A/N: This is a fic I started when I was 12 years old, I am now 20. I decided to rewrite it, because I went back and realised that even though I was happy with the story, I am not happy with the terrible writing of it. So I decided to do it again, changing the made-up names of the elves to real names among other things. I think it will be clear, if you've read the original, which characters are which. If it is not, email me and I'll clarify. The story's main plot has not changed either, but the intricacies have become more elaborate (I hope). If you did read the original one, please let me know what you thought of the changes made in the story.

And of course, I hope you enjoy it!

A Warrior's Life

Chapter 1

There was screaming all around him, people pleading for mercy, babies wailing for food and mothers, children crying in fear and women howling in agony and men shouting in anguish.

Ron could feel hands groping at him, pulling at him, begging him for help. Tentacles wrapped around his body, crushing him and Ron cried out as his bones began to shatter and his lungs stopped taking in air. He was going to die, he knew it and he screamed in terror.

Ron sat up with a jolt, his chest heaving and cold sweat dripping down his face. Looking around he was relieved to see he was in fact in his own room in the Burrow.

Staggering out of bed Ron walked to the bathroom and splashed his face with cold water. As he towelled off he stared at himself in the mirror. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his cheeks were drawn. He looked awful. Hardly the kind of appearance a 16 year old boy wants.

Reaching up, Ron ran his fingers through his hair, enjoying the feeling of the silky red strands moving against his skin. He'd let it grow a little, preferring it to be thick and full, but not too long. His skin was milky with countless freckles that had multiplied towards the end of the school year after all the time he'd spent in the sun when he was revising for his O.W.L.s with Harry and Hermione.

Harry.

Ron was worried about him. Harry had gotten very gaunt looking, his head had always been lowered and his shoulders were hunched over in a defensive position. Ron could tell a lot more from body language than he liked to let on. It made him feel embarrassed when he analysed people, because he felt like he shouldn't be watching them so intently. Truthfully, people fascinated him, the way each individual moved, how they had their own gestures and facial expressions for each emotion, how they reacted in different ways. Some lashed out, some stayed silent, some smiled and some scowled.

Harry was curious in that depending on the day he might lash out or he might keep it to himself. Ron knew though, that Harry was blaming himself for Sirius' death. In a way it was his fault, because Harry had refused to trust anyone else to achieve the goal of saving his godfather. That was Harry's problem. He didn't trust anyone to do anything right. As far as he was concerned only he could achieve it.

Ron shook his head, thinking about his best friend. Harry could be a damn fool at times. Still, he was brave and kind, so Ron could put up with the stupidity. And he knew Harry blamed himself for Sirius' death, for putting all of them at risk. Harry was probably torturing himself right now, as he tried to sleep. Ron knew Harry well.

With a sigh Ron tried to push all the unpleasant thoughts out of his mind but his dream was very stubborn. He'd been plagued by these dreams since he'd grabbed that brain in the Ministry of Magic. His arms were still covered in the markings from the attack and the dreams seemed determined to drive him out of his mind. They terrified him. Ron, who had always loved sleeping, began to dread his bedtime.

Knowing he would not be going back to sleep, he decided to do some of his summer homework, get it out of the way. He'd surprised himself this year. In an attempt to escape his misery he'd turned to his homework for something to do. So even though he was only a week in, he was almost done. Hermione would have a fit if she knew he'd done his homework before her and Harry would think he'd lost his marbles.

Ron sat down at his little desk in the corner of his room, and began his essay for Potions on the properties of moonstones in antidotes. He was done by the time the sun had fully risen over the horizon and his mother called for him for breakfast.

"Are you feeling all right dear? You look awfully pale?" asked Molly Weasley, looking him over in concern.

"I'm fine mum. Just didn't get much sleep last night. Was too wired." Ron didn't mention his dreams. He didn't want to upset his mum or for Fred or George to find out. They'd find it hilarious and tease him about them.

"Well, maybe after you do your chores you should take a nap."

"Maybe. I'll see. I might go for a walk in the forest."

"Well don't be gone for too long, you know everyone's coming for dinner tonight."

"Oh yeah I forgot."

"Bill's said he's got important news for us."

"Probably gonna say he's asked Fleur Delaclur to marry him."

"Don't be silly dear. You know they're too young to be marrying." Molly sounded dismissive. Ron knew she did not like Fleur. She was too obsessed with her looks as far as Molly Weasley was concerned. Ron wanted to point that most young women were concerned with how they looked and Fleur was part Vela so she was doubly cursed with vanity, but he knew he'd get extra chores if he did.

"What're you doing here?" asked Ginny as she came into the kitchen in her nightdress and dressing gown.

"I live here."

"Ha, ha, very funny. I meant what are you doing here so early?"

"I woke up early."

"Why?"

