* Calimiel could stand the waiting no longer. Kenelm, infuriatingly playing that harp and asking nosey questions about the prisoners. Celumëomaryu and Anna singing to decide the fate of the weaker female prisoner ... and ... and ... Calimiel could sense victory had been determined, somehow. The air pressure had changed, and swirled around her. A dark mistrust choked the daughter of Maladil ... what if the loser moved quickly to claim Calimiel's own prey? *
* With a mind-rending shriek, Calimiel plunged into the pile of living and dead bodies on the dungeon floor, pawing about until she recognized the stronger of the women of the race of Man. Her victim flopped about struggling for only a few moments. Then, Calimiel stood. Stood! And felt the floor beneath her feet, through thin wool stockings and hard leather shoes. She sighed, breathing. Breathing air! She shuddered at the stench of decay already starting to gather. Sight came to her, and she smiled, even at the dismal gloom of her accursed surroundings. Black iron bars swam into her line of vision ... unyielding, for she could no longer simply drift through them. *
* Calimiel blinked suddenly, then spoke, with the strong timbre of a physical voice. *
The keys. Where are they? I wish to come out from behind these bars.
[ January 02, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]
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