Disclaimer: Don't own Hobbit. This is the edited version. There are some minor changes, so you can skip them if you want.

Mirela did not sleep for the rest of the night, no matter how much she tried. Her mind was working over what she had heard. Part of her was afraid of what was going to happen once they reached Bree and part of her was still in denial about the whole thing. These men were role-playing medieval human traffickers, she tried to convince herself. It wasn't real. However, the level of seriousness in their conversation last night made her doubt this claim.

Regardless, she wanted to get as far away from them as possible.

The next time Bash tries to take me to the renaissance festival, my answer's going to be a flat-out no, she thought.

She spent some of the night formulating plans for escape. Fighting either of them was not an option. Both men towered over her. Robert probably had to have at least 60 or 70 pounds on her, and Damian was even larger. They were both armed with knives and swords, which, even if they weren't skilled with them, still put them at a large advantage over her if they decided to use them. Running was an option, but they also probably knew the forest better than her. Maybe if they led her to a road, she could ditch them and get to this Bree place by herself. But they were headed to Bree, also, and would be able to catch up to her on the road. The only advantage she had was that both men still thought she was ignorant of their plans.

She nearly jumped when Robert put his hand on her shoulder, gently shaking to rouse her from her pretend slumber.

"Mirela," he said softly, "we will be leaving soon. Get up so you can eat breakfast."

Robert had seemed too kind and gentle to be so malicious. She reminded herself that this was all an act, using his charm to reel her in.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning. "Breakfast?" she asked.

"It is only some bread and dried meat," he replied. "You will need your strength for the journey."

Breakfast, while filling enough, did nothing to dispel the pit in her stomach. She had significantly more energy than she had before and, despite not sleeping well, she was too anxious to feel tired.

Their journey went westward, but the men did not follow a road. Robert said they preferred cross-country, where there were less people and it was more peaceful. Mirela figured they probably didn't want to get caught doing anything illegal, like kidnapping poor lost girls.

A few hours into the trek, Mirela decided now was the time.

"I have to go," she said, stopping suddenly in her tracks, "pee. Really bad." It wasn't her best line, but she couldn't think of anything else to say that wouldn't raise their suspicion. They thought she was odd already, anyway.

Both men wore shocked expressions at her bluntness, but quickly shook it off.

"Do you need accompaniment?" Robert asked.

"No. I'll just be behind a tree or bush or something."

"Stay within earshot. We would not want you getting lost again." He grinned.

She forced a short, nervous laugh. "Yeah. Don't worry. I think I can manage finding my way back."

She turned and went into the trees. She walked a short ways until, checking behind her, she saw that the trees partially obscured Robert and Damian. She started running frantically, narrowly avoiding exposed tree roots and rocks that would cause her to stumble or trip. Looking ahead—her heart leapt—she saw a man walking along the road, pulling a pony behind him. Oh, thank god.

She ran towards him. "Hey," she cried. "Hey! I need help!"

The old man turned around at her pleas. He was dressed in a similar style to Robert and Damian; he wore patched brown trousers and a coat that looked like it was made of animal hide. She ignored the odd clothing, hoping he would be able to get her away from the two men.

"What seems to be the matter, miss?" His voice was gruff and it reminded her of the old man that lived across the hall from her in her old home. He was a Vietnam vet, rough around the edges, but he had with a hidden soft spot.

"There's two guys," she said, words tumbling from her lips. She pointed to the woods behind her. "They've kidnapped me and they're crazy. They say they're going to sell me to some guy named Kurt."

The man's eyes widened with shock. "You poor dear," he said. "My home is not far from here. You can hide there until we can get you back to your family."

She was about to thank the old man, but a voice from the woods interrupted. Her heart plummeted into her stomach.

"Darling," Robert called. "There you are! You gave me quite a fright." Damian followed closely behind. The old man looked from Mirela to the two men in confusion.

She tried to run from him, but Robert was quicker. His arms came around her middle and kept her in place. She struggled against him. "Let go of me!"

"Thank you, sir, for finding my wife," Robert said, unfazed by her kicking and screaming.

"Your wife?" the old man asked, perplexed. "She told me she was kidnapped and you had some unsavory plans for her."

Robert looked down at the woman in his arms, still trying to get loose. "Is that so?" The old man nodded. "Well, sir, I must apologize for her behavior."

The old man nodded and tilted his head down to glare at Mirela. He did not take kindly to lying women.

"No," she pleaded. "He's lying. Please, you have to help me!" There was no way this was happening. Why doesn't he believe me?

"You will have to forgive her," Robert said, passing her off to Damian, who held both her arms in an iron grip. The man began to drag her back into the forest. She screamed as loud as she could and kicked at his legs. "My wife has not been well. Her mother just passed, you see. The death has affected her greatly and I am afraid she has gone a bit mad with grief."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," the old man said, deaf to Mirela's cries of "My mother's not dead! She's looking for me!" He continued, "Death is a solemn affair. I wish you both all the best."

