Gradually the screaming subsided, but then they appeared. All in white, six ghostly women with swords. The men tried to draw theirs but only Aragorn succeeded. The rest of us were unable to move at all.

'I cannot fight them,' he said. 'They are women.'

'You must, Aragorn. You can kill them only from the back. You have to. This is the first task to free Arthur.'

'You are sure, Beth?'

'Positive. Kill them!'

I even surprised myself at how bloodthirsty I sounded, but it spurred Aragorn into action and he approached the first one warily. She was not so much walking as hovering, her sword clasped in two hands, ready to strike. Aragorn balanced his sword carefully and then she struck first, the sparks flashing as metal hit metal. Aragorn pierced her from the front and I could see the unease on his face, but it made no difference, she continued the attack. This time he managed to turn her and then pierced her spine and she disappeared with a howling shriek.

The next two attacked together and I could see the knights and Legolas trying to free themselves to help, but in vain. Aragorn was pressing them back towards one wall when he drew one towards him on his sword, and turned her, stabbing her in the back with a dagger from his belt and pushing it straight through her as she disappeared and into the second opponent.

Which left the final three. I could barely watch as they simultaneously attacked, forcing him back in our direction and to his likely death if he got tangled with us. I could see that he was wounded on the arms where his parrying against all three swords was simply not possible. But then he rolled onto the floor between two of them and stabbed them in the back as he rose before they could turn. Then it was just one on one. She fought impressively, but was no match to Aragorn's superior skill and he ran her through from the front as he stabbed again in the back with his dagger.

The howling returned, reached a crescendo and then died away as the first part of the test was completed and we were released from our positions. Aragorn had fallen to one knee, resting his head and hands on his sword. It was Leon who reached him first.

'Do not fear that you have done wrong, Aragorn. Women were sent because they knew it was against everything you hold dear to fight them.'

Aragorn looked up. 'Thank you,' he said quietly, but there was no time to rest as the end wall was shimmering and a large colourful archery target appeared.

'This one is mine,' Legolas said, swinging his bow from over his shoulder and setting the first arrow in place.

'Legolas, you have to miss.'

He turned to look at me. 'You are serious?'

'Yes, you cannot hit the target.'

He shrugged and took aim, and as he did so the target expanded to the size of the wall apart from a shape in the centre. A human shape. The very convincing image of Aragorn.

Legolas glanced to his left to make sure Aragorn was actually still at his side, but the image within the target was uncannily real.

'Shoot it,' Aragorn said, but as Legolas raised the bow, we could see that his hand was shaking. 'Shoot it!' Aragorn repeated. 'It is not me.'

'Should I aim to kill it, Beth?'

'I don't know, I don't . . . No. No!' I didn't know why I said that, but even though I knew it was only the image of Aragorn, I couldn't bear to see even that die. 'Just wound him. It.'

Legolas loosed the arrow, hitting the false Aragorn in the shoulder. Except the real Aragorn also dropped to the ground clutching his shoulder which was pouring with blood.

I rushed to Aragorn's side and we eased off his jacket and tunic. There was blood pouring from a wound in exactly the same location as the arrow Legolas had fired. Legolas was distraught as though he'd done it deliberately.

I knelt down beside him and pressed my fingers against the wound. If ever I needed some healing powers it was now. At first I thought it wasn't working, but gradually the bleeding stopped and the wound began to heal, although it was much slower than it had been back at the Crossed Swords, perhaps because we were a long way from the Shire. Aragorn smiled gratefully at me, but then looked beyond me. Another figure had formed in the centre of the target. This time it was Percival.

'No! I cannot do this,' Legolas said.

Percival strode over and grasped Legolas by the shoulders. 'You must do this. Beth will heal me, but you must do it.'

'Not the arms!' I said. 'Please, not the arms! Just in case . . .'

'Hand?' Percival suggested.

Legolas reluctantly nodded and turned to face the target, raising his bow. I could see him shaking and he took a few deep breaths to steady himself. I took more wadding out of my bag and made Percival sit with his hand in my lap.

As the thud of the arrow hit its target, Percival grunted with the pain, but I held onto his wrist firmly, pressing the wadding onto his palm and then beginning the healing as best I could. This was truly horrible, Legolas being forced to injure his friends, albeit indirectly. As the blood was staunched and the healing began, I was focusing so much on Percival that I did not notice the silence that had fallen around me.

It was Gwaine kneeling down next to me, a look of such concern on his face that I instinctively reached out to him in fear. 'Is it you?' I asked.

'I only wish it were.'

I looked round to see the third person now framed by the target. It was me.

'I will not do it,' Legolas said adamantly, putting down his bow and arrow.

'It must be done,' I said. 'And I'm damned sure I'm not going to let any of this lot loose firing arrows at me. You're the only one who can do this.'

'But you will not be able to heal yourself,' Gwaine pointed out.

'I know. But it has to be done if we want to get Arthur back.'

'Beth, I cannot let you do this. I would offer up my own life for you if I only knew how.'

