Day 3

Consciousness slowly returned to Aewen, though her mind was still very foggy. She was so comfortable and warm, and for a moment she thought she was back in her own bed in Minas Anor. But as she became more aware, and her memory returned, she remembered that she was not in her own bed, but in the hard cold cell. So why was she so comfortable and warm?

She opened her eyes with a snap and lifted her head slightly. She was in the elf's arms! Resting against him! Why? True, she had let him hold her for a moment the day before, but that was because she desperately needed a bit of comfort. She needed none of that comfort now. "Eh…" she whimpered softly, trying to sit up, but his arms were holding her to him.

Nestad's eyes snapped into focus as Aewen's whimper and her motion awoke him. "Sorry," he murmured, lifting his arms and letting her sit up fully. "It was cold last night," he explained, trying to wake up and make a plausible excuse at once.

Aewen sat up and rubbed her arms. "Thank you," she said, her voice very soft and her cheeks reddening.

Nestad bit his lip, not letting the phrase, 'My pleasure' slip out, though it was true. "Not a problem," he said gruffly-and an elf sounding gruff is an amusing sound. "They should warm these things, or provide blankets," he added.

"Yes, they should," Aewen said. "They must want their slaves to catch their death of cold."

"Sickness used to be the way they dominated over the slaves," Nestad pointed out. "If they were too weak to fight, then all was well." He was glad the subject had steered away from him holding her through the night.

Aewen eased herself to her feet and walked around a bit to stretch her legs and loosen her aching muscles. "I'm starving," she said. "They didn't feed us an evening meal. Do they always do that?"

"I think that if we had returned here immediately, we would have gotten a meal," Nestad replied. "I suppose that because I decided to be unconventional, they chose to deny us food." He didn't mind; the knowledge that the girl he'd healed would live through the week made it worth it.

Aewen dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to rub out the sleep that still clung stubbornly to her. "Nestad? Have you ever thought about trying to escape from this place?" she asked.

"Often," the elf replied, looking up at her as she paced. "Thus far, nothing's presented itself."

"There's go to be a way," she said, rubbing her hand on the back of her neck while she rotated her head from side to side and up and down. "There's got to be a way…."

"I am sure there is," he said. "There usually is. The question I have been faced with is this: how many innocents must die so I can be free?"

Aewen looked down at him and stopped pacing. "Hm…" She thought of all those sick and injured people, and the girls in the 'whore pits.' They would all die without Nestad's help. So what did that mean? That there was no hope for escape, even if the perfect chance presented itself? She didn't know if she could be that loyal to the other slaves if freedom was offered to her, silver platter or no.

"It is a constant paradox, the role of the warrior healer," Nestad remarked quietly. "Taking life is so much easier than giving health, but in order to balance out, the healer must give life when he can."

"And what of me?" she asked softly, looking down at the floor. "What are simple maidens to do?"

A corner of his mouth curled up. "Ah, that you were a simple maid, my lass," he said quietly. "As what you are, you live life on the edge too, between holding your head high and loving those below you as you must. Mayhap there are not life-and-death choices everyday, but you are no different than me."

"Hmm…" She considered that as she sat back down next to him. "Maybe you're right," she said. "And I know…after seeing all those suffering yesterday…how can I turn my back on them now? I don't think I would be able to." She glanced up at him, guessing that he knew what she meant.

Nestad nodded. He did. It had been the same for him when he first came. Now…well, he certainly didn't want to live here, never! But if there was a chance all the slaves could be freed as he took his freedom, that's the option he would chose in a heartbeat.

Aewen sat in silence for a while, trying to figure out her own feelings on matters. She wanted to be free so badly. But she wanted every other slave to go free as well. How would it be in the end? Maybe they would all just die there together. That was a horrible thought, but probably the most true.

"It is never as cut-and-dried for us as it is for others," Nestad murmured quietly, looking at her.

Aewen shook her head. "No…it never was," she said softly. "The privileges of the privileged."

Nestad chuckled. "Whenever people use that phrase, I laugh and laugh. Sometimes, I'm able to stop before they edge away muttering something about calming drinks. It is a privilege to be able to heal people, but it exacts its toll daily."

Aewen smiled slightly and stared down at her hands. "At least you do something you enjoy," she said. "And you had a choice, didn't you? You had a choice about who you would become in your life."

"Mmm…in a manner of speaking. My father was a healer, and his father's father. Our family has always had the healing power strongly. I was expected to become a healer. I made the choice to join the Guard, so in that respect, yes, I chose my life."

"I had no such choice," she said softly, still looking at her hands. "I was born in a certain position, and obligated to remain there for the rest of my life. I don't have a choice about my life, Master Elf."

Nestad bent so he was looking into her eyes. "Then do your position proud," he replied very quietly. "You are in a rare place to help many. Do not let it slip by unchecked or unheeded." He meant both the current situation and in her life in general.

She looked up at him, biting her lip slightly. She swallowed and then nodded. She understood him, and agreed with him. But that didn't make her position any easier to bear.

The healer gently touched the side of the maid's face before straightening fully. "One consolation about being here," he pointed out. "You do not have to think about your position, at least in terms of responsibility."

