong and callous. Oh well, he thought. Perhaps the rumour of her beauty was a tad exaggerated, but still! She\x92s as pretty as a dawn! And if those barbaric nomads, he snorted, have taught her to work, then that would only be a benefit.
He stepped forth, bowed and took Aisha\x92s hand. With a swift movement, he raised his hand to draw aside her veil, in order to give his betrothed a kiss. The old hag beat him to it.
"Absolutely not!" she yelled, slapping Hassan\x92s fingers. "The groom must not see the bride\x92s face before the wedding. Neither can they make conversation!"
"Don\x92t be so rough," Hassan said. "I merely wanted to make her feel welcome."
"Hmph!" the hag snorted. "Men! I know what you were thinking. Filthy-minded old man!"
Aisha grabbed her servant\x92s arm, and apparently she squeezed it tightly, because the old woman cringed. Hassan smiled to himself.
"Tonight there will be a banquet in your honour, my beloved Aisha," he said. "You are welcome there, the rest of you as well."
"Thank you so much, sir," Japet said. "Your hospitality is without limit, but travelling has made me weary. I would rest before the wedding."
"As you will, boy, but you miss the feast of all ages."

Hassan withdrew, and let a servant show the guests their rooms. Japet was housed with the high-ranked servants, while the women were led to one of the finest tower rooms in palace. Once they were alone, Fasil locked the door, pulled off his wig and threw himself down on the large bed.
"That could have been better," he said. "If you had only cut off your beard, we would have been saved much trouble."
"Just because you let go of your few strands! A real man should have a large beard."
"But you are not a man now, you\x92re a woman."
"Wallow in it, why don\x92t you. I can\x92t believe how uncomfortable these clothes are! I don\x92t understand how the women can stand it. And then these... things!" Razhid cupped his hands over his soft, round breasts. "My back hurts!"
"Quit complaining now, Aisha. During the banquet tonight, Japet will search the palace, and tell us where the sword is."

It was indeed a splendid feast. The crowded dining hall was filled with luxury and food in abundance. Exotic dishes, ripe, juicy fruits of all kinds and the sweetest drinks. Hassan\x92s chest swelled with pride as he took in the admiring hum from the gathered guests. What a blow he must have delivered to Ahmed\x92s pride, since the old lion had only sent one little boy to accompany the bride! Even worse would he feel after tomorrow, at the little surprise Hassan had in mind. Aisha sat in the seat of honour, right next to Hassan, but she only ate sparingly, carefully keeping the veil down at all times. How strict they are with their traditions, he thought. She will make a wonderful wife. The hag, on the other hand, ate like one possessed. She threw herself over dish after dish, taking care to select only the most expensive food. There Hassan saw a great drawback with the wedding, but if it pleased Aisha to have the hag with her, then so be it.

The banquet ended shortly before midnight, and all the guests returned to their sleeping quarters. Fasil once more stretched out on the soft bed.
"Ooooh, I think I overate. Bury me in a sunny place, Razhid dear."
"Hmph! I could hardly eat at all because of this stupid veil! I\x92m starving, Fasil."
There was a knock at the door, and Fasil got up to let Japet in. To Razhid\x92s great delight, the boy brought an overly filled bowl of fruit.
"Finding the sword was easy, because the palace was nearly empty during the banquet. It is in a dungeon, beneath the eastern tower."
"Excellent," Razhid said, his mouth full of dates. "Give it to me!"
"I\x92m sorry, sir, there are two armed guards outside the room, and it is locked with a key."
"The key, I suppose, is around Hassan\x92s neck," Fasil said. "We\x92ll simply have to wait. I take it this floor is guarded as well."
"That is right, sir. The only way I could pass was by bringing a bowl of fruit for my mistress." Razhid cast him surly glances. "I had to promise to hurry back."
The boy left, and Fasil sighed down on the bed. His head was spinning with thoughts, and he kept juggling ideas, tossing them against each other, but all to no avail. He could not think of a way to get at the sword. Razhid was walking on and off, nervously munching a slice of pineapple, his tail wagging of its own accord. In the end, he sat down on the bed, eyeing Fasil.
"Fasil, we cannot wait any longer. What if I get married?"
"In that case, I wish you a long and happy life. Go to sleep now!"
"You take up too much room."
"Hope you don\x92t snore."

It was still dark when Razhid shook his uncle awake. Fasil sat up, wondering for a moment where he was.
"Fasil, what about the wedding night? When he... when we... I mean..."
"Don\x92t worry, Razhid. Just do what comes naturally. Let him take the initiative."

The next day was wedding day. The guests were gathered in the ballroom, and on a podium, together with the priest who would conduct the ceremony, stood Hassan. He was dressed in a colourful silk robe, set with pieces of beautiful fur. On his head, he wore a magnificent jewelled crown. An orchestra started playing, and Japet entered, escorting the fair Aisha. She was dressed in an enchantingly beautiful wedding dress, coloured green with blue and red pieces of silk sewn in. Hassan felt his heart beat faster. Slowly they walked the aisle, with the hag behind them, holding the long train. When they reached the podium, Japet let Hassan take Aisha\x92s hand, and the music stopped.
"In the name of her father, Ahmed ibn Abdallah, I present you with Aisha, Hassan ibn Muhammed," he said. "May your life together be long and rich."
"Don\x92t lay in on too thick," Razhid muttered, and Fasil kicked his calf.
The priest raised his hands towards the ceiling and chanted a blessing prayer. Turning to the betrothed couple, he began to speak.
"In the name of God, and his Prophet, you two are now united as man and wife. Swear to each other faith and support, throughout your lives, until one of you is called to God."
"I so swear," Hassan said. Razhid gave a brief nod.
"To complete the ceremony, and to honour tradition, Hassan will now present to his bride a gift, the value of which will match his status."
The jackal nodded to one of his bodyguards, and the man brought forth a sword of great beauty. It shone like silver, and had priced jewels embedded in the hilt. That snake, Fasil thought. So that was his plan, to render the sword powerless, still marrying Aisha. Well, he\x92ll get what\x92s coming to him.
Hassan took the sword, got down on his knees and handed it over to Razhid. The lion took the hilt and roared with triumph, ripping his disguise to shreds. Laughing, he cleft Hassan\x92s skull all the way down to his shoulders, turning to face the assaulting guards. Fasil and Japet snatched a sword each in the confusion that followed, but Razhid needed no help. United as one, warrior and weapon whirled through the hoard of soldiers; the sword acting as a natural extension of Razhid\x92s arm. No one reached through his guard, and no one could parry his violent cuts and thrusts. It was not long before the three of them had left Hassan\x92s palace way behind them.

"Ha," Razhid laughed, holding in his horse. "Father will laugh until his beard turns straight."
"And I with him," Fasil said. "I will never forget the look on Hassan\x92s face when he realised who you were. We did a fine job."
"You have deserved my thanks, uncle. Without you, I would have attacked the palace to no avail. Your idea worked splendidly."
"Well, I knew from the very beginning what he was up to..."
"What about you, young Japet?" Razhid said, turning to face the boy. "You have been quiet for some time. Don\x92t you wish a reward for your aid?"
The young lion merely shook his head. He held up his hand to his mouth, and spat in it. What he now held, was a large diamond.
"It fell off when the crown came apart, sir. If you don\x92t mind, it will do nicely as a reward."
Razhid\x92s booming laughter echoed across the desert.