From squire, scion of one of the eldest and greatest houses of Gondor, son of a Swan Knight - Lominzil became a beggar, deaf and mute. The girl he had followed in - he realized after a few days that she was a priestess of Sauron - had seemed to realize he wanted to find a woman with light Gondorian eyes, like his own. She led him to this person and that, slaves all of them, but none were Farielle.

He spent his days crouching in the gutters, holding out his hands for coins; wandering through the streets hoping against hope that he might somehow catch a glimpse of his sister; lying in the tiny, cramped closet of a room - trying not to sleep for fear he would call out when the nightmares came to visit. When he could stay awake no longer, he stuffed a rag into his mouth and dozed.

...

The late afternoon sun slants off the stones and makes a rectangle on the floor. In it, a black bird dozes, its head tucked under one wing. Farielle is sitting on the floor nearby, her back against the bed, her head bent over what appears to be a rather dirty, creased and torn piece of paper. The ever-present plate with finger-sized bits of food sits ready to hand, and without looking, the girl reaches for one and eats it. She is still far thinner than she was a little more than a month ago; the bones of her face and hands pressing sharply against the skin.

A knock sounds on the door just a bare moment before it is thrust open. "Farielle!" cries a young woman's voice. In contrast, Amestris' brown face is even darker from weeks on the road. Her lithe form is vibrant and youthful. She rushes into the room, but stops to look about it confusion. She glances back to the guard who has entered with her and follows his gesture until she espies where the lady sits upon the floor.

The guard nods once when Amestris finds who she is looking for, and goes back out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him.

Farielle looks up at the sound of her name; no expression on her face save watchfulness. Then she smiles, though it doesn't seem to warm her face much somehow. "Amestris. I thought you were gone with... " She stops, the smile fading. "But that was some time ago. You - Did your father find a husband for you?"

Amestris offers the departing guard a wondering look that turns into a beaming smile as she returns her regard to the Gondorian lady. "They give you privacy, now!" she exclaims joyfully and skips over to kneel near Farielle. Sitting back on her heels, she replies, "No, papa did not have time to find me a husband."

Her general good cheer fades when she explains. "He was injured and needed to heal. There was little time left to do more than his own business and that of Lady Farside."

"Oh, I am sorry," Farielle says sincerely, though with little overt feeling. "I hope he is well now?" She says nothing of herself or her own situation. "I - " she hesitates. With more effort, continues, "I am glad to see you. I - did not think that I would again."

"My father is too tough to kill," Amestris replies, marshalling her worry with the avowal. Swallowing, she replies with a bit more brightness that slowly increases as she speaks. "I was afraid I would never see you again, either, but I think I have convinced my father to find me a husband in Umbar."

"I am so sorry I did not come to see you before I left. There was not enough time."

She reaches inside her robe, pulling out a bit of folded cloth - a faded scrap of coarse blue linen. Her manner turns suddenly shy as she holds it out. "But I did make you a present."

When she first heard the voice outside, Farielle had folded up her bit of paper and tucked it away, and now the first real emotion shows on her face as she reaches for the cloth, slowly. Surprise. And something else. "I did not - Amestris, you didn't need to..." She swallows, her voice suddenly thick.

Equal measures of concern and puzzlement can be read in Amestris' brown eyes. Her smooth brow creases as she watches Farielle for a moment. Then gesturing to the small package, she urges. "Open it. I told you I would give you something in return for the comb." The Bazhani girls tries a wan smile.

Farielle turns the scrap of cloth-wrapped... something over in her hands, then carefully begins to unfold it. When she glances up again, she is smiling. "Thank you," she says sincerely. "I had forgotten." The last of the cloth covering falls away.

Carved from a pale wood, a small figure rests upon the blue cloth. It is a woman with large breasts and a large stomach, as if pregnant. Blue paint suggests a dress and two eyes; while black strokes suggest hair. A red flower has been painted on the figure's extended belly.

"It is a charm. Each night before you sleep, whisper to her. Tell her what you desire most in a husband and place it under your pillow. It will draw a man like that to you," Amestris explains, her earlier cheerfulness returning. "And when you are married, place it under your bed and it will bring you children."