She shook her head. "No, I guess not," she agreed. "But if they only knew who I was…" she said softly, as if to herself.

Nestad shivered. "Why do you think I have corrected all behavior that might give you away?" he asked. "The thought that they might even consider you a member of the noble class is too frightening to think on."

"It's worse than that…" Aewen said, glancing up at him. Then she looked away again, falling silent.

The healer arched a dark eyebrow. "If you would care to elaborate, I would be glad to understand what you meant by that statement," he said after a moment's silence.

Aewen didn't look at him, nor did she speak. She was warring within herself about whether she should tell him who she really was. She had sworn that she would tell no one in her captivity. But…she had not counted on meeting a friend.

Nestad waited, his arms draped casually over his bent knees. He could sense the war in his young friend, and wondered at the secret she held that forced her to struggle so fiercely over telling him.

"I'm not ready to tell…" she said softly, staring intently at the floor. "I'm sorry. I swore to myself that I would not tell a soul…"

"Then it shall be," Nestad said gently. "It must be highly important. Until you are ready to tell me, I will not press you." He smiled. "So fear not." He might have said more, but his sharp ears caught the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. "Here we go again," he murmured, rising to his feet.

Aewen stayed sitting on the floor, and feeling anxiety again in the pit of her stomach. She hated this. She had been there for only one full day and a half, and still…she was wondering when it would end.

The guards entered with a clatter and tossed the elf and the maid their food, watching as Nestad gave Aewen the larger share. "You should eat while you can," he murmured when he realized the guards weren't going to leave. "Lunchtime is a long time in coming, and you did not have dinner."

Aewen nodded and gladly ate the stale bread. She was very hungry. Her stomach had been bothering her since the night before. "What are they doing?" she whispered to Nestad, while looking at the all guards.

"I do not know," Nestad replied just as quietly before taking a quick bite of his bread, chewing and swallowing. "But I do not like it." He wasn't entirely aware of saying that aloud; he was just voicing his thoughts.

Aewen finished her bread, and then just sat there watching the men warily. A couple of them gave her suggestive glances, but she ignored them. Why were they just standing there, not saying anything? Were they waiting for something?

Nestad finished his bread a moment later and fixed his sapphire gaze on the guards. "Something for you?" he inquired mildly.

"We was ordered to wait in here until ye finished, then bring you straight to work," the leader replied, uncowed by the elf's mild manner. "Best not give us any trouble," he added threateningly.

Aewen sighed softly. So they would go work again today. Nearly all she could think about was a bed, and it didn't even have to be soft.

"Why would we give you trouble?" Nestad asked, his whole manner projecting injured innocence. That drew a snort from every guard in the cell, and the healer smiled, remembering the bruises and marks he'd left on all of them before Aewen's arrival.

"Be that as it may, it's time to go to work," the leader said, motioning with his crossbow at Aewen. "Get your whore up."

Aewen narrowed her eyes and glared at the man, but figured it would be wisest not to say anything. She didn't move, refusing to respond to anyone who called her a whore.

Nestad sighed. "And here I thought I'd straightened this out yesterday," he said. "I have not touched her." Turning his back deliberately on the soldiers, he knelt beside Aewen. "Time for work," he murmured. "Are you feeling up to it?"

She scoffed slightly. "Do I really have a choice?" she said.

"No, not really. But I find it nice to try and make it sound like you do." Lowering his voice even further, he continued, "Ignore them. Every woman who comes through here is a whore in their eyes, no matter how honorable or beautiful. They can find no better insult."

She nodded. "I know," she said just as softly. "I'm trying."

Nestad smiled encouragingly. "That's my girl," he said gently. Rising, he offered her his hand. "Duty calls," he said in a mock-resigned voice. Truth be told, he preferred work to being stuck so far underground all the time; at least at work, he was outside some of the time.

Aewen noticed how he called her 'my girl.' What did that mean? She shrugged it aside as she took his hand and then followed him. After getting their arm restraints changed out, they were led up to the surface. It was late morning, and the dew was still on the grass. The air was fresh and smelled clean. Aewen drew a deep breath of it just to refresh herself.

The guards didn't allow them a pause, but the healer took several deep breaths of the new morning air himself, enjoying the tang in the back of his throat. It was a welcome change from the stale air in the cell. He loved this time of day; he always felt new-born, seeing the world with fresh eyes and enjoying every moment of it. He'd always liked this time best, even in Mirkwood.

Aewen looked up at him and admired the way he looked enjoying the morning. She really had a hard time not always noticing how perfect he looked. But of course, he was an elf. That was the reason. Elves definitely were blessed.

Oblivious to Aewen's gaze, Nestad began humming, then singing in soft Elvish. The song was as old as the forest of Mirkwood, and praised the sun's rising. Like most Elvish songs, it was mixed with sorrow: the rising of the sun always signified the rising of the human race and the decline of the elven race. But there was hope too, the memory of Valinor passed from parent to child to support them in hard times.

Aewen listened intently to his song, almost enraptured by his soft, soothing voice. She had never heard anyone sing so beautifully before. She didn't even notice the time going by, nor the distance, and suddenly they were at the tents, and the spell that had been weaving about her dissipated.

