[Firefoot]

After a while, Adranel’s sobs quieted and then ceased, and she began to feel much more in control and relieved of some of her grief, poignant though it still was. She was also feeling decidedly uncomfortable from sitting in the snow, which had soaked her skirts. They weren’t dripping, but it was the deep, slow-chilling damp that could cause pneumonia and other such winter illnesses. She slowly stood up, her breathing somewhat ragged and her knees shaky, but she felt better than she had in a while. She picked up her bow and quiver, and having already retrieved her arrows, began to trudge back to camp. She had not gone far, only a sprinter’s course, and despite the swirling snow which had began to fall she was not out of sight.

As she drew closer, she began to make out individual figures, the one that stood out clearest being Beluf’s. He was hunched over with his face buried in his hands. A wave of remorse washed over Adranel. What had she done? He had been nothing but kind to her and she had snapped at him. He probably did not want her company any more, and despite Gelding’s words that she would be welcome, she felt as if she would be imposing on them. Beluf had not seen her and she changed her course, heading for the army’s camp. She wished she had someone to talk to, though there was no one that she knew besides the men she had been travelling with. She had little hope of finding anyone in the soldier’s camp, but she still hoped.

A few of the men leered at her, but she ignored them, and most of them appeared curious. She wandered around the periphery, feeling things out. She was about to turn away with a sigh when one form caught her eye. He was a middle-aged man, and covered with a blanket. Adranel cocked her head curiously. She saw that there was an unoccupied soldier standing nearby and walked over to him boldly.

“Excuse me,” she said. He looked up at her in interest. She pointed to the man. “But can you tell me who that man is over there? He’s not a soldier, is he?” The Gondorian barked a short laugh.

“Him? No, no, we found ’im yesterday. ’E’s not quite right, like ’e’s a-had too much ale.” He laughed again. “I didn’t catch ’is name, but ’is speech was right slurred.”

“Huh,” mused Adranel. “Well, thanks.” The man nodded and went about his own business. Adranel was now more curious than ever, and she approached. A soldier was standing nearby - Guarding him? she wondered - and politely she asked, “Would it be all right if I talked to him?” A smirk spread across the guard’s face. He said, “I don’t see why not, but don’t expect to get much out of him. And the Captain’s going to want to talk to him soon, probably when he gets done with that man you came in with.”

Adranel supposed that was a yes, and walked up to the man slowly. She wondered what he meant by “don’t expect to get much out of him.” The first soldier had said he was likely drunk, but in her experience drunk men were always more free with their tongue, not less. Cautiously, she asked him, “Who are you?”

He seemed as wary of her as she was of him, and he clutched his blanket tighter, but he did answer, “Innemaa.” Adranel frowned, trying to understand him. “Innema?” she echoed. The man shook his head violently and tried again, slower, “Inn - e - maa.” Though more pronounced, it did not sound any different to Adranel. She wondered what was wrong with him. He couldn’t talk very well, that was for sure. She was almost sorry she had tried to talk to him.

“Well, all right,” she said. “I’m Adranel.”

“Adaneh,” he annunciated. In an attempt to communicate with him, she asked, “Why are you here? Where do you live?” A childish light leapt into his eyes. “Find... find. Nonna, gone.” Adranel wondered what she had gotten herself into. What was he trying to find? Nonna? Who was that? She wished he would speak clearer.

“You’re trying to find Nonna?” she asked. “Do you live with her?” He seemed uncertain, and frustrated that she couldn’t understand him. Finally he shook his head. “No. Find,” he repeated. Adranel was getting a headache. This man had definite problems. She was grateful for the diversion, though. It was like a strange puzzle.

“What are you trying to find?” she asked him. It was a simple, direct question, and hopefully she could get an answer. By the way his face lit up, he seemed pleased that this was a question he could answer.

“Cotta,” Innema said. Adranel worked to decipher the word, but the only thing that came close was “cottage.” Was he lost, then?

“You want to find your cottage?” she queried. He grinned and nodded, “Cotta hide.” Adranel’s brow knitted in concentration. She gave up trying to understand him for the moment and moved on, simply talking to him for the sake of someone to talk to.

“You don’t seem to have a family, either,” she said to him. “I guess we have that in common, at least. I wish I could understand you better. You seem to have a pretty interesting story to tell, if anyone could understand it.” She blushed as soon as she said it - it was quite rude, for he could understand her quite well. She hurried on, “Anyway, I bet you had some kind of run-in with the Orcs, too, or else what would you be doing all alone? They burned my village, too. There’s nothing left for me here...” she trailed off wistfully, forgetting for a moment that the strange man was there. He was watching her, listening. Oh! thought Adranel. Alas that I have no one normal that I can trust to talk to!