"Because you are such an important Lady, I even brought it to the Heroes Shrine to bless it." The girl bites her lip and watches for Farielle's reaction a bit anxiously.

There is not much reaction at first. Farielle turns the little carving over in her hands, touches it with gentle fingers. When she looks up, her smile has moved from lips to eyes and there is a suspicious glitter around her eyelashes. "Oh, Amestris," she says. "Thank you. It is much too good of you." She twists around, reaching for her pillow to tuck the figurine beneath. "Kindness," she says then, a tiny bubble of a laugh - a shared amusement - rising to the surface. "I will tell it to bring me a man who will be kind."

The Bazhani girl's smile returns, warm and glad. She rolls to her hip and changes position until she seated properly on the floor with her legs folded tribal-style beneath her skirts. "Tell me everything that has happened in my absence and I will do the same, only you must go first. Has Lord Alphros spoken to you yet? Your guards no longer listen to your conversations..."

Farielle's smile slides from her face, and something appears in her eyes that has never been there before - a hardness, a barrier as slippery and smooth as glass. "I - " she starts. Her hand, hidden in the folds of her skirts tightens into a fist, the nails digging into the palms. "I would rather not talk of it, please. But I have not seen Lord Alphros."

With a great effort, she forces the smile back into place, and an assumption of eagerness that isn't too strained. "But I want to know all about your trip. You went back to your home? That is by the - the Poros River, yes?"

Concern shows upon Amestris' countenance again and she twists her fingers nervously as she watches Farielle. Even after the forced smile, the tribal girl seems n the verge of saying something but then bites her lip. A moment later she speaks, likely on a different topic than she wishes. She does not attempt to hide her concern. "Yes, we live near the Poros River."

She falls silent again, and looks down to her lap. "Farielle, have you ever killed someone?"

It is certain Farielle notices the other girl's expression, but she ignores it in favor of the question. "No," she says. "Never. I have never - " She stops. "I have never wanted to," she finishes finally, her voice colorless. "Or needed to. Before." Another pause. And delicately - perhaps she too is concerned, though she cannot seem to show it - "Have you?"

"I...I could not," Amestris answers, looking miserable. "Even though he deserved it. The night before we reached the Harnen River, we were beset by bandits at dawn," she begins, yet twisting her fingers. She does not look up to Farielle's face. "They demanded papa's horses, gold and...and me.

"Papa refused, of course, and they attacked us. Papa ordered three of his hired men to protect me and I took out my bow. I was afraid but determined to do my duty and so I shot at the bandits. When one tried to sneak up on us from behind, I had to deal with him myself as the others were busy. I shot him, three times and all three arrows struck true. He was down and no longer a threat to us.

"There is no use in men like that, so those who lived but could not flee were slain. Papa's man offered me the chance to kill the one I had shot, but I could not."

Farielle's hand - the one that lies unclenched in her lap - twitches. Then, as if this too requires a conscious effort of will, she reaches out to touch the other girl's arm. "I do not know if I could even have shot him," she confesses. "Lady Eruphel is - is having me taught to use a dagger and I am terrible at it. I cannot attack anyone unless they are nearly killing me, and Khaan says I would be dead already by the time it gets to that point, and I must learn. But I can't. I - "

With her other hand Amestris places it atop the other woman's, curling her fingers in attempt to take it and keep it. At last she raises her eyes to meet Farielle's. "My papa taught me to defend myself, too. Perhaps if you practice with me, you will be more comfortable. The Lady and her men, they are warriors. I am not, nor wish to be."

"Would you?" Farielle sounds relieved, and she turns her hand over, squeezing the other girl's. "I don't want to be a warrior either, and they only sneer at me when I say so. 'Want it to happen again, do you?'" Her voice slips into mimicry, deepening like a man's. "Or shout at me for doing it wrong," she adds, in her own tones. "I want to live where I don't have to worry about things like that, not turn into someone I don't know!"

Amestris does not fail to grasp the implications of Farielle's mimicry. Her face falls into naked distress. "Oh Farielle, tell me what happened!" she cries, "You must let me help you! It must be something very terrible or else you would just be yelling like you do about Lord Alphros."

