Guinevere panted with effort as she trudged heavily uphill through the mud.  The substance was thick and the suction against his slender legs had already pulled away her shoes.  The heavy folds of her dress pulled back at her like a wet anchor, skirts and petticoats and soaked with the foul and greasy dirt.  Her goal of dry land seemed unreachable, as she felt herself slip back after each hard-won step.<br/><br/>The struggle seems endless, and the people ahead are not moving.  After minutes of struggle, she paused to catch her breath.  As soon as she stopped fighting the mud, she immediately noticed the yelling.  She frowned, that was Elvish.  She had hated learning that language when first exposed, it was so difficult, it was a tongue not meant for human throats.  But eventually she grew to love the musical language, with all its nuance and power.<br/><br/>"Hello!"  She yelled in Elvish, looking about to the left and to the right as she took her focus off the goal of solid ground for the first time since she spotted it.  "Hello!  A little help here please?"  She called, trying very hard not to betray her panic.  This of course caused her to inflect the shout in a supercilious tone of entitlement and command she had not intended.  Not that she didn't normally command people around like servants.  It was just that at this time she didn't entirely intend to do so.