Fo.A 19. Nov 22nd

Amära counted the dead orcs around her; fifty-two in all, the largest party that she'd seen in some time, which worried her.

The so-called "Queen of Gondor" had been sending out more and more raiding parties into Rohan the last few years, testing its strength and its people. Amära was proud that both stood with unwavering resolve.

At least for now.

The rumors were increasing of people joining the Black Tree on the outskirts closest to Gondor as a means of protecting their families, some from her own village had made that same mistake. Those that had been found with the mark had been put to death without any trial; it made Amära sick.

Walking amongst the dead, she knew that it was merely a matter of time before the queen launched an all-out attack on Rohan, and there would be little in the way of stopping her. Thuringwethil commanded not only orcs, but hundreds of thousands of men in much greater numbers than anything Èomer, King, had at his disposal.

Not to mention the constant stream of refugees, pouring through their land on their way north to find some hope of protection in Arnor, put a heavy burden on the resources of Rohan's people and left little for them to survive on. It was hard times, indeed.

Amära spat on the headless corpse of an orc, muttering a curse under her breath, and turned back to her horse, who was waiting patiently for its master.

A horn sounded, and Amära spun around, sword singing from its scabbard looking for new attackers. What she saw was far more terrifying: smoke, thick and black, billowing up a few miles away...in the direction of her village.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

Jycala was having a bad day. Not only had she not killed anything in weeks, but she was also stuck with an elleth who could hardly climb trees. Sweet Oromë, help her.

"Could you at least pretend to be in a hurry, Tári?" Jy asked, reclining on a high branch.

"I'm coming!" Tári snapped as she pulled herself onto the branch below Jycala. "You were only a few seconds ahead of me anyway, so don't pretend you've been waiting for forever!"

Jycala rolled her eyes, finally helping the young elleth up to the branch she was sitting on. "Tell me again why we're snooping around here, because last I checked, the king wasn't too fond of spies."

"Because," Tári said, "something is going on that my sister isn't telling me, and I want to know what it is."

"Remind me why I'm here again? Cause I'm not going to save your hide if you get caught," Jy said.

Tári turned and shot her a glare. "I saved her from a Nazgûl's blade, I do not need protecting."

Jycala raised her hands. "Fine, have it your way."

Tári shook her head and turned her attention towards the gate that led to Thranduil's halls, noticing that no one seemed to be standing guard. How odd.

Suddenly all of the sounds of the forest seemed to go quiet at once, and it was almost deafening. Tári looked at Jycala, eyes widening. "Do you hear that?"

Jy nodded, a sense of unease growing inside her. It was the trees; they were whispering something to each other. Then there it was, one word rushing towards them like a torrent: Run!

All at once Tári and Jy dropped from the tree and ran, casting fearful glances behind them whenever they dared, finally catching shadows flitting from treetop to treetop.

Jycala stifled a curse as she saw the elves appear out of the shadows in front of her, and she skidded to a stop, Tári beside her. She had no intention of ending up in Thranduil's famed dungeons, and she was itching for a fight away.

A tall elleth emerged from the group ahead of them, and Jy could see the resemblance to Tári right away. Great, just great.

"You should not have been spying, Tári," the elleth said, a disapproving frown on her face.

"I wouldn't have to if you would have told me what was going on," Tári retorted.

"It's not your place to ask such questions, sister," Aredhel replied coldly. "You are too young and do not yet know your place."

Tári's eyes went wide, and Jycala could see the hurt on her face. "We're sisters, Aredhel!" Tári said, as if reminder her sister of this fact.

Aredhel's eyes were impassive and hard. "I serve a higher purpose, as does my king, and you would do well to remember that. Now, you will come with us for his judgment."

Tári was stunned. What was wrong with her sister?

Jycala, however, was having none of it. "Sorry," she said, "but I'm not going anywhere with you." She gripped her battle ax and pulled it from the sheath. "But please, you are welcome to try and make me." She smiled, eyes flashing.

