[Durelin]

Climbing long winding stairs, Jordo found his mind winding and twisting with them. It wandered from the cold stone walls that surrounded him, finding peace of mind in doing something. Each stair was something to do; it kept him moving, and so kept his brain focused on something simple. The simplicity of doing work was all that Jordo knew to be peaceful. Suddenly he found himself staring down at his hands. They were held out before him because they had nothing better to do. He allowed himself to actually take interest in the fact that they were not being controlled by a hard hand and a stinging whip, forced to do work and watched closely as they did their best to comply. It seemed that his hands were finally able to move freely. He smiled slightly, feeling happy for them. Sharing in some kind of joy, his mind got lost in a strange warmth, and he didn't bother to find his way out of it.

Then all of a sudden he found he had reached the top of the stairs, and he looked up. But too late. His body hit something warmer and softer than the chilling walls around him, and his face was covered by long, soft blonde hair for a moment before he stepped quickly back down a step. The elf whirled around, a long knife at the ready. He had not made a sound when Jordo suddenly bumped into his back, but the man now squeaked in surprise and fear. Morgoroth had gotten a safe distance from his supposed assailant and been prepared to kill before Jordo could even let out a frightened yelp.

The elf sighed, partially in relief, but mostly in exasperation, as he saw who he had been prepared to kill. Jordo had trouble meeting those dark green eyes. The quiet pressure made him look down at the floor and fidget with the helm that was in his hands as he had not liked the feel of looking through those makeshift slits for eyes. His mind began to feel that he was looking out through someone else’s eyes, and hoped only that they were not menacing yellow slits. A shiver ran down his spine, and a tingling spanned his skin. He did not like the feel of this crude leather armor on his bare skin, either.

The man glanced up quickly, and though the eyes were not frightening or unfriendly, he knew that there had to be some kind of punishment awaiting him. He had done something wrong. The focus on him made him feel that he was in an unwelcome, unwanted position. He wanted the eyes to ignore him again, wanted them to leave him alone.

“Be alert, Jordo. And remain close behind.”

Morgoroth suddenly turned, and ran to the corner at the end of the hall. Jordo followed as quickly as he could, but was careful not to run into the elf this time, as he stopped abruptly to look down the next hall. He let out a heavy sigh once more.

“She is not there. Let us hope she has only gotten ahead of us.”

The elf began to run again, and Jordo did his best to obey Morgoroth’s former instructions. “Come. Quickly.” And the man did his best to comply with these, as well.