Farkas, Aela, Gillian, and Argis return, and there is much rejoicing. By Vilkas, who is overwhelmed. And rightly so. The situation with the captives is taking a turn for the truly strange.

*Title: lyrics from Speak, by Nickel Creek

"She said what?" Farkas sat on a bench in the Harbinger's quarters and smirked as he looked from Vilkas to Aela. "You're good at many things, brother, but the bow is not…well, you couldn't hit the wide end of a mammoth."

"Thanks." Vilkas frowned, turning a black-bladed dagger over in his hands. In the two days since they'd returned from the island, he'd scarce been able to put it down. He looked at the red and black markings. They were Daedric, that was certain, but the weapon seemed…wrong…somehow. Malevolent. Alive.

He shook his head a little, blinking as he looked from his brother to Aela. "She mistook me for someone else, that's all. Nothing strange about that. When she finally starts talking to us, maybe we can find out where they belong."

Aela looked down at her feet, her elbows resting on her knees and, like Vilkas, a dagger in her hands. Unlike Vilkas, she was itching to use hers. She'd just gotten back from Riften as they'd brought the woman into Jorrvaskr. And her child. Aela'd seen red since then. "What they've been through…it'll be a miracle if either of them speaks again. That stab wound in her gut...the scarring. Like they'd cut and healed her over and over, just to see what would happen. I don't…"

Vilkas nodded. "At least Danica and Arcadia were able to heal their physical wounds after they passed out. Emotional ones, well…" he drifted off, watching his brother's blue eyes stare blankly at the bedspread. This was going to be rough.

"I know you're watching me. It's fine," Farkas said, sniffing and turning to Aela. "You may not believe it, Huntress, but I wasn't always the silver-tongued devil I am now."

Aela threw a pillow at him. He ducked and threw it back at her.

"We don't like to talk about this, but I might have to, especially given the number I did on those conjurers," Vilkas grumbled. "Plus, our…experience might help."

Farkas leaned back against the wall and covered his eyes with his forearm. "Kodlak and another Companion, Jergen. They pulled us out of a necromancer's cage when we were four years old. Same age that little girl looks, if you ask me," he said, jerking his head back toward the room where they were staying. "They crushed those mages just like Vilkas did. I would have done the same in your position, brother." He sniffed again. "Between those two, Vignar, and Tilma, they pretty much raised us. Made us feel safe. But some things…" his voice broke. He lowered his arm and clenched his fists at his sides, his eyes still closed.

Aela looked from brother to brother, her palms outstretched. "Are you – why am I just now hearing this? We've been family – as good as – for what, twenty years?"

Vilkas rolled his eyes. "Really? Like you told us all about what happened in Riften? What's still happening? Where you -"

Aela waved her hand. "Fine, fine…point taken. But…now that you've opened it up, what happened?"

"We grew up," Vilkas said, looking back at the dagger and frowning. "Things got…better. But we had nightmares. I wet the bed. I'd wake up screaming, cold, and covered in piss, just like I was still in that cage. And Farkas…well, Farkas didn't speak for two years. Not one word. Not even to me," he said, smiling sadly at his brother.

"Shit's under the bridge, and we've come out the other side," Farkas rumbled, trying to smile back. "But yeah, I understand what they're going through. Not all my scars came from fighting, you know. What was done to us, what was done to them…the physical stuff stays around a long time. The emotional stuff never leaves you alo-" He broke off, and they stood up, weapons drawn. Footsteps pounded down the hallway.

The door slammed open and Gillian and Argis ran in. "What's going on?" She looked around, wide-eyed and out of breath. "Why are you all armed? Oh Gods, what happened? Is anyone hurt? What are Hert and Hern doing here?"

