[Durelin]

They said eyes served as windows to the soul, and Jord knew it was true. There were ways to penetrate a person even with mortal eyes – as long as the mind behind them was potent enough. A simple gaze into this woman was enough to draw from her what already wanted to burst forth. Jord smiled in a rather patronizingly kind way, as if she were thinking of Embla as a “poor dear.”

It was a poor thing indeed that these mortals so often made servants and slaves of each other, but it was sadder still that they all thought they should be free.

But, it was this sort Jord would find most useful. The despondent slaves subjugated to what they were opposed in a culture there were a stranger to; displaced and disenfranchised: the embodiment of desperation. Still alive with a mind and body at their disposal, but they though they had nothing left to lose… All that was necessary was that Jord became their wise master and gentle overseer, and they were all hers.

“Ah, Embla,” the darkly clad woman began, sounding almost apologetic. But when she really began to speak, her voice became more conversational, though there was a sincerity to it and her demeanor.

“There is no reason for you to hang your head for the shamefulness of others. You are not the one willingly participating in a…” Jord paused for a very brief moment, calculating her words, “…primitive culture. You do what you must, I am sure, and by neither succumbing to nor accepting their ugly mores you show them that you still live by your own ways. Because of that you should hold your head up, I should think.”

As long as she avoided sounding like she was telling Embla what was what, Jord’s ideas would easily slip into the woman’s head. Sometimes the communication of earth-beings was amusing in its own way. The simple phrases “I am sure” and “I should think” were ample enough expressions of self-doubt for her to not sound as a ruler giving orders to a subject that were far from cleverly disguised as ‘advice.’ The expressions of mortals were especially primitive, but they had their quirks.

Primitive…she had been describing the Borrim as such quite a bit lately. It was an excellent tact to use against them, pitting their culture against that of the Ulfings. Regardless of how many origins and customs the two peoples shared, there was more than enough there for her to work with. They were lowly and primitive, crawling on their hands and knees to kiss the feet of the Elves because they lacked enough backbone to stay up.

Better to kiss the feet of Morgoth than those of the Children who walked the earth.

It was a lucky meeting, to find the perfect leverage within the troublesome Borrim party – a person who thought similarly to the Ulfings about the ‘foreigners.’ And she was located so conveniently behind that leader, Khandr. Anger and despair could easily be nurtured into violence, and decapitating the Borrim body was a possibility she had so far only dreamed about.

“Already I respect you, Embla,” Jord added with a smile that was truly out of amusement rather than kindness. “I would help you, if I could, but…I suppose there is nothing that can be done, is there?” There was an edge to her final question. Regardless of whether or not the woman attempted to answer it, Jord was sure it would remain on her mind.