"You did that?"

"Yes. What happened when I did?"

"Stopped hurting. Everything stopped hurting. Barely can tell I'm here, without everything hurting."

It nods. "Are you going to kill me now?"

"If I let you up will you try to kill me?"

It takes a while to answer that. "I don't think I have to."

It doesn't run. It can barely walk. It sits up and then stands up and then looks around, presumably trying to see her. It starts absently clawing at its skin again.

She shows herself. Weapon in quarterstaff shape so she doesn't look threatening, if it decides that's relevant to its decisionmaking - she wants to know if it'll attack her after all. "Why are you doing that?"

"Can tell if I'm still here."

"You can see, and hear, can't you? Why do you need to scratch yourself to know you're here?"

"When you can't see, can't hear - don't you still know you're there, because you can feel your body hurting?"

"No. I don't hurt, when I'm not injured."

"Are you an Elf?"

"No. But I don't think they hurt when they're well either."

"I'm glad you're not an Elf," it says, and then sits down again.

"Why?"

"Have to kill Elves and hurt them. And take them back. But if I try that you'll kill me, so's good I don't have to try."

"Why do you have to kill and capture Elves, though?"

"Everyone has to."

"I don't," she points out.

It laughs at that, loudly. "You're not an orc."

"All right; so why do orcs have to?"

"We swear. Soon as we can talk. We swear to serve Melkor and hate Elves and kill them and hurt them and bring them back. You didn't swear, so you don't have to."