Mishek blinks, hurt. It seems entirely unfair to be blamed both for his height and for attempting to help, but alas, he's noticed that people are often not much invested in fairness. "I did stop on request," he points out, with little hope.
"Shush," Fidelja tells him. To the elf she adds firmly, "He wouldn't dare." The elf doesn't look convinced. To be fair, in Fidelja's experience Mishek has pretty much never been anything but daring, but the trick to calming down children is to project confidence about the situation. "Mish, go down the hall a little bit and--and check for pirates. Don't get hurt. And come right back!"
Mishek eyes his dwarf friend a moment, then decides she must have a plan and wanders down the hall. He doesn't go out of sight, but he checks the area for any danger and then lingers for a bit until it seems reasonable to return.
The elf watches the ent go, then leans down to talk to Fidelja. "How did you get here?" she asks. "You don't look like one of the pirates, they're all humans, and Earwen hates dwarves. Did you escape? Do you need help?"
"We came in with Hamfast," Fidelja says, indicating the cheerful green spider still hanging close. "Someone closed the docking bay doors on us when we showed up and Mishek and I--he's really okay, I promise--went out to see what was going on. Er. What is going on?"
"Uh, I don't really know," the elf says. "Like the defense system always kills all the pirates that try and attack us, like it microwaves them, but these guys, uh— mom said they just kept coming, and they're all dead, and someone had to be a necromancer or something? Because they just kept coming, and they dug through the hull, and we can't get ahold of Chief Executive Camriel, or Vice Executive Earwen, she's who hates dwarves, sorry—" the elf sniffles, "—you seem nice, sorry, but I don't know where mom is either!"
"Okay," Fidelja says. "Okay, we'll sort this out. I'm going to call my friend back now--he won't do any magic; I'll smack him if he does. But he's very good at dealing with pirates." She flags her welding arm at Mishek, where he's lurking like a very large, sad potted plant at the end of the hall. "We'll get you to Hamfast's and go look for your mom. But we don't know how your commune is laid out or where might be important places to go. You'll help us, right?"
Mishek strolls back to the dwarf-elf conference, which he trusts has reached a successful understanding. He nears in time to hear Fidelja's last question and looks at the elf inquiringly, making sure to stop a few steps away.
"I don't wanna go to Hamfast's, I want my mom!" the elf protests. "...but aunt Elien says I have to stick with everyone else. Um. I guess I should take you to her. Just don't tell here I found you guys so far out, okay?" The elf thinks for a minute, studying her shovel, then ventures hopefully, "...could I tell you where aunt Elien is and you don't tell her I found you at all? I really wanna go find my mom. I think she went this way."
