(A/N: So this is my first fic, and I'm hoping somebody reads this and enjoys this. I don't want to have to be defensive before I even show you my work, but I promise thisisindeed a Disney fic with absolutely no OCs. If you are confused, feel free to contact me, and if it seems a character isn't acting the way he or she should be, I promise it will all make sense eventually. Please R&R. I'd love to see what anybody thinks. All the original characters and some plot points come from Disney.)

The Old Road's Daughter

Epigram

"Lack imagination and miss the better story."—Yann Martel

Prologue

Listen. I urge you. This is too important for you to write off as something a poor girl made up as a ploy for fame and attention. This is no such tripe. This is a story, a proper story with real people in it. As such, you won't find many heroes or villains, and that will make things a lot more complicated. But if you keep your eyes and ears open, the tale I'm about to introduce you to will show you truth of a sort you haven't seen before, the kind of truth that's been replaced by jokes and tired parodies. For the gist of this story isn't particularly about a battle between good and evil. It's not about the triumph of the heart. It's certainly not about true love. No, it's about all of that together and how everything centers on something greater. All the good stories do that, and for the love of me, I hope this is one of them.

I am not the protagonist of this particular story, but as the girl who is was never particularly fond of self-promotion, I have taken it upon myself to scribe the story of her life. Over time, it has been bowdlerized, caricatured, and dumbed-down to the point where many characters have been exaggerated, prettified or changed in the name of "comic relief" or "dramatic license", and many stories have lost their original contexts. But this story is much better than all this. This story is real.

It begins as you know it to. A kingdom sits nestled in a forested valley, home to several quaint towns and a few bustling cities. It is rich in natural resources, and its people have an earthy, resilient spirit. It is called Schonheit, for all who pass through it are haunted by its abundant beauty. It is ruled by a king, his wife long dead, who has one daughter whom he loves very dearly. She is what everyone expects a princess to be: pure, kind, graceful, and more beautiful than all the legendary maidens of the past. She becomes the symbol of her kingdom's peace and prosperity—her people love her, almost deify her for eighteen years. And then the war comes, and this portrait I've just painted is shredded to a thousand ribbons.

Schonheit had always been a peaceful nation, quick to give aid to any other state in need. Its location in the Silverspire Mountains also made it incredibly hard to access; thus, no other country had ever really bothered it. But this was also as much a curse as it was a blessing, for as the people of Schonheit maintained their blissful lifestyles, the rest of the world grew in wisdom and culture. Other states began to rise up and seek out resources, power, and sovereignty by conquest. And no other nation did this better than Minuit. Under the leadership of King Frederick V, Minuit's borders stretched across the entire western half of the continent, from the Atlantean Sea in the west to the Silverspire Mountains in the east. It wasn't long before it turned its eye on Schonheit. Ill-prepared for the Minuit invasion, Schonheit was forced to its knees within months. As a last act of desperation, the king sent an emissary to the secretive, mystic nation of Wahrheit for aid, and the two kings quickly hashed out a deal.

A few nights later, three women rode into the Minuit camp. They presented themselves as messengers from the kings of Wahrheit and Schonheit come to deliver terms of surrender. No one (least of all I) knows what happened that night, but the next morning all that remained of the Minuit army was a few terrified stragglers, screaming something about black magic and damnation. Though a few Schonheiters were disturbed by the news, it seemed the war had been won.

In the years that followed, Minuit put its tail between its legs and slunk back into its borders. King Frederick didn't bother anyone for a long time. Schonheit and Wahrheit retained their relationship, and in an act of ultimate alliance the king of Schonheit married the Wahrheiter king's sister. A regal, cold woman, she was immediately distrusted by most of Schonheit's populace, and the death of the king at the hands of a Minuit assassin a few months later brought out several rumors of the queen dabbling in subterfuge, treason, and even sorcery. It is on that night that I begin my true narrative. It is on that night that my life changed forever.

