Thank you Elfie for typing this up for me. You're a great mate.

=================

"And that's what happened." Peter was explaining to everyone that had happened that day.

"So, Nis just………… fell over?" Blaise asked. "Why?"

"Does it really matter?!" Ebony snapped. She stood up and paced the room. "While we're here talking, Chris is being held captive by some psycho freak!"

"Eb, calm down." Freja got up and put a hand on the faerie/pixie's shoulder. "We have no idea where Chrissie and that person said they'll only contact again if Nissa tried the Pass."

"Why would they want Nis to try the Pass?" Simon queried. Peter shrugged.

"Who knows?" he said. "Some sort of revenge? Nissa has some powerful enemies. We're dealing with a sick mind here." Blaise suddenly looked confused.

"But I thought it was the law that Nobby had to give three weeks notice before he visits," she said.

"There are minds sicker than Corporal Nobbs, B, and we're dealing with one," said Peter. A horrified look occupied Blaise's face.

"Oh my gods," she whispered.

~*~

Chrissie woke up and reality was worse than her nightmares. She was freezing. Sleeping on a cold and damp floor made out of roughly hewn stone was definitely not a good idea. She pulled herself into a sitting position, despite the throbbing pain in her stomach. 'Damn,' she thought. 'They kicked me, didn't they?' Chrissie looked about her. It looked like she was in some sort of dungeon. There were rusted chains against the far wall and she could hear the drip-drip of water from far away. The only light that entered that dark place came from a grate in the wall, high above, where she could see the blue sky, and from a barred window in the door, from which a faint, flickering, orange candlelight was emitted. Chrissie decided to make her way over to the door to see if there was any way she could make an escape.

The captive managed to crawl towards the light, and as she did, she thought she could smell something like rotting plants. Her nose wrinkled, it was very overpowering.

She reached the door and pulled herself up to peer through the bars. So there was a reason for that stench. A Gnoll was coming out of one of the cells opposite hers. It definitely wasn't the person who she saw last night, it must be a minion.

The Gnoll slammed the large, heavy door shut and shouted through the grate to whoever was being held within:

"And any more of your cheek and I'll rip out those pretty little eyes of yours and eat them in front of you!!!" The Gnoll shuffled off down the corridor, he didn't look in Chrissie's direction, which was definitely a good thing. She allowed herself to slide to the floor, her back against the door.

"Come on, Chrissie, think! You need to find a way out of this mess!" she whispered to herself. The Elf shut her eyes and rested her forehead against her knees. This all looked completely hopeless.

"Aww, don't give up hope," said a voice that came from nowhere. Chrissie jerked her head up and immediately regretted it.

"Who's there?" she moaned, secretly wondering if she lost her mind altogether.

"You're not losing your mind," the disembodied voice soothed, "it's just that you think so loudly that anyone could hear, anyone with good hearing at least. As to who I am, just have a little peek out of your little door window thing." Chrissie groaned but pulled herself up to look. She was surprised to see a face at the grate in the door that the Gnoll had come through. She was even more surprised to see that the face looked like it belonged to an Orc. However, she was surprised the most by the creature's eyes. They were large and bright blue. This wasn't really unusual in itself, what was unusual was the expression they contained. Soulful and melancholy, the eyes of someone who had seen many terrible things and suffered much but still carried on regardless. No Orc's eyes were like that. The captive smiled at Chrissie.

"Hello fellow person-imprisoned-for-no-good-reason. What's your name then?"

"Chrissie." The Elf shook her head, there was something not right about this whole affair. Whoever this person was had a pleasant voice with a lyrical way of talking that sounded like he would be a good singer. It was a well known fact that Orcs, when they sang, sounded like a pack of hyenas devouring alive some sort of small dinosaur. This person had an educated voice and even the 'nice' Orcs didn't get any schooling. In a race of people whose currency is teeth, being able to read and write is pretty much considered a party trick.

"Who are you?" she asked him. The orcish male's smile grew sad.

"What doe it matter anymore?" he replied sadly. "I've been here so long, it doesn't really matter who I am." He looked so sad.

"How long have you been here?" she said. He seemed to shrug.

"Dunno. Three, may be four months. You loose track of time after a while."

"Four months?!?!" she cried. She was horrified.

"About that."

"What did you do to be put in here?"

"Nothing, I was just coming home from a party when I got hacked over the head from behind. When I woke up I was here, and I-" He seemed to think that he had said too much and clammed up. Something else was bothering Chrissie, so she decided to ask him straight out.

"You could hear my thoughts. That means you're magical. And Orc's don't use magic at all. They're one of the most unmagical creatures in the whole multi-verse. So I'm thinking that you're not an Orc. What are you really?" His shoulders sagged.

"Like I said, it doesn't matter anymore. Besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Let's just say I'm more than what I appear to be."

"I gathered that," she replied. "But will you at least tell me your name?"

"The jailers call me Rusva." Chrissie mentally started at this, for Rusva was the Elvish for 'broken'.

"Is that what you want me to call you?"

"One name is as good as another, Chrissie, you can call me that."

"Oh, will you stop being so depressed?!" She was starting to lose her patience at just how much this whatever-he-was was down. Chrissie moved away from the gap and leant her back against the door again. She was scowling but inside a seed of panic was starting to grow out of control. Rusva had been here for three or four months. How long would she be in this place? Would she ever see the ones she loved again?"

"Chrissie?" Rusva's voice called softly. "Chrissie, please come back. I'm sorry for being so down, it's just you reminded me of what my life was like before I was brought here and I can't help feeling sad about it."

"I guess that's understandable." She came back to the window. Rusva smiled warmly in relief at her reappearance. Despite his hideous features, it was a warm and pleasant smile.

"It's nice to have someone to talk to," he said. Much to her surprise, Chrissie found herself smiling back.