Prologue: Stranger

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the story and the fan characters that appear in it. Forgotten Realms and various canon characters that appear are all the property of Wizards of the Coast.

The muscles in her legs pumped with each running step. Her heart pounded with the force of a sledgehammer and sweat poured down her face, neck, chest and back. She moved her arms in rhythm with her legs, forever keeping her gaze forward. To the north, he'd said. Safety, he'd said. Run, he'd said.

Taking the path through the dark, creepy forest wouldn't have been her first choice, let alone her second. Not even her tenth for that matter. For one thing, the darkness did funny things with her imagination, which she'd always had too much of, and secondly, the place was said to be haunted. Well, "said" in this place basically meant that it was.

For two years she'd lived among strange people whose lifestyle was ancient compared to her own. They spoke an odd language that she'd only recently got the grasp of, and that recent knowledge had informed her that her "family" had found some man to pawn her to. For a nice bag of gold coins, that was. Tuulikki had played along and convinced the guy to go outside only to steal some food and bolt out the back door. It was a desperate plan, but it was all she had. That and the horse she'd been in the process of stealing. The family wouldn't miss her, they had plenty.

Unfortunately Aimo, the farmer, had caught her and they'd scuffled. To his misfortune, all the back-breaking work he'd made her do for two years – washing laundry in the stream, general farm work and cooking, the latter two in absurdly old-fashioned ways – had helped her build a considerable amount of muscle compared to when they first met. She'd successfully knocked him out with the help of a wooden plank and a well-placed kick and been ready to leave when her would-be husband had stepped into the stables.

He'd looked confused when she'd said she didn't want to marry him, as if her having a say in the matter was completely out of the question.

"I've paid for you," he'd said, and judging from the look in his eyes, he considered it a legitimate argument.

"I'm not cattle to be traded off," she'd hissed at him. "Find yourself some other pretty face to serve as a milking cow."

She'd expected him to be hurt, upset or even angry. Instead he'd smiled sheepishly. "No, if I were to force you along we'd only be miserable. Provided I'd even be able to force you." He'd shot the unconscious form of Aimo a meaningful look. Then he'd paused and his eyes had travelled to the mare beside her. "Still, you shouldn't steal a horse. It holds the death penalty in Damara."

"Damara" was a name that had been repeated to her over and over for the last two years and it still meant nothing to her. She'd gathered that it was the name of the country she was currently in. As if she was having her own Narnian adventure. Not that the Pevensies ever had to do hard labour, sleep in the barn and be treated like merchandise.

Tuulikki would give anything to go back home through some magical wardrobe or by falling into an enchanted well. It wasn't as if this world had a shortage of those, at least according to the occasional bard that stopped by to share a tale.

She had long ago accepted that she was in a magical world, disconnected from Finland, let alone the solar system that planet Earth belonged to. One look at the night sky had confirmed that she was in another part of the universe and the visiting dwarves that came for trade left her no choice but to accept the reality of her surroundings. The priests and priestesses here also had actual magic to show for, unlike the ones back home. She'd discovered this when a priestess of "Ilmater" – a name that sounded a lot like Ilmatar in Finnish mythology – had stopped by and healed the sick children at the farm. Tuulikki had been sick, too, and even felt death's pull on one occasion, but she'd been told to hide in the barn, where she belonged. She'd survived through stubbornness, fortitude and the aid of the local herbalist who didn't give a lick's spittle about what Aino thought.

Of all the things that this place was in desperate need of – women's rights, a proper library with books on herb lore, basic schooling for children, proper roads and modern technology – toilet paper was the one thing that stood out the most. Desperation at having to use an outhouse of the worst quality she'd ever seen had caused Tuulikki to discover that she was naturally gifted at carpentry, as she'd managed to construct a wooden seat inside the shoddy excuse for a toilet with a lid that covered up the smell. This had circulated throughout the town and Aimo, taking advantage of her weak understanding of the language, claimed full credit. When she'd found out, she'd had a storming sea of anger inside her, but she'd held her head high and congratulated him in her halting Damaran.

"To Aimo! We will remember you when we shit."

Her body had sported several bruises that night, but she'd succeeded in making him the laughing stock of the town all the same. Tuulikki had savoured her victory.

At night she'd dream of how she got to this place. She'd dream of Ansa, her sister, who had come with her only for the two to get separated. Tuulikki had met an ugly, green monster that she'd later learned was a goblin, and the memory of the creature's dark malice haunted her still. She'd somehow sent it tumbling to the ground with a spell, one that had caused the ground to get slimy and slippery.

