Authors Note: Sorry it's been so bloody long. Although apparently no one is actually reading this at all because no one has reviewed! Grr. Anyway there is sex in this scene, but it's well written so...shrug This scene made me laugh, cry, and orgasm. Enjoy.

The Moon perched atop the highest mountain, bright as a new lantern, projecting nightmares and black horses that galloped as though in a dream.

It was too bright to merit rescue.

Inside a small square tent lay Cirdae, bound with rope think as her finger but strong as a spider's silk. Her hands were tied in front of her, and she would have attempted to untie them in a moment had she seen a chance for escape. Alas, none had come, and she knew if they found her unbound, it would turn her into a prisoner instead of a captive. No one had come into the tent since the men that brought her here, and now, after a half-days worth of quiet thought, she decided to go stark raving mad, to save trouble. Luckily, she was merely on the verge of insanity when in walked a young man, the apparent owner of the tent, dripping wet and not a little naked.

Sensing her immediately, he turned and watched her, staring intently at her in the glimmer half-light of the moon that filtered into the tent. His gaze was subtle, permeating, like being slowly yet inexorably engulfed in water.

She shuddered. What now? There had been so many near-death experiences in her life she had lost track, but now, eyeing the dagger on the table to his right, she saw that death might truly be moments away.

Still dripping, he picked up the dagger and walked straight to her. Was this the time? She closed her eyes, willing death away. But she did not expect him to cut her bonds, or kiss her neck, or take her to his cot. This night would be one of surprises.

Laying there at his side, naked and shining in the still metallic moonlight, she heard a bird singing somewhere. He lay sleeping beside her, his breathing quiet and even. Was this rape? He had taken advantage, but she was almost as guilty for not stopping him.

Before, when he had laid her on the cot and kissed her, she had spied the dagger he had lain down, and thoughts of escaping had passed through her mind. But then he ran his hand up her thigh, touching her as though he loved her, and she was gone, taken by the wind and tide so wantonly she shamed herself. He had been so quiet and so gentle. The way he made love was dark and filled with sorrow, as though he had once loved and had been loved, and he poured his sorrow into her hair.

She looked at him again, dark, lean, and muscled, as young as she was but with so much more despair, like a man always walking through the ashes of his house.

Something in her was different now, as a flower cut and floated across a pond. Sleeping uneasily, she dreamt of trying to kill herself, but as she reached for the knife she turned into a bird and flew away.

Ella found herself in a similar situation, naked and bound in an empty tent. Similar thought were running through her head: It was too bright for rescue. But who would rescue us anyway? she thought, fully comprehending the utter hopelessness of their situation. No one knew where they were. They had few allies, anyway. It had been only three years ago that the girls had met, outcasts from their respective societies. Lassi had been kicked out of the Houses of Healing after sleeping with the renowned female Warden's husband, the first female Warden in Gondor. The shame had driven her from the city she loved. Ella assumed there was more to this story, but it was never said. She herself had worked as a guard in Minas Ithil after being banished from her home in Lindon. She stayed there until her true sex was learned and she was also forced to flee. There was more to this story as well, but it too was never spoken of. Cirdae had yet to tell her story, either because it simply didn't match up to her companions', or because it far outreached theirs. But the unspoken rule in the girls' relationship was that you didn't ask about another's past, and this rule was never broken.

Anything from the time the girls had met, on, however, was fair go, an—

The ten flap snapped open, interrupting her thoughts. In came a tall man, also dripping wet, and also naked. He was clearly expecting her to be there, but he wasn't expecting her.

"Nailer Lebbian?!" she cried, thrilled to see someone she knew.

His eyes were wide and he spoke in disbelief. "Ariella Feanor." His face cracked into the grin men get when they think they're clever for finding a naked woman. Then he remembered himself. He looked away and grabbed a coat that was hanging on the back of a chair. Cutting her bonds he said, "No one wants to see that, girl."

She could have said the same about him, but she didn't. They didn't exactly have a positive relationship, and although she had been happy to see him at first, she soon realized that this could actually be a problem instead of a help.