Chapter 1

Incite

My father always called it "The Golden Hour," that time just before sunset. He often said that right then everything was truly at peace, that even soldiers would lay down their swords and marvel at the serenity around them: the sparkling lakes, the dancing trees, the rich yellow light caressing the grass. This moment has always been sacred to me, for it not only fills my heart with peace, but with memories of love and happiness, the simple joy of being of alive, and the desire to set off on the road once more.

In my younger days this hour fell just after my father, sisters, and I would return from the mines, our faces dirty and our minds clouded. We'd reach the doorstep of our small house, the savory smells of Mother's cooking and piney smell of the timber rejuvenating us enough to sit in the den and talk for a while. These were never mindless conversations, for my father had no tolerance for idle chatter. He would speak to us of the world, the various men and women who had shaped it, the many strange forces and creatures that moved within it. My sisters would ask questions and engage my father in debates of ethics or philosophy, but I never really had a need to. I simply listened, and that's what I was doing that evening.

We sat down in a circle like we always did, my father in his massive armchair, me and Goneril on the sofa to his right, and Lauga in the loveseat. Her husband Cuchulainn had managed enough strength to get out of bed and join us that night. He sat next to his wife with his infant daughter on his lap, hacking into his sleeve every now and then, pretending that his Miner's Cough wasn't as bad as it actually was. Lauga rested her head on his shoulder and tried very hard not to fall asleep. Father cleared his throat, and we all heeded him. He gazed upon us and stroked his beard, a strange sadness coming into his eyes before he finally spoke.

"I don't reckon I've told you the story of our people as yet," he said plaintively. I locked eyes with my sisters and realized he was right. "Strange thing that I haven't. It's an important story, and it's one you're all mighty ready to hear. It's a real sad one, though. Real sad…" He trailed off, and for a moment he looked much older than his jolly visage usually let on.

"Well…go on." Goneril's interjection jolted him out of his musings. He slowly turned his gaze to her, meeting her steely grey eyes with a calm resolve.

"Be patient with me, Goneril. This one's hard for me to tell." She nodded, her face emotionless, and he began his tale.

"Long ago, the dwarves were one of the four Great Races. The gods gave them dominion over the earth, and they grew rich with its bounty. Dwarven kings and queens came to power and built great cities and palaces all throughout the Underways. These rulers were wise and good—"

"We've talked about this, Dad. It's impossible for anyone to be completelywise and good."

"Oh, shut up, Goneril," Lauga murmured. Her eyelids drooped. She was falling asleep even faster than usual tonight. "Just let Dad tell the story." She nuzzled further into Cuchulainn's shoulder, who coughed at the sudden impact. Father continued, polishing his glasses.

"They were as wise and good as any person could possibly be, and during the time of their rule, not a single war was recorded in the Grand Annals. As they lived and traded in peace, so did the other three races with them. All that changed when the gods created humanity."

Goneril snorted. Father stopped short and looked at her.

"What's the matter, dear?"

She peered back at him. "A lot. I'm not sure I believe this. You're saying that we were once a great civilization, that we were also really, really cultured, and that humans are the reason that's all done and over with now? That doesn't make sense. There's no way dwarves could have ever done something that…big, and just look at us! We live in a ramshackle cottage in the middle of the woods, spending our lives holed up in caves so we can afford to survive. How do you go from 'great civilization' to this? And why would humans even bother us? To them, we are little more than animals. You're sick in the head, Dad."

I mentally slapped my forehead as she said that. Lauga visibly awakened, Cuchulainn was trying to make himself very small, and even baby Kitta looked uneasy. Father looked as if he had just been slapped in the face. A singular tear popped its head out of his eye and trickled very slowly down his beard. No one spoke until Cuchulainn coughed extremely loudly.

"This is why the story is sad, Goneril," Father almost whispered. "Because you—because we all have forgotten." He got out of his chair and left without a word, leaving us behind to sit in silence. A few seconds later my mother sauntered in.

"Dinner!" she sang, beaming as she carried a stack of plates. She took one look at us and stopped short. "What's happened? Where's your father?" Everyone, even Kitta, stared at Goneril. Mother set her plates down on an endtable and sighed. "Why, Goneril? Why must you do this to him?" My sister crossed her arms and scowled. I scooted away from her as mother bustled out and called up the stairs for father.

