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piosenniel · 06-20-2002, 08:59 PM

Pallando told the Orc crew to set sail northeast, and to man the oars. He picked up his staff to call up a quick wind to take them there. But no wind came.

'Fools!', he cried. 'You think my power lies in this staff, but it lies in me! The staff is but an instrument for easy focus, a thing to shake at the weak and make them cower.' He called up a hot wind with his hands.

He called a unit of Fighting Orcs and set them to scouring the ship for any intruders. 'Do not harm them. Bring the little fools to me!!'

He went to the bound elf, and demanded from her the names of who might be on board. She stared at him levelly, and said 'If I knew, I would not tell you, were you the last face I see before my death.'

'You may well wish for death before I am done with you. And it will not be an easy one!' He slammed her across her face, drawing blood and knocked her in a heap to the railing.

She lay there for a while dazed, with lights forming constellations behind her eyelids. She heard him move away from her and begin to deal with the sailing of the ship and the finding of the intruders. No one approached her as if to be her guard.

Opening one eye, she saw that she had landed on her right side, back against the side of the ship. There was no one near her, that she could see or hear. She flexed her legs and feet a little to rid them of the cramping from lying in one position too long. Again no one looked her way, or noticed her movement. Her hands were another matter. They were still bound behind her back. She moved her arms and hands a little, and felt them touch against something cool and small. She cautiously explored it with her fingers. It was a ship's nail! It was sticking up a good two inches from the deck plank, but hadn't been noticed in the shadow of the railing. She worked her wrists against the square nail's edge and begain slowly to rub them up and down. Occasionally an orc would pass by on some ship's errand, and she would lie still until he passed. Soon the friction from the rubbing penetrated her bonds and the rope began to fray, and at last broke apart.

It was still night when she scooted under the deeper shadow of the railing and made her way behind some small barrels stacked on deck. She sat behind them and rubbed at her wrists, trying to bring the circulation back into them. While she did this she began to reconstruct what she remembered.The image of Mithadan killing Alatar came first to her mind, but then came chaos and the half remembered sight of Mithadan blown from the ship in a gush of green light. A wizard's staff, she thought. Pallando. That was who had ordered her bound and brought to this ship and who had hit her in his fury. Something about his staff. Stolen. One tear rolled down her grimed face. She could not save Mithadan. But she could finish his task.

She drew a deep breath to steady her mind. There were hobbits on board, she was sure of that, but she dared not speak to them in her mind. She feared that Pallando might have that ability, as she remembered Gandalf did at times. She hoped that the little ones would be alright.

Her hands had returned to normal, and she flexed her fingers to assure herself they would do her bidding. From the waistband of her sailor pants she drew the silvered knife that she had hidden. She wrapped the fingers of her right hand around the cool hilt and brought the pommel to her forehead, eyes closed. 'Old Man, if ever you loved me as your foam-born daughter, then guide my hand, make the aim true, and let this blade fly swiftly.' Behind her eyes she saw the grey-eyed old man of her childhood with his long blue-green beard, his shoes of stone, his robes in tatters whipped by a clean sea wind.

She stood in the darkness, her eyes adjusting to the shadows, and began her hunt.

[ June 20, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

06-20-2002, 08:59 PM	#422
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Pallando told the Orc crew to set sail northeast, and to man the oars. He picked up his staff to call up a quick wind to take them there. But no wind came. 'Fools!', he cried. 'You think my power lies in this staff, but it lies in me! The staff is but an instrument for easy focus, a thing to shake at the weak and make them cower.' He called up a hot wind with his hands. He called a unit of Fighting Orcs and set them to scouring the ship for any intruders. 'Do not harm them. Bring the little fools to me!!' He went to the bound elf, and demanded from her the names of who might be on board. She stared at him levelly, and said 'If I knew, I would not tell you, were you the last face I see before my death.' 'You may well wish for death before I am done with you. And it will not be an easy one!' He slammed her across her face, drawing blood and knocked her in a heap to the railing. She lay there for a while dazed, with lights forming constellations behind her eyelids. She heard him move away from her and begin to deal with the sailing of the ship and the finding of the intruders. No one approached her as if to be her guard. Opening one eye, she saw that she had landed on her right side, back against the side of the ship. There was no one near her, that she could see or hear. She flexed her legs and feet a little to rid them of the cramping from lying in one position too long. Again no one looked her way, or noticed her movement. Her hands were another matter. They were still bound behind her back. She moved her arms and hands a little, and felt them touch against something cool and small. She cautiously explored it with her fingers. It was a ship's nail! It was sticking up a good two inches from the deck plank, but hadn't been noticed in the shadow of the railing. She worked her wrists against the square nail's edge and begain slowly to rub them up and down. Occasionally an orc would pass by on some ship's errand, and she would lie still until he passed. Soon the friction from the rubbing penetrated her bonds and the rope began to fray, and at last broke apart. It was still night when she scooted under the deeper shadow of the railing and made her way behind some small barrels stacked on deck. She sat behind them and rubbed at her wrists, trying to bring the circulation back into them. While she did this she began to reconstruct what she remembered.The image of Mithadan killing Alatar came first to her mind, but then came chaos and the half remembered sight of Mithadan blown from the ship in a gush of green light. A wizard's staff, she thought. Pallando. That was who had ordered her bound and brought to this ship and who had hit her in his fury. Something about his staff. Stolen. One tear rolled down her grimed face. She could not save Mithadan. But she could finish his task. She drew a deep breath to steady her mind. There were hobbits on board, she was sure of that, but she dared not speak to them in her mind. She feared that Pallando might have that ability, as she remembered Gandalf did at times. She hoped that the little ones would be alright. Her hands had returned to normal, and she flexed her fingers to assure herself they would do her bidding. From the waistband of her sailor pants she drew the silvered knife that she had hidden. She wrapped the fingers of her right hand around the cool hilt and brought the pommel to her forehead, eyes closed. 'Old Man, if ever you loved me as your foam-born daughter, then guide my hand, make the aim true, and let this blade fly swiftly.' Behind her eyes she saw the grey-eyed old man of her childhood with his long blue-green beard, his shoes of stone, his robes in tatters whipped by a clean sea wind. She stood in the darkness, her eyes adjusting to the shadows, and began her hunt. [ June 20, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.