Nestad's song finished just as they reached the tent, breaking the spell that had fallen on the small company with a soft sigh. "Sunrise is my favorite time," he commented to Aewen. "It is almost magical, rivaling even the star-filled night sky."

Aewen was still gazing at him, and all she could do was nod in complete agreement.

Nestad looked down at her and felt immediately self-conscious. "Did I hit a flat note?" he asked teasingly, hiding his fear that she hadn't liked his song well.

In that moment she realized she was looking at him still, and she glanced away quickly, her cheeks reddening. "No-no, not at all," she assured him quickly. "It was perfect…"

"Perfect may be overstating it," the elf demurred as he held the tent flap open for her. "I just love to sing." He smiled sadly. "Like a bird caught in a cage," he murmured.

"Don't," she said, stepping into the tent. "That image is too sad. Birds should be free."

Nestad nodded his agreement as he followed her. He refrained from adding his thought: 'So should humans and elves.' He didn't say it, as it would cast a pall over the beautiful morning.

Aewen turned and looked around the tent, only to discover that all the beds were empty but one. This bed held a man who was trembling violently from fever.

"Today may be easy after all," Nestad murmured, observing the same thing. "One moment…" He walked over to the man and touched his shoulder, closing his eyes and searching out the root of the disease. It was astonishingly easy to eradicate; it must have just started rearing its head that morning. A few minutes were all it took.

Aewen watched him work, and when he was finished she looked at him in mild surprise. "That's it?" she said. "You're done? Now what?"

The man left the tent and Nestad smiled slightly. "Now you can catch up on your sleep while I work on paperwork," he said, heading for a small desk. "There are usually a couple days like this."

"Paperwork?" Aewen asked. "What sort of paperwork is there to do here?" She sat down on the closest bed.

"Reports on the diseases and wounds I treat," the elf said, pulling a small notebook out of a drawer. Had Aewen cared to notice the day before, he had been constantly scribbling in it, making notes on different things. "Supply lists. That sort of thing."

"Oh…" Aewen nodded. "And, may I really lie down and take a nap?" she asked, thinking that it was too good to be true.

"Yes, you may really take a nap on one of these…" the elf pretended to think. "Ah, yes. One of these 'rather comfortable beds'."

Aewen giggled, and then flopped back onto the pillow. "They are rather comfortable," she said. "At least compared with that stone floor."

"M'lass, compared to that floor, a dirt floor would be more comfortable." The healer smiled as he set to work on his paperwork.

"Yes…" Aewen mused softly. And then her eyes drifted shut, and she was asleep in less than a minute.

Nestad paused a moment to draw the cover up over the sleeping maiden and admire her sleeping face in proper light. She looked so innocent, endearing and beguiling even in sleep. He sighed and turned back to his papers.

It was nearly and hour later before any disturbance came into the tent. And when it did, it came in as a storm. Three guards came in front, and four archers behind. The leader saw Aewen lying in the bed. He pointed her out to the others. "There she is," he said. "Take her to the commander's tent."

Nestad was on his feet in a trice, nearly spilling his ink. "What do you want with her?" he demanded, standing protectively in front of Aewen's bed.

The archers at once raised their bows, knocking arrows. The leader glared at the elf. "Stand aside, elf," he said. "The commander wants to have a word with her, that's all. You'll see her again."

Nestad's arm hair stood on edge at those words. He could remember the look of lust the commander had rested on the slim, fair maiden. It would be worse if she were alone. His muscles tensed as he said, "I am afraid I cannot allow you to take my assistant."

"Stand aside, elf," the man repeated. "Or I will order my men to fire. They shoot to kill, and the commander has given us his permission to do so."

The healer glanced behind himself at Aewen. How could he let someone so sweetly innocent be taken to the commander alone? But what good would he do her if he were dead? Deciding, he bent and touched the maid's arm. "Aewen," he murmured.

It took a moment before she responded, since she was so deep in her sleep. But finally she opened her eyes and looked up at him. She was about to smile when she saw the expression on his face. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Not for the first time, Nestad wished Aewen spoke fluent Elvish. That would make things a lot easier. "Warriors have come to take you to the commander," he said very quietly, bending so he was speaking next to her ear.

Aewen glanced to the side and saw the archers, their arrows trained on Nestad's back. She felt fear clutch her heart at once and she looked at him with a terrified expression, shaking her head and gripping his hand tightly.

Nestad bit his lip hard enough to break the skin when he saw her terror. He gathered her into his arms and held her for a brief moment, passing peace and strength to her in spades. "There is naught I can do," he whispered in her ear. "I pray the Valar's protection over you."

This time she could not hold back a couple tears that trailed down her face as she clung to him. She didn't speak. What was there to say? Dread was descending on her like a black cloud.

A sword tip prodded Nestad's back. "Don't make this difficult, elf," warned the leader. "You will be the one paying the price."

Nestad didn't care about taking the price himself; it was the fact that they would make Aewen's life a living hell that made him release the maid after a second's hesitation. "Ná Elbereth veria le," he whispered. May Elbereth protect you.