Try as she might, though, she could not channel her power into the ax; it felt cut off. Distant.

Balrogs! They'd done something to her!

Aredhel smiled smugly. "Did you think my king would miss the power of your fëa within his borders, little elf?"

Jy clenched her jaw. "It's probably for the best anyway, it wouldn't have been a fair fight otherwise."

Tári shook her head. "Aredhel, why are you doing this? We don't want to fight; we're on the same side!"

"Speak for yourself," said Jy, gripping her ax tighter.

"No," Aredhel said, her voice emotionless, "we're not." She raised her hand, revealing the sign of the Black Tree.

At that moment, Tári's world shattered.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

Amära rode hard, lashing the horse to greater speed, praying that she would not arrive too late. Images of her mother, brother, and step-father flashed in her mind's eye, bringing with it more emotions.

As she crested the top of the hill that looked down on her village, all she saw was fire, smoke, and bodies. "No!" she screamed, jumping down from her horse and sprinting towards the blazing ruins. Using her cloak to cover her mouth, Amära cried out the names of all those she knew, but no reply came.

Stumbling through the village, Amära could see her home sitting as yet untouched by the inferno, and she dashed towards it, screaming the names of her family. Throwing open the door, Amära saw the torn bodies of her mother and brother. Gorge rose in her throat, and she vomited; when her gaze landed on the dismembered arm of her step-father still clinging to his sword, her world tipped sideways, and she collapsed.

"Amära!" came Kenhelm's through the roar of the blaze..

The world around her spun, stars weaving in and out of her vision; try as she might, she could not answer in reply. Let me die here.

A man's face suddenly appeared in her swirling vision, a Gondorian by the look of him, with dark eyes and brown hair matted with blood; a nasty gash was healing above his right brow. "Are you alright?" he asked. "Are you hurt?"

Amära moaned, and her world faded out for a moment; even so, she was vaguely aware of someone picking her up. No, she wanted to say, but her lips would not obey her.

The person who bore her stumbled, catching himself and continued on, not stopping until they were clear of the fire. He sank to his knees, carefully laying Amära down.

The world came back into focus, and she gazed up at him with bloodshot eyes. "Who..." she croaked, her throat raw from the smoke.

The man's chest heaved as he coughed. When the fit had passed, he returned her gaze. "Tachion," came the reply, his voice just as raw.

Amära nodded, closing her eyes, and finally letting the tears come.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

Tári walked numbly beside Jycala as they were led through the gates of the elven king; gates she had passed through in happier times with her sister. The thought was enough to bring back the tears.

What had happened to her that she would willingly follow after the Black Tree? Did she not know that they worshiped Morgoth?

Yes, that would explain it, her sister did not know.

Jycala was shooting her another nervous glance, something Tári was not used to seeing, and it only added to her own uneasiness.

Two giant stone-carved doors silently swung inward before them, the entrance to the Hall of Judgment, and Tári's heart sank; this is where their fate would be decided.

As they crossed the narrow paths that led to the Seat of Judgment, Tári wished that she had listened to Jy and left it alone. "I'm sorry, Jy," Tári whispered.

Jy grunted softly. "I won't say I told you so."

"Quiet," snapped one of the guards, an ellon Tári had danced with several winters back.

Tári let her gaze wander ahead to the seat and swallowed hard when Thranduil stepped around from behind it. Clothed in a shimmering silver robe with golden patterns and the gilded crown upon his head, he looked every part the elven king she had served for so long.

The only difference now was his eyes; before they had been filled with hope and light, but now, they seemed hard and cruel.

Tári shivered at the sight.

When they were standing directly before the seat, the guards shoved them to their knees. Tári could feel Thranduil's eyes on her, seeming to pierce straight through her. She heard the rustling of his robes, and he glided across the floor, circling around them, inspecting them, his presence a physical force that felt utterly overpowering.

"Why is it that two of my own people are caught spying on my doorstep?" he said finally, voice even.

Neither Tári or Jycala responded, but continued to look at the ground.

