He was willowy even for the Nandor, seeming taller than he was; his hands fluttered and curled restlessly like thin branches in the wind. His hair was long and aspen-white, his eyes grey-green and terrified.
“Why did you volunteer?” Was the first question the warlord asked him.“Because,” he laughed, high and reedy and without humor, “I’m a coward and I’m not built for the work you’ve put the other prisoners to. I’m not even of Lord Finrod’s household, I was visiting from the South when you… when the fortress…” he stuttered, pushing his hair behind one delicate ear. Unsure how to finish, he said “I’m not a soldier. I’m a beekeeper. I make candles. I… I don’t want to sleep in muddy straw again.”
*purrs resonantly*
This makes me very happy.
GLAD YOU APPROVE
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 