Edited: 12/18/17
Previous author note ignored and deleted, hello all!
Its been some time since I showed this any love and instead of just posting another document, I just came through here and edited the existing chapter. This and the second one still have that feel I wanted to start, but it seemed so rushed and there were many conflicting points and spelling errors - but that's mostly fixed now! There may still be spelling errors and I am going through every day with a fine-toothed comb to find those errors and fix them.
"My daughter, it is good to see you!" the king bellowed, arms open wide to the young woman striding down the center of the throne room towards him.
She chuckles and takes her father into a rivaling bear hug, his beard scratching against her cheek; memories always flooded her when she felt that familiar touch on her now rough skin. His beard reached down nearly to his knees, bear heads holding seldom braids together at the ends. It had been so long since she had seen him, her memories had made him so much taller, but in reality he was shorter than her, but only by inches. He donned nearly identical armor as her, with the same burgundy fur lining the sides.
Like father like daughter.
"Yes father, it is good to see you as well. It has been too long," that was an understatement, nearly two years since she had been here last.
He humphed and turned around, shuffling back to his throne - in reality, it was just a simple, tall-backed dinner chair he had refitted and carved to appear more regal, but she knew the truth. She paused in front of him, her smile never breaking in excitement to see her father. They were close, and it had been so long since they had last spoken that she felt almost as though he were gone while she was out there.
She had been out scouting for him, looking for more men and women to join their rising kingdom. He had felt a shift in the wind, he said that evening two years ago, felt that something was coming and he wanted to be prepared before everything went down in a torrent of smoke. He didn't want to be the only kingdom left standing, but he didn't want to become one buried, either.
"You called me back in early, father," she let her smile drop just a little, wanting a more serious tone. "Is there something the matter? The girls, are they okay?"
Her father waved a hand. "Yes, yes, your sisters are well. They are out with the priestess, tending to the gardens. I called you in on a diplomatic matter."
She cocked her head, pale hair ruffling against her pouldron. "A diplomatic matter? Have we found a suitable candidate?"
Her father nodded, icy blue eyes sparkling with eagerness. "Yes, an elven kingdom. Mirkwood."
She tensed, her shoulders straightening and her hands curling around her sword hilt tighter; her father noticed, and gave her a look of sympathy, but didn't say anything. Mirkwood, she knew of them: vicious warriors, elves. Not that them being elves mattered to her, too be honest it was their reputation for violence that unnerved her. But elves rarely dealt with humans without wanting something in return, and the price was usually very high.
But she would listen to her father, he was not a daft man, he was a magnificent tactician, she would trust his judgement. She straightened her back and her smile lightened, trying to ease the lines in her fathers face as he frowned at her.
"And what would you have me do?" she questioned.
Her father reached into the lining inside of his coat, holding out a roll of parchment to her; she hesitated but took it in her hand, staring down at it while her father spoke. "They are going into battle, I want you to take your finest men and assist them. Should you arrive in the midst of battle, do everything you can to find and protect their King, who will be among the fray - Thranduil, he should be riding one of their great harts. Give that to him."
She looked up to her, seeing something in his eyes that she didn't recognize; she had never gone on such an errand. She was always sent to battle, or to scout, to assist someone in their kingdom, but never such a tedious errand usually reserved for couriers. But she supposed he had his reasons, and she nodded softly at the instructions.
"Yes father," she lowered the letter to her side, careful not to clench it too tight, wouldn't want too many wrinkles. "I will leave tonight."
Her father smiled warmly. "Then goodbye, for now my daughter."
"Goodbye father. . ."
She had a bad feeling about this. . .but she was never one to pass up a fight.
The first sight he gains of her is her sword.
It gleams in the early morning light, slicing through each goblin she came across like it were as easy as breathing. She raised it up and the light reflected through it across the battlefield, steam rising from it and it appeared as consistent as ice; a frost enchantment? Is she a witch? Perhaps not, she would not use such barbaric tactics and would not be in armor, but robes cloaked in fire or ice.
She cackles as she pulls tight on the reigns of the black stallion she rode, swinging him to the right to slice clean through two warriors throats. Blood sprays upon her, but she continues on, her men flanking her as savage beasts. Her pale hair shimmers with blood as it whips behind her, braids keeping the closer hair from her eyes and tight around her face. She pierces one goblins chest through, kicking him off of her blade as he bleeds deeply and cries out in pain, ice beginning to spread from the wound and engulf him.
