[littlemanpoet]

"This is not a petty case of revenge, but indeed a matter of justice. And rest assured," whispered the merchant, "I will have it."

The leader of the men at arms moved his horse one step forward at the cue from the merchant. "Remove your hands from your weapons and step back from the two who are under arrest. If you do not, it will go badly for you."

Raefindan looked to Ravion, whose eyes were already narrowed, and he seemed like a spring ready to be unsprung. Spring - unsprung. This was no time for mulling over strange words. Raefindan looked to Erundil, who gave nothing away, watching the mercenary leader with half closed eyes. He seemed balanced, ready to move forward or back, depending on the need. Raefindan looked at his own feet. They were planted firm and flat, the stance of someone unused to war and battle, and rarely caught amid altercation. Erundil should be leading them now, not he. What would Erundil do if he were in my place? Fourteen to five, one of whom was a girl, another of whom was one untrained in anything but the use of his mind. So that meant that they were really outnumbered at least three to one.

"We will stand down," Raefindan said at length.

"No!" Aeron flared on him angrily.

"But we shall track you back to Minas Tirith, and we shall bring our complaint against you to the throne if we must."

The merchant grinned. "Then we shall have to make sure that you are unable to return in time. Take their horse."

"No!" Ravion shouted, and his hand flew back to his blade. The mercenaries had their blades out in the next moment, and seven of them had started moving forward.

"Ravion!" Erundil called. "It is no great matter. They can take Gond. It will change nothing." The mercenaries stopped.

Raefindan smiled. He liked this man's determination and courage. "Ravion, please remove your hand from your sword. We don't want to give them any excuses."

Ravion removed his hand from his sword and gave Gond a slap on the rump, sending the horse, toward the mecernaries in a startle.

"Treat Gond well, or it will go ill for you later. Be assured, I will know, and I will find you."

"There is no need for threats," the mercenary leader said. "We are honorable men. We will give your horse good care. Tell me where to leave it in Minas Tirith, and I shall do that." The merchant was glowering at the mercenary leader.

Ravion had caught the merchant's look. "If you were honorable as you say, you would not allow the theft of my horse." The man looked away in discomfiture. "But you may prove that you have some honor if you make sure that this scoundrel does not sell Gond from under your noses. Take him to the White Tree Inn. They will remember me there, and they will remember Mellonin. Give them that name. Will you do that?"

"I am a paid man," said their leader, "and this merchant gives us our orders. But I will see that this horse is kept as surety rather than as property. To the White Tree Inn he goes. You have the word of Benemal of Lebennin."

The merchant's brow raised. "Mellonin? That name is new." Then his eyes widened in sudden realization. "A member of your party is missing, though you have gained a new one. What has happened to the maidenly man?"

"It is none of your business," Raefindan said. "Take your captives and leave us. The quicker we can begin our chase." He gestured to Ravion and Erundil to back away from Aeron and Gwyllion. "Never fear, my friends, we will not be far behind."

"But you will be on foot!" Aeron growled, filled with pent up fury.

"I know not, but we will find a way. Farewell!" Benemal of Lebennin, thought Raefindan. Pieces of language from his past fell into place. Bene means good while mal means bad. One may suppose that this man has a little bit of both in him. They would have to hope that the good won out over the bad.