Pain.
She was aware of movement, and of having travelled a distance. This place did not feel familiar.
As she rose further into consciousness, the extent of the pain hit her. She could remember feeling the spear glancing off her bone, the shock of being pierced. The wound throbbed and a sharp pain shot through her body whenever she tried to move. With a sudden cold realization she knew she would not be able to walk for a while.
She had been prepared for pain, she told herself. She had been prepared to remain calm and think clearly, and use her own head to get away.
She just wished she had thought of being prepared for being utterly alone with no chance of escape...
No. She tried to push away the panic welling up inside her. I must not be afraid. Fear gives the shadow power over me. I shall not allow it.
Through half-closed eyes, she tried to get an idea of her surroundings without letting on she was awake. Stone floor, stone walls. She could not see much, but there was movement on her sides. The smell of rot, earth, orcs. Two orcs, watching her. She tried a tentative movement and found her hands were bound behind her back.
Extending her consciousness further, she tried to sense the creatures around. Two orcs, then a few groups of orcs. One with an aura of power surrounding him - that would be the leader of this group. A great stone building - not a temporary camp. She could not tell how high she was up, or how deep underground. But this was an orc base, that much was sure. If there were more prisoners, she could not sense them - dead or somewhere else.
Aware of muttered conversation, she strained her ears to hear the speech of the orcs. Yes - the same strange version of the Black Speech she had heard of these orcs in Moria. These were White Hand orcs. The ones she wanted to learn about. Well, she would have opportunity...
With that thought the dark wave of panic came back, and she struggled to keep it down.
Do not let them see you are awake. They do not know you can understand them yet, and any information you learn could be crucial. Try to concentrate on the language, even though the pain demands attention. Breathe... slowly...
The leader was approaching her now. Ah, inspecting the prisoner. She forced herself to lie still, make no movement, no sound.
"...bring her here."
The leader snorted. "Yes, and a good job you have done too, I am sure. If you have taken anything off the elf, you will be found out, and I will have your guts."
"We have not."
"And is that from a feeling of duty or fear, I wonder..." The leader chuckled. "Well then, let me see what pretty elfling you have brought me."
He stopped before the elf, seemingly unconcerned of her. Yes, Nimlith thought, I am no threat to him. He could have me killed if he wanted to. That he has not means he thinks to have use for me.
The great Orc distorted his ugly face to a grin.
"Do not think I am stupid."
He kneeled in front of the elf lying on the dirty stone floor.
"I know you are awake. I also know you understand my language. You have been listening to us since you woke up - oh, and do not think I did not know you were awake."
Through half-closed eyes, Nimlith watched the orc. Trying to ignore the pain in her leg took all her concentration, and she could barely focus on her enemy.
"I also suspect you intended to let yourself get captured, or you would have gotten away before the attack. Probably relying on your stinking elf-magic to escape once you had spied enough on us. Smart, smart..."
He chuckled.
"Only one thing I do not know. How can you run away if you have no use of... your leg?"
With a quick step, he grabbed a lance from the orc standing guard and prodded at the elf's open wound.
The pain was blinding. Nimlith did not attempt not to scream - she did not have the strength for it. Yet all that she managed was a silent, breathless scream.
The Orc waited for her to recover to resume his gloating. He seemed more patient than any of the Orcs Nimlith had met before - patient, smart and dangerous. Right at this moment, however, she had little appreciation for that fact.
"Maybe I shall remove the use of other parts too... later. For now, smart elfling, I have been... ordered" - he spat out the word - "not to damage you too much. Perhaps someone will want to know why an elf would ally with the plains-men. Perhaps someone would like to pay to have this elfling back, who is certainly a precious one."
He bent forward and leaned close to the elf's face. Nimlith forced herself to let her face remain impassive.
"Ah, still defiant. How sweet. You will talk to us too, later. Everyone has a weak point, and you do not look very strong, believe me."
His rough claws stroked the elf's golden hair, moving it from where it lay tangled on her face. His breath stank of rotten meat. Nimlith closed her eyes as his questing fingers found the silver circlet on her head.
The Orc hissed greedily. "And a pretty jewel! Perhaps this is an Elven lady, after all. Ah, who will pay more... my lord or yours, I wonder?"
With a yank, he removed the circlet, breaking its chain. This time Nimlith could not remain silent - a sigh escaped her and she opened her eyes again.
The Orc gloated. "Ah, so this means something to you, does it? Good. Good. Maybe I shall keep it. Maybe not. Depends on how cooperative you are."
He stood up, clutching the jewel in his fist. "We shall talk later."
Hissing a few commands to his guards, he exited the room. Nimlith had no strength left - she pressed her forehead against the cold stone floor and let the pain take hold of her.
