"Light and flaky, just like them." One of the men snorted, deliberately, she supposed, in the common tongue.
"Not quite. It is lembas. It would keep you going for days." She said quietly, not really expecting her captors to hear, or understand as she murmered it in elvish. The man who caught her turned on her though.
"See, she does it again!" He exclaimed angrily, pointing her own dagger at her. "Speaking in that filthy language they use."
Nuhrive glared icily at him, but wisely didnt speak. Another did it for her.
"I think its lovely." The small voice came from the corner, where that girl Nuhrive had seen before was sewing quietly. She had the look of a little mouse, and the elf wondered why she was here. One of the men turned on her though, cuffing her across the head so she bit her lip to stop herself crying out. As the girl looked up, catching Nuhrive's vivid eyes with her own sad ones, the elf knew how this girl felt and, mrather ironically, what with her position, she almost felt sorry for her. The mousey girl looked away first, continuing in silence with her sewing.
Nuhrive looked back to the one who had grabbed her, now pawing her sword his huge, ugly hands. I will get you back, beast. I will get back my dagger and you will feel in in your ribs...
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I am what I was, a harmless little devil
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