Aewen stared up at the elf, tears streaming down her face. She had never been so afraid in her life. She could face down a whole group of orcs without feeling a bit of fear…but the idea that she would have to spend time with that commander terrified her more than anything.

"Is there no way that I can come?" Nestad asked the leader, not taking his eyes off Aewen's tear-streaked face.

"No, you must stay here," the guard said. "There is a wain full of wounded coming up from the lower field. They will be here in a few minutes. Now, get up, woman, let's go."

Nestad swore under his breath as he reached down to help Aewen up. "Take my strength with you," he said, his voice allowing no argument. "You will need everything you can get."

"I'll take any part of you with me that I can," she whispered, not wishing to let him go.

Nestad slipped into Elvish, not trusting what he wanted to say to Common. "Then take my love," he murmured in his native tongue, holding her tight for a moment longer.

"Enough of this," the commander said, using his sharp sword to pry them apart. "Come peaceably, woman, and there will be no trouble."

Aewen gave a soft whimper when she was pulled away from him, and a quiet sob escaped her throat. She watched him as she was led away, not knowing if she would ever see him again.

Nestad followed them as far as the door, bracing a hand against the rolled flaps as he watched them go. Only when the tents blocked his line of sight did he allow the tears misting his vision to fall. "My sweet, innocent lass," he whispered, turning away from the door and getting ready for the new wounded mindlessly, "in the hands of that womanizing commander. Valar, have you no mercy?"

Aewen was led into a part of the grounds that she hadn't seen yet. It seemed to be a military camp of some kind. By the time her guards brought her to the door of a particular tent, Aewen had managed to regain some of her composure. At least she wasn't crying anymore. But there was nothing she could do about the fear that showed plainly in her eyes. The leader of the men knocked on the doorpost of the tent. "Commander, we brought her," he announced.

The commander, a tall, lean man by the name of Rafied, rose from his seat at his desk as he said, "Bring her in, then."

Aewen was pushed rudely into the tent so that she fell nearly flat on her face, but managed to catch herself, and only fell to her hands and knees. There she remained, not daring to look up at the man who would most likely be her doom.

"Tsk," Rafied said, looking down at the kneeling woman. "Those guards simply do not know how to treat a woman, do they?" He crouched and caught her chin in his hand, making her look up at him.

Aewen tried to cringe away from his touch, and she closed her eyes.

"What is your name, girl?" Rafied asked, holding tightly to her pointed chin.

Aewen cried out softly, since he was causing her some pain from his strong grip. But she didn't answer him.

"I asked you a question, girl. Don't think I will hesitate to hurt you if you prove stubborn."

But Aewen still did not speak. 'Go ahead and hurt me,' she thought. 'Anything would be better than submitting to you.'

Using his grip on her chin as a lever, Rafied forced her head up, examining her neck and sides of her head, murmuring something in his language. "You really are quite beautiful. I can see why the healer wants to keep you for himself."

Aewen avoided his gaze and stifled the sob that wanted to escape her throat. She would endure this, whatever he had planned for her; she would endure it. She had to remain strong.

"What, not afraid, are you?" The commander smiled, releasing her chin. "Good. You should fear me, girl."

Aewen still didn't speak. She would never tell him that she was terrified of him. And she would never give her will to him. She was her own person. He would not break her.

Rafied turned away. "Get up, girl," he said. "Servile groveling has its place, but not now."

Aewen stood shakily to her feet. And then she just stood there, unmoving, waiting for what he would say or do next, while she tried to turn her thoughts towards Nestad and the strength that he had given her.

Back in the healer tent, Nestad was going frantic. No one would have been able to tell by just looking at him: he still teased the children gently and talked soothingly to everyone else. But inwardly, he was tearing his hair out by the roots. His thoughts kept turning to Aewen, alone with that beast.

The commander circled the maid slowly, appraising her from every angle. "Interesting," he finally mused aloud.

Aewen looked up finally and met his eyes. "What's so interesting?" she asked, speaking for the first time.

"Your clothes say 'Gondorian maidservant', yet your entire manner says 'nobility'. I wonder which is accurate." The commander stopped in front of Aewen, staring at her steadily.

Aewen quickly looked away, casting her gaze to the floor. "I am a servant, sir," she said softly.

"Mm." His voice was noncommittal. "And are elves always so protective of mere servants, I wonder? Oh, but that must be because of your exceptional beauty."

"I don't know why he is so kind to me," she said softly. "We were put in the same cell…you will have to ask him, sir."

"And rest assured that I shall. But enough time for that later." He rested a hand on her shoulder and brushed her long hair to one side.

Aewen suppressed a shudder. She closed her eyes and turned her head away slightly, completely repulsed by his touch. But she didn't move otherwise.

"So tense," he crooned, moving to stand behind her and rest both hands on her shoulders. "Really, I don't know why women try resisting. I have my way with them, easy or hard."

Aewen felt her throat tightening with some of the same fear she had felt when the guards first came to get her. She had never been with a man before, and this was not her idea of a first experience. Somehow she had to keep him off her. She didn't respond to his words, and continued to keep her face turned from him.

