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Old 05-07-2004, 01:44 PM   #188
Orual
Speaker of the Dead
 
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Join Date: Oct 2002
Location: Superbia
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Anorien: Ravion

Almost before Ravion himself knew what was happening, he had his sword pointed at the merchant's throat. The merchant scowled at the weapon and said mockingly, "Do you wish to frighten me into submission? Do you think that I will grovel before your blade and consent to let the boy warm himself? I have fought in many battles, jeered at the leering faces of orcs, stood unflinchingly in the face of the Dark Lord's Armies. I do not fear your blade."

Ravion stood silent, his blade unmoving, as he bore into the merchant's eyes. "These things I have done as well," he said quietly. He hoped that he was imagining the quaver in his voice. The merchant had poured salt into his one open wound as deftly as he could have had he known it was there. So the merchant was a soldier. No matter, Ravion told himself, and it made things all the worse: a man who had seen the product of Sauron's destructiveness and cruelty should know better than to deliberately sicken a young boy.

The Ranger and the merchant glared at each other, neither moving, neither backing down, for a long moment. Ravion tensed his arm suddenly as though to strike, and the merchant let go of Aeron's arm reflexively. The boy took advantage of the opportunity, as Ravion had hoped he would, and moved quickly out of the merchant's grip. "You ought to go sit by the fire, Aeron. You might catch a cold," Ravion said in something that resembled a pleasant tone, though he kept his eyes squarely on the merchant, who was now seething with anger.

"What would your fellow Rangers think?" the merchant asked, his voice dripping with acid. Ravion stiffened, but said nothing.

"What would your fellow Rangers think?

"What would your father think?"

"He would--" Ravion began, then corrected himself. "They would think that I was keeping my word and protecting..." He broke off and stormed over to Gond, digging in the saddlebags.

"What are you doing?" the merchant demanded. Ravion did not respond, but brought out some dried herbs and crushed them between his hands. He then strode over to Aeron and crouched by the boy.

"Put this in your tea," he ordered. Aeron looked up, puzzled, and Ravion shoved the herbs at him. "Do as I say. I will not have you falling ill. We cannot waste that much time." Aeron took the herbs, and Ravion checked his shoulder and arm. His forearm was bruised, but his shoulder was fine...it probably still ached, but it was not broken or dislocated. He nodded curtly and stood up.

"You are fortunate that you did not injure him," he snapped.
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