[Amanaduial the archer]

Leading the line of slaves around the rocks, Fionel squinted against the sun to see a man come our from behind the rocks. He waved to Rhunnaro, then his eyes turned to the group of slaves.

They had been moving for several hours, kept going by Rhunnaro, and the sun had been beating down harder than the days before. Fionel's back ached where the whips of the easterlings had stung her, especially those inflicted on the day of and the day before the Hunt Selection. Late afternoon approached now though, and the sun was less harsh than it had been. As they came into the clearing, most of the slaves slowed at the site of Turos and Tenzin, some approaching the cripple with excitement, telling him of what had gone on. But Tenzin stood alone for a while. Fionel, still walking slowly, watched him from under her eyelashes, before looking up, realising he was watching her, her grey gaze returning his. She ran her hands through her hair subconciously, and looked away, knowing she must look a right state, brushing her hands across her cheeks in an attempt to brush away the dirt, wishing she had a mirror. But why? Why do you wish you had a mirror, he is just an easterling...

Or was he? She turned as she heard him stop beside her, and he held a water-skin out to her, his soft brown eyes still on her.

"A drink, Lady?" His voice was soft and seemed almost musical.

"Fionel. My name is Fionel." Fionel smiled slightly nervously and took the water-skin from him. As she did so, her fingers brushed against his, and she looked down, pulling back her fingers nervously, out of habit, murmering an apology or something. As she looked, she saw his fingers were indeed very slim and long, like her own, skilled fingers. Getting a grip on herself she took the skin, drinking from it thirstily, then handed it back. He smiled, his teeth very white against his tanned face. Why am I noticing all the details?! She tried to remember what she had heard of Tenzin...a healer, was he?

"Thank you. I...thankyou." She smiled again, that nervous, uncharacteristic smile, and he inclined his head to her, attaching the skin to his belt again. Rhunnaro gave a bird-like whistle again, one hand pointing in the direction they were going, and Tenzin nodded at him, before moving off to get his horse. Fionel watched him go, then resumed her walking again- it was impossible to move fast in the heat. But her mind was troubled; Rhunnaro's words kept returning to her.

"You had not thought beyond escape, had you? What will you do when you are in that great stone city. Who will take you in? Have you family there to see to you?"

No, no family. The easterling slave catchers had been very thorough, taking all the young men and women in the village, including her two older brothers and her mother, and she had never seen them again, as they were taken to a different part of Nurn, a place where there were thousands of slaves, and it was impossible to find just one. Her father had caused trouble, seriously injuring an easterling, and they had dealt with it in the only way they seemed to know how. No, she had no family any more.

You would not wish to trade slavery of one sort for slavery of another

Fionel mused on those words. She knew what slavery it was that he talked off, one that especially used young women, but she hadn't even thought about it. The White City had seemed so inviting, and when Fionel thought of the trips she and her mother had made there when she was a child, it had seemed to be a haven, where all would be well and they would be safe, and life would be perfect...

How had she thought that could ever be? Who would even look at them now? Was there even a chance that anyone would look at the tanned, scarred young woman in ragged clothing and remember Elsa the trader's daughter? Not a chance.

"So what do you think you will do when you reach Minas Tirith?"

Her thoughts, spoken aloud from directly beside her ear, made Fionel jump, startled, and she staggered slightly on a rock on the ground. Tenzin's arm shot out instinctively, catching her around her waist. She stiffened, then relaxed, her hand on his arm, and for a moment they remained so, Fionel looking into the man's sharp eyes. Then she straightened up, muttering a curt thanks, and continued walking, confused by this young man's kindness and by the way he had reflected her thoughts...confused by the way she had felt when he caught her...