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As you trek across the prairie, under the moon and starlit night, keeping to the tallest grasses that hide you head to toe, you finally can think clearly. Free of the iron chains, away from the foul-smelling pen with its lonely and weak sapling, you are an elf in the wilderness once again.
The memories of the previous months run through your mind. The beatings and loneliness were bad. Watching the dorf and not being able to talk to him was worse. Even worse than this was when the soil needed to be deeper, and the orcs would throw the mangled corpses across the land and force you to decompose them overnight, until not even the wolves and buzzards would deign to touch them. Watching those human and goblin faces - some of them those of children - dissapearing into piles of overgrown mulch by your own hand...
The orcs made you plant trees that grew quickly and bore fruits and flowers, the kind that would attract animals quickly and make the soil enrich faster. It was all very clever, very well thought out. Chezzgig and his fellows had no idea of this, as far as you could tell. Whatever master they served, he must be far more learned in the ways of life and death than any orc.
You think then of home, but do not allow yourself to cry. No, home later. For now, only the road, and the immediate future.
Good night, elegan/t/ /g/entlemen. Elf Slave; Wut Do? will return tomorrow evening at nine o'clock PM, 4chan time. In the meantime, feel free to decide whether or not we'll approach the goblins next time.