PROLOGUE

It started three months ago.

At first, everyone passed it off as fake. Just a fantasy told by drunks who wandered the streets at night and street urchins who had nothing to call their own.

But then, two guards saw.

It was supposed to be a routine patrol: walk around the perimeter of the town, dispatching any Orcs that were spotted.

It was a routine patrol; they had found nothing and were heading back to the guard tower.

And then they saw it.

An unearthly blue light emanating from one of the houses.

The house belonged to a merchant and his family. The merchant's son was injured when the caravan was attacked by a band of Orcs, leaving him near death. Despite the healers' best attempts to save the boy; there was nothing to be done. They had given him a week, at most, and left herbs to ease his passing.

Suspicious, the two guards approached the house. Right before they went to open the door, they saw a blur leave the house at an astonishing speed. Knowing that they would not be able to catch up in their armor, one of the guards took out his cross-bow and fired at the retreating figure.

The arrow never reached its target.

Before it came within five feet of the blur, another blur intercepted it. This one held two swords that were used to block the arrow.

At that moment, the moon decided to show itself and the guards saw the blurs' true forms.

One was a woman, garbed in dark, flowing purple and red robes – which seemed to be held up with rope and a large white shell – with a long translucent veil falling from the straw hat she wore. She had strange markings upon her arms and face and crescent moon upon her forehead that was obscured by the hood she wore beneath her hat – the same dark purple as her robes. The woman, both would later agree, was hauntingly beautiful as she stared at them with eyes the same shade of blue as the light they saw. She was the arrow's target.

The one who blocked the arrow was striking in a completely different way.

It had the body of a man, dressed completely in black. Two identical, dangerous looking, swords were in its hands. They were held in front of him defensively, the figure had not moved from when the arrow was blocked. The guards' blood turned to ice when they looked upon the figures face. It had the face of a demon, blue with white accents, which seemed to be smiling at them with pointed fangs. Where eyes should have been there was nothing, just an endless void of black that seemed to devour one's soul.

A cloud of fog materialized around the figures, obscuring them from the guards' sight. When the fog cleared moments later, both the woman and demon were gone.

The next day, the merchant woke the town by shouting to the heavens that his son was miraculously healed.

After that, similar stories started popping up around. A friend or family member who was on the verge of death had miraculously been healed by a beautiful, painted woman; groups that were ambushed by Orcs were saved by a demon with a blue face, wielding twin swords.

This was how the Painted Lady and the Blue Spirit became known throughout Middle Earth.


To readers, This is only my second attempt at writing, so please be gentle.

Reviews are welcome and encouraged to let me know if I should continue this story, or leave it as is.

Flames will be used to roast marshmallows.