Maitimo.

The voice came as clear as daylight through rain. It pierced his barely conscious mind.

Maitimo.

It had to be Nerdanel. The gentle hand brushing against his face as he fitfully shifted like a frightened child. He struggled to open his eyelids, but they felt like lead. However, he could still sense his mother nearby. There was a searing heat in his shoulder and side.

Maitimo.

***

Mémé did not speak as she and Delphine struggled to remove the man's heavy armor. A piece of the intricate breast plate clanged awkwardly to the floor. Neither of the women tried to quiet what they were doing. Dragging his impressive figure up the stairs to the closed off second floor of the manor had been a chore unto itself. By the time they had gotten him onto the antique, four poster bed in one of the spare rooms, both women were gasping with exertion.

"He's dead weight," Delphine managed as she unhooked the rest of the armor.

"But not yet dead," Mémé murmured, lifting his eyelid to inspect the whites of his eyes. "He's in a bad way though. And it doesn't look like this is the first time either."

A deep scar ran over his eye from the dusky brow to the middle of his cheek. It made his otherwise handsome countenance look grim. Something caught her eye underneath his hair.

"Mémé," Delphine breathed. "Look."

She pushed back the shelf of thick hair to expose pointed ears much like the twins. Mémé's expression was unreadable as she registered the similarity. The man groaned and shifted. Delphine backed away, holding her hands up.

"What do we do if he wakes?"

"He won't anytime soon," Mémé stated. "And if he does, I'll deal with it."

She nodded towards the door where she had left a metal hammer for insurance. Delphine lifted a brow in surprise.

"You'll kill him?"

"No, just render him unconscious and drag him into the authorities. Only if he gets fresh with me, of course," Mémé growled as she ripped open the neck of his fine linen shirt. "Gunshot wound, infected."

"It doesn't look like just the one."

Delphine nodded towards a blood stain at his torso and one on his opposite upper arm. Without much decorum, Mémé ripped away what remained of his shirt.

"These definitely aren't the first wounds he's recieved," she said, staring in shock at the man's heaving chest.

Delphine looked over her grandmother's shoulder. She shuddered. Horrific scarring ran up and down his torso. The new wounds merely intersected where the old ones had grown over.

"Mon dieu." Delphine covered her mouth with a trembling hand.

"He's much too young to have fought in the Great War," Mémé mumbled to herself as she began to ascertain the state of the entry wounds. "It makes absolutely no sense."

"More things have happened in the past few years than just the Great War," Delphine found herself responding pointedly as she held the candle over the man's body.

"Go light the fire, I can't see a thing," Mémé snapped.

Biting her tongue, Delphine obeyed. The room was bone jarringly cold. She and her grandmother had closed off the upper floors and attic of the family manor after the invasion. They lived only on the first floor in the antiquated servants' quarters. He would be isolated safely up here, away from the twins. Mémé had tucked the boys in bed before helping Delphine drag the man up the stairs. So far, she hadn't heard a peep from them. She hoped they would remain ignorant to the new house guest.

Delphine retreated downstairs to bring up the bowl of hot water Mémé had requested. As she entered the kitchen, she saw the boys peeking around the corner.

"Get to bed," she directed firmly.

Eluréd promptly ignored her. "We heard loud noises."

"It is nothing, just a wounded man."

"Can we see him?"

"No." Delphine dropped to the floor and took him by the shoulders. "I am asking you. Please, dear one, go to bed. I will be down presently."

With a lingering look, Eluréd gave a reluctant nod and met his brother at the door. The boys joined hands and disappeared down the hallway. Delphine sighed, brushing her hair from her face as she cradled the hot, copper bowl to her waist.

With any luck, the one handed stranger upstairs would remain a mystery to the boys. She didn't want to think of their reaction should they discover their monster was sleeping just over their heads.

Mémé remained upstairs after tending to his wounds the best they could. She had been a nurse with field training during the Great War and recalled much of what she had learned during those dark years. 

