Second part. Keep in mind that notes will follow after chapter 3 tomorrow, which is the final part. And I did get the translation to Within the Tangled Webs thanks to someone on the Simoun forum. In fact, she had some pages that were missing from what I had, so that was a wonderful surprise. Now that I know that variation of Aaeru's past, I'm curious as to how that situation occurred. Anyway, enjoy :)

He kept an eye on the young child as she slept uneasily. She had done nothing but toss and turn since he'd laid her on the bed. He didn't mind giving up his space. He wanted to help this child. He'd seen her on the streets a lot during his visit, and she had intrigued him. There was something about this girl that touched him, though she hid in her blanket and was filthy from head to toe. He'd caught a glimpse of those green eyes beneath the tangled mess of blonde hair and knew there had to be something about her.

Of course, no one could answer his questions. He'd asked many of the market peddlers, but they could only say she'd showed up in the area a few months ago. She had been alone and no one knew what she did. She was just another street kid, and her affairs weren't something they worried over.

There wasn't even a name attached to her. He wondered if she had a name. Everyone should have a name, something they always could own and that no one could truly take from them. He would ask her when she woke up. He glanced over at her when he heard her making a sound, but it was only her stirring in her sleep. She settled in once more and he turned back to the meal he was making with the simple cook stove provided with his quarters.

He hadn't been in this country very long. He was getting older, and had yearned to see more of the world. Having no family of his own, it had been easy for him to pack a bag and head off. It wasn't hard to cross country borders; all was peaceful now. Through towns and cities and villages he'd wandered, observing the local customs and cultures, and sampling the range of cuisine that wasn't too unlike what he was used to. He had learned much in a sort time period, and now he was faced with this child, someone who had no home or family it appeared, and who was forced to eke out a method of survival by herself.

She looked to be five or so, he estimated. She was small and skinny, which was to be expected if she had no source of food. He brought a spoon to his lips, tasting the stew he had concocted. It would be enough to give her nourishment, but not too rich so as to make her sick. In all his seventy years, he had never known what it was like to be without food. There had been times of famine when he had gone with less, but his stomach had never been empty. Yet, this young child experienced it often. It was heartbreaking to think of.

He thought back to the previous night, when he'd caught another homeless person holding her up at arm's length. He didn't know what the young man had planned to do, but he had certainly had no need of a child. He had defended the girl then, but she had scampered off into the darkness, and he could not follow her. At least he had gotten rid of her attacker, if he could be called that. It hadn't been hard. His words had only been able to get him so far. Easier to pick on a child than someone of your own size and capability.

He heard a whimpering and looked over at the sleeping child, and realized that she wasn't sleeping anymore. Scared green eyes peeked at him as she pulled the blanket tighter around her small frame. He realized she was shaking and it was because she was with him. He had had a hard time chasing her, and he could have easily given up on chasing her. She didn't want to be caught and he wondered why. He wondered who had hurt her in her past to make her that way or if she just thought the streets were better than what she could ever have.

"It's all right…" he whispered softly. "I'm not going to hurt you…" He slowly rose from his spot and moved toward the bed. He watched as she moved back, until she was against the wall. It was just like their street encounter that day. She still was afraid, which was expected. "I'm not going to hurt you… I want to help you…"

"Go… go away…" she whispered, and he heard that fear in her voice. It was heartbreaking to listen to. All he could see of her now were her eyes. Fear was easily read in them. Stray strands of straw blonde hair poked out from the filthy fabric. With that blanket, she felt safe.

"I want to help you. I've made some food I think you might like. I bet you're hungry, aren't you?" He gestured to the meal behind him. "Won't you join me in eating?"

He heard the rumbling of her small stomach and knew her body wanted the food. He needed her to say that, and so turned back to the stove. He would not force her to eat, but would wait for her to speak up. He knew she would. It would just take time. He took a bowl and filled it with the hot stew, adding chunks of meet from another pot for himself. He cut a slice of bread from the loaf he'd bought in the market earlier that afternoon.