"Nice going, Sister Dear," Lauga crooned. "He'll be shutting himself up in his room until dessert now."

"He'll be fine," Goneril retorted. She continued to glower.

"Still," Cuchulainn interjected, "that was rude, Goneril. You've hurt him very deeply."

"I hurt everyone, Numbskull. What makes him any different?" We shared another few moments of tense quiet until I got up and retrieved the stack of plates.

"Great idea, Sigrun," Cuchulainn said, lifting Kitta off his lap and heading for the kitchen. "Come on, everyone. Let's finish getting dinner ready. Freya will be really happy to see we helped out." He hacked a tremendous hack just then, and Lauga stopped him short.

"Oh, no you don't, Darling," she laughed, placing a hand on his chest. "You're not going to go anywhere near the dishes. We can't have you coughing and sneezing and dripping snot all over them. Who wants that? Don't worry. We girls will take care of it." She kissed his cheek lightly, and he let out a small chuckle.

"Well, thanks, Honey. You're almost making me feel okay with being a lazy slob all day."

"A sick, lazy slob all day. And it's my job. I'm your wife." She grabbed the stack of dishes from me and marched off. "Come on, Goneril. Stop sulking and help me, please." She headed into the kitchen, and Goneril soon followed after, rolling up her sleeves and muttering to herself. I turned to go as well, but Cuchulainn grabbed my shoulder.

"Is something wrong, Sigrun?" I stared at him. "I mean, you seem even more quiet than usual today. What's up?"

"I don't know," I said to him. "Is there a reason to feel bad?" I stretched my hand to his forehead. "Are you feeling any worse today, Cuch?"

He shoved me off and held my shoulders, looking me seriously in the eye. "No, no, no. Stop that. Don't distract me. Something's bothering you. Speak up. Tell me or I'll…I'll ask Goneril what she thinks about the king's politics at dinner."

I gasped. "You wouldn't."

"You know I—" He burst into laughter, and I joined him. "Nah, that'd be horrible for all of us. But seriously. You can trust me, Sigrun."

"I know I can, but it's just…I don't know, weird."

"How weird?"

"Like…spiritual weird."

He turned his head to the side and stroked Kitta's forehead. "Go on."

"I don't know how to. I just have this weird feeling that something…grand is in the air tonight. Something important and crazy and new and a little scary…"

"So it's a bad feeling?"

"No, just scary. They're not the same, silly."

He chuckled. "I suppose not. Huh. You know something, Sigrun? I'll take your word for it."

"What?"

"Yeah. I don't know why. Any other day, I'd say you were crazy, but I'm kind of picking up what you're putting down."

"Really?" He nodded and smiled. "Thanks, Cuch. You've been a very great friend to me. I don't know how I'd survive everyone else without you around."

"Well, what do you know?" he chortled. "I'm good for something after all." An explosive pffftechoed through the room. It was shortly followed by an almighty smell. "And now I'm off to do the other thing I'm good at." He left for the washroom, holding Kitta very far away from his body.

When he was gone I started for the kitchen and stopped suddenly. I don't know why to this day, but for some reason I felt a very strong urge to go outside. I did just that, closing the door behind me softly so no one would notice my absence. I wandered down the path from the cottage, running my fingers along the bark of the trees and staring up at the swirls of burnt orange and lavender up above me. I stopped at the base of the last tree before the road and looked in front of me.

To the left lay the mines and the cottages of the other dwarf families; to the right, the village where we would sell our diamonds. It occurred to me then that I had never gone straight. Father said that the way straight through the woods would lead past the king's palace, into the Silverspire foothills and the rolling plains of Minuit and finally the sea. I had always wondered what the sea looked like. I stepped forward without thinking and then stopped myself.

