A red dawn rose, coloring the sky with beautiful hues of dark reds and
purples to light pinks and blues. Not a good thing. Not a good thing at
all. A red dawn always spelled trouble.
Avatre walked slowly in the morning light, feet light and head bent in thought. *Arrogant men and their pride. Who in their right mind would declare war on elves? Much less, the elves of Mirkwood, the one race least tolerant of man. What idiots.* She looked up and veered her direction slightly towards the training grounds.
The only reason she even had a part in this bloody war was the misfortune of being born different. Imagine! What a racial group of people. Ever since Avatre could remember, the people of her village had shunned her because of her different image and powers, though she had lived there all her life, in the quiet village of Kashet. It was so painfully obvious that Avatre was apart from the norm. With her dark green eyes and twilight blue hair, her image was a constant reminder of the different, the one who does not fit in. Her power and affinity with fire did not help either. Rumors of Avatre being a dragon child, or some kind of changeling were always flitting around. Avatre had no parents. She had been an orphan since she could remember, when some members of the village found her in the forest, as a baby.
*Enough of that self-pity,* she chided herself, *Time to focus on the task ahead.* Unlike the rest of the land of Altra, the village of Kashet wanted no part in this war. They were a cowardly bunch. Their *brilliant* idea of guaranteeing themselves safety and getting rid of Avatre was to present a jewel and gold laden Avatre for the promise of safety from the elves. Of course, they did not ask Avatre's permission on this. She sighed and tried to look to the more positive side of things. Maybe it'd be a bit more interesting in Mirkwood. It didn't help that there were constant stories about how enchanting beautiful yet how bloodthirsty elves could be. She arrived at the training grounds.
Here, Avatre was made up in her best, with an expensive gold threaded dress and pounds of jewelry hanging from her arms. And she was supposed to walk in this? Avatre scowled. And worst yet, she was going to be escorted to the very front door of Mirkwood, to ensure that she wouldn't run away. *There goes my escape plan,* she thought. An especially nosy lady that Avatre hated walked up to her.
"It's about time you got a fate you deserved, you witch," she sneered in Avatre's face.
"I hope the elves hate me and shoot you with a poisoned arrow," snarled Avatre.
The woman surrounding Avatre backed away. *Probably thinking I'll put a curse on them or something,* she thought bitterly. *The sooner I get away from here, the better.* Just then, her escort arrived, consisting of four men and four horses.
"And where do I ride?" Avatre inquired, not liking the look of these men at all.
One of the men motioned toward his saddle, eyes leering at Avatre.
"No. Way." She backed away, anger flashing in her eyes, "I'd rather walk."
The man who had motioned at her earlier climbed off his horse, and without even a word of warning grabbed Avatre in a very undignified way and hoisted her up onto the horse. Naturally, Avatre kicked and screamed about this, protesting, threatening and cursing in every language she knew, which was about three or four (English, various forms of Elvish, and a bit of Dwarfish). It took several hours by horseback and by this time, Avatre had resigned herself to an angry silence. Finally, they reached the great forest of Mirkwood.
Here, a host of elves melted right out from the forest, armed with long daggers and drawn bows. They were just as beautiful as the stories told, men and woman alike. Most had long blond hair and were dressed up in hunting gear. Like most elves, they had a sort of 'supernatural' aura about them.
"What are these foolish men, our current enemy, doing on the edge of our territory?" one elf said in the language of man, so that the humans could understand.
The man who had dragged Avatre out of the saddle gave a short bow of sarcastic respect. The elves seemed to pick up on this hostility and did not relax their weapons.
"We are here to offer this maiden and everything she has on her for the promise that you elves will not attack our village, Kashet," he declared.
Avatre glared daggers at him. He glanced back with a look that said: You mess this up, and pay the consequences later.with pain. Anger smothered in Avatre's chest. *I'd rather the elves take me then leave me to these beasts,* she thought, glancing at the elf that bargained with her life.
"Why would we need gold, or jewelry? We have abundance of this metal," said the elf. Avatre's face dropped. "But we will take the girl as a prisoner," he added.
"What about our village?" the man asked, horrified as Avatre stripped off the precious metals and stones as if they were dirt, which of course, was the value that Avatre thought the items at. "Your village has no guarantee of protection, and I do not speak for all the elves of Mirkwood. Now be gone!" The elf motioned threateningly.
The men hastily retreated, leaving Avatre there, prisoner of the elves. Did she leave one jail only to end up in another? The elves whispered among themselves, presumably about what to do with Avatre. The subject of their discussion was absorbed in looking around at the large trees and the strange and beautiful creatures, some of which she had only heard of in tales, and some she had never even dreamed existed! There were birds flitting to and fro, brilliantly striped with iridescent neon colors. Avatre shivered as she remembered the various stories about orcs and spiders. There was a small stream nearby that ran sparkling crystal clear. The sunlight penetrated the canopy of the trees only in shafts, giving everything a half-light, giving the elves a 'shaded' and mysterious look upon them. Even as Avatre appreciated the unique beauty around her, a plan to escape was already forming in her mind.
