A.N.- I forgot to put a disclaimer on the previous chapter. Simply put, if you recognize it, it ain't mine! It belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, and I thank him for the use of his people and places. Please don't sue me...you wouldn't get much anyway. Tuition was just due.

Thanks to Sarah and Frodo Freak2- I got this one out faster than I thought I would especially for you guys- hope you like it! It's a bit grim in parts...

Nobody's read this but me, so I take full responsibility for all mistakes. Questions, comments, concerns and screaming fits are welcome- but please try to make them constructive. Unconstructive reviews will be eaten with M&Ms for breakfast. :-)

A girl. A girl with hair cropped short, dressed in boy's clothing, but by her chest and the curves of her hips, definitely a woman. There were other bruises, old ones, faded to a yellowish-green across her body. She had been badly beaten…and raped, too, by the looks of it.

He hurriedly covered her with a blanket and strode out of the room, intent on finding a healer….a woman healer, preferably. He collided with the servant in the doorway.

"I have what you requested, sire."

"Thank you," he replied. "Put them on the table in there, and please wait with our visitor. I must find a healer." He left her looking startled in the doorway, no doubt wondering why he did not do the job himself. Pausing only to find a cloak, he headed out into the storm, moving in the direction of the Houses of Healing.

Several hours later, Aragorn paced nervously outside the door. The woman- a middle-aged senior healer named Kalinah- had immediately banished him to the hallway, king or not. He hadn't argued, realizing it would be futile, and so now he was alone with his thoughts.

Who had attacked her? And where? Here, in the city? Or on her journey from home? Where was she from? At once, unbidden, his mind remembered her words to him.

Your lady, sire, she is going to be kidnapped. So she had known. Somehow. Which meant that likely, she knew who had done it in the first place. Was she somehow involved?

The door opened, interrupting his thoughts and his stride, and Kalinah emerged, looking strained.

"She is sleeping now- I've stitched and cleaned her up as best I could. She seems young and strong, but she has lost a great deal of blood. And…some of her injuries will likely be permanent." Aragorn felt himself grow cold.

"What do you mean?" he asked, hesitantly, not sure he really wanted to know. The healer sighed.

"She was badly beaten- a few weeks ago, I would guess. She's exhausted, and she…" The woman paused, as if searching for words. Then facing Aragorn and staring into his eyes, she said, "She has also been raped. Several times, from what I can tell, by men. And once by a knife. I am sure she has internal injuries, and I doubt that she will ever be able to bear children." Aragorn gasped. Who would do such a thing? Kalinah, a stoic woman from what he could tell, looked deeply upset. "She will need someone to look after her, and to be here when she wakes."

"I will take care of her," Aragorn said. If she really had traveled a long way to come here, his was likely the only face she knew. Perhaps she wouldn't be as frightened of him… Kalinah nodded and prepared to leave. "Keep her warm, and try not to let her move too much. Send for me if anything changes in her condition." She strode away down the hall and he re-entered the room and settled himself into a chair beside the bed.

She lay covered in a thick blanket, and the only sign that she lived was the slow movement of the fabric over her upper body. Looking at her more closely for the first time, Aragorn saw that she was quite pretty. Her hair, slowly drying, was unevenly shorn, as though she had done it herself, but an attractive shade of brown tinted with coppery-red. Her skin, though pale from weariness and injury, was likely a golden-brown color, as though she had spent a great deal of time in the sun. Her bone structure looked delicate. She couldn't have been more than 22 or 23 summers old. She certainly was not from Gondor- her skin was too dark and her hair was that unusual color.

South, she said, he recalled. Perhaps Harad, though she looked to be too pale to be native to the desert lands. Now, there was a thought. If she had traveled all the way from Harad, then perhaps someone there had taken Arwen. The Southrons had been suspiciously quiet the last few weeks…could they have done it?

He continued to think on it until at last, exhausted by the strain of the past few days, he slid into a dreamless sleep.

Aragorn awoke with a start and was on his feet instantly. Long years of wariness had ingrained an alertness into him, and though he no longer needed it, it still persisted.

The girl still slept in the bed, and the early morning sunlight streamed through a window at the far end of the chamber. The embers of last night's fire glowed faintly in the fireplace, no longer needed either for light or for warmth. He went to the window and opened it. The air flowed in, fresh and cool as it always was after rain. He stood gazing out for a long moment, over the city and the plain far below, and then realized that he was hungry. Turning, he crossed the room, opened the door and requested breakfast from the servant standing outside- fruit and bread, and some juice. As he re-entered, he felt someone's eyes on him, and looking toward the bed he confirmed that the girl was awake.

She was staring at him with blue-green eyes that were wide, though that seemed to be the only indication of her fear. Aragorn felt a small amount of respect for her- she was obviously in great pain and quite helpless, yet she locked eyes with him in a defiant kind of way, as though informing him that she was not so weak as she appeared. He approached the bed and smiled at her.

"So, you are awake! I summoned a healer for you last night after you fainted. She has told me you are very injured. How do you feel?"

"Hurt….hungry…." she said softly, shrinking away from him.

"I'll not hurt you. Be easy- you have lost a lot of blood. I've sent for some food."

"Where am I?"

"In the palace of the king, in the city of Minas Tirith. You arrived here last night, saying you had news of the queen. Do you remember?" he asked gently. She closed her eyes briefly and nodded.

"Yes. You told me she is already missing- I am too late. How long since they took her?" She was watching him steadily now. He felt a fresh burst of pain at the thought of his wife.

"Five days. Do you know…?" he trailed off as she nodded again and lay back against the pillows, her eyes glazing over with exhaustion.

"I….know. It will take….time…to explain…fully…so tired…my…lord…" Her eyelids drooped and Aragorn knew he would get nothing more from her now.

"Aragorn. Call me Aragorn," he said softly. "Sleep in peace. You are safe here." Here eyes opened briefly and the closed again.

"Polara…" she whispered, and then slept again.