Suck It Up

Jamie dozed on the trip back to camp. She knew she was safe now, and the relief allowed her exhaustion to take over. In the protective arms of the King, she dreamed of old memories.

Jamie sat on the floor in front of the couch while her mother tortured her with a hairbrush. She was drunk and impatient so she wasn't even trying to be careful as she detangled the four-year-old's hair. Jamie just bawled.

"Shut up, Jamie!" he mother yelled angrily. "If you want long hair you better learn to suck it up!"

"It hurts," Jamie whined between sobs.

"Life hurts, little girl!" her mother said angrily. "Babies don't make it in this world. You better learn to suck it up. No one likes a crybaby."

Polodrin and Nyére took on the less than pleasant task of removing the fallen enemies from their campsite. They heaped the carcasses together across the stream in a small ring of trees. Then there was little to do save wait for the others to return. Polodrin paced the camp nervously. He was not accustomed to waiting when there was a fight. He understood the need to keep Nyére safe, but Jamie needed them. He would not be able to rest until he knew she was alright.

"Sit down, Lord Polodrin," Nyére said. "You are making me nervous."

Polodrin sat down and sighed, "Don't worry, they will find her."

Nyére looked at him seriously, "But will they find her in time?" Nyére was well aware of the danger to Jamie in the custody of such men. Her mother was taken and suffered fatal injuries from the ordeal. Nyére remembered her own traumatic kidnapping and cringed at the thought.

"They will reach her in time," Polodrin said firmly, trying to make himself believe it.

"You are more confident than I, man of the west. I worry for her. It will be hard to recover from such and ordeal whether they violate her or not. She is too soft hearted."

"My lady speaks with the voice of experience," Polodrin said. "It saddens me to think that you have been hurt thus."

"I was quite young, and was rescued before any physical harm was done. That day had been the one time in my life I was grateful to see Atanvardo. But I still bear the scars, and it was a long time before I could tolerate even the most innocent touch."

"It is at this moment that I begin to understand why you hate men so," Polodrin said. "I would take this pain from you if I could."

"I hated all men, Lord of the west, until I met you," she said softly as she looked into his eyes. "I can see now there are a few that are worthy of trust."

Polodrin gazed at her with admiration and tenderness. She tried very hard to appear strong, but she was still a delicate lady. "Lady Snow, I would have you look on me with favor," he said.

"I look on you as a friend, and few there are that have that title from me," she said with a slight quiver in her voice.

"Do you still hate to be touched?" he whispered softly as he reached a hand out and held it a mere inch from her cheek.

"I am recovered," she answered softly.

He never took his eyes from hers as he gently brushed her soft white cheek with his fingertips. He was surprised when she closed her eyes and sighed at his touch. He tenderly took her face in his hands and drew her closer. She trustingly kept her eyes closed and he hesitantly brushed his lips over hers.

The caress of his lips was so soft and brief she thought she must have imagined it. She opened her eyes and looked at him questioningly. There was affection in his eyes as he gazed at her and she was confused.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

"My beautiful Lady Snow, are you so blind to the ways of men that you cannot see love in this man's eyes?" he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

She looked at him seriously. "I can offer you only friendship," she said.

"I will take what is offered," he said as he released her. "But my heart is laid at your feet if you should change your mind."

"Men are strange creatures to risk so much," she said. "Are you not afraid that I will treat you cruelly and break your offered heart?"

"No, Lady," Polodrin said as he sat back and stoked the campfire. "You are my friend and I trust you. I will not ask again, but if you return my love, I will love you more deeply and show you more honor than any living Elf."

Nyére was completely stunned by his confession. She didn't know what to say. She searched the crackling flames of the fire for the words to tell him she couldn't love him. It was an impossible choice for her. Even if her feelings were the same, she doomed herself if she chose him. Her father would disown her completely and she would be cut off from her people. But she did not want to hurt this man who had shown her the good that was still in the world of men. She sighed deeply and was about to speak when there was a rustling in the trees.

Polodrin leapt to his feet and drew his sword, but then Aragorn came into sight with a bundle in his arms. Nyére ran to meet him.

"Was she…?" Nyére asked.

"It did not appear so, but she has not spoken since we found her," Aragorn said.

