A few hours had passed, not much going on. Findorak still detested all the orcs, and as far as Jerika knew they hated him just as much. Handorth still spoke to most of the other easterlings gathered in the cave, while Jerika had left the group and wandered throughout the cave.
Polishing her daggers, with her sword in its sheath, Jerika came to stand next to the prisoner. He stared intently at the orcs nearby. Jerika took a knee, and the elf turned to face her with angry eyes.
"Do you have a name?" Jerika asked the prisoner. It said nothing, and only lifted a stubborn chin.
"I only just cleaned this dagger. I would hate to get it all bloody again. I know you have a name. I hate to admit it, but even though you are and elf, I do get sick of calling you 'it' and 'him'," Jerika spun her two daggers around in her hands as she spoke.
"As much as you hate to admit such a thing, I must say I'll feel no guilt when I do this," the prisoner growled. A split second later he leapt from his spot and shoved Jerika from her balance on her knee. Of course, Jerika would not let an elf do such a thing to her.
"You'll certainly regret that, elf boy," Jerika whispered before going to attack the elf.
[ February 19, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]
__________________
...Come down now, they'll say. But everything looks perfect from far away - Come down now! But we'll stay.
|