[Mithalwen]

Erenor's spirit had been robbed by it's fire by her situation. It takes a mighty blow to stun an elf and she still felt nauseous - a strange and disproportionately distressing experience for a being who had never known sickness. She could not have swallowed even elvish food at that time and the orc fare made her retch. Her self esteem was further damaged by the fact that they had been taken unawares. This seemed impossible - that three Elves should have been surprised by notoriously heavy footed orcs. It did not surprise her that the men should have been taken unawares - after the decisions the king and his councillor had made she felt their stupidity knew no bounds - but she thought of Angore .. where was their guard when they needed him?

The fact that they were still alive had small comfort to her. She had heard tales of elves being captured in the Elder days - she would prefer death to thralldom without end. And what help was there of rescue? Even if those doltish men effected their release it would be only to lead them to death in the blue mountains. She had failed in all attempts to contact the minds of her own kindred far away. Escape was hopeless ... she had no sword, her possessions were etiher still at the camp or taken by orcs.

The cold made her head ache worse and she shrank back into the folds of her furlined cloak. The orcs had not taken that yet. She felt he tug on the wound from her hair, matted with blood and tried to make herself as comfortable as possible despite her bindings. Something was digging into her hip and the realisation of what it was gave her a glimmer of hope - not a bright glimmer but enough to prevent her willing her spirit to Mandos. It was the hilt of the dagger she wore, like her mail shirt, under her outer tunic. She guessed the orcs must have noticed the mail but the mail itself had disguised the knife. It was strange that they had not taken the mail; the shirt was of noldorin craft and far surpassed antything the orcs possessed - but then an orc would find elf-mail a narrow fit.

Though she appeared as passive as before, seeming to her captors and companions as no more than a barely animate bundle, Erenor's spirit had revived and she tried to absorb details of their plight that might help. she was aware of Ereglin talking to their captors but made no effort to follow suit. Her passivity might lull them into a false sense of security - she just wished that it was not entirely feigned - if only her head would stop hurting. The faintest moan escaped her lips and her mind slipped into a waking dream.