Setting the bowl on the table, he took one of the bottles of fresh water and poured a glass. Finally, he began eating, every so often casting a glance toward the young child. She appeared to watch him curiously from the safety of the bed and blanket. Ever so slowly, she began to move closer, inching her way across the bed until her feet dangled over the edge. He noticed she only had one worn sandal and that her other foot was bare.

He still pretended to ignore her, even when she stood and padded across the floor, slowly coming closer and closer. Her blanket was still pulled tightly around her neck, but he saw that she eyed his food. He saw her lick her lips and knew she wanted to eat, but he still wouldn't speak to her, not just yet. He didn't want to frighten her when she'd been able to bring herself this far. No, he would wait until she asked. Only then would he fix her a meal to satisfy the hunger he'd never felt.

As he took a bite from the slice of bread, he heard her move next to his chair. He paused in his bite and looked down at her, smiling. She looked ready to speak, but as she noticed him, she looked down at the floor once more. She didn't retreat. He waited for her to speak.

"Can… can I have some?" Her voice was soft and quiet.

"Of course. Why don't you climb in the other chair?" He rose from his spot and took down another bowl. The stew was ladled into the bowl and he sliced another piece of bread. He took the meal to her and then poured a glass of water, setting that in front of her as well. He sat back at the table and watched her.

"This is… all for me?" She looked up in wonder.

"All for you. And if you're still hungry, you can have more." He watched her dig in, stuffing the bread into her mouth. "Whoa, slow down there, kid. You'll choke yourself if you eat too fast."

She looked up at him, mouth stuffed full of bread. At first, she looked as though she'd bolt with the food in hand, but she looked at him and back to the bowl. He smiled as she tried to slurp the stew awkwardly from the bowl, and he chuckled.

"Here, like this." He picked up his spoon and dipped it into his bowl, pulling it up and then tipping it to his mouth.

She picked up the utensil, large in her hand. Dipping it into the stew, she pulled it up and then slurped noisily. He smiled and laughed softly.

"That's it, just like that." He continued to eat his own stew, watching as she continued to copy him.

Asking no questions, the meal was eaten without words, the only sounds being that of slurping and chewing and sipping. He watched her clean her bowl and then sit quietly at the table, watching him. He wondered if she was still hungry. He didn't want her to go to bed with a stomach ache, but if she was hungry, he wouldn't stop her either.

"Would you like some more? You can have as much as you want."

"I want bread." She shrank back in her chair, and he wondered what was going through her tiny head.

"Let me cut you another piece." He rose and sliced another thick slice, passing it to her. She munched happily on it.

He cleared the dishes after the meal and she still sat at the table, watching everything, but still did not speak. He took that as a good sign that she wasn't retreating. Her blanket still was by her side, wrapped around her.

"Why don't we get you a bath?" he suggested.

"Bath?" She looked up, and he could see the fear begin to return to her face. He realized she didn't know what that was.

"Well, sure. I'll run some warm water and you can clean all that dirt off. I'm sure that can't feel very good. You can wash your hair too." He smiled at her. "Would you like that?"

She looked down at the floor and saw her pull the blanket up to her face. "M-maybe…"

"I'll prepare a bath and then you can see, all right? You won't have to, but I bet you'll feel a lot better. I know I do." He smiled and left the room to draw the bath. He certainly enjoyed the running water here. He didn't have such a luxury on the farm. Here you didn't have to heat bucket after bucket of water first. You merely had to adjust the knobs to the proper temperature. He made sure it was warm and not too hot. After all, if she refused him, he still needed to take his own bath.

The child still sat at the table when he returned. She looked at him, but didn't say a word. "Would you like to try it?" he asked softly.

Sliding off her chair, the girl walked toward him. Her blanket dragged behind her. He led her into the bathroom and helped her to undress and into the tub. "Would you like me to leave you alone to clean up?" She nodded. "All right. I'll go wash up your clothes. The soap is right there on the edge of the tub." He pointed it out to her. "I'll be back to help you with your hair." With that, he closed the door behind him and took her clothes.