"What? Not speaking to me? What a shame, you have such a lovely voice." The commander let one hand slide down her arm to close around her slender wrist like a fetter.

Aewen's heart was pounding in her chest, and she began to tremble slightly, though she tried valiantly to keep it from showing. She didn't want him to know that she was terrified.

He could feel her heightened pulse through his fingers and he smiled the slow grin of a cat that's caught a juicy bird. "Thought you were afraid, little girl," he murmured.

Aewen drew a ragged breath. "Sir…what are you going to do with me?" she asked softly, still not daring to look at him.

That drew a raised eyebrow. "What a man does with a woman. What else?" he replied, resting his free hand on her hip.

She closed her eyes again and instinctively shifted to the side away from him a bit. She didn't even realize she did so. She was so scared.

"Nice try, lass." He drew her close to him, using his grip on her wrist as a lever. "But don't think that maidenly shyness will save you."

Aewen winced when he grabbed her wrist, and in reaction, she tried to pull her arm away from his grip, realizing too late what she just did.

He backhanded her casually, not even seeming to really try. But the blow was sharp enough to split her lip and bruise one side of her face. "Don't make me bruise your pretty face more than I have to," he warned.

Aewen recoiled from the impact, but didn't fall down. Tears smarted in her eyes as she began to feel the sting on her cheek, and she felt the metallic taste of blood on her lip. She looked up at him for a moment, giving him a slight glare.

"Ah, and the regal side shows again. You must have been an exceptional maid to gain the power to glare like that." He caught her chin in his grip and deposited a kiss on her full lips.

Aewen pulled away from him and used her free hand to shove him back a little. She couldn't help it; she just couldn't let him take her without a fight.

Nestad sped up as he reached the last patient. He was careful to keep the level of care the same as he'd had for each person before, but he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. He didn't know how he'd protect Aewen without killing them both, but he'd have to try.

The commander pinned both of her hands in one large hand, using the other to hold the maid still.

Aewen whimpered softly and turned her face as far to the side as she could, trying her best to stay away from his mouth. She was feeling so repulsed, and so very frightened. It was not supposed to be this way.

The commander's free hand caught the maid's chin and held her still as he kissed all over her face, his breathing quickening noticeably as he touched her soft skin.

Aewen cried out softly, completely repulsed by the commander's closeness and his foul breath. She struggled some more, but he was holding her in such a way that it hurt to move. Tears of pain smarted in her eyes.

Nestad finished with the last patient and almost ran out of the healing tent. "Where are you going, elf?" one of the guards demanded.

Composing himself as best as he could, the healer replied, "I am nearly out of supplies and need to collect more from the supply tent." It was a good lie; it put him close to the commander's tent without undue suspicion.

The guards considered that a moment and shrugged. "Hurry, then."

Nestad broke into a run as soon as he was out of sight of the healer's tent. He cursed the confining chains with every breath as they hampered his steps and nearly tripped him a couple times. Breathing heavily, he reached the commander's tent. The guards tensed slightly when they saw him, but didn't give it their full attention: what could a shackled prisoner do? They got their answer when Nestad reached them and knocked them out with the precision granted a warrior-healer. Taking one of the fallen guards' swords, the healer entered the tent in time to see the commander claim Aewen's mouth. "Release her," he ordered, his elven regal ness coming strongly to the fore.

Aewen's eyes widened when she saw the elf, and a great relief flooded through her, but then fear; he would get into so much trouble for this. She jerked her face away from the commander. "Nestad!" she said, tears welling in her eyes.

"Ah, so the great healer has come to protect his whore," the commander mocked, releasing Aewen to face Nestad. He had to admit to a small shiver of fear as he met Nestad's blue eyes. They burned with in held anger.

"Are you all right?" Nestad asked Aewen, ignoring the commander.

Aewen nodded slightly, even as tears trailed down her face. "You shouldn't have come," she whispered.

"Never mind that right now," Nestad replied calmly. He was trying not to think of what would happen to him when he was caught for this. He turned on the commander. "How dare you steal my assistant away for your personal desires when the tent is being swamped with wounded," he said, every word dripping with ice cubes.

"Your assistant?" The Commander snorted. "The last time I checked, she was my slave, to do with as I please. And so are you in fact. What I do with my slaves is none of your concern."

"When it concerns the well-being of every slave who lies wounded, it is completely my concern. Would you kill fifteen slaves to have your way with one?" Nestad was easing to one side, trying to get close enough to Aewen to defend her properly. The sword in his hand glittered in his light, matching the cold glimmer in his eyes.

"Perhaps I would," the commander said, unfeeling. He held onto Aewen so tight that the circulation in her wrists was pinched and her hands were beginning to go numb. "And you made a very big mistake coming in here like you have. I could have you killed for this."

Aewen gave Nestad a pleading look, begging him to leave. She didn't want anything to happen to him.

"Who would you call?" Nestad asked, arching a dark eyebrow. "The guards outside will be unconscious for another fifteen minutes. In that time, you would be dead and beyond the point of calling for help."

"You underestimate me, elf," the commander said. "If I were you, I would turn around right now and walk back to your tent. If you do, I may just save your sorry hide from those pits you are so fond of."