Robert smiled. "You are too kind, sir. My only hope is that my wife finds the strength to recover."

With that, he gave the old man a farewell, and retreated into the forest. When she looked past Damian's massive form, she saw a deep frown mar Robert's face. He waited until they were out of earshot of the old man to march in front of her. He grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her to meet his glare.

"You are making this much harder than it has to be," he growled.

They set camp for the night in a clearing about a hundred yards from the road. After leaving the old man, it became obvious to Robert and Damian that Mirela had heard of their plans and the two men made it their priority to prevent anymore incidents by gagging the young woman and binding her wrists. She was thrown over Damian's shoulder, where she kicked wildly, despite it not seeming to affect him. Her screams came out as muffled cries through the gag. He dropped her at the base of a tree, causing her to yelp upon hitting the hard ground, and went to gather firewood. She glared at his back as he walked away.

Robert approached her with a waterskin. "Do not scream or I will cut out your tongue," he warned her. He loosened the gag, letting it fall around her neck, and pressed the opening of the waterskin to her lips.

When he withdrew it, she spat the water into his face. She could see his last line of patience snap as he boiled with rage. She smirked as water dripped from his hair and face. She wasn't going to be a docile or easy hostage—that much was for sure. The feeling was short lived as he lifted his hand and struck her hard across the face.

"I hope you are pleased," he said, drying himself with part of his cloak. "That was the only water you were getting for the rest of this little journey."

"You won't get away with this, you son of a bitch," she spat. "My friends are looking for me!"

"Yes, yes. So I have heard." He stuffed the gag back in her mouth and sidestepped quickly to avoid the kicks she sent his way.

Damian returned with the wood and began working on building the fire. He already found some good twigs and branches around the clearing to get the fire started.

Robert grabbed his bow and quiver. "Watch her," he commanded. "I will get us some supper."

As if she'd get far with her hands tied behind her back.

The other brother worked silently, focusing solely on the fire. It seemed as if he was completely ignoring, until she noticed his eyes flicker in her direction every time she shifted her body weight or groaned against the gag. Those were the only glances he sent her and she tried harder to get his attention. She remembered Damian having doubts about this plan. Perhaps he could have a change of heart and free her.

It didn't seem likely. He made no indication that he saw the pleading looks she sent him, and if he did, they didn't seem to affect him. He was not going to go against his brother.

Night had fallen by the time Robert had returned empty handed. "Bread and dried meat tonight," he announced, setting his bow down with the rest of his things. The fire was lit and roaring. Mirela was sitting silently, face hidden by dark curls. She felt defeated and hopeless. There was no way she would be able to escape bound and gagged.

"Damian," Robert said. "There is a chill in the air—fetch us more firewood. We do not want our girl freezing to death."

Damian stood and disappeared into the dark forest. For a few moments, the only sounds were the chirps of crickets, the crackling of the fire, and the fading noises from the man stepping through the leaves and grass and snapping twigs. Mirela looked up when she heard Robert stand and approach her. She pressed her back against the trunk of the tree, stiffening as he knelt beside her.

"If you promise to behave, I will cut the ropes," he said. She thought he was mocking her at first, but his eyes were serious. She nodded. He whipped out his knife, but before freeing her hands, he brought it close to her face. "If you try to run, or fight, I will carve into that pretty face of yours." His threat was punctuated when he pressed the blade to her cheek, applying only enough pressure so that she felt the bite of the metal. She eyed him fearfully. Satisfied that she wouldn't try anything, he removed the blade and cut her bonds. He brought his hand up to her face and gently wiped away the few drops of blood that formed on her cheek. She glared at him and rubbed her wrists; the rope had made deep, angry, red impressions in her skin.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Kurt likes his women unharmed," Robert answered, evading her actual question. "Unfortunately for him—and my brother and I, too, I suppose, since we are paid based on the quality of the product—you are proving to be more trouble than you are worth. But as long as you are good girl, no harm will come to you."

Mirela stared into the fire, feeling tears well in her eyes. She was lost with two insane men, in a place where people thought she was the lying, crazy one. She was going to be sold for their sick game and there was nothing she could do about it.

What did I do to deserve this?

She inched closer to the warmth of the fire, imagining she was back in her grandparent's winter cabin, curled up with her brothers by the fire while snow fell slow and silent in the night.

