The Heart of Dale
Chapter 1
TA 2770
Flames licked at the chocolate brown banners hanging from the parapets of Dale's outer walls. Piercing screams had died to nothing as morning came with a burning, crimson sun. Bodies scorched to ash and buildings crumbling beneath the weight of Smaug the Terrible, the Last Great Fire Drake.
Those fortunate enough to escape the dragon's fire fled towards Lake Town, following the Running River. Two days of walking and carrying others after such a loss took its toll on the hearts of Dale's survivors. Their Lord Girion was dead, but his wife and son pushed on in the crowd, encouraging others onward. Their Lady helped bandage what wounds she could, alas many did not make it.
The General of Dale's army had stayed behind with Lord Girion and would not abandon his childhood friend. He handed him black arrows as he shot one after the other at the dragon. One nicked the underside of Smaug's belly, removing scales. He roared ominously as he swung himself around and landed on the wall near Lord Girion, his tail knocking down the remainder of a parapet. He stared straight at Girion and his General, smirked, and set his flame upon them. He reveled in their screams and then took flight with a thunderous leap. Part of the wall crumbled beneath him and the last lonely black arrow fell from its place of honor into the heap below.
General Asher's son, Captain Alann, led the remaining army to safety. Finding Dale's survivors, they marched with them to the shores near Lake Town. The Master of Lake Town bluntly told the Captain there was not enough room for all. Captain Alann gathered the survivors together.
"The Master claims a lack of space in our time of need," Captain Alann said, his brows furrowing in thought.
"Perhaps it is true," their Lady said standing calmly, "What would you have us do, General?"
Alann looked to the Lady, "I am not our General, My Lady."
She looked at him sternly before looking towards the ruin of Dale, "You are now," she stated solemnly as bright flames licked at the sky.
General Alann peered at the crowd seeing nodding heads, "The army will not do any good here on a floating city," he paused as all his men stood, "We make for a farther place so others may live. Any volunteers will be welcome. We will preserve Dale's way of life until the future brings our descendants home."
"I volunteer General," stated a young man, "I carry the last knowledge of our peoples' sword smithing. Where am I to go, but with Dale's legacy?"
"I thank you for your words," stated the General, "But our legacy lies with Girion's heir. My Lady, you and your son deserve more."
"We will not abandon our people General Alann," she said, "We will make our home here until the time comes."
"I am not abandoning anyone. There is not enough food and shelter for all of us," his frustration showing in his voice.
"I understand. The army of Dale must survive to restore our people," she said calmly.
Many artisans, craftsman, and former merchants accompanied the army of Dale South to where they could survive and endure. Those left in Lake Town survived as best they could. With only a dream to look forward to, some fell into despair of returning home.
TA 2941 East Emnet of Rohan near Emyn Muil
The clashing of swords could be heard across the valley, even with the surrounding bushes doing their best to muffle them. Man and woman fought tirelessly as time slowly slipped by.
The man wore a faded brown tunic over his matching leggings and shirt. He held his left arm behind his back as he parried and lunged at his opponent.
The woman wore identical clothes except for her tunic. It was in more of a dress style to hang lower at the bottom and the top had lacings cinching it together properly. She also held her left arm behind her back holding her long, brownish red hair which hung in a single, thick braid to keep it out of the way. Even braided, it hung to her waist.
"You've been getting better, Elena," he said, "I give you that."
He took another swing at her and she parried it with her elvish blade.
"Well, dear little brother," she taunted, "someone has to give you a run for your gold."
He laughed as he slowed and stopped. His breathing had become raspy and his age of fifty-five showed for a moment. He wiped a section of sweaty hair out of his face as he sheathed his sword.
Elena straightened as she sheathed her sword as well. A small, brown thrush bird flew to her left shoulder and fluffed up his feathers as he wiggled. He settled quite contentedly and closed his eyes. He looked like a regular thrush with the exception of his glowing lavender eyes.
"That bird gives me the willies," he said.
"Ony? Now why would you be afraid of him?" Elena asked with a laugh.
He stood straighter as he frowned into Elena's eyes, "Didn't say I was afraid. Said he gave me the willies."
Elena chuckled softly, "The great General Aric the Second not liking a thrush of Dale?"
"I'll never believe that's a simple thrush," Aric harrumphed as he straightened.
Elena smirked as she raised an eyebrow at him.
"Has something to do with that elvish blood I'd reckon," he said, "Able to call all manner of creatures to your midst."
Elena frowned and raised her right hand to fidget with her slightly pointed ear. Though they had the same color hair, height, and father she was obviously part elf. She looked around her thirties although she was closer to seventy.
"A gift from my mother I was told," Elena stated softly.
Aric gently grabbed her right hand and pulled it into his.
"I didn't say half elf was bad. If you aged as I you might not have lived long enough to see what has become of me," he said sadly.
"You survived the death of your wife," Elena remembered, "but you still have me."
"If only father was still alive," he said as his face saddened and crinkled.
"Now none of that," she said as she pushed his shoulders gently with both hands, "We have to decide who all is going with Marik to do trade with Esgaroth this year and check on Girion's heir."
"It is about time for that isn't it?"
"General Aric! Captain Elena!" came a shout and running steps.
They both turned as Elena's friend, aide, and distant cousin came hurrying though the brush.
"Alan? What is it?" Elena asked with a hand on her sword handle as she looked behind him.
He came to a stop before them and bent over with his hands on his knees as he huffed and puffed looking like a blonde scarecrow had snapped from a strong wind.
"Dale..." he blew out, "Smaug..."
Elena looked at Aric with eyes wide before turning back to Alan. She gently clasped his shoulders and stood him upright.
"What about Dale and Smaug?" Elena asked.
"Smaug has been killed by Bard the Bowman, Girion's heir," Alan puffed out, "Esgaroth destroyed... survivors headed to Dale. Survived a great war and are starting to rebuild Dale.
Aric put a hand on Alan's shoulder as Elena took a step back.
"Why don't you sit down, cousin, and tell us all you've heard," Aric said.
Alan nodded, sat, and as his breath returned he began the tale he'd heard from a genuine Dale thrush.