Delphine spent a restless night between the twins, watching the snow slow to a stop and listening for any disturbing noises overhead. By dawn, her head ached and mouth was dry.

The next two days were unremarkable. The twins sensed the change in the women, but asked no more questions of the stranger upstairs. Mémé taught Delphine how to change the man's bandages. They had both done their best to get water into him.

"There has to be a simpler way," Delphine mumbled to herself as she pursed his full lips with her fingers and attempted to dribbled water between them.

To her surprise and relief, he moved his mouth and took in the water. She watched his thick throat move as he swallowed. He wouldn't die of thirst yet. The wounds were healing fairly quickly. Mémé had been surprised how well they were doing.

"This should take much longer to heal. But I think our patient will be well much faster than any I have ever seen. He's a survivor, this one," she had said before leaving Delphine alone with the man to tend to the boys.

Delphine tried again with the water and he seemed to be taking to it quite well though he remained unconscious. She wiped the side of his mouth where a few droplets were running down his skin. With a tired smile, she started towards the door.

"He's taking water now," Delphine announced, bounding down the stairs.

Mémé was busy feeding the boys their lunch of root vegetable stew. She looked up and nodded quietly.

"Good. Here." She handed her a plate of stew with a slab of Horsebread. "See if he'll take food."

Delphine winked at the twins who were busy clanging their spoons against their plates carelessly. Retreating up the stairs, she could hear Mémé scolding them to eat while their food was hot. Holding the warm plate with both hands, she nudged open the door with her foot. 

Her heart jumped to her throat. The bed was vacant.

Before she could speak, the immense figure of the man strode out of the corner. She gasped as he roughly took her by the throat and shoved her against the door frame, the plate of food clattering to the floor. His gaze was disturbing with the fire behind it, his face flushed from fever and effort. Despite his wounds, his grip was still strong, his touch like hot iron. But not so much that she couldn't speak.

"Where am I?" He growled, his face inches from her own, his breath warm on her skin. "Who are you?"

Again, he spoke the twins' language. Delphine quickly thought through the words that she knew. 

"You were...injure. Hurt," she managed, struggling against him. "Please, we help you."

He snarled and tightened his grip. "You are of the Edain? What house?"

Delphine assumed she had merely misinterpreted him. "Please, put me down. You're hurting me."

He studied her, a droplet of sweat running down from his fiery hairline and following his angled jawline. He let her go. Delphine dropped to her feet, her knees nearly giving way. He stalked away, obviously weak from the fever he was still fighting. The bandages covering his bare, scarred chest had a little red to them that had not been there earlier. No doubt at least one of the wounds had reopened.

"Please," she choked, grasping her throat in her hand. "Lay down."

He looked at a loss for a moment, but stumbled backwards slightly. He pressed a hand to his forehead as though he were dizzy.

"Lay down before I have to put you in the bed myself," she demanded. "Don't make me do that again."

He glared at her, but obeyed, his face paling as he rested against the sheets.

"Where am I?"

"Near the border. Are you from the Vichy province?"

He looked up at her quizzically. "No, not at all."

"I think it would be best if we saved the questions for when you are healthier. May I?" 

She motioned to the pillows that had been mussed. He nodded tentatively. She propped them to a more comfortable position, his bloodshot eyes never leaving her face. She met his gaze briefly before turning away. Picking up the discarded heel of bread at the door, she brought it over to him.

"You would have had more, but you upset the plate," she stated plainly.

He took the bread from her, his gaze still suspicious. "Forgive me. I have seen many strange things in your land."

"I'm sure," she answered, not wanting to know where he had come from at the moment. She was still trying to forget the feeling of his fingers around her throat. "Try to get some sleep. I'll be back later to change your bandages."

With that, she left the room and closed the door behind her. Taking a deep breath, she locked it behind her. Delphine leaned back against the wall, cradling her face in her shaking hands. She wondered what they exactly had living under their roof.