Vilkas sighed, more relieved than he wanted to admit at their return. He looked at her face, tanned and freckled from the Hammerfell sun, and smiled, sitting back down and motioning for the honeymooners to have a seat on the bed. "It's a long story…"

"Wait, she thought you…but you're terrible-"

"Yes, I know. I can't shoot. Is that really what you're taking away from this?" Vilkas huffed. "And then she passed out. We covered her up and started loading all the conjurers' stuff. Gill, you're not going to believe some of the – this kind of magic is far above my pay grade. Even the twins – the other twins – need help with it. If you can't sort it out…" he tilted his head to the side and bit his lip.

Gillian stared at him. "You're talking about Paarthurnax, aren't you? I suppose that's the logical answer. We certainly don't want to take this to Winterhold without knowing what we're up against. I trust most at the College, but…power's a heady thing, sorry to say."

Vilkas continued. "After about an hour, she woke up again, screaming. 'Madison, Madison…' over and over. She freaked out and knocked over the table, so we were all trying to calm her down in the mud, and finally, she crawled over to the cage. She snatched up the little girl and sat on the floor, holding her and crooning." Vilkas swallowed. "Nina and I watched her while the others finished gathering equipment. We loaded it on a boat and Brelyn pushed it to shore."

"How did you get everything, and them…how did you get them here?" Argis asked, pinching his neck with his hands and yawning. "Sorry, long day in a wagon over bumpy roads."

"We can go to the baths later," Gillian said, kissing his shoulder. She looked at Vilkas. "We can, right? Even though we technically live in Breezehome now?"

"Of course. It was easy convincing them to leave the island," Vilkas said. "Brelyn came back with the boat and she fairly jumped aboard. The little girl didn't wake up until we got back here, thank the Gods."

Farkas nodded. "When she opened her eyes upstairs, and looked around – the firepit, the swords everywhere, I've never seen such terror. But then she looked up at her mother, I'm guessing, and went back to sleep. Poor kid."

Vilkas sighed. "I'm betting that's the little girl's name. Madison. Not a name I've heard of," he said, looking to Gillian. "It's not Breton, is it?"

Gillian shrugged. "Could be. I mean, what's a name, really. My mother liked the way 'Julianos' sounded, and modified it a little so no one would know I was named for a god who I'm, quite honestly, nothing like," she smiled. "Her mother could have done the same with another person, or relative, or…deity. No idea. But you don't know hers? The woman's name, I mean."

Vilkas shook his head. "She won't talk to us. She nods and watches us as we talk to her. She seems to understand us, but she won't speak. She eats what we give her, and her lit – Madison is eating too. And they're wearing the clothes we gave them. But… we can't force it. I was hoping…"

Gillian groaned. "You want me to try to talk to a strange woman and child, don't you?"

Vilkas looked at Gillian with his lips slightly pursed. "Well, you are the least threatening of us in appearance. Which is ironic, given you're the most deadly. Well, maybe second to Aela," he grinned between the two redheads. "Maybe you could take a shot?"

"You could try bathing once in a while, boys," she said with a sigh. "And wearing something besides armor at home. That might be a little less threateni- hey!"

Farkas chuckled as the pillow he threw hit Gillian in the mouth. "I'll have you know no one complains about my cleanliness, Dragonborn. And I'm a teddy bear, like you've always said. Just…a six and a half foot tall teddy bear is still slightly scary."

Gillian narrowed her eyes. "You do look cleaner. What's going on with you?"

Farkas grinned. "I never kiss and tell."

"So they sent you to try, eh?" Hert smiled and stretched her skinny arms out for a hug as Gillian came around the corner. "Congratulations on your wedding, darling girl. I hope he knows how lucky he is. Is he here?"

"Good to see you both, and yes, he's here and he's a veritable paragon of a man," she said, grinning. "You'll meet him later; I think he's going for a bath now." She looked from Hert to Hern and back again. "Underground guard duty seems to suit you. How are you for food?"

Hern nodded. "We're fine. Last night was dark, no moons out. So, we accompanied two trainees on a mission to disturb a coven of ill-meaning witches. They appreciated being flown over Whiterun Hold more than I thought they might. The whelps, not the witches," he clarified, grinning at Gillian's surprise.

