As seen from the watchful eye of a common raven
Five more flightless ones came today, smoother than the three who cackle and kill stolen young. The two biggest kicked down the door, and there was a little yelling between the old ones and newcomers before the wretched Bella showed one of her truer faces. I was frightened, yes, but I remained perched in the window watching. If there was a fight there would be corpses, plenty of flesh for my kin and I.
And a fight there was. The woman elves made short work of the hag, the man longer work of the hound. Perched at a higher window, I witnessed the giant and the shimmering one discover the witches’ prey. The giant booted Offalia from the third floor with a mighty kick, to the dismay of her fast approaching mother, Morgatha. Die she did not, but even those cursed with dark power cannot fight forever. We ravens know of such things.
Lower then, back on my ground floor perch, I saw everything, then with a murmured word it was swallowed by darkness. With my head cocked to the side I heard the whine of a dying hound and the reshuffling of the survivors. The woman-elves didn’t have kind words for the man-elf as he fumbled in the dark but they had little time to titter. Morgatha arrived and drew them out, drew them right to her prone Offalia to beat her into another plane. We ravens know of such things.
I wonder if these strangers will perish today. The fight rages on, and my belly remains empty. We will see.
