[Belin]

Hithduiniel sat straight up on her horse and pretended not to notice anything. The horse knew better, just as she knew its disdain for them, and for her. They were cruel; she was incompetent. She had this in common with the beast, however: it remained dignified and unexpressive, obeying what it was told until it had a chance at something better.

She took inventory of the company. There was only one other elf, a wild-eyed Sindar whose face she couldn't read any more than if it had been an orcs. For the matter of that, perhaps there was something orcish about her taken as a whole. Hithduiniel glanced at Himelilek's wrists and neck, looking for the scars they said that orcs often bore, but was discouraged by the other's suspicious glare before she could tell for certain. The rest were of a race she'd never seen before: Men, or so she assumed. The casual onlooker might take the big one for an orc as well. Then there was the little foxy fellow, who was about as disgustingly pathetic and abject as anyone she'd met. He would have done well to take the horses' example as she herself did. And the other man? Ah, it mattered not. She tossed back her hair in contempt of all of them and their ugly smiles. They would lead her to better things, whether they cared to or not.

And then there was the bag, which had stretched out slightly with what Hithduiniel thought was a resigned sigh. Ah, yes, the bag. She reined in the horse slightly and was surprised when it obediently slowed. She would very much like a better view. Ozracles, however, had sharper eyes than she'd given him credit for (though everything she had ever learned had told her that Men were half-blind as well as half-deaf). "You admire our bag, do you, elfmaiden? Perhaps you'd like one?"

She didn't flinch. "Surely it would be a grievious discourtesy to take your bag, when you've already had to supply me with a horse and food?"

"Who said anything about food?"

And there he had her; she was most certainly at their mercy in more ways than she'd cared to consider. She could think of no better retort than to smirk haughtily at him and ride on ahead.

And to look ahead. The huge empty treeless expanse of the plain stretched out before her. She fought the impulse to shut her eyes and stop the horse. "O Orome," she whispered, as the horse slowed of its own accord.

Himelilek noticed her pallor and began to laugh. Thorondruin rode up beside her and kicked her horse, which began cantering again, without a start at the assault.

"Do you think you're in a walking party?" he asked roughly.

Yes. "Where am I to think I am? You've told me nothing."

"Very true. Keep it at a canter," he answered, speeding up himself. Hithduiniel made a face at his back. Orcs, all of them. Who did they think they were dealing with here?

Not, she answered herself, someone who didn't realize how much would have to be revealed when they camped.

[ October 11, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]