"That he does," Stella nods, still talking quietly, leading the draft horses along. She draws her lips to a line, and shivers slightly, adrenaline still wearing off. "The fight was...rather brutal. I hope we've done good here...I'm glad it seems he's not doing it for sport, though. I've been a bit worried about him...he kept screaming death whenever we'd start a fight, and I couldn't tell whether it was for intimidation or thrill. But he didn't do that this time, huh?"
She's tempted to glance towards Dieter, but didn't want to let on that she was talking about him. "When we got back to Nashkel, he told me he learned to fight so he could be a hero, but that now he doesn't feel like one...and that getting to kill is a reward in itself. 'Blood money', he called it..." She falls silent, not sure what to make of it. The clopping of hooves fills the silence for a moment, then she continues. "I tried to press him more, but then he changed the subject and that's how we started making iced cream," she grins. "At any rate, thanks again for watching out for all of us."
Then she elbows Aiwë, still grinning and leans in closer and lowers her voice even more. "Also, if you're going to embarrass me to death, you had better be prepared to write me a ballad too."
