When Lietuva woke the next morning he had been dressed in a pair of shorts and a shirt that were no doubt a hand-me-down from one of the boys in the house. There had been three boys, the youngest child and two others that were only a few years older than the nation himself, as well as two girls, one around fourteen, the other maybe eight. This the child remembered just from glancing at them. It didn't take much for someone like him to know his people for each child born was another drop of his blood. He could sense them even if they couldn't sense him. Lietuva sat up, yelping and groaning at the pain that tore his spine and belly, the muscles in his back screaming in agony. He lay again, pulling the blanket around his shaking form. As he woke more he could smell bacon and eggs from the next room and the sound of eating and people talking in hushed voices. At the sound of his yelp, however, he heard chairs scraping along the wooden floor.

He saw the farmer and his wife enter the room, hesitating to make sure he was really awake. The man approached first, his dull brown eyes locking on the boy's jade. "Well good morning there, little one," he said quietly, kneeling down to pet Lietuva's hair. His voice was gruff and raspy, like he didn't speak as much as he should, but was soothing and gentle, giving Lietuva the feeling that when he did speak, it was enough.

The woman hovered over his shoulder, drying her hands on an apron. Her hair was gray and pulled into a messy bun, she was wrinkled as much as the man although each line was more pronounced due to the deep look of concern she held for the boy. She was a good mother, he could tell, a kind mother. She cooked good warm meals with whatever they had and made up nice comfy beds with soft sheets. Lietuva felt safe here, at home here, more so than he had in any castle he'd lived in. "Can you eat?" she asked, kneeling beside her husband. "I made you a plate."

She got a little nod in response, the boy's stomach churning from either want or sickness. Lietuva watched her leave, eyes staying on the door.

The farmer moved to sit on the bench next to him, eyes studying the child. "What happened to you, son?" he asked, arms leaning on his legs. His tongue moved to pick some gunk from breakfast out of his teeth. When Lietuva said nothing, he cleared his throat. "Well, um, the name's Mykolas Lorinaitis, that's my wife Audra." He paused, hoping to prompt the child. "Those are my children, got two others that have been married off and I got three grandbabies with one on the way."

Lietuva finally spoke, his voice raw and pained. "My name is Lietuvos."

Mykolas nodded, frowning at his wife as she entered the room. "Yeah, yeah, you said that yesterday." He caught Audra's eye as she helped the child sit, offering to feed him. "But you know, Lietuvos is the name of the country. I remember when it was formed, you know. We had been married a couple years already, had out first boy with our eldest girl a few months coming." He gave a dry sort of chuckle, clearing his throat after. "Where's your home at? I can take you back to your parents once you're feeling better."

Lietuva chewed what he had in his mouth, ringing the blanket between his shaking hands. His body hurt from the invasion, his emotions drained from the betrayal. "I live everywhere," he said, not able to look at the kind souls that had taken him in. "The castle isn't my home, I don't like it there. Mindaugas ignores me; he cares for the country but not for me. Novgorod-" his voice hitched and he covered his eyes. When he'd collected himself, his words came out as a choked sob, "No-Novgorod, I thought he cared about me, b-but he-he invaded me…his soldiers hur-hurt me everywhere. They burned things, they killed things, they-they hurt all my people…" Lietuva began to sob, the pain the only thing keeping him from curling in on himself.

The couple looked at each other, not sure what to make of the boy's words. Obviously there was doubt that the boy lived with the king up Kernavė and that he had traveled west some 18 kilometers to Kaunas just to get away. He certainly looked as though he could be royalty: he was healthy, his skin was pale and soft, his face was round and feminine, he had large eyes that held all the innocence of someone who had grown up sheltered and privileged. But then again, he was only around four or five years old.

"Sweetheart," the woman said, placing a gentle hand on his knee, "did someone touch you…down there?" Lietuva looked at the hand, it was bony and the skin was starting to shrink around it. "You had blood all over you; you can tell us."

Again the boy sobbed, moving closer to the woman. He held his arms out and was brought to her bosom, hugged and held tightly. "He did it!" he cried. "Novgorod! I trusted him! We were friends!"

Audra pet through the chocolate colored hair, hushing the boy. "You'll be safe here, it'll be okay. No one will hurt you anymore."

Lietuvos desperately wished to believe that, so he moved closer to her. She smelt like grease and lard soap and pine. It was comforting, it was welcoming, it was warm. He let himself forget his duties, his attack, and melt into her body, feeling the farmer's hand rubbing his back gently before he stood, his voice quietly ushering his children from the house.

"Please don't make me leave," he whimpered, looking up at her desperately. "I-I know he'll touch me again a-and Mindaugas won't stop him. Please let me stay, please let me stay, I want to be your baby too!"

"I need you to tell me your real name, dear; we have to find your parents." Audra pet his cheek with the back of her hand, drying his tears gently.

"My name is Lietuvos!" he insisted. "I don't have any parents!"

She looked at him, staring deeply in his searching eyes. Audra figured the boy did not recall who he was or where he had come from. Maybe he had been raised by this man who was called "Novgorod" and was given the name of where he was from to make him less real. Her heart ached for the child. "If I'm to look after you, I have to have a name for you. How does Toris sound?" she asked.

Lietuva nodded, it was a nice name. He'd never had a name before. His heart thumped happily, excitedly, in his chest. "Th-thank you," he whispered, fingers clinging to her dress. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of being embraced. Lietuva felt his small frame move up and down with her gentle breathing and listened to her heart beating behind her sagging breast. "Toris," he breathed quietly, "I-I can be Toris…Lorinaitis?"

Audra kept him close to her, eyes squeezed shut. She could not imagine how this poor child had suffered, what the boy had gone through to get to this point. "Yes, yes you can be. You'll be welcomed here, loved and taken care of. Don't worry anymore."

Historical Notes:

• "Voruta may have been a capital of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania established in the time of king Mindaugas in the 13th century. The exact location of Voruta is unknown and there are many contradictiory theories about it...Present Lithuanian historian T. Baranauskas says that it is Šeimyniškėliai near Anykščiai. Others argue that Voruta is the current capital of Lithuania, Vilnius or the medieval capital at Kernavė. In total there about fifteen identified locations of Voruta. Birds eye view of KernavÄ— KernavÄ— is a tourist and archeological resort in southeast Lithuania, and was once the medieval capital of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania..." [www dot statemaster dot com front slash encyclopedia front slashVoruta]