"That would have been something to see. Vampires and witches hurtling through the sky." She sighed and straightened her shoulders, knocking on the door. "Well, here goes nothing."

A childlike giggle sounded from inside, and Gillian opened the door just an inch or two. When she saw that both were dressed and awake, she slipped inside.

"Hello, Madison," she said, smiling at the little girl, cuddled with her mother on a fur-covered bed. "Hello," she said, inclining her head at the woman, noticing her arms tighten around her child. "I'm Gillian, one of the Companions. Vilkas and Farkas and Aela have been my friends for almost ten years. They told me what happened."

She swallowed, and noticed the woman was peering at her, almost like she was familiar, somehow. Well, she'd thought Vilkas was an archer, so… "I'm sorry," Gilly said, sitting down on a chair a few feet from the bed, "but do we know each other?"

The woman's gray eyes, large in her too-thin face, shuttered, and she clenched her hands. Madison fussed at her mother's arms. "Too tight, Mama," she said, wiggling around to look at Gillian.

"Where are you from?" Gillian decided not to talk about the island, or the mages. Now wasn't the time for a catharsis, she thought.

The woman's face crumpled, and she pressed her cheek into the back of the little girl's golden-brown head. Her own red-brown hair covered her pale face. After a deep breath, she raised back up, her eyes silvery with tears. She cleared her throat, and Gillian's heart leapt.

"We're…not from here," the woman said, her voice raspy. "I don't even know where here is, and…I'm not really sure I want to know. Until now, I couldn't begin to wrap my head around what this place might be…I'm still not sure I can, but Madison can't stay in this room forever, and…"

Her voice trailed off. Gillian waited a few minutes, marveling at the woman's accent. The way she pronounced her 'I's' and stretched her words. 'Here' became 'hee-ur.' 'Now' became 'nah-ow.' So unfamiliar. "You know, a few years ago, something awful happened to me. I was…well, my life was threatened, and I…locked myself in my room. Down the hall, in fact. I locked myself in and didn't come out for a month. And even then, Farkas…he had to pull me out."

She smiled and shook her head as the woman backed closer to the wall. "No, he won't do that to you. We'd already been friends for a long time, and he knew nothing else would make me come out of my shell. What I meant to say was this: what happened to me was nothing close to what…well," she said, watching Madison's brown eyes widen, "and I stayed in bed for a month and didn't speak to anyone. It's only been a few days for you. You're already handling all this better than I could have."

The woman swallowed, and tried to smile through her tears. She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, blowing Madison's hair into her face. The little girl giggled again.

Gillian stood up. "When you're ready, just open the door and let whoever's there know. They'll find me. I'll be here."

She placed a leather bag on the bed. "There's parchment in here, and charcoal for drawing. And some apples. It's not much, but…if you need anything else, please let us know." She smiled and waved goodbye, and left the room.

The woman gazed at the door as she held her daughter, humming an old lullaby she'd not thought of in years. And I'm crying again, she thought, swiping her eyes with the sleeve of the scratchy brown tunic they'd given her. Hand-woven linen, she was sure of it. And Madison's dress laced up the front. Leather laces. Their room was lit by honey-scented candles, and the blanket on the bed felt – and smelled – like real fur. She sighed, staring at the bag Gillian had left on the bed. Parchment and charcoal.

Madison turned to her mother and grinned, reaching her hand out to cup her cheek. "That lady was nice. Mama," she said, her lilting voice trembling. "Why are your eyes shiny? Are you feeling better now? I've been worried. Can you sing me that song about the fish and the stars?"

"I have you, sweet pea, so I'll be fine." She kissed the crown of Madison's head, musing on the ability of children to adapt to the strangest situations and demand only a song for their troubles. The great fist clenching her stomach slowly began to loosen its hold. "She was a nice lady, wasn't she?"

Lilah Singer cleared her throat and sang for her daughter. "Wynken, and Blynken, and Nod one night sailed off in a wooden shoe…"

Thank you to everyone who's reading this! Thanks to my reviewers and and those who've favorited/alerted. It continues to make my day.