"Just did." Ron shrugged. Ginny rolled her eyes and began to eat her breakfast. Molly began to fuss over her, telling her she needed a hair cut and how she needed to eat more. Ron tried not to feel sour over the fact that he'd lost more weight than Ginny in the last few weeks and yet his sister was getting the attention. He was used to it by now. Ginny was the baby and only girl in the family, both prime reasons for fussing. He, Ron, was just the last boy to be born.

Ron excused himself and went upstairs, getting a shower and then pulling on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a pair of runners that were falling apart. He wondered if he should tell his mother. Then he decided against it. She'd only say he needed them to last a bit longer. Even with his dad's new job and only two children left to support, money was still tight. Ron didn't like asking about money. It was always awkward and he hated it.

Walking back down the stairs Ron grabbed an apple before heading outside. His first job of the day was to de-gnome the garden and it was best to get it over with.

"Stupid buggars." Ron held out his hand, glaring at the blood that was trickling down to his wrist. The gnome had managed to get him when he was getting tired.

"Not to worry dear. It's nothing serious." said Molly, cleaning the bite with a disinfecting potion and then waving her wand over it. The cut vanished at once.

Ron sighed to himself, pulling his hand away from his mother as soon as it was completely gone.

"I'm going for a walk mum. I'll be back in time for dinner."

"Be careful dear, please. You know I hate you going out on your own like this." Molly's eyes flicked to the family clock, which rested on the kitchen table where she'd set it down. All the hands were pointing at 'mortal peril'. Ron had learnt to ignore it.

"I know mum. But I like it. You know that."

Molly nodded. Ron had always liked going for walks in the woods near the Burrow where the children had played Quidditch. He seemed to like the solitude it offered. Molly couldn't quite understand that. She couldn't understand why her youngest son liked to be alone at times. None of her other children liked it.

"All right dear, but please be back in time for dinner."

"I will, I will."

Ron was quick to leave and made his way to the woods. The trees were so green they almost pulsed with life and as soon as Ron passed under the threshold the sunlight was almost totally blocked. Ron liked it like that.

Leaning his head back, Ron stretched his arms out as far as they would go, smiling a little. Even when he was a young boy he'd always preferred to be among the trees than the stone and deadness of the Burrow with its abundance of life inside. With Hogwarts it was the same. Ron was always drawn to the Forbidden Forest, despite the frightening things it held (like Aragog), he had just preferred not to get detention.

Ron shuddered at the mere thought of the giant spider Hagrid loved so much. He would never willingly go through that experience again.

Strolling through the wood, Ron touched the trunks of the trees, enjoying the feeling of the rough bark under his fingertips. He loved trees, loved to climb them, swing from the high branches, enjoying the threat that he might fall even though he never had. Ron loved the adrenaline rush it gave him. Years with Harry as his best friend had given him a taste for thrills. Ron would admit he was a bit of an adrenaline junkie, but he didn't see what was wrong with that. The contentment he got after his heart slowed down was always so pleasant he looked forward to the next time.

Sitting down under one particular tree, which had huge roots that surrounded him like a large chair, Ron contemplated the past few weeks. Cornelius Fudge had been fired as Minister of Magic, and now Rufus Scrimgeour was in charge. Ron knew Scrimgeour, or at least, he knew of him. The man was a man of action; he didn't sit around waiting for things to happen. In a way that was good, it meant things would be done. But whether those things would be right or whether they would be just to make the Ministry look good was another thing entirely.

A shiver went up Ron's spine, he felt like he was being watched. But a quick look around told him he was alone, save for animals scurrying around. Still, he gripped his wand tighter in his pocket, scanning the area again. The feeling wouldn't leave him be. Ron was positive someone was watching him.

Laughter erupted around him, making Ron jump to his feet in alarm. The laughter was light and cheerful, making him think of a babbling brook, of the wind rustling through trees in autumn, of twinkling stars.

"Who's there? Show yourselves!" Ron drew his wand and held it aloft.

"Now is not the time." said a light, cheerful voice. "Soon Tûr Ruin, soon you shall meet us face to face and we shall have a great feast to welcome you to us. But for now, farewell."

"Wait! What? Come back!" Ron whirled around on the spot, looking for the source of the voice. But there was silence. It was as if Ron had imagined the whole thing. Maybe he had. Ron wondered if he was beginning to crack from all his nightmares and sleepless nights.

Shaking, Ron sat back down. He didn't want to go home, he wanted to find out who had been talking to him. The voices hadn't scared him, a fact in itself that he found odd, but he wanted to know who could have such beautiful voices. Nothing human that was for sure.

Ron felt his blood stirring as he thought about what he'd been called. Tûr Ruin. For some reason the words enflamed his heart. Tûr Ruin. He knew what they meant but he didn't know how.

Ron blinked and checked his watch. "Oh bloody hell!" he yelped, leaping to his feet. It was six. Mum always served big family dinners at six! He was going to be in so much trouble.

Ron sprinted all the way home like the fires of hell were at his heels. They certainly wouldn't hold a candle to Molly Weasley when she got angry.

Let me know what you think, more will come soon.

Night's Darkness