A deep sense of dread filled Legolas as he watched Eomer’s joyous face fall. “Eomer?”
        The man of Rohan shook his head with deep regret. “When it was discovered that she was apprentice to Galadriel, she was taken prisoner. They gagged her, to keep her from speaking enchantments, then bound her hands, so that she could not remove the gag, and stashed her in the dungeons.”
        Dark fire began to burn within the Elven prince when he heard this. “And you allowed this to happen? She is a danger to no one. Send someone to release her immediately!”
        Theoden nodded his agreement and Hama was dispatched to retrieve her from her imprisonment. “It seemed wisdom at the time,” spoke the king.
        Legolas bristled. “If she has come to any harm, Eomer of Rohan, I will wreak retribution on you. She was to be safe in your care.”
        Eomer raised his hands in his defense. “I tried, master Elf. I myself was taken prisoner while trying to protect her. You cannot put any retribution upon me worse than I have already suffered, knowing that I failed to keep her safe.”

        Nimoë had long since retreated into a state of semi-consciousness. The only way to take refuge from her suffering was to put her mind into another place. Images of forests, ancient and noble, crowded over her, while she retreated still more often into the memory of clear blue eyes, the color of the sky at morning, offering her comfort and protection.
        Every so often she would rouse from her hypnotic state and again the fear would crash down on her. Her body reacted without volition, and she flung herself again and again against the walls of her confinement. Her wrists were bloodied with her efforts to free her hands and there were cuts on her face where she had tried to use the walls to free the gag from her mouth.
        There had been no food and no water for the long days since she had been confined, and the resulting weakness left her mind spinning, detached from the rest of her body, which was just as well, as the pain and numbness of her injuries and bound arms could well have driven her mad.
        She lay in a crumpled ball on the packed earth when light began to filter slowly into the cell. Soon after, the door was opened and a man entered. Vaguely she heard a muffled curse, as he knelt in front of her, gently lifting her shoulders. His hands reached behind her and loosened the ties of her gag. It was then pulled from her mouth and she enjoyed her first full breath in many days. It came out again as a broken sob, and her body fell forward against the man’s shoulder as he brought out his knife and cut the rope binding her hands.
        The man’s voice was gentle when he spoke. “Can you stand, my lady? Can you walk?”
        She raised her eyes to him and tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak.
        “Well, let’s just find out then.” He put his hands under her arms and lifted her up. She swayed, but if she leaned up against him, was able to remain standing.
        So it was that she half walked and was half carried up the long twisting stair, back into the light of the waking world. Only a small part of her mind was aware of what was happening. The other part was busy trying to remain upright, fighting against the dizziness, nausea and pain of blood returning slowly to her arms and hands.
        They reached the Great Hall, and Hama brought her forward. Vaguely aware that she was in the presence of people of power, she tried to stand alone, to show the proper respect, but it was too much, and she crashed ungracefully to the stone floor.

        Legolas looked at the crumpled pile on the ground and his heart turned over inside him. Blood and bruises covered her face and all other visible parts of her body. Her eyes were glazed and she was too weak even to support her slight weight.
        “Nimoë!” he cried, and ran to her side, aware that Eomer also came to her aid.
        With hands trembling in anger at what had been wrought on the innocent Elf maid, Legolas gently took her bloodied hand in his own. “Nimoë, it is Legolas. Do you hear me?”
        Eomer also knelt beside her and moved to lift her up from her ground.
        “Unhand her!” cried Legolas. “Do you not see what you have done?” He regarded her sunken features and unresponsive face. “Has no one given you food or drink, my lady?”
        She tried again to speak and a small squeak emitted from her tortured throat. With a great effort, she managed to shake her head. Then her eyes rolled back and she fainted.
        Legolas cradled her broken body to his chest, rocking her back and forth. He looked up at all those around, who were staring at them in consternation. There were unshed tears in his eyes as he pleaded with them, “Won’t someone help her?”
        Aragorn broke himself out of his temporary shock at seeing the valiant woman laid low. “Find a bed for her, Theoden-King. And lead me to your medicinal herbs. And above all, get her some water. It is a wonder that she is not dead.”
        Eomer again bent to lift her up and carry her to a bed, but his hand was stayed by the elven prince. Legolas looked at the horse-lord with cold death written in his eyes. “You will not touch her.” Then he himself lifted her gently, cradling her head against his shoulder, and followed the man Hama as he led the way to a nearby room.
        A solitary tear fell from Legolas’ eye, though he felt as if he wanted to tear down the hall of Meduseld. It splashed against Nimoë’s face and roused her momentarily from her faint. For the first time she looked up into his face and seemed to actually see who he was. A smile so faint that it was barely visible crossed her lips, and for the first time Legolas felt hope blossom, like a bud at morning, within his heart.
        She fell quickly back into unconsciousness, but that glimmer of recognition had lightened his heart. He pulled her closer still against him, then laid her as gently as he could upon the bed he had been led to. Impatiently he paced back and forth as he awaited Aragorn. Surely a healer of his ability would be able to heal Nimoë. And thank all the Valar that they had arrived in Edoras before she had died of thirst and starvation.