"What happened this morning?" Legolas asked Aragorn at the first opportunity when they stopped for the night.

"I don't know," Aragorn replied, "all my senses just went. . . blank."

"We just saw you go limp," Legolas said, "and we didn't know what had happened."

"It was her," Gimli said, he nodded towards a young woman. Hung at her neck was a green jewel. "She said something and the jewel glowed just as you went limp."

"They must possess great magic," Aragorn said unnecessarily. One of their captors came up to them with food and they ceased talking. They had all noticed that these people were deliberately trying not to hurt them. Both Aragorn and Legolas had attempted to escape, yet neither had been punished. This just made Aragorn more curious about what was going on, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers.

The next day the group approached a large house in the middle of nowhere. As they passed through the gate in a high stone wall, Aragorn looked round at woods and flowers surrounding the house. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but this certainly wasn't it.

They passed through another gate into a large courtyard. As the riders were dismounting, Aragorn looked around at the house. On all sides windows looked down onto the paved area. Around the walls bushes were trained up between and over the ground floor windows. It seemed a cheerful place to be taken as prisoners.

Soon Aragorn's legs were unbound and he dismounted. He looked across at Legolas and Gimli, knowing that this could well be their last chance at escape. A dark-skinned man came out of a door and went to the woman who wore the jewel.

"Lady Reyalla wants you to bring Aragorn to her," he said. Well, Aragorn wasn't going to brought easily. He moved sideways, knocking into the unsuspecting man next to him, sending him sprawling to the ground. Another made to grab him, but Aragorn kicked out, keeping his balance well considering his hands were tied.

As he glanced round to take stock of everyone else's position, a darkness past over his vision. Unable to see a thing, he heard Legolas shout his name only a moment before he was stuck over the head. He fell forwards to his knees, momentarily dizzy. Thankfully his vision returned.

Hands grabbed his arms on either side and lifted him to his feet. Head still reeling, he was forced along. There was a man on either side of him, holding him firmly, following the woman who wore the jewel. Aragorn could hear more footsteps and knew that others must be coming behind them. It would have been difficult to escape even if the corridor hadn't been spinning about him.

Aragorn was taken a hall of some sorts. Two thick wooden posts were driven to the floor in the centre of the room. Each had a manacle hanging down from a chain that ran up to a hole in the top of the post and down the other side. The chains were fixed to wheels so they could be shortened or lengthened.

Aragorn struggled violently as they moved him to stand between the two posts and cut the ropes around his wrists. It took four of them to fit his wrists into the manacles, then they moved to the wheels. He found his arms yanked upwards and outwards as the chains shortened until they were stretched as much as they could be. Then his feet were locked to a ring on the floor by a chain only a link long.

Throughout the process, a woman was watching. She now moved to stand in front of Aragorn so he could get a good look at her. Silver hair hung down around a face that would once have been fair but now was lined with age. She was dressed in a gown of gentle green. Lady Reyalla.

The woman with the jewel walked over to her, bowed her head and then removed the jewel. Aragorn watched as Lady Reyalla took the jewel from her.

"You did well, Rasarl," she said, "if you wish you can stay and."

"No!" Rasarl said quickly, "No, my lady," she said with a more respectful tone.

"Very well," Lady Reyalla said, "go and see that they others are placed in the cells." With a short bow, Rasarl left. Lady Reyalla stood in front of Aragorn, and Aragorn's gaze drifted to the green jewel she held in her hand.

"A useful trinket, don't you agree?" she said, following his gaze, "It's just a pity Rasarl is the only one of my servants who is able to use it. Most of the others don't have the control."

She went to a chest that stood in the corner of the room and placed the jewel in it. Aragorn felt relieved that she wasn't going to use it on him, since the thought of being robbed of his senses was truly terrifying for him. Still, whatever was coming wouldn't be pleasant, or Rasarl wouldn't have been so eager to leave.

Lady Reyalla turned to him once more, "Do you yield to me?" she asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you have ordered the kidnapping of myself and my friends. I will not yield to any who act in such a way."

"Then I shall have to change your mind," she said, looking rather pleased that Aragorn had refused.

He wondered what was going to happen to him, but didn't have to wait too long to find out. A whip cracked and a line of pain ran down his back. His bit his lip to stop himself screaming, and braced himself for another blow. He counted ten strokes before the whip stopped, his back blazing in pain.

"Do you yield?"

"No!" The whip cracked again, laying pain across his already painful back. As the whip fell and fell again Aragorn bit right through his lip and the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. His back was agony, and pair seared through his nerves, but still the whip kept falling. Spots became to swim in front of his vision and he was aware of nothing but the agony in his back.

"Do you yield?"

Aragorn shook his head, lacking the strength to speak. Darkness rose up around him and he fell unconscious. The last thing he was aware of was the cracking of the whip.

