[Amanaduial the archer]

Raeis watched the other Silvan elf curiously for a moment, frozen in her work a few metres away from him, a vixen pausing momentarily in scavenging to watch another, unknown fox further away - strange and yet familiar, and whether a friend or foe was yet to be decided. Looking at him closely, she saw his eyes droop and his whole face seemed to relax - asleep? A memory stirred within her of the meditative trance the elves could sink into, a peaceful void of real thought, entered by dreams and memories of past and sometimes of future. In the years of her captivity, when no moment could be counted as safe, Raeis had barely if ever been able to rely on the security of doing this, for at any time she could have been interrupted whilst vulnerable by the orcs. Besides, her nerves were so frayed now that she barely even knew if she would be able to enter that state now anyway, and had reverted to the dull, black void that men called sleep.

The elf shivered suddenly as she realised how very like the Haradrim the male elf looked, draped with black cloth across his face and wearing their leathers, a bow of their making across his lap...why, if the orcs were to see him now, what would they know him as but another of the men? All of the rest of them would be instantly recognisable as prisoners but...

An idea suddenly hit Raeis and she wondered why it had not hit her earlier - the simplicity of the plan was incredible. Yet it would work. If yet there were orcs or Haradrim around, ready to block their escape (and woe betide them if they did, she added darkly), they would instantly stop them...or they would stop prisoners. But if they were all the wear such clothes, covering face and ears and wearing the right garb, saying nothing...

Who would know the difference?

Raeis allowed herself a simple smile of happiness, surprising herself at the feeling. It was brought on not to spite her captors, to laugh at them as they tormented her, for that had been it's only purpose in her captivity - no, it was brought on by feeling. Happiness. Relishing the feeling with wary satisfaction, the female elf settled on her knees and lifted a long knife from the stash in the corner - obviously where orcs had left their weapons to be easily and quickly picked up without hampering them as they went about whatever despicable business they chose to amuse their small minds with. Strangely though, this one was in a sheath, although it didn't seem to fit well - it wouldn't properly settle into the sheath, part of it sticking out awkwardly, dents made on two sides at the top of the sheath where it's rude tenant had been forced in. And where the sword was crude and marked from ill treatment and use, the sheath was oddly elegant - Raeis tilted her head hesitantly to look at the marks on the side. To her astonishment, she found them to be runes, although not ones that seemed familar - they were not the angular, ugly, crude etchings the orcs sometimes made, and nor were they in the elven script that Raeis remembered. They seemed to mix the two - elegant but tarnished, tainted, marred in some way...

"I think this sword would fit the sheath better."

The hesitant voice sent nerves tingling all the way through Raeis's body and she actually jumped. Spinning around with snake-like speed onto one knee, she whipped the sword out in front of her in the vague direction of the voice. The sudden, quick movement caused the sheath to shoot of the end of the ill-fitting sword, flinging itself away across the stone courtyard to clatter loudly on the stone. The man who had spoken gave a startled squeak of surprise and ducked to one side, surprisingly fast for a mortal - for that was what Raeis now saw him to be. He was short and stocky, and his freckles and large eyes made him seem child-like, although the obvious muscles in his arms and legs made it obvious that he was nothing of the sort. At least, not physically....there was something very juvenile about the fear in his eyes as he looked at the elf. As Raeis rose and moved forward a step, her sword still level, he shuffled backwards quickly, staring up at the immortal with simple fear.

For a moment, Raeis caught herself enjoying the rush of power and with a shock of anger at herself she dropped the sword, the clatter resonating throughout the courtyard as she did so. Taking a step back from it, Raeis walked around the weapon, her flecked blue eyes never leaving it, then they darted back to the man's face.

"Who are you?" she asked, curiously.

"Jordo," he replied promptly, every inch obedient. Raeis was surprised at his simplicity, but there was something harmless in it. However, when he raised the sword again, she couldn't help taking a step back again. He turned it around quickly and offered her the other end, even though it meant he was holding the blade. Raeis hesitated, then took it tentatively, careful not to harm his hands but ready to move if he attacked. No one would cause her pain again, but this simple, kind mortal did not deserve pain either - indeed, something in Raeis stirred to protect him almost. Almost.

Taking the sword, Raeis scurried to the other side of the courtyard to pick up the beautiful sheath again, and slid one into the other carefully. Surprisingly, Jordo had been right - incredibly so, for the sword seemed to actually match the sheath. Neither were perfect, of course - little could stay untarnished in a land of evil. But beauty is always seem in union, and these two fitted perfectly. With the unfamiliar feeling of happiness again coursing through her veins like adrenaline, Raeis looked up to see that a few dwarves entering the door. Short, stout little men, built like barrels that had seen thin times - not exactly menacing, but she felt herself clench up at the sight of them, the deep set emnity between the two peoples arising subconciously.

The dwarves seemed to feel the same way. They entered stiffly, swaggering a little, and one approached Morgoroth, waking him with the clanking of his axe as he audaciously began to question the elf. Raeis could not hear the first words he said, but she heard the next as the dwarf rose his voice.

"And you did not give chase? You let him pass and did not even try to follow?"

Raeis immediately felt the hostility in the dwarf's voice and felt it rise within herself in response. The sword slid uneasily out of the sheath, grating against the sides, but Raeis didn't flinch, her hand perfectly still as she raised it to the dwarves.

"Do not threaten him," she said, softly, an edge of danger to her voice. "And do not threaten me. What is it that you seek?