"Have your tongues been taken from you or have you forgotten that I am your king?" he voice grew louder, more menacing.

"You are not my king," Jy said, looking up at him, face defiant. "I am Avari, and I serve no one."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes, and Tári cursed Jy's pride. "But we both know that isn't true," Thranduil replied, eyeing Jycala like a hawk. "Tell me," he said, stepping closer, "what does it feel like to be darkened?"

Tári's head whipped around, staring at Jycala, who wore an expression of surprise and panic. Thranduil noticed too. He smiled. "Ah, so it seems your friend doesn't know. How interesting."

He turned his full attention on Tári. "Tell me. Why were you spying?"

Tári glared at him. "I knew something was wrong. The trees had grown silent, and darkness had crept back into the woods. It would seem I was right. You're a traitor!"

"I am no traitor, child. I am merely securing the future of my people as the proper ruler of this world."

"I am not a child!"

"Compared to me you are an infant!" he said, his voice echoing through the chamber.

Tári felt like she'd taken a blow to the stomach. "Why? Why would you join the Black Tree when they worship Morgoth and seek his return?"

Thranduil drew himself up, returning to his seat. "I've fought many wars against evil, and yet, it always seems to return." He seated himself, looking hard at them both. "I'm choosing the option that will spare my people more bloodshed."

"Traitor!" Tári screamed again.

Thranduil waved his hands. "Take them to the dungeons."

"No!" Tári yelled, fighting the guards to no avail.

Jycala didn't resist at all.

<><><><><><><><><><>

When Amära awoke, the roar of the fire was gone, as was the smell of smoke and soot, and in its place was lavender and herbs. She rubbed her bleary eyes, noticing that her right hand was bandaged. She sniffed the wrappings, catching the strong scent of herbs.

Amära glanced around, taking in the small room with its spartan furnishings. Outside her door, she could make out voices speaking in hushed tones, and her senses became fully alert.

Before she could find her sword, the door swung open, and two familiar faces strode into the room. Lady Èowyn was followed by Kenhelm, the leader of her party.

"I see our patient is recovering well," Èowyn said, coming to the bedside and looking at the bandaged hand.

"Where am I?" Amära asked. "What happened?

"You are in Edoras under my care," Èowyn replied, slowly unwrapping the linen on Amära's hand, revealing the burned flesh beneath.

Amära cringed and looked away, unwilling to acknowledge what she feared.

"I'm going to apply more balm, that should help it heal," Èowyn said soothingly. "It will also numb the pain a little."

Amära nodded, closing her eyes. As Èowyn applied the balm and fresh herbs, it felt like Amära's hand had been shoved into a furnace; she bit down on her cheek until it bled, squeezing her eyes tight as the tears slid silently down her cheeks.

Finally, Èowyn finished and stood, looking at the girl with sad eyes. "I am sorry about your family."

Amära didn't reply, the overwhelming emotions forming a lump in her throat.

"I will return in a few hours to check on you," Èowyn said, motioning for Kenhelm to follow.

Closing the door behind them, Kenhelm walked with Èowyn down the hall, voice low. "It's not good, is it?"

She shook her head. "No, the burn is deep. She will be badly scarred." Èowyn paused, looking back. "I fear she will not be able to draw a sword again."

Kenhelm nodded, his face grave. "That is what I feared. She will not take that news well."

"No, she will not," Èowyn agreed. "But that is outside our control now." She looked at him. "What did this? Four villages destroyed, no survivors, and no sign of orcs or anything else for that matter."

"Word has just reached us from our allies in the north that monstrous wolf escaped from Angmar, and it was seen running south. According to the messenger, that was almost two weeks ago." He paused, thinking for a moment. "The timing of these attacks seem to match up, do they not? The first village was struck along the northern borders of Rohan."

Èowyn nodded silently, listening intently as Kenhelm spoke of the other attacks, ending with the most recent one to the south. It did seem to match up. "Have you spoken of this with the king?"

"No, my lady. I had only just received word before you summoned me."

