Most of the women he's grown up with were country folk. Hardy and sharp of wit, but pragmatic and even less educated than he (at least after his service with the Quartermaster). He'd never met a woman who had read or attended plays, much less foreign ones. At least, he'd never met one that didn't immediately look passed him for his humble origins. It was odd having one for a travel companion, but not unwelcome, he realized. Even if he didn't understand the appeal of gaudy actors up on stage. 

He blinked when she spoke of the eyes, and he turned to gaze around the room. "I don't know," he said. He almost found himself embarrassed of those words being his every other sentence, but this was something he'd never seen before. This place was obviously Elven, but he'd never heard of Elves living in the Old World. He'd thought only the Dwarfs made refuge here. The only tales of Middle Mountains he had heard were of Orcs and Goblins, and those tales seemed all too real now. The lack of eyes was disturbing enough, but the scratch marks along the eyelids brought a cold chill up his spin.

He saw Camilla jump a bit, and he wasn't surprised she was frightened. It took him a moment to realize her intake of air was suddenly halted. "Camilla?" He asked, and when she didn't, couldn't, answer, he leaped to his feet. "[i]Norscan's balls[/i], ok Camilla hold still!" he ordered, and he wrapped his powerful arms around her waist. He kept her steady, and then suddenly pressed into her lower abdomen. Nothing. He did it again, and the second time shot the jerky out of her throat and onto the floor. 

When he heard her gasps, he breathed a sigh of relief. "You ok?" He breathed in her ear. And he thought he'd have to worry about Orcs. This woman gave him enough worry, it seemed. 
[@Penny]