[Amanaduial the archer]

Raeis rubbed her wrists gingerly, letting pain sear through them as the sweat of her hands mingled with the blood that slickened her skin. Pain was no stranger to the elf but...but this pain was of her own making. She was causing it. Her own choice... She clenched the fingers of her left hand tighter, digging her ragged nails in a little, as if testing as to whether it was actually real, then gasped quietly as the pain of her nails in her raw, bloody flesh laced like white hot pokers through her arms, lancing through her body. It was almost exhilerating.

"Stop," a voice said quietly. A hand grabbed Raeis's left wrist, pulling her fingers away from the wounds on her right wrist. Her reaction was a reflex: she lashed out, ripping her hand from the grasp of the other as she glared up at him. The other elf looked back at her in a sort of confusion, but a studied confusion. His eyes were sharp, intelligent - so very different from any that Raseis had seen in so many years that she felt captivated by them, almost drawn in...shutting her eyes tightly, childishly, almost petulantly, Raeis looked away, pressing her lips together firmly. His eyes seemed to wield some power over her and no one would have power over her.

She felt her wrist burn with renewed vigour - when Raeis had pulled away from the other elf, he had ripped another layer of skin away. She looked up at him angrily. "You hurt me..." she whispered, her voice soft, parched.

He shook his head, and Raeis was intrigued by the way his dark hair moved as he did so, a dull sheen moving across it in response to his movement. She could scarcely believe he was real, they were real, she was real... "If you damage your right hand, you won't be able to fight."

Raeis smiled defiantly. "'m left-handed," she shot back, then grinned again, surprised at herself. A sort of heady euphoria settled over her as she realised that she could say whatever she liked without punishment, could converse with another - and another of her species as well. She looked more closely at the other elf now, although she was careful to avoid those wise, captivating eyes. Dark hair, grey eyes, a shadow over his face from the years he had spent captive, but he was elven - an elf! An elf! - and Silvan, she thought.

"What is your name?" she asked, curious.

"Morgoroth Aranur," he replied courteously. Raeis regarded him for a second, head on one side and eyes glittering in the half darkness before she broke the habit of so many years of captivity. "I am Raeis," she replied grandly. Yes...Raeis...I am Raeis...an elf, and not a prisoner...ye-es....

"Food. Weapons. We must find these to escape."

The words strung together brokenly in the Common Tongue made Raeis spin around from Morgoroth to face a dark man, an easterling. He was like those men who sometimes came with the orcs to gawp and mock and beat and... Raeis's hand whipped out viciously towards the man, fingers splawed like a talon as she gave a cry of anger.

"No!" Once more, Morgoroth caught her wrist with incredibly speed, stopping her hand just a few inches from the other man's face. The other man stumbled back hastily, anger and fear in her otherworldly blue eyes as he looked back at Raeis. She watched him haughtily and Morgoroth let go of her wrist. She took a step closer to Grash, although he kept his distance, tilting her head again like a bird to observe him. After a second, she reached out a hand slowly towards his face. The man watched her warily, but did not flinch this time, although he was evidently nervous of the elf. "You freed me..." she murmured quietly, surprised. "But you will not hurt me. No one will hurt Raeis now..."

Smiling lopsidedly, Raeis turned away, thoughts of weapons and food leaping into her disjointed mind of a sudden. Stretching her arms out in front of her and flexing her fingers, she rolled her neck around to dispel a painful cramp then shook herself like an animal, before starting off in a stealthy run to where she knew she could find weapons...