"My hide is not worth saving if I cannot protect the helpless." Nestad was closer now, almost in reach of the commander and his dark-haired captive.

The commander took a step or two backwards, bringing Aewen with him. "You best keep your distance, elf," he said. And from a sheath on one of his wrists, he drew a small dagger and held it to Aewen's throat. Aewen gasped when she felt the cold metal pressing against her skin. She closed her eyes tight, moisture seeping from under her lids. "If you want to save her life, then you will stand down and drop the sword. If you do not, I will kill her."

Nestad's quick eyes shifted from Aewen to the knife to the commander's face. There was no doubt in his mind that the commander meant it; a small trickle of blood that ran from the place where the knife broke the skin just a bit. A shame he had never taken the time to learn how to control someone else's mind from a distance! That would have been really handy here. "Do you swear not to hurt her if I stand down?" he asked.

"My dear elf," the commander said. "It was never my intention to hurt her until you forced me into this ridiculous position."

"You think that taking her against her desire will not hurt her?" Nestad snorted softly. "I am a healer. I know a bit better than that."

The commander pressed the knife a little harder against Aewen's skin, drawing a little more blood and also a small cry from the maiden. "You are wasting time, elf," the commander said. "Drop your sword, now."

Nestad's knuckles whitened as he gripped the sword tighter, wishing with all of his heart that he could run this commander through. But that would kill Aewen in the process…and he cared for her too much to allow that to happen. His hand opened slowly, allowing the sword to fall out of his hand, landing point-first in the dirt and quivering gently.

The commander smiled slightly. Still holding the knife to Aewen's throat, he backed up to his desk where a small horn sat. He picked it up and blew two sharp notes on it. A moment later, the tent flaps opened and two men came into the tent, shocked by the scene before them. "Bind this elf and take him back to his cell," the commander said. Then he looked at Nestad. "And if you wish to see your lovely whore returned to you, then will go peaceably."

Nestad's hands folded into fists as he met Aewen's eyes. "Eru's strength," he murmured as the men advanced on him. "Use what I gave you, melethril-nín." He prayed none of the soldiers spoke Elvish, that it was safe to use the term of endearment. Even if Aewen didn't understand, it made him feel a little better to use it. My beloved.

Aewen looked at Nestad helplessly, but also with relief. He would not be harmed. And as long as he was safe, she didn't care what happened to her. If she lost him, she would surely die in this place.

Nestad submitted to the bindings, ignoring how tight they were. His eyes remained locked on Aewen's, wondering if she returned his love at all. If she did, he could survive through anything.

"Take him away," the commander said. And the guards led Nestad out of the tent and back to the underground cell. They threw him in, pausing only long enough to take off the tight restraints and put on the ones he wore in his cell. Then they left, locking the door behind them.

Nestad was on his feet in an instant once the door was closed. Though he knew it was a waste of energy, he paced back and forth in the small cell, praying fervently to any Vala or Valië that might be listening. "Keep her innocence intact," was the gist of his prayers.

As soon as the bound elf was removed from his tent, the commander turned back to the bleeding maid, sheathing his wrist knife. "Sorry about the blood," he said, handing her a handkerchief. "Blame that healer. Stupid of him, really."

Aewen pressed the cloth to her sore neck with one hand, and wiped away her tears with the back of her other. "He is noble," she said, not meeting his eyes. "An honorable man. But I guess you don't even know the meaning of those words."

The commander snorted. "Noble and honorable enough to nearly kill you while attempting to rescue you. Yes, exactly what I always aspired to be."

"And yet he has earned all of my respect, while you have gained none of it," Aewen said.

"I don't need your respect, youngling." The commander reclaimed his handkerchief, moving so he was standing directly in front of Aewen. "Just what I can get out of your body."

Aewen didn't say anything to that. She knew there was no point. No matter what she said, he would have his way with her in the end. And the more she fought him, the more painful it would be. Still, she had her pride and that in spades. She would never submit willingly to him. She would never let him break her.

He smirked as he pressed a hand under her chin and lifted her face up. "Cat got your tongue again?" he purred, pressing kisses to her face.

Aewen felt a flame of anger and she jerked her head away from him, shooting him a deadly glare.

The commander's smile faded as he returned the glare. This maid may have been as noble as she liked out in the world, but here, his word was law and he was used to that. "This can be as easy or as hard as you make it," he said, his voice soft and dangerous. "That healer was right about one thing, anyway: taking you against your desire will hurt you. Do you really want additional pain?" His voice took on a mocking edge. "Ah, but then you can have your healer lover patch you up again. I'm sure he'd enjoy that."

Aewen clenched her teeth, and before she could stop herself, she struck the awful man across the face. Then she stared at him as she held her stinging hand, suddenly realizing what she had just done.

The commander rubbed his aching cheek. "Oh, well done," he said, advancing on her. "Not many dare resist me any longer. This should be fun."

Aewen unconsciously backed away from him, until she ran into the desk. Now she was trapped. And for the first time since Nestad left, she felt real terror.

Not wasting a motion, the commander slipped his arms around Aewen's waist and bodily picked her up, heading for the back room of his tent where he slept.

