[piosenniel]

Dimturiel's post:

Penram stood at the window, unable to tear his eyes from the sights outside. Merra was next to him, but at least she was not looking out. Penram wished he could turn away too, but he still stood there, watching, as if by seeing the Easterling hunt out their slaves he would somehow understand why this was happening.

Penram was always restless when the hunt started. He knew that Mir only needed to say the word, and he and probably Merra too would be thrown outside in the hunt. Since they were hardly of any use to Mir, Penram sometimes wondered whether that was not the reason why the Easterling kept the two children with him, after all. So that one year he would set them loose on the streets to give his compatriots two more helpless thralls to pursue. Of course, Mir had never treated the two harshly and sometimes Penram wanted to believe that the Easterling would never want to hurt them. But attributing kindness to his master went against everything Penram knew. He was fond of Mir, in a way, but he knew that he was an Easterling. Penram and his sister were Gondorian. Easterlings hated and despised Gondorians. They did not protect them, not unless there was some hidden reason for that protection.

Penram was distracted by noises at the door. He turned to see what it was, in time to cacth sight of a man – a slave, he could see that, and Gondorian, too, by the looks of him - bursting in, flinging himself on Mir. Penram gasped and was ready to draw a step back, when he saw Merra making as if she was ready to head towards where the two figures were wrestling. What was she doing? Penram thought, swearing softly in an involuntary burst of irritation. He ran towards her, pulling her into a corner. Perhaps, if they managed not to draw attention to themselves, they would be left alone. What would happen to them afterwards, if their master died, was another matter. Penram felt Merra trembling and put his arms about her in an attempt both to protect and to comfort.

The man had let go of Mir by now, and his eyes had fallen on Penram and Merra. Penram felt his throat becoming dry. What was he going to do to them? He would surely not let them live, after they had just witnessed him attacking an important Easterling officer. The man seemed to take a step towards them, and Penram burst out then, in a desperate attempt to keep both him and his sister alive:

“No, don’t kill us!” he pleaded. It was most likely useless, and he knew it. People never listened to pleas. If anything, it enraged them even more. “We’re Gondorian, just like you! At least spare my sister. She will not betray you. She is only a child. She cannot even understand what is happening.”

That was a lie, and Penram knew it. Merra could understand everything very well. But it was the only thing he could think of that might determine the attacker to spare them.