Ella pulled on the coat and stood up. The coat was somewhat open in the front and only fully covered down to her mid-thighs. She looked at the ground.

"So, why're you...here?" he asked.

"We're headed for Rivendell to join Elrond's army. The War is about to start. I know it. We saw Orcs marching toward Mordor in Amon Hen. Sauron's forces are regrouping. But then we got captured. And—we need..." she stumbled at the words, fearful of the answer, "...your help."

She looked up to see the goofy smile back on his face.

"What?" she asked.

"I'd heard you were a woman, but..."

She shifted uncomfortably. "Could you put some pants on?"

Lassi had no delusions about what was to happen to her. She knew the ultimate importance of remaining calm, but one all-consuming thought permeated all of her being.

Algar.

She could joke all she wanted about the Warden's husband, but they had pledged their love. Could she so betray him? It isn't betrayal if it isn't my choice, is it? thought Lassi...but she had no time for other thoughts.

A sex god had entered the tent, and here she was, naked as the day she was born, and tied to what she assumed was his bed.

Oh, this can't end well, Lassi thought.

The Sex God was not as tall as some, but what he lacked in height he made up for in tanned glory. He was muscular like a Tiger, sleek and confidant. There was a towel wrapped around his waist, but aside from that, he wore only copious amounts of eccentric jewelry. Assorted rings adorned his fingers, and a claw earring dangled from his ear. His hands were long fingered, delicate, and tattooed. Finally, Lassi looked up at his face. A quirky sensitive mouth grinned lopsidedly at her. And then Lassi gazed into his eyes. It was at that moment that all was lost, she reflected later.

That moment when he shifted his head slightly to observe his prize. Blue eyes. Deep, deep blue eyes. Their depths welcomed her, asked her to come out and play. Enchanting.

Algar had grey eyes...a part of her mind thought.

No! Algar!

But it was too late...

Was that betrayal? She had no choice, it was rape. Did one enjoy rape? Lassi admitted guiltily. She rather thought not.

The man was asleep now. She gazed at him, musing. Sleep usually made people seem younger. The man (his name was Zef) looked older, sad somehow. He looked like he was in pain.

Good, screamed a part of her. He deserves it, damned rapist!

You weren't complaining earlier, another part replied quietly.

She reached out to wake him. He turned, moaning in his sleep. One hand came out to rest on the pillow beside her. Fascinated, she examined it. Rings adorned his thumb, fore finger, and ring finger. He wore a bracelet made of a ragged scarf wrapped around his wrist several times.

But this was not what captured her eye. She delicately lifted the hand off the pillow. Tattooed on the back of his hand was a stylized version of the Tree of Gondor. Beneath it, woven among the roots of the tree was the Elvish word "Melyanna." Across the tattoo was the legend "Return to me, Mírluin."

Who was Mírluin? A woman? His wife perhaps? Suddenly something swelled in her chest. Jealousy.

Oh, it was all too confusing. Algar, betrayal, captivity, rape, jealousy, and someone named Mírluin...

Cirdae and Lassi were returned to the tent in the morning, where they were left unbound, but heavily guarded. In the tent were their clothes, but no Ella. Later in the morning Ella too returned, accompanied by a man about six feet tall, his hair cut short so that it was difficult to discern its color. A small hoop was in his left ear lobe and the muscles in his arms were slightly visible through his shirt. The thing that most surprised the girls though was that after showing Ella into the tent he didn't leave, but promptly looked away while she changed.

"What?" Lassi asked, realizing that Ella had been talking since she entered the tent. Ella sighed when she saw Cirdae pull her eyes away from the man as well.

"I said, this is Nailer. I know him from my time as a guard—"

"Haha!" he laughed. "That's a nice way of saying she arrested me."

"He's going to help us get out of here, give us horses. Turn around," she said to him, now fully dressed.

"How?" Cirdae asked.

"And why can't he just ask the leader to let us go? What would he care if we stayed or not?" Lassi added.

Nailer spoke, completely serious. "Sit down. There are things you need to know."