Author Notes:Is this a mary-sue? Hmmm... I don't think so. What do you think? My greatest pet-peeve of fan-fiction- whenever anyone creates a strong original character it MUST be a Mary Sue. Why are you asking me? I'm just the writer here. Please read for yourself and decide if you want to keep reading or not.
As with any writer, there are elements of myself in any character that I create. But Amali is not me. This is not an Aragorn/Mary Sue romance. She is not in any way perfect. She will not save the Fellowship, or seduce Legolas, or any of the other things that Mary Sue's tend to do. To say more would give it away. ;)
At this point, Amali is merely a bedraggled prisoner on her way to Minas Tirith to face judgement. I guess in the end you will have to judge for yourself.
Anyway, thanks for the reviews! And I do hope that you like it enough to keep reading! I think it will be worth it in the end.

Dagnir Sigil Slayer Blade
Chapter 3

The next day, she seemed stronger. He watched carefully as she distributed food to the others, eating her biscuit as she did. She was limping less, but as the day went on it became more pronounced. By the time they stopped, she was struggling to keep up. Timpson brought her the food, watched her take her share and turned away, not seeing her hand the bag to the boy, calling on him to distribute it fairly. Aragorn heard her warning of dire consequences if not everyone received an equal share. Then she slumped against a tree, her forehead against her drawn up knees, her biscuit held loosely in her hand.

When the camp had fallen silent, Aragorn went to her once more. "Let me see your knee."

She extended it without argument.

"Do you still hate me?" He asked, trying to draw a smile from her.

Her green eyes met his steel grey gaze."Worse things people my night terrors than you, Captain, Sir." She said in a low voice.

"Your judgment, perhaps?" He asked casually. After all, it must be on the minds of every single one of his prisoners, so it was an easy enough question to ask without betraying his curiosity.

"My judgment shall be welcome." She heaved a deep sigh, closing her eyes against his gaze. "Still, my heart speaks that I am not ready to die."

Aragorn drew back in surprise. "Death?" he exclaimed, before his tone became reassuring. "Rarely has Ecthelion pronounced doom of death upon anyone, even for the most heinous of crimes."

She looked bitterly at him for a long moment before closing her eyes again. "You speak of what you can not understand, Captain."

He returned to tending her knee, soothing in the salve, trying not to hurt her as he felt the swollen tendons shift beneath his fingers. Tactfully, he changed the subject. "You must eat, you know."

She held out her untouched biscuit to him. "I cannot."

"If you do not eat, you will die." He said calmly, "I cannot force you to eat, but I am ordering you to."

Tears welled in her eyes and she whispered softly, "I cannot eat it."

"Well, what can you eat?" He asked in frustration. "You refuse fruit; you hardly drink enough to keep little Amed here on his feet."

She shook her head, picked up the biscuit and took a bite, gagging as she swallowed it. She suddenly seemed very old to him, a wilting old woman with sixty or seventy years upon her head. "Let me be."

He nodded and left her, listening to her choke down the biscuit in the darkness.

The journey continued, the moon shifting overhead from new to half and towards full.

Amali's limp had faded, but still she slunk behind the others. Her skin was grey, her figure gaunt. Aragorn continued to approach her and tend her knee.

"Amali, you must eat," He had brought biscuit and a fresh apple from his own bag. She pushed it away and he persisted. "Come on. You have to eat. I'm ordering you to."

She snatched the apple from his hand, chewing in distaste for a long moment before swallowing. No sooner had she swallowed than she retched, turning to her side as her stomach emptied itself.

Aragorn watched in growing alarm. "Amali. You cannot go on like this. You can't eat fruit. You barely touch bread. Tell me what is wrong. How can I help you?"

She shook her head, reaching for the water he had brought her to rinse the bile from her mouth.

"You must tell me." Aragorn insisted, truly worried that for the first time he was going to lose a prisoner under his care. "You cannot go on like this."

"She needs meat." A soft, low voice said from the dark.

Aragorn turned in surprise, and Amali spun towards the sound. "Amed! Silence!" But her voice came across as more of plea than command.

"Amed?" Aragorn turned to where the boy was pretending to sleep.

"I'm sorry, Ams." He said sadly, "But he's gotta get you proper food."

She glared at him, but was silenced by Aragorn's hand upon her arm. The boy sat up, turning to Aragorn.

"She can't eat vegetables. Nor nothin' that grows in the ground. She's gotta have meat, or at least broth, or eggs. Anything else makes her sick."

"Is this true?" Aragorn asked her. She nodded, miserable, an expression close to guilt on her face, as though it was some kind of horrid secret.

He thought on it for a long moment. "We could all do with some meat." He said aloud, but something was niggling at the back of his mind, and when he returned to his blanket he did not sleep but lay awake, considering it.