Yay! Update!. No flames so far, so that's encouraging. Enjoy!

Threwen looked around her in wonder. This wasn't the kind of awe-inspired wonder. This was wonder at how much the city of Minas Tirith had fallen into decay and disrepair. There were few people out, as it was getting dark and those that were outside looked grim, their persons seeming misplaced, with their drab grey clothing sticking out against the backdrop of the white ruins of splendor and the scene of what was left from glory days long since gone.

Wait. Why is it getting dark? It's a little early…

Threwen lost her train of thought when she glanced up at the sky. It wasn't dark because the sun was going down. It was dark because the sun was being blocked out. An enormous shadow, dark as coal, had stretched forth its fingers from the fire, smoke, and ash of Mordor and was now reaching the city, causing everything to seem all the more dreary than it already was. Threwen shuddered. This was a bad sign and she knew it.

Stop thinking like that.

She didn't have much of an opportunity to think like that anyway. Her escort was hurrying along, cautiously looking behind to make sure she was still there. Threwen knew he recognized her. And she knew he was going to do something. But the question was what? And when? She looked around her at all her possible routes. The place was huge and someone could easily disappear. Or at least someone experienced could easily disappear.

But that's exactly what you are. Experienced. And all you have to do is wait for the right time and bolt.

So that's what she did. She waited for her opportunity. And soon it came.

Ow!

Ruthiel winced as she pricked herself with the needle she had been using to sew up a skirt of Cerrarien's. She looked down at the small drop of blood that was forming on the very tip of her index finger. She stared at it for a second, wondering what had gotten her so distracted. And then she looked down at her stitches.

Oh! Ruthiel, look what you've done! What a fine job you've done of completely messing this one up! It's a good thing this isn't one of Caraedry's pants. He'd have a fit.

Ruthiel was about to put herself back to work taking out all the stitches when she stopped, realizing what she'd just said to herself. Caraedry. She suddenly felt her eyes pricking with hot tears that threatened to burst forth. Except they never did. Ruthiel tried very hard not to show her emotions. There were a few occasions where things slipped out, like when she saw her husband safe after the Warg attack on the way to Helm's Deep. But not now. She was going to be strong.

She was just in time too. Cerrarien suddenly charged through the door, her young face animated. She started babbling on about something that had happened in the stables, but Ruthiel wasn't following. She rarely ever did. The sixteen-year-old still acted like a teenager sometimes, although the older of the two women had to admit that the girl was still rather mature compared to many.

But then, many girls these days were more mature than the norm. They had to grow up when mothers were killed in orc and wild men raids or had to help take on the load of scraping enough food together to fill the bellies of their siblings because their father had died and the mother needed all the help she could get. These were dark days indeed and Ruthiel, having seen what could happen, feared that they were only going to get darker still.

"And then the foal—"

Ruthiel finally focused on the conversation and interrupted her young sister-in-law. "Cerrarien, what are you talking about?"

The girl sighed and started over, speaking, much to Ruthiel's relief, at a slow and steady pace. "I saw Cadoc help one of the horses with its foal. It gave birth today."

Ruthiel nodded and continued with her sewing. "That was probably interesting."

Then Cerrarien went on to say that she was thinking she would like to be a healer when she got older. "I didn't squeamish while Cadoc helped and I was thinking about how I would love to help do something like that, only with people. I would like to do something that will help them."

The woman glanced up, a proud look on her face. There were times when she had thought the young girl was never going to amount to anything because she was always going somewhere to see some person. But now that she thought about it becoming a healer suited her just fine. "You'd be good at that."

Cerrarien grinned and then went on to explain about a few of the herbs she had learned from a healer she'd met that day. Ruthiel suggested that she start their dinner so as the young woman was chattering away, she hustled about the cottage and tended the fire that was just outside, gathering a little food together to whip something up. They had to be careful though, because food was getting scarcer. Soon a pleasant aroma drifted into and filled the room.

"Would you like some stew, Ruthiel?" Cerrarien asked as she held out a small wooden bowl with the substance in it.

"Yes, of course—" Ruthiel was about to take it when a huge whiff of the stew drifted up to her nose. Normally she would've eaten it in a flash because she'd always been a big eater. But suddenly she felt horribly nauseous and she could feel her stomach lurch.

"Are you alright?" Cerrarien asked, a worried expression written on her face.

Ruthiel could only shake her head and she gently pushed the stew away. For some reason she just couldn't stomach food right then. Cerrarien studied her for a moment and was about to place the stew back in the pot but Ruthiel motioned for her to have it.

"Please, eat it, Cerrarien. We don't want it to go to waste."

"I could always heat it up later," the girl suggested.

Ruthiel shook her head. "It won't be any good by then. Besides, I don't think I'm going to be eating anything tonight." Upon noticing her sister-in-law's concerned expression, she smiled and added, "Oh don't worry about it, Cerrarien. I'm a twenty-one-year-old woman and I'm perfectly healthy. It's just an upset stomach."

Cerrarien finally nodded and began her dinner. And Ruthiel was perfectly content to sit and sew, trying not to watch her companion eat for fear it would make her even more sick to her stomach.

The soldier had stopped to talk with someone. Threwen didn't know who it was and, quite frankly, she didn't care. This was just what she'd been waiting for. It was her opportunity. And she took it.