"Go now," she said, "and tell him what you have told me. I suspect that he shall send out men to hunt the beast down before it attacks again."

"Yes, my lady." Kenhelm bowed and left.

Èowyn walked back up the hall, unlocking the door across from Amära's room. Stepping through, she quickly turned and locked the door behind her before walking over to the bed, glaring down at the unconscious man. It had been nearly twenty years, but Èowyn would know his face anywhere.

Tachion. The traitor.

*****************************

Awwwwwww snap! Look who showed up! Mr. Tachion!

It also looks like Eowyn might still be holding a teeny grudge.

Sound off below, but who's excited to see Tachion back!?

*****************************

Okay, I promised you a little surprise hehe

As you know, I started working on a fantasy novel Jan 3rd with the goal of writing 50k words in 29 days (because YOWO (you only write once)). I had expected to finish the entire book...turns out I'm only about halfway through it. 

BUT I HIT MY GOAL!!!!

50,728 words!!!

Because I've hit my goal, I will begin to release chapters on here NEXT WEEK!!!

I AM SO EXCITED!!!!!!

But wait! There's more!

oOtwiOo was SUPER amazing and creating a custom cover for this story!

BEHOLD!!!

And if that wasn't enough, here is a short excerpt ;)

The City of Snow and Stars

Chapter 1

Trinia ran as fast as her legs would carry her through the streets towards freedom. Beyond the gate is where it lay, and she only had a few more blocks until she would experience it.

Ducking underneath a cart with the reflexes of a cat, Trinia came out the other side within sight of the gates. She was going to make it.

She could hear her father's guards shouting behind her to close the gates, but she knew they were far enough back that the gatekeepers wouldn't be able to hear them. Not yet.

The sound of the gate closing told her she had misjudged that particular line of reasoning. Putting on a burst of speed, Trinia closed the gap and slid underneath the gate as it settled with a loud thump.

She could hear the guards cursing on the other side, and she cast a quick glance back, smirking. Not wasting the opportunity at hand, Trinia took off once again, dodging the cracks of musket fire from the walls as she ran towards the forest a few hundred yards away.

Trinia cried out as a shot hit her right arm, throwing her off balance and sending her tumbling to the ground. It was as if she'd been stabbed with a red-hot iron, and the agony of it stole her breath.

Fear began to seep into her mind, but she knew that if she stopped now, her only chance of escape would be forever lost. She had to keep going.

Rolling onto her stomach, Trinia lifted herself off the ground and took off once more, praying that the gods would help her reach the safety of the trees. There at least she could hide when the guards came, for they would surely be on horseback.

The grinding sound behind her told her they were beginning to open the gates, which meant she had only a few seconds before they would be after her.

She was far enough out of range now that their muskets were unable to reach her. A small blessing.

Trinia cast a quick glance over her shoulder to see if the guards were loose, and to her dismay, they were.

Twenty of them were on black steeds in hot pursuit.

Fifty yards.

She could hear the whinny of the horses as their masters whipped them to greater speeds, desperate to catch her before she disappeared into the forest.

Twenty yards.

Trinia knew what her father would do to them if they failed, but she couldn't dwell on that. The fate that awaited them was far more merciful than the one that waited for her at her father's hands.

They were close now, and Trinia knew what she would have to do, though she hated the thought of it. It would be her only chance.

As the low branches of the forest welcomed her, Trinia dove into a thicket of branches, and with one swift motion of her hand, a copy of her continued running into the woods.

The guards, spotting the decoy, gave chase as it led them away from her and deeper into the woods. Trinia wished she didn't have to do it, but there was no other way. She could only hope they killed it quickly, so it didn't suffer.

When she was sure the guards were far enough away from her hiding place, Trinia took off, heading west. She looked back upon the City one last time, whispering a quiet goodbye to the world she'd known for these past sixteen years of life.

She prayed she would never see The City of Snow and Stars again.

-II-

Come back next week to find out what happens to Trinia ;)