The Gondorian girl is still, save her hand in Amestris' slowly tightening. After a moment, all expression gone from face and voice, she says, "Men came into the gardens and killed the guards and took me. They kept me for - for a long time. I don't know how long; it was always dark." Her gaze darts about the room, going first to the window and then to each lamp in her view. Just to make sure.

"I think they put drugs in my food. I tried not to eat..." She shivers convulsively and a sick look darkens her eyes. "I don't remember very much. I kept seeing things, and everything breaks into pieces and I don't know what was real and what wasn't."

Amestris does not pull her hand away, even when it is uncomfortably squeezed. She places her other hand gently atop Farielle's. "Oh this is terrible, indeed," remarks, the tribal girl, her distress evident in her voice as well as her features. "But why did they do this? Did they ransom you back to Lady Eruphel?" A sickened look replaces her distress. "Did...did they hurt you?"

"I don't know," Farielle says. "I ... I don't think so." In her eyes is the unsettling memory of things that spoke then dissolved into nothingness; people who grew weirdly tall, only to shrink far faster than they'd grown; the kaliedoscope of colors and sounds and shapes whirling through the darkness. "No, they gave me to the - the steward? I think? Of Desert Tower. I was there for a few weeks, getting better. He sent me back here a few days ago. I - I don't know why they would do that."

"The Steward of Desert Tower?" echoes Amestris, her brow creasing in a frown. "The dead one or the new one?" Then hastily reassures, "If you are not sure if they..hurt you, then you likely were not. It seems like the sort of thing a woman would know."

Farielle blushes. "Nothing hurts," she says in a low voice, and turns redder. And clutches gratefully at the other topic. "I didn't know there were two. But he is very much alive. Or at least, he was a couple of days ago." There is a slight edge in her voice now; apparently, despite his care of her, she doesn't much like the steward.

"If it was only two days ago, it must be the new one," remarks Amestris, a similar note of disapproval in her voice. "The one my Lady of Farside is accused of trying to assassinate. I can help you with nightmares and your painful memories," she continues. "But I must gather a few things first so it will be in a day or two, whenever I can next visit."

Hope brings Farielle's gaze up to meet Amestris'. "Can you?" she asks. "I have not been able to sleep. And I can't bear it to be dark. I told them to bring me all the lamps they could find."

"There is someone else who comes with herbs to help me gain my appetite again, but - still I cannot sleep." Assassinations... she hardly pays attention. Isn't everyone in this terrible place always trying to kill someone else?

Amestris screws up her face and shakes her head. "Papa says it is a ridiculous accusation. He says people do not use assassins on their inferiors. Lady Farside would either have him arrested and executed if she wanted him dead or just kill him herself."

She looks around the room, taking in the lamps and the plate of picked-at food. "I am not surprised you cannot sleep. You need dark. Perhaps if you covered your eyes with a corner of your blanket? Would you feel safe darkening your eyes if the lamps were still lit?"

Farielle swallows hard, and her fingers tighten convulsively. After a moment, "I will try," she says. She looks around her room, and tries to make a joke of her fear. "Maybe if I put that table in front of the door..." Arrested. Executed. Kill him herself. Some kind of determination adds its own hardness to her expression. "I don't know. I have heard nothing of this," she says.

Evidently Amestris does not see the humor in the suggestion. She glances to the door. "That is a very good idea," she declares, "You need to feel safe again. That is why you cannot eat. How could you when you know in the other place the food was drugged?"

"You need food made by someone you trust. I will bring you some when I next visit. I know I cannot feed you everyday, but even a good meal every once in a while should help." That shyness returns and she reddens, "That is if you trust me."

Trust is something Farielle has lost in the last weeks. But she nods without hesitating. "Yes," she says softly. "Thank you. I try to eat but... Thank you. That - that would help, I think."

Amestris grins, still blushing, though this time for the compliment. "It may seem silly to you, but you really should push the table against the door. You will feel safer." She rises to her knees and leans forward to hug Farielle. "I must leave. My mother sent me to the market and since I have been gone for so many weeks, she is more likely to notice my absence if I dawdle too long."