Really?I thought. Leave now?I liked the sound of it in my head. Goneril would have left in a rage and probably broken something. Lauga would have made sure all the loose ends were tied up and kissed each of us on the forehead. But this way suited me. People would just shake their heads as they talked about Silent Sigrun, leaving before dinner without a word and never coming back.

I didn't understand why these thoughts were coming to me. I enjoyed my life with my family and my job. Well, not so much my job, but the mountains were peaceful, comforting and frankly awe-inspiring. But perhaps Father's words had stirred up something in me. The idea that I had once been part of something great had shaken my soul to its very core. I had a sudden desire to run into the dusk, to run as far as I could and not stop until I knew who I was, learned the fullness of what I could become.

So I did it. I put all my thoughts on hold, threw my braids behind my shoulders, and ran as fast as I possibly could. I closed my eyes and savored the sweet song of the wind in my ears. I threw my head back and laughed loud and long, like Mother or Goneril (but certainly not me). And then I bumped into a solid mass and collapsed on top of it with a very pronounced oomph.

I opened my eyes and looked directly into the wide eyes of a woman a few years older than me. There was blood all over her face. I didn't have much time to take many other details, though, because she abruptly shoved me off her as easily as a horse can shake off a fly. She immediately bolted off to her right, muttering curses. In the distance I heard the thunderous sound of hooves, and suddenly I was out of time and place, no longer a girl but a spirit outside her, watching with quiet disregard as horseman after horseman poured from the treeline, brushing past this dwarfmaid as she stood, stoic as a scaffold, and waited to be real again.

I was brought back to my skin when a horse reared in front of me. I jumped aside as its hooves came down and its rider patted its mane and whispered gentle words to it. As the world came back into focus, I realized I knew the man on the horse. He turned to face me.

"What are you doing? You could have been killed! Go home, girl!" He paused for a second, and the warrior in his eyes slowly sheathed its sword. "Hold a second. Are you…Domnall's girl?" I nodded. "Are you the youngest? No, you're the middle one. Sigrun, right?" I smiled at him. "Sigrun. My, how you've grown. You remember me, right?"

"Yes, Humbert. I most certainly do."

"Good, good. It's been so long. Shame, really, that I can't stop in and see your father. How's Old Doc doing?"

"He isn't dead yet."

"Well, that's all any of us can ask for, I suppose." His face became fierce once more. "I can't talk, Sigrun. I'm looking for a woman in black. She's probably covered in blood."

"Oh, her? I just bumped into her a few moments ago."

"Which way did she go, Sigrun?" I didn't respond. "That woman killed the king last night. We need to find her. You have to try to remember."

I don't know why I did it. Perhaps I knew from the initial meeting that this woman was important and couldn't meet her end here. Perhaps I had a hunch that there was more to what was going on than Humbert or the assassin or I could fathom. Or perhaps I only wanted to entangle myself in a drama greater than myself. I said, "Toward the village," and pointed off to my right.

Humbert nodded his thanks and signaled his men to veer left. As the last of them thundered away, I made my way as quickly as I could down the road to the mines. I saw a black shape up ahead of me and silently thanked the gods. I ran faster and faster, and because the woman had been running for an entire day I caught up to her and touched her on the shoulder.

"Wait!" I called. "It's all right! They've gone the other way!" She shrugged me off.

"How stupid do you think I am?"

"No, I'm serious! I told them to go the opposite direction. You're safe! I promise!"

She stopped and looked at me suspiciously. She took a look around and listened for a beat before letting out a huge breath. "No horses. No shouting. Well, what do you know?" She sat down on a nearby rock, throwing her head back and taking in glorious gasps of air. I got my first really good look at her then. Even if her face hadn't been splattered brown and red, she wouldn't have been particularly pretty. She had a weak chin and a broad nose, and her hair fell about her face in ridiculous little ringlets that reminded me of little piggy tails. She was dressed in black: tunic, leggings, belt, cloak, boots, everything, and she wore a dagger on her waist. As the sun cast its final shadows over her, I noticed certain metallic shimmers on other parts of her body and took a step back. I was no match for someone with that many concealed weapons. This woman knew what she was doing.