Her heart became heavy with guilt. She hadn't seen the boys in so long, not since she boarded the plane that took her across the Atlantic. Sure, she spoke to them on Skype occasionally, but in this moment, she wanted nothing more than to hold both of them in her arms. Part of her wished that she spent more time with them when she was younger, that she visited during the holidays, that she never left that little apartment in New York…

"Do not cry, Mirela," Robert said. She began to hate the way her name sounded when it left his lips. He said it with mock sympathy, in the same way he might have said 'girl' or 'dear', like it didn't matter to him that he was hurting her, a real person with a family and friends and a life… "You might be lucky. After all, you are rather pretty. A prince or rich lord might take a liking to you, make you his courtesan, and you could live a luxurious life in his castle." His lips curved into a cruel smile and he suppressed a chuckle. He was mocking her.

And it made burning anger rise in her chest. Forgetting her brothers and the cabin, she grabbed a smoldering log from the fire and, gripping it by its non-burnt end, she threw it at Robert. He tried to block it, but the log broke against his arm, sending hot embers into his face and all over the front of his cloak. He let out a pained yell while Mirela turned around and launched herself into the trees.

She ran as fast as she could, trying her best to dodge the trees and rocks in her path. Behind her, back at the camp, she could hear Damian run toward the commotion and rush to his brother's side.

"Robert?" he said.

"Get me a torch. She ran that way," he groaned, wiping the embers from his face.

Her lungs were screaming at her to stop. Her heart was beating fast and so hard, she could feel it in her chest. She glanced behind her, seeing the light of two torches, one for each brother, approaching her. Terrified for her life, she stopped and all but dived into a thicket, the nearest hiding spot. The sharp twigs cut through her clothes and into her skin. She covered her mouth to silence her breathing as they drew near.

"Find her," Robert demanded. "Find her and bring her to me. I am going to gut the little bitch."

She could hear footsteps nearby and she could see the light from the torch creating flickering shadows in the ground before her. The owner stopped near her hiding spot and she clenched her eyes shut and silently prayed. It felt like hours before they finally passed over her and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She waited until the torch disappeared before slowly crawling out of thicket. She walked quickly, but carefully, avoiding stepping on twigs or dry leaves. Looking over her shoulder, she scanned the area behind her. No sign of the brothers anywhere nearby. There was only one torch, twinkling in the distance, getting farther and farther away.

Where is the other one?

Through her periphery, she saw a shadow leap toward her. Jumping away to dodge it, she tripped over an exposed root and fell backward.

"There you are," Robert said. "What have I told you about running off like that?" He walked toward her slowly and all she could think of was how he reminded her of a lion going in for the kill.

She scrambled up as he made a move to grab her. She dodged him again and tried to run, but his hand shot out to form a tight grip on her arm. He threw her body into a tree. Her head cracked against the wood and the bark scraped her hands and cheek. He grabbed her again, his strong hands tightening around her neck.

Thrashing against him, Mirela randomly punched and kicked with her free limbs, landing a blow to his face and stomach. He momentarily loosened his grip on her, allowing her to break free. He quickly recovered, however, and tackled her to the ground. Her body struggled to free itself, but he had her trapped with his legs on either side of her. His hands found themselves around her throat again and squeezed. Her heart thudded in her chest and her own hands gripped the earth as black spots began to flood her vision and her lungs begged for air. Her fingers touched a loose rock. With the rock in hand, she quickly swung it toward his head. The blow connected and left him dazed. She twisted and freed her neck from his hands. Robert made to grab at her again, but with agility and strength that surprised him, she flipped him over so that she was on top of him. Having a new advantage, she brought the rock down on his head again before he could react. And one final time before it was certain that he wouldn't be getting up.

She crawled off of him, still armed with the rock, waiting for him to attack her again. But he didn't move. He lay still on the ground, blood seeping from the head wound and soaking into the earth. Her jaw dropped open in shock, but she didn't have time to think about what she had just done. When she heard Damian's hurried footsteps approaching, she dropped the rock and hid.

She slipped her small form into a hollow created by large tree roots and dirt that had been washed away long ago.

Damian approached the body of his brother, lighting the area with his torch. "Robert?" he said, kneeling next to him. He touched his brother's shoulder, gently shaking. "Robert," he repeated, more forcefully. He finally noticed the gash on his temple and fell silent.

It was the silence that followed that scared Mirela the most. There was no crying or yelling swears or threats into the night. Just silence. She could not fathom what Damian was going to do when he found her, whether he would strangle her or crush her with his massive hands or do something worse. She held back a shudder.

The light from the torch began to move and she held her breath again, squeezing farther into the hollow. Her heart pounded so loudly, like a drum in her chest, that as Damian neared, she was afraid he would be able to hear her. But, the torch light gradually faded and when the area returned to darkness, she could breath again. She waited and waited before peaking out of her hiding spot. Robert's body was still there and the light from Damian's torch drifted father away as he headed in the opposite direction.

Mirela did not hesitate any longer; she turned and ran, trying to put as much distance between her and Damian as possible.