"No…" She mumbled. "You can't be real." Her eyes were glassy and out of focus. "Artemis is at home. With his family." Her eyes were half-lidded now; unblinking. Her body mostly unresponsive and cold. Artemis shook her slim shoulders gently and called her name again. This seemed to wake her a little more. She blinked. "A-Artemis?" She whispered, her words slurred and cracked.
"Yes, Holly. We came for you." He said, not trusting himself to say more without his voice breaking. She was in such a pitiful state, it was hard for once for Artemis to hold back the tide of emotions. Her face was ashen, not only from the dirty cell, but from her debilitating illness. Her clothes were unrecognizable - a bloodstained, torn LEP jumpsuit and one boot. The bare foot was cut and bruised as was the rest of her exposed skin. Her hands were rough, cracked and dry, as were her lips and face. Her hair was torn out in places and smeared with dirt and blood. Artemis felt his anger rise at the sight of her injuries.
"Good." She whispered roughly, and closed her eyes. Her head lolled to one side, revealing a long slash on her neck. Artemis examined it and realized that it stretched down over her shoulder. He gently rolled the elf's tiny body over and was shocked to find evidence of whip lashings. Her jumpsuit was ripped open in half a dozen places and painful cracked scabs oozed blood at the movement. The ground under her body was bloodstained. Reluctant to touch the injuries, Artemis did what he could to make her comfortable until Butler and Foaly arrived. He took off his jacket, balled it up and stuck it under her head. She seemed to be breathing better on her side.
He opened his small backpack and looked at the meager first aid supplies he had brought. Butler had the main supply with him, including sutures and large amounts of gauze and cleansing solution. Artemis had some antibiotic cream, bandaids, and a small bottle of saline rinse. He used his bottle of water and an extra shirt to clean some of the grime off of her face and around the ugly slash on her neck. He was beginning to irrigate the wounds on her back when he heard Butler's heavy footsteps and the clip-clop of Foaly's hooves.
Artemis took a moment to look around the enclosure. It was a typical archaic prison cell, and a very dark one at that. The only light in the room came from the flashlight he had brought with him. The door to the cell was solid and there were no windows. The ceiling was low, even for a fairy dwelling. It seemed more suitable for a doghouse than a dwelling place. She was not chained. The door was only held by a cheap human lock, yet there was no fear of her escaping, not with such horrific whip lashes on her back and with pneumonia. How he wished the acorn he'd brought could help her!
"So this is where they hid her." Foaly muttered darkly. "So old even I didn't know about it. This has to have been a fairy dungeon from 6000 years ago at least." The space was too small for all three rescuers to fit inside. Butler wrapped Holly's limp body in a large clean towel and lifted her out of the prison cell where she had been confined for the past two weeks. They walked down the deserted passageway and out into the rainy Irish afternoon. A short walk brought them to Tara, but they didn't stop there. They did not return to the center of the earth, from whence they came, but instead turned toward a large mansion on a nearby hill. It was the only safe place for them now.
(A/N: This story began as a rogue plot bunny. It seems to be mutating into a mystery fic. A flashback explaining the situation is in your near future.)