"I thought I should try to be braver," Farielle confesses. "But I will feel better if no one can come in." She stiffens unconsciously at the other girl's embrace, before making herself relax and return it. When Amestris has gone, the guards hear a scraping sound from beyond the door. Like something heavy being dragged across the floor.

The sun slowly sets. Within, Farielle lights her lamps and checks the table.

A noisy clack sounds as a key slips into the lock. It turns but there is a sudden girlish grunt as someone tries to push the door open. "Farielle?", comes a familiar, oddly-accented voice in Westron. Then the door shudders as a shoulder is thrown against it, another female grunt sounding. "Is... the door stuck? Are you alright?", comes an increasingly panicky voice from the other side.

"Who is it?" comes Farielle's voice.

There is a momentary pause perhaps for a sigh of relief. "S'aria! Is everything alright... did the guards try something?" Now she sounds angry, though not at the woman within. "Or did someone try and kidnap you again?"

A sound, as if of something dragging across the stone floor. Then the door opens. A blaze of light floods out; every lamp in the room is lit. The long, low table that usually sat by the far wall has been moved - apparently it was blocking the door.

The guards glower at the easterling's accusations. Farielle waits for S'aria to come in before shutting the door and padding back to her bad. Unsmiling, she sits on it, pulling her feet up under the covers and waving a hand towards the chair. "Did you need something?"

Without any pity for the guards' glares, S'aria slips inside, wearing a long, dark cloak about her petite frame, her cheeks still red from being out in the cold. A curved, dark brow arches at the table before the girl approaches the offered chair, tossing her coat over it and then rubbing her hands together near a lamp, "I was just coming to check up on you, my lady. I just came from the docks after speaking to Lord Alphros... he did inquire about you."

"Did he?" Farielle doesn't sound overly interested. "I am well, thank you." She looks no worse - nor any better either - though the dark circles around her eyes have returned, they are not a sign of illness but of lack of sleep.

"You do not want to marry him right? Then I gave an honest answer...", replies the dark-haired Priestess as she settles down in the chair, a hint of a frown on her lips. She continues to observe the priestess with curious dark eyes before she sighs, "How long are you going to do this? I mean I do not blame you... but you will get exhausted of it in short order. Trust me, I went through the same thing," she says still warming her delicate hands by the fire. "I brought some dried apples from the market if you want them... I can get you things from the market if you ask for them," she says, looking into the fire, her satchel still at her side.

"No," Farielle says. "I don't want to marry him." And now a faint line appears between her eyebrows. "He ... asked?"

"How long am I going to do what?" The puzzled frown grows. "Oh. Thank you. I do like apples."

"Of course he did. He is a prideful man, Lady Farielle. I do not think he will force you to marry him without some kind of assent," explains the Easterling as she reaches into her satchel, pulling out another jar this time filled with dried slices of apple. She gives Farielle a smile and offers her the jar as she sits back, "Be angry at everyone. Keep everyone at a distance. Hate them with all your worth... sure you have a reason. A great reason even. It will just get exhausting after a while, that is all I am saying," offers the girl with a sympathetic frown, a glimmer of sadness in her dark eyes as she looks at the sleep-deprived girl only a few years her senior. "Sooner or later, you will realize it does not bring what you want any closer either."

"His ... Knight told me that he had decided. I would be his Queen. It didn't sound like I had a choice." Farielle's voice is the same, uncaring. She takes the apples, eating one slice slowly, and holding the jar out for S'aria to take one if she desires. "I don't hate anyone," she says then, with an air of mild surprise.

An apple enters S'aria's mouth, "If you stay quiet, you will not have a choice. I was there... his guard lied to him about your assent. For a princess, you really do not understand politics, do you?" The Priestess nibbles on that apple with a growing smile, explainining: "The knight knew his job was to come back with a 'yes' no matter what so he lied about it. That gives Lord Alphros plausible deniability." Her expression darkens slightly, "Look, I do not want to get in trouble for talking to you about any of this. Lord Alphros is a powerful person... I am sure strong enough to even influence... where I work." She looks back up to Farielle, her eyes searching the other's to see if she can trust her. "But I can advise you about these matters as long as you do not... you know tell on me. I just want to see you happy..."

