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[Envinyatar]

‘They like wine, you know. He added a ‘sir’, just in case Skaibad took offense at his lengthy conversation. ‘Very fond of it, in fact. Or so I’ve smelled when ever they breathe their filthy air out.’ He wiped his nose with the hem of his cape.

‘Like it so much, they drink it til it makes them fall down sleeping.’ He pointed his crusted chin at the small casks stacked at the back of the cave. ‘If you was to order me, and I would be eager to please such a leader as you, I would take the stinking hulks what guards him a cask of it with your compliments . . . friendly like. Tonight, when most of them are sleeping anyway.’ He picked a piece of rabbit jerky from his teeth with a ragged, blackened nail.

‘They think old Nozhdrul’s harmless. Simple minded. Don’t know nothing.’ He smiled, a ghastly rictus inhabiting his face. ‘They thinks I can’t hear when they talk. But I can. And I can smell the stink of their fear and the nervousness when Orcs are near them.’ He drew his bony, scabrous knees up to his chin and drew the cape tight around him. ‘They have to sleep sometime. They're Men and weak like that.’

He looked toward Skaibad. ‘I could help them if you wanted. Then you could talk to the prisoner.’ He raised his nose and sniffed the air, his hairy brow furrowing. ‘He’s the only calm one. He’s waiting, you know . . .’

[ February 11, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]