'I know you would,' I said, stroking my fingers down his cheek to try to brush away the hurting that was showing in his face. 'But I have to do this and you cannot save me.'

'Tell me what I can do.'

I prepared what little first aid items I had left and explained what he had to do. I then went to speak to Legolas who was standing away from the rest of the group.

'Can you aim for the left arm, around here,' I said, indicating above my elbow and hoping it would cause me the least discomfort and inconvenience while it healed. If it healed.

He nodded. 'I will do my best.'

'Thank you.'

I returned to the others and sat on the floor next to Gwaine. He held my hand tightly as I braced myself for the pain, deliberately not looking at Legolas, although I heard the whoop of the arrow, heard a thump as it made contact, and then the pain hit me.

I was surprisingly calm as I held the pad over the wound. Legolas had done an excellent job, the wound was deep but was in the fleshy part of my arm without having touched the bone. Hopefully it would heal well. Gwaine bandaged me and sat there holding me until I nodded that I was fine.

The room had emptied completely and, even though I knew it was my task next, there appeared to be nothing happening. Although perhaps that HAD been my task, but it didn't fit in with Mab's words.

'Let us see if we can find the king,' Leon suggested, and we all began to leave the empty room.

Except I could not. The door was shut in front of me and I was alone in the room. I turned, heart thumping, to see a single chair placed close to the adjacent wall. I waited, but nothing happened, so took my place on the chair, expecting chains or binds or something, but nothing. I was just sat on a chair in an empty room. What was it Mab had said? I must not move or talk. I sank back into the chair, looking down, seeing if there was anything around the chair, and when I looked back up the room had shrunk to half its size and a large bed had appeared clad in white linen. I had no idea what was happening, so just waited.

Then the room went pitch black and I gripped the arms of the chair, ignoring the pain in my arm. When the light returned, Gwaine was lying on the bed. It went black again and then there were two women standing either side of the bed. I could feel my fingers clutching the chair arms as they climbed onto the bed next to him and began to undress him.

This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't happening.

Gwaine started to respond to their touch, reaching out to them, pulling them towards him, kissing them, touching them.

Do not move. Do not move. This is not real.

And then they removed their own flimsy garments and I could not watch. I closed my eyes. But when I opened them it was as though the pause button had been pressed - they had not moved until I was observing them again. There was no escape from this. I was forced to watch Gwaine make love to two women and could not look away.

I recognised some of the things we had done, the way he had stroked my hair, the way he had kissed along my collar bone, the way a smile would break out suddenly on his face and it was unbearable watching him do those things with someone else.

It is not real. This is not happening.

My fingernails were digging into my palms as I clenched my fists as he made love with the first woman.

Do not say anything. Do not move. This is not real.

It was only when he started to speak that I could almost feel my heart breaking. That rich gravelly voice saying the things to her that he had said to me, using the same terms of endearment, the same phrases, calling her sweetheart. I was in agony.

When he turned to the second woman and began again, it was sheer torture, but I stayed sitting even though I was shaking with emotion.

This is not real. I will get through this. I will survive this. This is not real.

At the end of their lovemaking, I had to close my eyes. When I opened them again, the two women were leading Gwaine from the bed to a frame that had appeared in front of me. They lifted his arms and tied him to the frame so he was hanging from his wrists.

What more can they do to me? What more can they do to him?

But I had not considered the depths to whoever was doing this would sink. The two women started to scrape their nails across Gwaine's skin, breaking it. Strangely, there was no blood, it was immediately healing, but the pain was clear on his face and the scars they left bore testament to their creation.

No, they could not do this, not to Gwaine. This was torture both for him and for me. My body tensed to run to save him, to free him from the bonds, to protect and hold and comfort him. But I knew I had to stay where I was.

His body was zig-zagged with scars, raw and angry against the tanned flesh, burning a cruel history on his body. His face showed his agony, his eyes, when he could bear to open them, shadowed with pain. I was openly sobbing now, choking the screams of anguish in my throat.

But they were not finished. One of the women produced a razor and began to cut his hair, the burnished locks falling swiftly to the floor, the ultimate humiliation. They cut his hair so short I could see pale scalp through the shorn darkness. And then he looked towards me, his eyes hollow and resigned, the sadness so desperately deep in them, and I was overwhelmed with love for this man. Whatever they could do to this brave, noble man would not change the way I felt about him. For the first time I admitted to myself what that was. I loved him. I was in love with him. A strange calmness flooded through me, quietening my sobs, just allowing me to look at him with love.

'I love you,' I mouthed. And once I'd said it once, albeit silently, I could not stop saying it.

And then darkness surrounded me and I must have lost consciousness as I woke to find my wrists strapped to the chair with leather bonds. It took me a few moments to realise where I was and then I remembered what I'd seen.

'Gwaine?' I asked, desperately fearing the worst, that it had been no vision.

'He is safe,' came a voice from the far end of the room.

Three people were standing there, one woman lit in the darkness of the room but flanked by two men in the shadows.

I stared at them in astonishment. 'You!'