[Ransom]

Since the dawn of time, spies and other shady characters had gleaned immense amounts of information by simply sitting in a tavern and keeping their ears open. Barak himself had employed this tactic more times than he could count, and the end result was usually good. However, this particular inn seemed completely devoid of anything remotely resembling useful information. The hobbits seemed to be working themselves into a tizzy over obscure local matters, and the many men and elves seemed to be entertaining each other with tales of past adventures. Some of the local gossip proved fairly interesting, but the only disturbances in the area seemed to be a few scattered bandits. The Order of the Black Rose would be happy to know that all was quite on Gondor’s northwestern front. In truth, this particular excursion had provided the pair a much needed holiday.

To say that Mara did not share Barak’s good feelings would be a severe understatement. Her childhood had not been particularly happy, and the winter months always depressed her. In truth, she was rather envious of the people around her. A minor part of this resentment came from the fact that they had a warm hearth and a loving family to go home too. Most of this envy, however, had much deeper and darker roots. None of the people hear had spent their childhood as a slave in Umbar. Not even the knights she’d spend the better part of a decade living with could understand the depth of her anguish.

She had been a mere girl the first time her master had used her for his own perverted pleasures in an inn not unlike the one she was sitting in right now. In an uncharacteristic show of kindness, Ul, her owner, had given her family a small amount of money to buy gifts for her tenth birthday. That night, Ul had taken her to one of the local inns to help entertain a few of her business associations. Despite the comforting feeling of cloth against her skin, she could almost feel the painful welts that the belt had left on her back that night. She had been powerless to resist then, and the feeling of weakness and horror still permeated her spirit.

Mainly because of her inability to speak, Mara suffered alone. Her suffering had been two edged, cursing her to forever relive her past while gifting her with an iron will to keep her emotions in line. Unknown to the knights she regularly dealt with, she sought their love as a way to assure herself that some valued her. Barak, normally companionate, had forgotten the strain that the season placed upon his friend. Mara blinked back a tear before abruptly rising. She needed to be alone to deal with her past. Indicating with her hands to Barak that she wished to be alone, the thin girl quickly fled the tavern.

***
Barak’s eyes followed his redheaded companion with a look of no small confusion. Mara was a temperamental girl, and it was a particularly chilling experience to watch her temper tantrums. Unable to scream and shout, her anger was usually channeled into physical activities. The knight had long ago learned to honor his high-strung friend’s wishes. Slumping into the chair with a sight, Barak began to pray to Nienna. It would be a very long night.

[ February 28, 2003: Message edited by: Ransom ]