Avatre walked slowly in the morning light, feet light and head bent in thought. *Arrogant men and their pride. Who in their right mind would declare war on elves? Much less, the elves of Mirkwood, the one race least tolerant of man. What idiots.* She looked up and veered her direction slightly towards the training grounds.
The only reason she even had a part in this bloody war was the misfortune of being born different. Imagine! What a racial group of people. Ever since Avatre could remember, the people of her village had shunned her because of her different image and powers, though she had lived there all her life, in the quiet village of Kashet. It was so painfully obvious that Avatre was apart from the norm. With her dark green eyes and twilight blue hair, her image was a constant reminder of the different, the one who does not fit in. Her power and affinity with fire did not help either. Rumors of Avatre being a dragon child, or some kind of changeling were always flitting around. Avatre had no parents. She had been an orphan since she could remember, when some members of the village found her in the forest, as a baby.
*Enough of that self-pity,* she chided herself, *Time to focus on the task ahead.* Unlike the rest of the land of Altra, the village of Kashet wanted no part in this war. They were a cowardly bunch. Their *brilliant* idea of guaranteeing themselves safety and getting rid of Avatre was to present a jewel and gold laden Avatre for the promise of safety from the elves. Of course, they did not ask Avatre's permission on this. She sighed and tried to look to the more positive side of things. Maybe it'd be a bit more interesting in Mirkwood. It didn't help that there were constant stories about how enchanting beautiful yet how bloodthirsty elves could be. She arrived at the training grounds.
Here, Avatre was made up in her best, with an expensive gold threaded dress and pounds of jewelry hanging from her arms. And she was supposed to walk in this? Avatre scowled. And worst yet, she was going to be escorted to the very front door of Mirkwood, to ensure that she wouldn't run away. *There goes my escape plan,* she thought. An especially nosy lady that Avatre hated walked up to her.
"It's about time you got a fate you deserved, you witch," she sneered in Avatre's face.
"I hope the elves hate me and shoot you with a poisoned arrow," snarled Avatre.
The woman surrounding Avatre backed away. *Probably thinking I'll put a curse on them or something,* she thought bitterly. *The sooner I get away from here, the better.* Just then, her escort arrived, consisting of four men and four horses.
"And where do I ride?" Avatre inquired, not liking the look of these men at all.
One of the men motioned toward his saddle, eyes leering at Avatre.
"No. Way." She backed away, anger flashing in her eyes, "I'd rather walk."
The man who had motioned at her earlier climbed off his horse, and without even a word of warning grabbed Avatre in a very undignified way and hoisted her up onto the horse. Naturally, Avatre kicked and screamed about this, protesting, threatening and cursing in every language she knew, which was about three or four (English, various forms of Elvish, and a bit of Dwarfish). It took several hours by horseback and by this time, Avatre had resigned herself to an angry silence. Finally, they reached the great forest of Mirkwood.
Here, a host of elves melted right out from the forest, armed with long daggers and drawn bows. They were just as beautiful as the stories told, men and woman alike. Most had long blond hair and were dressed up in hunting gear. Like most elves, they had a sort of 'supernatural' aura about them.
"What are these foolish men, our current enemy, doing on the edge of our territory?" one elf said in the language of man, so that the humans could understand.
The man who had dragged Avatre out of the saddle gave a short bow of sarcastic respect. The elves seemed to pick up on this hostility and did not relax their weapons.
"We are here to offer this maiden and everything she has on her for the promise that you elves will not attack our village, Kashet," he declared.
Avatre glared daggers at him. He glanced back with a look that said: You mess this up, and pay the consequences later.with pain. Anger smothered in Avatre's chest. *I'd rather the elves take me then leave me to these beasts,* she thought, glancing at the elf that bargained with her life.
"Why would we need gold, or jewelry? We have abundance of this metal," said the elf. Avatre's face dropped. "But we will take the girl as a prisoner," he added.
"What about our village?" the man asked, horrified as Avatre stripped off the precious metals and stones as if they were dirt, which of course, was the value that Avatre thought the items at. "Your village has no guarantee of protection, and I do not speak for all the elves of Mirkwood. Now be gone!" The elf motioned threateningly.
The men hastily retreated, leaving Avatre there, prisoner of the elves. Did she leave one jail only to end up in another? The elves whispered among themselves, presumably about what to do with Avatre. The subject of their discussion was absorbed in looking around at the large trees and the strange and beautiful creatures, some of which she had only heard of in tales, and some she had never even dreamed existed! There were birds flitting to and fro, brilliantly striped with iridescent neon colors. Avatre shivered as she remembered the various stories about orcs and spiders. There was a small stream nearby that ran sparkling crystal clear. The sunlight penetrated the canopy of the trees only in shafts, giving everything a half-light, giving the elves a 'shaded' and mysterious look upon them. Even as Avatre appreciated the unique beauty around her, a plan to escape was already forming in her mind.