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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Dlsharrock" data-source="post: 4311940" data-attributes="member: 55833">Aerec's back stiffens, and his unyielding eyes meet Granthan's, but he heeds Belfalor's unspoken warning and looks away, making sure to let his gaze linger just long enough to make it clear it's his choice. "I'm sorry. I heard a shout for help, and knew the horse would be fine," he replies to the big blowhard, not bothering to use Stumpy's name because he knew Granthan didn't even know the horses had names. "I would wager a week's wages against yours that he hasn't moved a step since I left. He's thoroughly cared for, and all that needs doing is putting his blanket on. I thought the matter of thieves in the camp more pressing." As he finishes, he lets his gaze sweep back in Granthan's direction, but pointedly looks over the fat man's head, somehow giving the appearance of avoiding a superior's gaze, but simultaneously showing his disdain.Granthan's eye twitches slightly "Oh, you did did you?! Well now, we'll soon see what... what... WILL SOMEBODY SHUT THAT CONFOUNDED DOG UP!""The lady of the woods," Belfalor suddenly says, jerking his clean-shaven chin toward the treeline where Aranel the Elf maiden has appeared. He physically grasps Granthan's wide shoulders and turns him in that direction. Granthan's attention is suitably diverted, "gah. What does that leaf breeder want now?" He stalks off toward Aranel, Aerec temporarily forgotten."He is an ill tempered man," Belfalor puts a friendly arm around Aerec's shoulder when Granthan is gone, "I saw your quick feet young horsemaster. You were fast. Well done." "My lady," Grathan bows and grins widely before the now advancing Elf. He finds himself backing away as she doesn't slacken her pace for him. "Ah what wind of grace and fortitude brings you to our shores this evening? It is a rare pleasure indeed...""Is it a custom of Men to discipline their children by asking Dwarfs to sit on them? If so, it is a wonder Men ever stray."The smile fades when she comes close enough to spot the male burglar."But stray they do. What passes here?"Gellion is hustling behind the Elf, rope in hand. He passes this to the Dwarf, that the male burglar may also be bound. Baran does a distracted job of it, eyes frankly searching his thief for one thing, one object... Hands join eyes as soon as they can : That long shape tucked in his belt? No, a sap and darts wrapped in leather (*poison* darts?) -- he looks up to the thief, shakes is head, disapointed, before returning to it. That bulge in his tunic maybe? Yes? yes? "YES!" The dwarf squeezes the prize in his large hands, relief flooding his veins. The heirloom, his sister's memory... they are SAFE."See? See? I tolds you. I tolds you I had it! I told truly!" whispers the burglar, now well and truly restrained. Small eyes glitter in the pale disc of his broad face, some kind of mischief shifts across his features like a shadow. "Seems the forest produces thieves as well as food for our axes," Baran finally responds to the Elf, somewhat excited by his find. Aranel frowns. "Thieves? Are they Men? And you say they ran -into- Mirkwood at night?"The elf moves fluidly forward, glancing around at the Men of the camp again, then fixing her gaze on the burgler unfortunate enough to be pinned by a Dwarf."Three more at least are now in your domain, lady elf; but this one- " a hand falls heavily on his thief's shoulder, propping him up so his feet barely rest on the ground "-this one and I have some discussing to do. My hut?""Now look here," Granthan wags a finger, "we need to discuss...""Why...you're not a child of Men at all, are you?" For the first time an expression other than mild disdain touches Aranel's face as she sees the features of the thief. "What brings you so far from home, little perrianath ?"The thief lowers his head, so that his eyes peer at Aranel from beneath the ridge and shadow of his brow. A sly grin, teeth firmly together, completes the expression. "Not the Elf's business.""Your fellows ran into the Mirkwood," Aranel tells the little bandit as Baran hoists him up. "That makes it my business."Ulfang, Aurvandil and those who gathered near the edge of the wood arrive just then, Ulfang carrying the bound and unconscious form of the female bandit over his shoulder. He deposits his 'cargo' on the ground next to the other bound thief and looks over to Baran. "So what we doing with 'em?""That is not for you to decide" Granthan insists, "we need to discuss...""Yes? And what would you like to discuss?" Aranel straightens, fixing Granthan with an expectant stare. A near inaudible chuckle comes from Baran."Ah, aha," Granthan writhes, "just to welcome you to the camp, as ever, my lady. T'was not to you that I wished to discuss.. ur.. that is, I welcome your part in all talk of course, but t'was with foredwarf Baran that I wished to discuss what is to be done with these... ur," he wags a hand vaguely at the two thieves."Information is next on the list, I thinks, then Justice will have to have a hand.." Baran grabs Ulfang by the upper arm and squeezes, "and then I've got to start earning that week's wage I owe you and the Van lad!""I speak not for Ulfang, but you owe me no wage," says Aurvandil who has arrived with his horse in tow. "As a member of this camp it was my duty to intervene. I am just glad I could be of service. Now, if you will excuse me, I must attend my steed who is perhaps more agitated by the event than I. But please inform me when you have appraised the female thief's wounds. I regret harming her so and her fate concerns me. Pray, foredwarf Baran, if she awakes; please offer my apologies for that cut on her head." The knight leads his horse away, looking troubled."Something I said?" Never could quite get into this one's mind.Abruptly Aranel looks at Baran, "Is there proof of thievery?" she asks in puzzled tones."Could say that," nods the dwarf, scratching at his beard, "from my own hut no less." Sort of a sobering thought, that... "Speaking of warm, non-windy places...." He grabs 'his' thief and slings him over his shoulder without further consulting.</blockquote>

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