***

Frodo stood, trembling, in his cell, arms held above him by chains. His mind was filled with terrible images of all that these people might be planning on doing to him. His thoughts strayed to Cirith Ungol and all he had been through there. He couldn't go through that again.

His thoughts then went to his friends, and he was afraid of what might be happening to them, and a little guilty that he had been worrying about himself first.

Time past uncomfortably, and at last the door opened. Two women entered, releasing Frodo's hands from the chains. He was too frightened to try and pull away as he was led along corridors and up some stairs. When he was led into a hall he saw fresh blood on the ground between two posts, and hoped desperately it wasn't from one of his friends.

His worries returned to himself again as he was chained between the two posts, arms stretched above him as far as they'd reach. A woman, Frodo guessed she was Lady Reyalla, came and stood in front of him.

"Do you yield to me?" she asked. Frodo shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. "You may wish to change your mind."

He heard a crack and an instant later pain seared across his back. Frodo screamed as the whip struck again, touching fire to the cut from the first strike. As the whip struck again and again, Frodo's thoughts were filled with the terrors they might have in store for him.

Finally the whip stopped, and he sobbed slightly, his throat hoarse from screaming. He couldn't cope with this, he wasn't strong like the others.

"Do you yield?" the woman asked again. Frodo thought of what they might do to him if he said no again, and nodded. Even as he did so he wept, thinking of the others. They would think he had failed them. They would hate him for being weak, but he couldn't go through all that suffering again, he just couldn't.

He followed along meekly as he was unchained and led back to the cell. He expected them to chain him to the wall, but instead they left him. Instead he lay down on his side, crying, his back screaming in pain with every sob.

He didn't notice the door had opened until a hand rested itself on his side and a familiar voice murmured, "Oh, Frodo."

"Aragorn?"

***

"You said you'd be here for my birthday," a boy said grumpily as an old man robed in grey dismounted from his horse.

"I'm sorry, Estel," the man said, "I did intend to, but unfortunately some important business came up."

"So I'm not important," the boy said, scuffing the ground with the toe of his shoe.

"I never said that, Estel. There was just something pressing that required my attention."

"More important than me?"

"Who said you weren't important, Estel?" Gandalf asked kindly.

"Elladan," the boy replied, "He said it to Elrohir when he thought I wasn't listening."

"Your brother called you unimportant?"

"I'm not his brother. He said that too."

Aragorn was woken as someone threw water over him. The multiple cuts on his back stung slightly, but he didn't have a chance to pay attention to that. Hands grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. His back protested at the movement, but he could do nothing to resist. He was taken along a corridor, unable to struggle without causing waves of agony to pass through his entire body.

It seemed to take hours for the short walk along the corridor. Those who were holding him stopped by a door and fitted key to lock.

"Tend to your friend," one ordered, pushing a leather bag into his hands. Then the door opened and Aragorn was shoved firmly inside. The first thing he saw was a small figure, lying on the ground crying, a torn shirt showing red lines of blood on his back.

"Oh, Frodo," Aragorn said, dropping to his side.

"Aragorn?"

"Yes, it's me."

"I'm sorry, Aragorn," said Frodo between sobs, "I wasn't strong enough. I had to stop her hurting me."

"Ssh, it's alright." He wondered if it was really. If Frodo was here then it was likely the other hobbits were as well. It had been bad enough when he thought only Legolas and Gimli were here with him. What did Lady Reyalla want with them?

Aragorn looked at the bag he had been given and opened it. Inside was a skin of water, a bowl, a pestle and mortar, and a strange bundle of leather. Curious, he pulled out the bundle and unwrapped it. It was a long, rectangular piece of leather, consisting entirely of pockets filled with all manner of herbs.

Carefully, Aragorn removed Frodo's torn shirt. In some places the fabric had become stuck to the dried blood, and Aragorn had to be extremely gentle so to reopen the wounds. Frodo gave a gasp of pain, and Aragorn apologised.

Taking a selection of herbs, he ground them together, making a paste with a little of the water. Once he had used all he need on that, he used the rest of the water to ensure that Frodo's cuts were clean. It clearly hurt the hobbit when he touched his back, but he submitted to Aragorn.

Aragorn rubbed the paste into the shallow cuts the whip had left in Frodo's back. Once he had finished, Frodo sat up and looked at what paste was left in the bowl. He looked at Aragorn.

"Your turn," he said. Smiling a little, Aragorn turned and let Frodo rub the paste into his own back. Every touch made his back feel as though it was on fire, but he bore it, careful not to move.

Frodo had barely begun when the door opened again. The woman, Rasarl, stood there. She waved two others into the cell, a man and a woman. They seized Aragorn's arms painfully.

"You were told to tend your friend. The mistress doesn't want you healed." With that Aragorn was hauled violently from the room to whatever punishment would await him.