Just take a few steps and you'll be around the corner…

Threwen quietly backed away. The soldier seemed fairly occupied with the other man he was talking to. He had stopped him because he was doing something wrong or something like that. Threwen hadn't really been paying too much attention to it. All she knew was that the man was distracting her guide and she could silently slip away without notice, giving her a head start.

Only a few more…almost there…

Threwen finally got herself around the corner. She quickly looked back around the stone wall, making sure the soldier was still arguing with the man. And then she turned and ran.

There was a little nook we passed that I can duck into for a little bit and then I can quickly make my way to the gate.

All went according to plan. Threwen made her way there and got herself hidden just as a few soldiers made their way past her. No doubt they had been looking for her. She had been gone long enough for the soldier to have finished his conversation and noticed her absence. But she had been right. No one noticed her tucked away in a little niche, hidden in the stone. She waited for a little bit, trying to be sure that she had a clear shot at the gate. And then she darted out of her hiding place and quickly made her way to her destination.

But what are you going to do when you get there? You need to find Asimma. What will you do if you can't find her? How will you get out?

As she was thinking about this, she rounded the bend that would lead her straight to her way out and nearly ran smack dab into a soldier. Completely caught of guard, she stumbled backwards and fell to the ground with a thud. Her hand immediately went to her ankle, where she had a knife hidden. After Rannyn had discovered where she kept it in her pack when she had first met him, she decided to start keeping it on her actual person. Normally she wasn't this paranoid but she wasn't sure with the people there. If one recognized her, who else might?

But the soldier didn't even notice her. He was looking toward the gates. Threwen was about to dash away from there as fast as her legs would carry her when she followed his gaze to the doors. They were opening.

Now's my chance!

Threwen got herself to her feet and was headed toward the stable, passing swiftly and inaudibly toward her horse, which was still sitting there by the gates. Apparently the man whom the soldier had given Asimma to was not very efficient or very fast. She was about to haul herself into the saddle when she realized why they were opening the massive doors. She could only stare at what came staggering through the huge doors.

A horse, dragging a limp rider behind it.

Suddenly Threwen felt like she was going to be sick. Seeing the seemingly lifeless soldier like that, his armor askew in some places, caused something in front of her eyes to flash and, all of a sudden, she wasn't standing next to Asimma, watching the gateway of Minas Tirith. She was back in time, on the day that she had delivered that message to the orc in command at Osgiliath. She could see it all. There was the particularly ugly orc standing in front of her with the multiple piercings and rings stuck in his face. And then there was the small group of orcs sitting nearby, complaining about the bad food they had. And then she saw it.

As she was handing over the message and waiting to see if the orc wanted to give her a response to take back, she saw two orcs stumble into the ruin where we were located. They were lugging something behind them.

"We finished off the last of the group that tried to attack. We found this one still alive."

Threwen realized, with horror, that what they had in tow was a man, a soldier in Gondorian armor. He didn't look very alive to her but then she jumped, seeing that his chest was still rising and falling. He was definitely alive. But for how long?

The lead orc laughed, which actually sounded like a mix between a growl and a gurgle. "Well, what do you know?" He walked around the soldier, looking him up and down. Then he smiled at the two orcs. "Kill 'im."

Threwen had seen many acts of violence in her life, even though she was still young. But that one took the cake. Sure, she had seen bloodier ones and she had even helped in badly wounding some, maybe even causing them to die later on from the wounds she inflicted upon them. But that one act had been imprinted on her mind.

Do you need to kill him?

Threwen had been thinking that as she was watching the orcs get ready to do their work. I suppose so. She watched as an orc placed his blade right under the man's chin, ready to cut his throat. She was just about to look away.

But then the man turned his head. It was ever so slight, but it happened. He turned his head and looked her right in the eye. And she saw something there, on his face, which made her shiver whenever she thought of it. It wasn't fear. It wasn't courage. It was a cold anger. And it was directed totally at her. Threwen knew in that split second that that man thought of her as a traitor and he knew exactly why she was there. And he couldn't believe that she would do what she was doing.

And then he was killed. Right in front of her. Threwen had been too shocked to turn away but it didn't even bother her. Because she felt her whole body go numb. And that's precisely how she felt when she saw the lone soldier being pulled in by his horse. Suddenly she felt somehow responsible for his fate.

You should get going…

Threwen felt her head urging her to get on her horse and gallop out the gates before they could stop her. But her heart stopped her. She felt herself walking toward the man, who was now being aided by more men. They laid him on the ground and called for help, while Threwen knelt down next to him and just stared. His eyes were closed and he looked dead.

Please don't be dead.

And then she saw it— the small movement of his broad chest and the shallow sound of faint breathing.

He's alive!

Threwen felt a weight lift off her shoulders and was about to declare this to the men around her since they seemed a little hysterical. Apparently the injured man had been someone important. But she didn't get the chance.

"You're coming with me."

Threwen felt a hand grab her and pull her to her feet. She found herself looking up into the face of the soldier and he glared at her, his dark eyes penetrating her menacingly.

"Wait—" Threwen started.

But he shook his head. "No. I'm taking you to where you belong."

Threwen looked back at the man as she was pushed by the soldier in a different direction. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to erase the memory of the man at Osgiliath. Then she opened them, gazed at the unconscious man again, and turned back around.

Hang in there. Please, hang in there.

Well, that's all for now. Hope ya'll liked it!