[Imladris]

Gwyllion dropped the remainder of her pebbles, and glared at Aeron. He always had to be up to something, and then he would drag her into it. She should know by now that she should not do what he asked, no matter how hard he begged. She breathed heavily and stared at the ranger. One of her pebbles had hit his cheek, making blood --- " You made him bleed! she shrieked, whirling on Aeron and ramming him to earth. "You made him bleed! Blood! " Red blood seeping down his cheek, staining his tanned skin. She began to pummel her brother, slamming her ill-shaped fists into his stomach. He had caused him to bleed...bleeding was bad...very bad...bad things happened when somebody bled...red blood...how could Aeron have made her to do that...bleeding...he was bleeding...people died when they bled...people were hurt when they bled...blood was bad...red was bad...blood...blood...blood...

***********
Aeron was caught off guard when she sailed into him, pushing him onto the hard ground. She was screaming about blood and trying to pound his stomach into a pulp. He caught her wrists with one hand while with the other he covered her mouth. She struggled like a mad dog and he shouted, "Stop it, Gwyllion! Stop it! " He slapped her on the cheek again -- as hard as he could. What was happening to her...she was growing worse...having violent fits that she never had before.

Her struggling dwindled away into shakes and tremours through her limbs; her breathing became short quit gasps; and her eyes rolled violently around in their sockets, like a frightened stallion's.

"He was bleeding, Aeron," she whispered. "He was bleeding -- I am sorry -- I made him bleed..."

She could barely talk and she was gulping so much air that she started to hiccough. "It is alright, Gwyllion," he crooned, smoothing her hair.

"It is not alright," she snapped, pulling away from him. "It is not...it is not..not."

Aeron saw Ravion snort and stride towards them. Aeron stood up and dragged Gwyllion to her feet, whispering, "Gwyllion, this has to stop, now. Do you want us to go back and face them? "

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The merchant climbed from his sable horse and stretched his back. Pops exploded up his spine and his ribs groaned. "I am hungry," he said. "We must rest -- and let our noble steeds rest as well," he said, patting his horse's shoulder with his good hand.

"They will get ahead of us," the man said, rubbing his aquiline nose.

The merchant laughed and retorted, "With what for speed? Horses are not cheap, Assistant. Why should a poor farm girl, a thief, and whoever else join them have each have a horse? No, we'll catch them by morning. For now, I shall have my lunch."

As the Assistant prepared the meagre fare, the Merchant uncovered his right arm, and gingerly touched the scarred, jagged surface of his missing hand. It intrigued him to touch it -- it's spongy surface delighted in being felt -- his fingertips enjoyed the morbidness of touching the scar. It allured him to touch it.

"What did the boy steal?" the Assistant asked. "You have never told me."

The Merchant raised an eyebrow and said, "He stole a necklace of great price. A string of pearls adorned with rubies. A lovely piece of work and it will fetch a good price if the boy has not gone and lost it."

"And what if he has?"

"I will drag him to the prison, toss him in there like to a bone to a dog, and then I shall force pay it back to me one or another. I am sure there will be plenty of work that a strong prison lad could do," he added with a thin smile.