The rest of the riders came into the clearing followed by an annoyed Quickbeam. Aragorn gave his burden to Legolas and dismounted, but Quickbeam spoke up.

"I will take her," Quickbeam said as he reached down and gently lifted Jamie's sleeping form from Legolas' arms.

"She needs care," Aragorn insisted.

"The princess may see to it," Quickbeam said as he carried her a short distance from the camp by the stream.

Nyére followed and when Quickbeam laid her down she tried to wake the sleeping girl. "Jamie? Jamie, where do you hurt?" she asked.

Jamie stirred and then groaned, "All over. They tossed me around like a sack of potatoes."

Nyére was going to take a look, but paused and looked at the camp. There was no privacy here. She looked up at Quickbeam who understood immediately and sat down between them and the camp. His large form made a perfect shield.

Nyére helped Jamie remove her coat and boots. She barely brushed against her ribs and Jamie flinched.

"I better have a look at that," Nyére said. She opened Jamie's shirt and could already see the bruises forming. She was furious. "What did they do?" she asked as calmly as she could manage.

"Nothing… invasive," Jamie said with a blush. "I think this happened on the ride to their camp. I was draped over his saddle horn, and it hurt with every step."

Nyére closed her eyes and sighed with relief. She had not been beaten or raped. It was small consolation, but it was comforting. "Anything else?" she asked.

"No," Jamie said quietly. "That bastard Endrion… he was disgusting. I feel soiled, and all he did was look at me and make threats."

"Do not feel ashamed, Jamie. Such men are beneath you. Bathe here in privacy, and I will return with fresh clothes for you and then bind those ribs," Nyére said, and then left Jamie to clean up.

Jamie glanced up at Quickbeam, but his back was turned. She wondered briefly if she should worry over modesty in front of a talking tree. After all, she was in a forest, and all the trees could talk to her. She looked down at the bruises and tried not to cry. There was a definite handprint in her side where he had carried her. She bit her lip and tried not to vomit. She took off her clothes, unbraided her hair and washed in the stream. The water was cold, but she didn't care. She needed to get his hand prints off, and god, he'd licked her. If she lived to be a hundred years old she'd never forget the humiliation of that filthy pig licking her! Jamie stopped feeling sorry for herself in that moment. She was absolutely pissed.

"Suck it up!" her mother always said. "Babies don't make it in this world!"

All right, mother, Jamie thought. I'm not a baby, and I can deal with this. Nothing happened. My friends found me, and I'm fine. Suck it up, Jamie, suck it up!

Aragorn and the men waited impatiently while Nyére tended to Jamie. The stew was hot, but no one felt much like eating. Thelyn stared across the camp to where Quickbeam sat to shield the ladies from their worried stares. Finally Nyére came back, and everyone held their breath and waited for the news. Her expression was grave, and no one had the heart to ask. They feared the worst. Only Aragorn had the nerve to voice the question.

"Did they…?" Aragorn asked, but Nyére interrupted before he could finish.

"Her virtue is in tact, but she is severely bruised from the rough handling," she said with a furrowed brow. "She is a fragile child. Elves do not bruise so easily. No doubt she will bear unseen scars from the frightening experience even after the bruises have faded." Nyére sighed and added, "But she will mend."

Nyére crossed the camp and retrieved Jamie's saddle bag and then returned to the stream. The men sat in silence a moment until finally Alcon broke the tension.

"That is a most welcome bit of news," he said. "We were in time after all."

Aragorn just frowned, "It never should have happened," he said bitterly. "Quickbeam was right to be angry. I was a clumsy guardian."

Legolas quickly tried to put his friend at ease. "They laid in wait for an opportunity. She was not a stone's throw from us. It happened too quickly to be prevented. Had she been right here, they would have still taken her. They would have merely waited until we were asleep."

"That is little comfort, Legolas," Aragorn said as he stood and went to check on the horses. "I was responsible."

Thelyn didn't say a word. He knew it was no one's fault but was ready to take the blame as well. He'd promised to protect Jamie and he'd failed her when she needed him most. How could he ever expect her to trust him again?

Nyére returned with Jamie's things and was struck by the sight of her in the moonlight. She seemed to glow as she stood by the water wrapped in the blanket. Her hair was unbelievably long. It hung nearly to her knees! Jamie turned and smiled at her.