She noticed me and laughed. "Scared? Don't be. I'm in no place to kill anyone right now. I can't even walk straight." She peeled her boots off and wiggled her toes in the air. "Damn but that feels good! I don't know how you Schonheiters wear these…rags. They don't breathe one bit." She turned to me for a response. I didn't give her one. "Wow, a female dwarf. I've never seen one before. You know, I didn't even know dwarf women existed. The only ones we ever see in Minuit are old men." I laughed to myself as her frustration mounted. Keeping your mouth shut can sometimes be so incredibly funny. "So… where am I?" I shot her a quizzical look. "Okay, Miss High-and-Mighty, I know I'm in the Greatwood. Which mountain is this over here?"

"Mount Wodin."

"Really? Then I've made it further than I thought. Let's see, the sun is setting that way, so I'm going north, which means I need to head here to the right…"

"Hold a second. You're going east?"

"Well, of course, I'm going west. Everyone who can hold a pitchfork or a torch is tearing apart the forest to the west right about now, all looking for me. I most certainly can't head that way."

"You can't head east either. You'll be heading right up Mount Fenris, and that's the tallest of all the Silverspires. No human's ever been past it before."

"Sorry, little lady. I need to get to the Free Realms in the next few days or so, and they happen to be east, so I'm going up that mountain. Believe me when I say I've done much worse in my time, and—wait. Did you say 'no human?'"

"Um…yes."

"So you dwarves can get past that thing?"

"Some have, yes. But that's only the crazies."

"The crazies?"

"The dwarves who give up the Earth and seek their way in the Free Realms. They never come back, so most people say there's something on the other side of the mountain that makes them go crazy."

"Hmph. Well, that'scrazy. They probably don't come back because the rest of the world is way better than this dump." She kicked the rock and immediately shouted in pain, rubbing a popped blister on her heel.

I sighed, "You don't understand."

"Don't understand what?"

"What it means."

"What what means?"

"Living like this. I don't think you humans ever can."

She gave me a hard stare as she put her boots back on. Finally she quipped, "It's because you never give any of us a chance to." She stood up and cracked her knuckles. "But no matter. I need to move on. Thank you for helping me, Dwarfmaid." She paused for a second. "Say, why did you help me?"

I laughed softly. "I don't know."

"Wait, seriously? Just so you know, I killed your king. I'm an enemy of your state"

"You're not my enemy." She looked at me and smiled. She had a very pretty smile. I continued, "My dad said something once about an old mineshaft at the base of Mount Fenris. Goes right through the mountain. It's supposed to be overrun by goblins now, very dangerous stuff, but if someone were to carry lots of little stilettos on her, per se, she'd make it to the Free Realms just fine."

Her smile widened. "Would she? Well, that's a pretty piece of news. How far?"

"Keep going this way and turn right when you get to the fork in the road. You'll see the shaft about two miles down that fork."

"My thanks, Dwarfmaid. You're a strange one, to be sure, but you've saved my life. If you ever find yourself in Minuit with no friend to guide you, look me up. I owe you one."

"What name should I look up?"

"My name's Drizella. Drizella Tremaine."

"I'm Sigrun. Silent Sigrun."

"Really? You talk just enough for my taste." She punched me lightly on the shoulder and headed northward. I watched her go, wondering where fate would take her. I saw a star pop up overhead. I hope I see her again someday, I wished.

I turned around into the night, hearing my family calling my name. What in the world was going to happen now? I had just deliberately aided and abetted Public Enemy Number One, lied to one of the King's Royal Huntsmen, and sent a woman I barely knew through one of the most dangerous places in Schonheit. Why? I couldn't find any other answer except for one phrase nagging at my thoughts, an incessant mosquito drone: It is written. It is written. As I returned to my home and my family crowded around me and asked if everything was okay and I told them about running into Humbert (but not Drizella) and told them the king was dead and they began to gossip and speculate and talk in hushed tones, that thought was really the only thing in my head. As I clambered up to my bunk above Goneril's, I should have been worried. But I wasn't. For everything was truly at peace.