The clothing itself was ratty and old. He could tell that it'd been through a lot. Some of the stains seemed to be set in and there were plenty of holes and tears. It seemed as though she hadn't had a new pair of clothing in a long time. If she would let him, he'd fix that tomorrow. There were plenty of sellers in the market that sold clothing for children. He rung out the pieces as best he could and hung them up to dry. She could wear one of his shirts and there might be a pair of shorts to belt around her wait.

Returning to the bathroom, he knocked lightly on the door. He wanted to call out her name, but he realized he had never asked for her name. He made a note to change that. "Are you all right?" He didn't hear a reply and opened the door slowly, so as not to spook her. He found her sitting in the tub, just as he'd left her. He eyed the soap, and realized that she hadn't even attempted to use it. The thought crossed his mind that she didn't know how to clean herself up.

His limbs creaked as he knelt by the tub. Reaching for the soap and a wash cloth, he created a soapy lather and began rubbing it on her skin. She didn't fight him, although she winced at first. He made sure to be gentle and slow. As he cleaned her, the water slowly became dirty and filthy. He ended up draining the tub and refilling it with more clean water. She was still quiet, her eyes observing everything around her.

"I'm going to wash your hair now. I'm going to try not to get it in your eyes. Just close them though just in case." As he promised, he was gentle and easy and could feel the grim between his fingers as he scrubbed her head. He rinsed his hands in the water and then looked around the room. His eyes lit up a cup that was by the sink. He picked it up, reaching for another wash cloth. "Here, take this and hold it against your eyes. It'll keep the shampoo from getting into them. Then just tilt your head back for me."

She took the wash cloth from him and did as asked. He dipped the cup into the water, pouring it slowly over her head. The suds washed out and a flowery scent wafted from her hair, which was now a much brighter straw color. He was careful to make sure that none of it went into her eyes. He wanted to earn her trust.

He set the cup down in the water. "All right. That should do it. Let's get you dried off and in some clean clothing."

Helping her out of the tub, he wrapped a large towel around her small body. He smiled at her, helping her to towel off. "Let me go get you some clothes to wear tonight. I've washed your other set."

She stood in the bathroom, waiting while he retrieved the clothing he'd thought of earlier. He placed the overly large shorts and shirt on her, rolling them as best as he could. A belt was placed around her waist to keep the pants up. She looked so small and fragile in the clothing.

"How do you feel now?"

"O-okay."

He settled her onto a chair and began combing the knots. It was an effort because he'd never had a child of his own and didn't know how to really comb a child's hair, but he tried his best. The girl squirmed sometimes when he worked through a particular tangle, but in the end, her hair was clean and untangled. It had taken much longer than he thought. He yawned, and found that the hour was getting late.

"Are you tired?"

She nodded to him and he led her back to the main room. He went to pick her out and place her in the bed, but she scampered across the room, retrieving her blanket. He should have known she'd want that as well. She allowed him to tuck her in and it wasn't very long before she was asleep. She seemed to be exhausted. He watched her sleep, noting how fragile and young she looked, curled up with her blanket.

He wasn't sure what to do with her. All he had done so far had been what he felt was right, what Tempus Spatium expected him to do. He would let Tempus Spatium guide him once more. He knelt on the floor and crossed his arms across his chest. He prayed for the small girl that was with him and he prayed for guidance. Surely Tempus Spatium would know what he should now. He rose when he heard whimpering coming from the bed. He looked over to see the girl, tossing and turning fearfully.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small round object. He pushed the brass button that would spring it open, and then blew gently. Immediately, a tune drifted out, one he'd grown up hearing. He knew it used to help him sleep when he was just a boy and now, it might help her sleep as well. He placed it by the bedside, letting it play through its course. Every so often, he would blow again, making sure the music was playing continuously. All he wanted was her to settle in.

The girl slowly relaxed, and the whimpered died away. Soon she was back into a deep sleep, the sound her of breathing even. By now the night hour was much later than he was used to. He finished cleaning up the room and then prepared himself for bed. Since he'd given the bed to the girl, he took the small couch. It wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep, but it would do. He was sure that she needed the bed more than he did. He had never known what it was like to be without.