"I feel a bit better," she said, "But I need a favor. Please cut this ridiculous hair."

Nyére smiled at the exasperated look Jamie had given her. "How much do you want me to cut?"

Jamie turned and reached back to grab it at about the small of her back. "Right about there," she said. "Just cut it straight."

Nyére smiled and pilled her dagger out of her belt. Jamie stood still and waited. In a moment, the haircut was done and Jamie turned and looked at the mass of curls in Nyére's hand.

"Good grief!" she said. "Quickbeam, I blame you for this!"

Quickbeam turned and looked over his shoulder. "What harm is there? You are healthy and strong. What is a little pruning now and then?"

Jamie laughed as she rummaged through her saddlebag for a change of clothes. Nyére looked at the hair in her hand and shook her head. "What should I do with this?"

"Throw it away," Jamie said. "It's not like it won't grow back."

When Jamie wasn't looking, Nyére took a handkerchief from her pocket. She put one thick curly lock of Jamie's hair in it and tossed the rest away. After wrapping Jamie's tender ribs in a bandage, Nyére decided to give her a little privacy.

"I'll let you dress," Nyére said. "Everyone is anxious to see you."

Jamie blushed as she buttoned her shirt, "I wouldn't know what to say."

Nyére looked at her with sympathy. She understood completely. "Then you don't have to talk. Just get some rest." And with that she gathered Jamie's dirty things and left.

It was Quickbeam that offered her a little advice. "If you do not talk to them now, you will feel worse tomorrow," he said softly. "They need to know that you are alright, and so do you."

Jamie sighed. "Are all Ents so wise?"

"I am the foolish one," Quickbeam said. "If you want wisdom, you must speak to Treebeard."

Jamie smiled as she walked around and looked up at him. "Thanks."

Quickbeam smiled, "You are welcome."

Jamie returned to the campfire and the expectant faces of her companions. She had to get this over with.

"I just want to say that what happened was no one's fault. I am fine, so you can stop worrying. It's all over and not worth even talking about, okay?" Jamie paused and looked at each one briefly before continuing. "Thank you all for coming after me so quickly," she added quietly.

"Are you hungry?" Aragorn asked.

"No," she said flatly and went to bed without another word.

Thelyn stood as if to follow, but Aragorn caught his arm and shook his head. The last thing Jamie needed was to have them fawning over her.

They broke up and went to bed, but Thelyn knew he wouldn't be able to sleep so he took the first watch. It would probably be the only watch as it was only a couple hours until dawn. He stood alone and watched the camp. Jamie slumbered under the protective guard of Quickbeam who sat and hummed softly beside her. Everyone else seemed to sleep, though restlessly. He paced off the perimeter silently until he heard a sound behind him. He spun around and was confronted by a sympathetic look from Nyére.

"You should rest," he said quietly.

"I will, I just wanted to give you this," she said as she handed him a folded piece of lace.

Thelyn took it and opened it. There inside was a lock of Jamie's hair. A single tear fell down his cheek as he stared at the gift.

"Did she tell you to give me this?" he asked.

"No, she asked for a trim, and I saved this for you," she said.

"Is she well, truly?" he asked.

"She will need your patience now more than ever," Nyére said seriously. "She will mend in time. Let her be the one to come to you."

"What if she doesn't?" he asked nervously.

Nyére offered him a smile, "She will when she is ready." And with that she went to bed.

Thelyn folded the handkerchief and tucked it in his breast pocket. It was the most thoughtful gift he'd ever been given. He would carry it close to his heart.

The next morning, the sun was bright, and the sky was clear. Jamie rose and packed her things as if nothing happened. Everyone seemed to be watching her carefully, but she just ignored it. After breakfast, the company mounted up and headed east. Aragorn was careful to avoid the trail that led to where they'd found Jamie. He didn't want her to see that campsite again. By early afternoon, they came to a stream on the edge of the wood.

"This is the last water for about four days," she said. "Just over those hills is the desert."

Aragorn knew everyone was tired, but he wanted to get away from the wood. There were too many enemies there and they would not be able to see them until they were under attack. At least in the open they had a little warning.

"Everyone, fill everything that will hold water and then drink your fill," Aragorn said. "And water the horses."