"He lied?" There is still almost no expression in Farielle's voice - polite inquiry is all. No hint as to whether or not she believes S'aria's account. And perhaps that is a faint hint of disdain that joins it. "I shall not tell anyone of what you speak of. I would not, in any case."

"Why do you care if I am happy or not? Your - master and my people are long enemies."

S'aria purses her lips at that, her hands folding across her lap. "Many do things in the name of the Master. None can claim to represent his will directly... True, many hate Gondor because of the wars." But then she shrugs her shoulders, smiling gently. "But I have never fought in a war against Gondor and the few Gondorians I know in this city I like very well. Our Lord desires your people to know his might and wisdom but there are many ways for that to arrive in your lands besides war and hatred." She dusts off her skirts, sliding a bang of hair from her eyes, "Besides... I see alot of myself in you. Remember my family did not follow the way of the Master either so I am perhaps more understanding of those who disagree with the Church than most."

"My people," Farielle says quietly, and there is more in her words than those who live in Gondor, "have long known the tactics of your master. Would any who truly deserved your service and love do as was done to your family?" But she doesn't wait for an answer - perhaps it was a rhetorical question and none is needed. "But if you are being kind to me in hopes that I will come to serve him, I must tell you in honor that I never will. I would not want you to labor under false expectation." Her words are soft; there is no intensity to them.

"Lady Farielle, I may have a way with words... but that would require the intervention of the Dread Master in person and even then I would suspect his efforts would be futile," says the Easterling priestess with no lack of amusement in her eyes. She steps forward, reaching to take the other girl's hands if she will let her. Without taking her eyes off the other woman's face. "I promise. I will not discuss Him nor the Church nor the religion with you unless you bid me do so with a question. You have my word as an Easterling, the vow of a priestess, and the promise of one who would be your friend if you let her," she says earnestly.

The older girl nods. Though she stiffens a little at S'aria's attempt to touch her, she doesn't pull away.

The Easterling's hands are warm, and she gives the other's hands a brief, earnest squeeze, before she leaves Farielle to her peace one more. Sliding a band of dark hair back behind one ear, she finishes off the apple piece she was eating, "Mmmm... It is very sweet, I see why you like it. We do not eat too many sweet things in Mordor or the East," she says before she settles back down onto her chair. Frowning a little, she tilts her head to the side, "What has been keeping you up? I could try preparing you something to help you sleep..."

Farielle relaxes as her hands are let loose. "They are better when they are fresh," she offers, regarding the apple. "Crunchy and juicy." But at S'aria's question, her eyes slide away. "I don't like it to be dark," she says - unnecessarily, surely, by the number of lamps burning.

But at the Easterling's offer, she shakes her head, her eyes widening a little, and draws away. "No. No, I - I will be fine, thank you."

S'aria laughs a little at this, a giggle coming from deep within her belly. "It's just herbs! What do you think I am going to do?", she says before giving her head a little bit of a shake. She is still grinning as she regards the dried apples, "I will have to trust you. I have never even seen an apple before... we did not eat too much fruit where I came from, we were moving too much to ever grow it." She perks up slightly, turning to to look at all the flickering shadows she is casting due to the lamps. "Well, if you ask me this is creepier... But if you want, I could ask Lady Eruphel if we could go for a walk during the middle of the day to the docks. Its very bright there, quite beautiful too. Today was the first time I have even seen the ocean; I went down to the harbor."

"The other was just herbs too, probably," Farielle says, her voice low. She looks around at the lamps as S'aria does, but says nothing. It is better than the dark.

But then a little, colorless, pleasure sparks in her eyes. "The ocean is beautiful," she says wistfully. "I could hear it from my bedroom, if I was very quiet and listened hard." There is a pause, and somehow the impression of intent thought, though Farielle's expression is still shuttered save for that small hint of remembered joy. "I can go out, if I wish, I think. At least, I could - before. Are the docks far?" she says at last.

"Very close. The gate to the harbor is just around the corner from the harbor," speaks the Easterling youth as she tilts her head to the side, seeing that faintest pleasure in the other's expression. "There is a reason they call it Seaward Tower after all." Blinking once, she pushes to her feet, slender hands smoothing out her skirts, a curious look on her face, "Did you want to perhaps take a walk, my lady?" She blushes slightly, a hint of bashfullness as she lowers her eyes to the floor. "I admit to not being able to go there alone as I do not swim and I fear falling in the water... so it would be an opportunity for us both if you so desire."

