Were you born in a cave now?
Do you live in a cage now?
If you burst into flame now
Would they call you a human being?
Her cloak was dark enough to blend her into the shadows of the cell. When a guard or a jailor came by, she was effortlessly unseen, which only further drove home the notion to Amathlan that she wasn't really there. But then she would step back out into the dim light and again he had to struggle with acceptance or denial, and it was usually the latter.
“How are you here?” He pressed softly in a question one such time. His own body shook from the cold of the cell, or maybe it was the dread of the answer that was coming. Either way, he was certain that his skin had turned to ice.
“Saruman is the jailor of Mordor,” she replies. “Though both places are awful.”
“...I heard the guards talking,” Amathlan says after a brief pause, his voice hoarse in a whisper. “They're going to move prisoners soon.”
She raised her head upon hearing that; for a moment, even in the poor light, he could see the way her lips drew tighter in worry. There were several moments of silence between them before she said, “Do not let them get you to the second location.”
“What?”
“If you are given the chance, Amathlan, get away!”
You must have known this was coming.