Aewen struggled and cried out, hitting the edge of her fist against him, though she knew she wasn't hurting him, since her hand was just bouncing off his hard muscles. He was so much stronger than she was, and nearly twice her size. She knew he would win this…she knew there was no hope for her now. But she hardened her resolve to remain strong, that no matter what happened, no matter what he did to her, she would not be broken.

By his internal clock, it had been nearly three hours when Nestad's sharp ears picked up a sound beyond his pacing. He stopped, staring at the door. 'Please be all right,' he pleaded mentally as a key turned in the lock.

The door opened, and two guards appeared, leading Aewen between them. They dropped her on the floor, and then left, locking the door behind them. Aewen didn't get up. She just sat there on the hard stone, letting her dark hair obscure her bruised face, wet with tears that had just begun to fall.

"Aewen…" Nestad moved forward cautiously, trying to see her face. Her shaking shoulders indicated that she was crying, and that didn't bode well at all.

Aewen didn't move, nor respond to him in any way. She wrapped her arms around herself, and finally her crying became vocal, though still soft.

"By the Valar…" Nestad's voice shook a little as he forcibly restrained himself from gathering her up like a child and cradling her. He was pretty sure she wouldn't want to be touched. Instead, he knelt close to her, offering what comfort he could from his presence.

Aewen rocked back and forth as she let her tears come. She had tried to be strong, to hold on to her pride and not let that awful commander break her. But she never realized how hard it would really be, or how painful. How could she ever hold her head up again?

Nestad let a hand hover between Aewen's shoulder blades as he spoke in soft Elvish to her, trying to comfort her without driving her further away. He used the term 'melethril' with great tenderness, speaking it and her name as priceless gems.

Aewen's crying became more silent as she listened to the elf's soothing words. They calmed her mind and her spirit. After a moment, she turned to face him, and she leaned forward until she was nearly lying on the floor in front of him, the top of her head almost touching his knees. She rested her cheek against her hands and closed her eyes. His presence was soothing, and she was very glad he was there.

Nestad gently rested a hand on her head. Switching to Common, he said quietly, "I'm here, Aewen. I won't leave you, not ever again. You are a priceless treasure."

New tears rimmed in her eyes when she heard that. She sniffed and raised one hand to wipe her tears away. "I'm horrid," she whispered, her voice rough, as if she had been crying all day, or screaming.

"No, melethril. You are precious. What happened was horrible, yes, but that is not you." Nestad had to fight back a wave of self-loathing and anger. He should have been able to do something! Anything to keep this priceless gem from being touched!

"I feel…dirty…" Aewen said. "It wasn't supposed to be this way…it wasn't supposed to be this way…" she began crying again, her shoulders shaking slightly.

Nestad couldn't resist anymore. Leaning forward, he gingerly rested one arm around her shoulders, aching to hold her close and take away all the pain. He switched back to Elvish, talking softly.

Aewen flinched slightly when she felt his touch, but she didn't pull away from him. In fact, somehow his touch was comforting, and she could feel the soft tingle she usually felt when he touched her, as if there was some small amount of his power traveling through his fingers into her. Aewen closed her eyes, letting herself become calm, listening to his soft, melodic voice; so different from the commander's harsh one. And that was the last thing she knew as she fell into a troubled sleep, her brow furrowed and her head pounding.

The healer felt Aewen go limp and took that chance to gather her up and get a good look at her face as he passed enough of his power into her to send her into deep sleep, beyond dreams and memories. He bit his lip in anger. Her face was badly bruised and bloodied. "Oh, my proud lass," he murmured. "So stubborn…" He wasn't sure if he was sorry or pleased. Shaking his head a bit, he began healing what he could see.

Many hours passed before Aewen stirred again. As her consciousness slowly returned, the first thing she became aware of was a dull pain in her body, as if just before coming down with the flu. She also had a pounding headache. She moaned softly, still mostly asleep as she shifted her position slightly.

"Easy," Nestad murmured as he released her. After all she had been through, he was pretty sure she wouldn't want to wake up with someone's arms around her. "Wake up slowly."

Aewen heard the voice, as if from far away. Who did it belong to? At least it sounded friendly. She brought a hand to her head and winced when her headache became suddenly all she knew.

Nestad touched two fingers to her forehead and removed the headache easily, sending the pain elsewhere. "I'm here, Aewen," he murmured softly.

Aewen blinked her eyes open and glanced around. When she saw Nestad she looked at him for a long while without any expression on her face. She was trying to remember the events leading up to that moment. And when the memories all came flooding back to her, her chin began to tremble and she closed her eyes again.

"Shh, shh," Nestad soothed, his hand reaching automatically to touch her cheek. He stopped his hand just before he touched the soft skin; he didn't know how she would react to touch right now.

Aewen managed to stop herself from crying, but she continued to lie there for some time. "I am shamed," she said softly. "I have no honor left…I should have fought him better. To die would have been heaven…compared to this hell."

The healer didn't say anything. He'd dealt with people who'd been raped before, but they had never been ones so…'close' was the only word that came to mind. Yes, they'd never been so close to him before, and, being elves, had mostly died within a week of the event. He prayed this wouldn't happen to Aewen.