"Not now!" Farielle answers emphatically. "Perhaps.. perhaps tomorrow. It is so hot in the middle of the day... in the morning? You do not swim? Oh - I suppose not; there is not much water here aside from the ocean. Though Amestris says she lives near a river - the River Poros. Do you know of it?"

S'aria replies with a hint of crimson in her cheeks, "Tomorrow works..." She scrunches her mouth to one side, thinking for a moment, "Well, unless you cannot tolerate the sun it stays pretty cool all day as it is winter. So I would suggest going at noon, my lady." She gives a nod at the name of the river, "Yes, I know the name of the River." She grins bashfully, lifting a hand to her hair to scratch her hair in an embarassed fashion. "Most of the Corsairs in Umbar know how to swim as a matter of course. But there is not much water in Mordor or where I lived in the East..."

"Would another day be better?" Farielle asks. She adds, "What is 'pretty cool' to you is still quite warm for me. But perhaps it will not be too hot at noon."

S'aria chuckles softly at this, "This is very true. I cannot stand the cold much," she remarks giving her shoulders a rub and shivering just a little at the very thought of a Gondorian winter. "Are you... sure there is nothing you wish to do about the matter of your Husband To Be?", she offers tenatively after a moment, a frown lacing onto her lips. "I... want to help you manage your... situation as best as possible..."

"Do?" Farielle blinks. "I shall tell him I don't wish to marry him," she says simply. "When I see him. I expect I shall sometime." She looks around the room vaguely.

"It may be his plan that you are not given the chance, my lady. Or at least not publicly," offers the girl with a frown as she folds her hands in her lap, those dark eyes flickering with though. "I have only recently met the man so I cannot say for certain. He offered me the honor of being his envoy to the Dark Citadel... a most gracious position to give to one such as me." She purses her lips, "I have seen it done elsewhere. A hostage marriage is rushed, the ceremony open only to a few to avoid trouble, and an announcement is made afterwards that all was in order. It would be a simple matter for a man of his political influence to accomplish."

"Envoy?" Farielle looks horrified. One of the first real emotions S'aria has seen surface through the hard glass wall she has put around herself for protection. She looks around the room again, this time as if for escape routes. "Oh, what am I to do?"

S'aria sighs softly, bitting her bottom lip as she looks across at Farielle's movements. "He is a very cultured man, very intelligent... but you really do not want to be his wife, huh?", she says before she propers her head up with her arms, elbows pressing into her legs. "I... have an idea if you want to do something. Maybe it will work..."

"What?" Farielle demands. Then - with visible effort - she calms herself. "Why should I want to marry him?" she asks, matter-of-fact now. "I have seen him only twice, and one of those times he insulted my kinsmen, and the other, me. Why should I wish to stay in this city where every one scorns me and mocks at me, and I cannot understand anything people are saying, and where no one is safe? Amestris cannot even walk alone after dark, or speak to the wrong person. At home, if I speak to the wrong person, they might ignore me or sneer at me, but I do not have to worry about being killed for it!"

"I am not telling you to like it here, Lady Farielle. I am telling to use the situation to your advantage," explains the girl as she pushes to her feet, her shadow dancing across the walls. "The city is a dangerous place. But it a rife with opportunity. The tower lords compete with each other for prestige and power. If you wish to save yourself from marriage, therein lies your salvation," explains the Easterling with a smile in her eyes. "If you were to get a letter to a Lord not allied with Lord Alphros such as Lojrul. You could have them publicly inform the other lords including Lord Alphros that you have no intention of marrying. Such would force Lord Alphros' hand... he could not bear the shame of forcing the marriage in such a situation."

Farielle considers this. "I see," she says slowly. "I will think on what you have said." She looks suddenly very tired. "I would like to try and sleep now."

"As you wish my lady, I wish you pleasant dreams," remarks the dark-haired girl before she pushes to her feet with a smile and a wave, she makes her way towards the door. "Good night," she says before slipping out, letting Farielle decide if she wants to keep the lamps on or not.