Damn. Damn damn damn. Where in the infinite hells could it be?! There are a finite amount of places onboard a ship in which a person can store a sword. Methuseld could have sworn she'd searched every single one of them. Left hand clenched and unclenched; she missed the reassuring weight of a weapon in her side (or two, or three). She was an excellent warrior - quite able to hold her own with a longsword, two-hander, and even on horseback with a lance. In fact, the number of men she'd lanced clean-through likely exceeded the number she'd killed on foot. Ardorian lances were amazingly light, astoundingly long and sturdy. It was an easy weapon to learn to use, an easy weapon with a lot of reach. A decent Ardorian warhorse (or one purchased from any number of other kingdoms by clever Ardorian merchants) galloped fast enough in a charge to do most of the work, while the horseman sat back with the weapon couched and tried to hold on for dear life as it pierced metal, flesh, bone. And once the charge was done? Circle back around, regroup, and do it all again. A favorite tactic of House Ellegarde, that. She'd figured out all the specifics with... well... No matter. If a general had done his homework, the opposing army had no pikemen or archers available (or alive) to oppose such brutal charges. It did leave the arm quite sore, though... Ah, how she missed it. Perhaps she'd buy herself a decent warhorse and a nice Ardorian lance, once she got free of this ship... And had a good bit of money on her belt.<br/><br/>Getting frustrated, she started to make way back to the room where she'd been held captive. Which reminded her of how much her joints ached, especially her hips and her shoulders - the things most bent into unnatural positions by that damned rope. She'd need to stretch... limber up before she tried to do any fighting, or she could hurt herself. 35 wasn't exactly young for most warriors. "Did you see where the bastards put my sword?" She asked as she stepped inside, before realizing to her confusion that no one was in. Where had the Elf gone? Instantly the naturally-suspicious woman looked all around her to make sure no one was sneaking up on her. "Elf? Busty Elf? You there?" Sucking her teeth, the would-be sword-sleuth turned to walk out of the room and re-search everything when she came face to face with Donovan.<br/><br/>"Uhm..." High off of freedom, her mind her own, Methuseld peered at him for a moment as her mind searched for a reasonable way to not get tied up again. She wasn't really a natural at persuasion, nor that impressive at figuring out where swords could be hidden. The two ranked pretty far down on her list of talents. "Look... I've been free for a while now and I haven't killed anyone, nor cut off anyone's genitals," she said, referencing Dean's comments from earlier despite Donovan not having been there, not knowing that Donovan had made that same joke just moments earlier. Men seemed to think their genitals were unsafe around Methuseld, and they were - just not in the way they thought. "I just want the sword back. I feel naked without it. I took off my armor - if you wanted you could stab me right now. You can hold it somewhere on the ship in exchange for the sword -  I'm far more vulnerable without it in a fight against you two, yes? Erm... Until I leave, that is. Then I want it back..." Seeing a look on Donovan's face that she wasn't sure how to interpret, she continued, further revealing any cards she had up her doublet-sleeve. "I'm not going to fight you, unless you start it," she added. "I don't want to have anything to do with you two anymore. You can keep the fox, keep anything else you stole. Just not me. I'm going to get as far away from the Spire as I can once I get off this boat. How does that sound?"<br/><br/>Inquisitive gray eyes searched his, trying to figure out what in the hells he was thinking. Had he understood her? Sometimes her accent flared up worse than other times - sometimes when she spoke, she got the feeling people didn't quite catch everything she said. That's why she got into the habit of having men repeat orders back to her. It had definitely earned quite a few of them some very severe punishment back in the Spire.