Jamie smiled suddenly, struck by a bit of humor, "You know, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink."

Legolas cocked a brow at her. That was the first thing she'd said all day. "Is that a bit of wisdom from Scotts Valley?" he asked.

"Old saying," she said with a smile and a shrug.

"Unfortunately, there is truth in it," Aragorn said. "Let us hope they are thirsty. They won't have the luxury of a cool stream again for a while."

They paused to rest and prepared for the trek across the desert. After a bit of lunch, they mounted up and continued over the hills. At the crest of the last hill, they paused to look at the desert. Everyone was surprised at how desolate it was. Jamie thought it reminded her of the salt flats in Utah, or a vast dry lakebed. The ground was perfectly flat and cracked, and it went on for miles. She liked the sun and the outdoors, but she didn't like the heat. This was not going to be fun.

Aragorn groaned inwardly but put on a brave face. "Let's get going," he said. "It is cooling off a little and we can travel all night. We will rest when the heat becomes unbearable."

And so that is what they did. They rode at a light pace until the sun started to go down. Then they rode with urgency, trying to cover as much of the distance as possible in the cool night. There was little conversation as they traveled and as morning approached, Nyére encouraged them to keep up the urgent pace. With the sun came the heat and they were forced to slow. They kept going until mid morning and then halted.

There was nothing there, not a bit of cover. They sat in the shade of the horses and kept their hoods up to shield their faces from the relentless sun. Aragorn rationed the water, and they ate and tried to rest. As the late afternoon progressed, it began to cool a little so they got moving again. The horses were tired, but as the air cooled with the dusk, Aragorn pushed them with all the urgency he'd shown when crossing Lebennin during the War of the Ring. He did not want them to have to endure three full days of this heat. As the moon climbed high, they slowed a little to rest the horses. Everyone was feeling exhausted and crestfallen. Jamie thought it might help if she sang a song. She gazed up at the moon, nearly full, and thought of a poem she'd read not long before her accident. It was by Edgar Allen Poe, and was one of his less dismal subjects. As the stars above twinkled at them, she closed her eyes and put his words to a pleasant yet somber tune…

"'Twas noontide of summer, and mid-time of night; And stars, in their orbits shone pale, thro' the light of the brighter, cold moon..." Once again, she found herself the secret moon worshipper..."Proud Evening Star, In thy glory afar, And dearer thy beam shall be; For joy to my heart is the proud part thou bearest in Heaven at night, and more I admire thy distant fire, than that colder, lowly light." (Evening Star, Edgar Allen Poe)

Aragorn had not been in their company long, and was not used to Jamie's songs. He was moved to tears by her stirring words that seemed to be right from his own heart. He indeed admired the light of his Evenstar, Arwen. How could Jamie have known? What is this strange gift of song that wrenches the hearts of men so?

Thelyn rode beside her as she sang. She did not seem to notice him, and it was painful to see her withdraw from everyone these past days. He put his hand over the lock of hair in his breast pocket and sighed. Patience… that is what Nyére had said he would need. Indeed it was hard to watch and wait. Jamie's rapid recovery was disturbing to him. He'd seen her eyes when Endrion had her by the throat. She'd been terrified. He didn't believe she was truly over it.

They kept riding through the early morning again, and in the distance, they could see hills. Nyére smiled when they came into sight.

"We have ridden hard," she said. "Three days has turned into two."

"Then let's keep moving until we reach the cover of those hills," Aragorn said. "How far to the water?"

"On the other side of those hills is a small canyon with a sweet spring," she said. "We might reach it by nightfall."

Aragorn nudged his horse to pick up the pace. By the time the sun was high in the sky, they were climbing up into the hills and away from the scorching heat of the desert. Everyone was feeling cooked and worn out. They pressed on with one thought on their minds, sweet spring water.

As dusk approached, they came to the entrance to a canyon. There was a breeze, and the horses caught the scent of water. They tore down into the canyon at a gallop with their riders struggling to stay in the saddle. They passed through a maze of passageways and finally came out into an oasis like canyon. There was a waterfall pouring its cool water into a large crystal clear pool. Everyone smiled and quickly dismounted.

"I believe we'll camp right here," Jamie said with a smile. "Who's up for swimming?"