Aewen was quiet for many minutes after those bitter words. But finally she sat up slowly. Her headache was somehow gone (when had it left?) But her whole body ached, and she groaned when she moved, her face registering the pain she felt. She was especially sore below the waist, and she felt ashamed to feel such pain there.

The healer bit his lip before asking quietly, "Where does it hurt?" Without touching her, he couldn't sense specifics about pain. He could sense that it was there, and even how badly it hurt, but where it was precisely evaded him. That was irritating, especially since he wasn't sure how much she would let him touch her.

She shook her head. "I'm all right," she said. She didn't want to tell him where the pain was, she was too ashamed. She leaned her back against the wall, keeping her legs out straight, even though she wanted to pull them up to her chest. It hurt less if her legs were straight. "I'm so thirsty…" she murmured, closing her eyes.

Nestad tried to ignore the pain he could feel from Aewen as he said, "They should be in with the day's ration of water soon."

"How long was I asleep?" Aewen asked. "Is it a new day yet?"

Half closing his eyes, Nestad touched his inner clock. "Yes, but only just. By my reckoning, it's three of the clock."

"A new day…" Aewen murmured. And her chin began to tremble. "I'm so afraid, Nestad," she said, opening her eyes and looking at him. Large tears were collecting on her lashes. "What if he sends for me again? He threatened to do so. He said I still needed some 'education'."

Nestad had to take a deep breath to keep from screaming in anger. The roiling anger in his belly only reflected in his tensing muscles. 'Never again!' his mind screamed. "Over my dead and rotting body," he said quietly when his anger was under control again.

Aewen blinked and her large tears trailed down her cheeks. "You almost got yourself killed," she whispered. "I'm not worth it, Nestad…you should save yourself…there are so many others who need you here…"

"Aewen." Nestad's voice was filled with the quiet authority that he only displayed when he needed it. "Never say that. You are worth anything, any price up to and including my life. I should have been able to keep this from happening…it is a stain on my honor that I let the consideration for my life stand in the way."

Aewen shook her head. "No…" she said. "For what would I have done if you had been killed yesterday? What would I do here without you? I would die…that's what I would do. I would surely die…"

Nestad managed a tiny smile. "Then I am glad I did not die," he murmured. "I still should have been able to do something."

"You gave me strength…" she said softly. "Strength to endure…" She glanced away, down at the floor. "I thought of you…singing a sweet elvish song…"

Silence reigned for a moment, broken by Nestad's soft voice as he sang a snatch of the song he had sung before all that had happened. "An old song," he murmured, "but appropriate."

Aewen's lip trembled as she attempted a smile. "That's the one," she said, looking up at him. "It gave me strength."

"I am glad," Nestad said, meeting her eyes. "Glad that I was able to help you in some way."

Aewen smiled and then shifted her position slightly, wincing as she brought her legs up to her chest. This day was going to be very long, she realized.

Nestad winced as well as the pain he'd successfully pushed away returned in force. "Aewen, please let me help you," he said. "I can feel your pain, and it's not 'nothing'."

"It's all right," Aewen said, holding up one hand, as if to ward him away. "Really…" she felt heat creep into her cheeks. She was very ashamed and wished she could hide her pain better.

Nestad rested his hands on his knees, his blue eyes searching her face. "This pain is not your fault," he said quietly. "I know shame is natural, but it is not deserved."

"I can't help it…" she said softly. "It's not supposed to hurt, is it…not like this…"

"No." That was quiet. "Not like what I can feel from you."

Aewen bowed her head to her knees and cried softly, her shoulders shaking. She was still having a hard time accepting what had happened to her. Her once proud shoulders were slumped, and she could no longer hold her head up.

"Let me help you." Nestad's voice broke as his own tears began flowing. "Please…"

Aewen didn't look up. But finally she nodded, telling him that he was free to do whatever he thought necessary to help her. How could it be worse than what she was going through?

Nestad moved closer to her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder, closing his eyes at the agonizing pain he could feel from the young woman. His tears fell unheeded as he sent his power gently through her body, easing her pain and seeking out the true trouble spots.

Aewen's body trembled as she felt his power flow through her. But with it came a wonderful peace and calmness. And she felt immense relief flood her body. On impulse she leaned closer to him, wanting to be closer to such comfort. He was doing so much for her, and she couldn't even express her gratefulness. Without another thought, she put her arms loosely around him, and only after the fact did she realize that he might not like her doing that.

Nestad's arms closed gently around her as his heart sang at her closeness. Resting one hand on the back of her head, he found the true trouble spots and sent a good deal of his power to healing her torn and bruised female organs. That, he found, was the main source of her pain, though bruises all over her body contributed their voices.

As Aewen rested in his gentle embrace, she could feel her pain leaving. And when it did, she also felt herself getting drowsy again. And as the minutes passed, she slowly drifted into a gentle sleep, undisturbed with dreams or pain.

The healer rocked the young woman gently, humming the song that had given her such strength when needed as he finished his healing. He could feel her sleep, and it made him happy. She needed her rest, as much of it as she could get. "Sleep well, melethril," he murmured. "Sleep and heal."