It had to have been a spell. That was what Gandalf had called it. Grease.

Gandalf had been the one to find her, kill the goblins and then pawn her off on Aimo. Not that she thought his name actually was Gandalf, but he'd never introduced himself, and Dumbledore was for kids. Gandalf had seen Ansa get carried off, though he'd told her the ones who did so were "orcs". That was another reason why she didn't call him Dumbledore.

She hadn't seen Gandalf since he'd dumped her on the farmers and she wasn't keen on meeting him again. When she'd asked him to look for Ansa, he'd flat out refused and told her to "consider herself lucky" he'd saved some nobody like her.

As such, the behaviour from the man who had sought to buy her was such a smack in the face with unexpected kindness that she'd been rendered speechless.

"Our ways are probably very different from yours," he'd said, fidgeting like an insecure child as he spoke. "I know Aimo didn't treat you well. I thought it might be a way to help you, and you're so beautiful." He'd stopped at this point and blushed profusely. Tuulikki didn't even know his name, but she'd immediately counted him as a friend.

"I appreciate the intent," she'd said, "but I'm not cut out for this kind of life. Though I don't know what else I can do in this place with no family."

He'd shrugged. "Many adventurers have started with less."

She'd frowned. If there was one thing she didn't want to become, it was one of those meddling adventure types. The bards sung their tales from a place of admiration, but she saw them for what they were – the types of people driven by dangerous ideologies, greed and arrogance, causing more problems than they solved, and with no regard for the common folk they so often abused. This place had seen such folk on occasion and she'd always given them a wide berth.

"I suppose my proposal became the infamous final straw," the young man had said, still smiling sheepishly as he'd held out a hand to take the reins. "I won't try to stop you, and I won't ask you to marry me. My old mother could use your help, however. You would have your own bed to sleep in and-"

She'd held up a hand to silence him. "I need to get out of here."

"There's danger outside of Helmsdale," he'd reminded her. She'd been well aware.

"There's danger inside of it as well," she'd argued and indicated the unconscious Aimo with her head.

"I saw him attack you," he'd said. "I would speak in your defence."

"It won't matter," she'd countered. "I'm better off leaving." Even if people believed him, she was an outsider guilty of stealing. She'd be lucky if she escaped with a flogging.

"What do you hope to find?" he'd asked.

What indeed? Tuulikki hadn't been able to articulate it then, nor did she have a clue now as she ran north as fast as her legs could carry her. Stealing a horse didn't seem like such a bad idea, now, especially seeing as Aimo was dead. They all were. Her would-be fiancé as well. This had all happened when the army had rolled into town.

It was no army of Damara's king. Rather, it consisted of the same kind of creature that she'd been welcomed with upon arriving in this accursed world. Goblins, orcs and even a few giants had arrived, setting homes on fire and killing its residents. Leading the army were wizards, possessing magic similar to that of Gandalf, electrocuting peasants by pointing a finger and uttering a single word or choking them with a mere flick of the wrist. They rode in with confident postures and cocky smirks, and in witnessing the congregation from afar was Tuulikki, most ironically, reunited with her sister.

Ansa rode among the wizards, astride her own horse, dressed in the regalia of a necromancer. Tuulikki's legs had given out and she'd collapsed to the ground. She'd been lucky to already be hiding behind a bush, as Ansa's eyes had gone in her direction. Ansa's eyes, yes. Her sister had barely been recognisable. The physical traits were the same, but her eyes were dark and full of malice. For a moment the sensation was worse than what she'd felt from the goblin she'd met two years prior.

This also defeated any purpose Tuulikki would have for leaving. Her sister was right there – dark and terrifying, to be sure, but with considerable resources at hand, including magic. Surely she was working for some warlord somewhere in the hopes of collecting the resources needed to find a way home. She was always the capable one. A strange sense of hope had risen within her, but then Ansa had cast a fiery ray spell at a child and laughed with delight as the poor infant burned to death. The sight of it was enough to send Tuulikki down a spiral of disgust, denial and horror.

Even if her sister wanted to go home, Tuulikki realised with a harsh, cruel bite to her hope that there was no way this new Ansa was compatible with modern, Finnish society. A knot had formed in her stomach and done battle with her wish for a family reunion. Ultimately the knot had won out and she'd turned away and run.