Now or Never [Nida][June 3010]
Nov 3, 2017 13:57:39 GMT -5
Post by Amira on Nov 3, 2017 13:57:39 GMT -5
Whatever was going on, Nida could understand none of it. She looked between the orcs and Wyn, assessing the way their eyes were glinting as to what tone was being presented in the guttural, harsh tongue of Mordor. She had never taken to learning Black Speech when the orc were amongst the tribe in Near Harad. Though, a few terms she had learned: the one for chief, for they used it when the spoke to Maalik, the one for food, for that had nearly been all the uruk had demanded at all hours, and the one they used to refer to the Haradrim.
Nida’s eyes widened. They were speaking, and every once in a while, there was a single word she could start to pick out: Easterling.
She did not know the context, but whatever the tones suggested was certainly some kind of argument. The large one with the cleaver, Lug, was at some kind of square off with Wyn, and apparently it had something to do with her people. Keen upon the uptake, Nida sought to offer her assistance.
<“You speak of the Haradrim, and yet I know not your tongue,”> the woman said, the language that fell from her lips musical, and rich like herbs. It flowed like the sands of the land from which it hailed, and she knew neither Wyn, nor the uruk would understand. She was counting on it, using it as leverage to force the conversation back to Westron. As soon as she saw the confused looks of the uruk, she smiled, the motion strained and cold, and not touching her eyes.
“Perhaps we can speak plainly,” Nida drawled musically, back in the common tongue, though her chin maintained her dignified and lifted air. “I am afraid I have not learned the language of this land. You both speak of the Haradrim—I wish to know why.” Even as she spoke, though the woman was considering the way Wyn was standing, and the way the uruk were infighting. She had not known Wyn long, but Nida had become sound at reading when someone was lying. The slight hesitancy in the voice was enough for her to hear it. What lie could possibly save them that had to do with her people?
Nida's eyebrows raised faintly, and she looked Wyn from head to hem in faint disbelief. It could not possibly be...
And yet, it was the only thing that seemed like it might work. "Do you question our alliance? Chief Maalik has long signed over our people's arms to your cause," she drawled, looking back to the uruk pointedly. It had been many years since she had uttered his name aloud, and the sound of it nearly frightened her. Still, if Wyn was trying to somehow tie the two of them to the people that she had been taken from, the best way to feed such belief was to drop in as many specifics as she could manage. She only prayed the uruk here did not sense the fondness and familiarity around the chief's name.
Nida’s eyes widened. They were speaking, and every once in a while, there was a single word she could start to pick out: Easterling.
She did not know the context, but whatever the tones suggested was certainly some kind of argument. The large one with the cleaver, Lug, was at some kind of square off with Wyn, and apparently it had something to do with her people. Keen upon the uptake, Nida sought to offer her assistance.
<“You speak of the Haradrim, and yet I know not your tongue,”> the woman said, the language that fell from her lips musical, and rich like herbs. It flowed like the sands of the land from which it hailed, and she knew neither Wyn, nor the uruk would understand. She was counting on it, using it as leverage to force the conversation back to Westron. As soon as she saw the confused looks of the uruk, she smiled, the motion strained and cold, and not touching her eyes.
“Perhaps we can speak plainly,” Nida drawled musically, back in the common tongue, though her chin maintained her dignified and lifted air. “I am afraid I have not learned the language of this land. You both speak of the Haradrim—I wish to know why.” Even as she spoke, though the woman was considering the way Wyn was standing, and the way the uruk were infighting. She had not known Wyn long, but Nida had become sound at reading when someone was lying. The slight hesitancy in the voice was enough for her to hear it. What lie could possibly save them that had to do with her people?
Nida's eyebrows raised faintly, and she looked Wyn from head to hem in faint disbelief. It could not possibly be...
And yet, it was the only thing that seemed like it might work. "Do you question our alliance? Chief Maalik has long signed over our people's arms to your cause," she drawled, looking back to the uruk pointedly. It had been many years since she had uttered his name aloud, and the sound of it nearly frightened her. Still, if Wyn was trying to somehow tie the two of them to the people that she had been taken from, the best way to feed such belief was to drop in as many specifics as she could manage. She only prayed the uruk here did not sense the fondness and familiarity around the chief's name.