Aeron nodded to Mellonin and dashed into the little hovel to gather Gwyllion’s things. It would have been useless to have told Gwyllion to pack her own things. She would have insisted that she did not need a thing, that people who bring luggage are silly and then, when she would lie shivering in the chill nights, would admit that she should have brought a blanket or another cloak or two.
On a dusty, splintering desk, was a silver comb. Ratty brown hair was snarled about the twines and he was sure that he saw the carcass of a sort of six legged bug buried within the tangled nest. He tore the hair from the comb and let it drift to the floor unheeded. Clothes were scattered across the floor, and he inspected these one by one. A pair of breeches, a white blouse, a brown cloak, and her green dress would do well enough for her.
As he packed, he was glad that Gwyllion had not thought of a saucy reply for Ravion’s rebuke of her carelessness. It would have caused trouble if she had -- for once she had controlled her tongue.
Striding to the farther end of the room, he put his right heel to his left toe and began to count his foot lengths under his breath. On the count of five, he wavered precariously, and tumbled to the floor, cursing under his breath. He repeated the process and on the tenth foot length, he kneeled, and pried a rotten board from the floor. A musty, mold ridden silk bag was nestled under it, and Aeron snatched it and tossed it with Gwyllion’s clothes. He did not savour the idea of begging for their meat.
Stuffing the clothes and money into a blanket, he trotted back to the company and tossed the bag to Gwyllion, who, in turn, tossed it back to him.
Ravion glowered at them and Aeron obeyed the command that glowed from his green eyes. Ravion arranged them in a neat little order, and Aeron took Gwyllion’s hand.
“This will not be much of an adventure, I fear,” Gwyllion whispered. “Still…” she sighed and her eyes softened. “Thinking that one is an elf…how wonderful.”
“How unfortunate, you mean,” Aeron returned. “Thinking that you are an elf and being an elf are two entirely different things.”
“I suppose so,” she said.
“Nothing about this trip is wonderful,” Aeron said. “I cannot steal, and we cannot misbehave.” He sighed and tossed the Gwyllion’s bundle to her. She caught it, and then threw it lightly back to him. Aeron stepped away from her and threw it again. “We have nothing to amuse us but a mindless, unchallenging game of catch.”
“Which is better than nothing,” Gwyllion said.
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