Thranduil jolts back from admiring her style as pain shoots down his right arm and across his back - he has been struck with an arrow. He growls at the smug goblin standing only feet in front of him and reaches up, breaking off the arrow that has lodged between the shoulder guard and armor of his arm. He digs his heels into his harts sides and it bellows, charging forward to catch up with the now fleeing archer, vaulting him up and behind Thranduil with its mighty horns.
"Lord Thranduil," he looks over his shoulder, hearing the husky voice even through the sounds of battle. The woman sidles up beside him, chest heaving as her men drive through in waves; she is smiling, completely ecstatic about the battle. "I am Gehenna of Ghastlyn, my men and I have come to your aid."
He scowls. "And what makes you think I require your aid?"
She looks out to the battlefield, flinging the blood from her sword with several flicks of the wrist. She looks back to him with a solemn look on her face; what a magnificent shade of blue her eyes were. She smirks at him, too smug for words but it looked particularly good upon her face.
"Sir, you ran into battle with three hundred men, you are down to just over a hundred. My men are strong, we have already cut the enemies numbers to half," she cleared her throat. "Also, I believe we would be terrible guests to not assist you in battle. Would you rather we wait until you were through and vanquished?"
"And why have you come to our aid," he questions, arm arching back and slicing a nasty wound across an enemies chest; he honestly did not expect to make that, first impression accomplished.
"My father sent me to have council," she tugged on her stallions reigns gently while he snickered and was pulled away from Thranduil's hart, who seemed to object. "We seek to form an alliance between our kingdoms."
"So you bring an army," he arched a brow, smiling slightly.
She grinned sheepishly. "Word was you were in a bit of a predicament."
"A spy," he mused. "In my court? Impressive and dangerous, I should have your head."
She grinned full on then, straightening her back and raising her sword. "How about we do that after we deal with this filth, hmm?"
He couldn't help but smile. "Its a date."
He fell for her right then. He didn't realize it yet, but he felt it there, the connection.
"You and your men are welcome to any of our supplies," Thranduil informed the war maiden, Gehenna, as he sheathed his sword; he had executed a half dead orc, other men doing the same - picking through the bodies and killing any survivors, any one of them coward enough to hide beneath a fellow soldiers body. "Speak to the Quartermaster, he will have you set up with tents and other necessities."
Gehenna nodded, steam rising from hot blood on her chilled blade; Grimsever, he knew that sword would come with a legend soon enough, it was too deadly and mysterious. "My men and I thank you," she said in the most sincere of tones. "We have been running for two days straight, it will be nice to rest."
He nodded once, beginning a walk back towards his hart, which was snickering and carrying on with Gehenna's stallion; even the steeds are becoming close. "I am grateful for your aid. I do not want to imagine what would have happened if you had not shown up like you did."
She smiled, sheathing Grimsever and grabbing onto her stallions reigns, which caused him to whip his head back and bump into her shoulder, huffing when she pushed him away.. "I share your worries," she swung herself up onto her steeds back, settling into a soft stride beside Thranduil and his hart. "She is magnificent," she admired the chattering antlers as they knocked against each other.
"Thank you," Thranduil hummed, eyes set forward. "So, tell me, why has your father sought to form an alliance between my kingdom and yours? I am sure there are several other kingdoms more suitable, and not elvhen?"
Gehenna chuckled, swaying on her horses back. "I do not question my fathers methods, he does things with reason and he wanted you. I do not have much to go on, but I do have this," she reached back into one of the saddlebags, producing a rolled piece of parchment with a green wax seal. "My father sent me with a letter to give to you."
He watched her tuck the letter back into her bag with a furrowed brow. "It seems a bit trivial to send an army for a letter."
Gehenna shrugged. "As I said, we heard of your coming battle. My father insisted I lead instead of our general. Were he to wait, I do believe our men would have arived far too late."
Another odd fact, that her father would send her and not the rightful leader of his army. Thranduil watched her from the corner of her eye as they approached the ridge leading down to their camp, watching her praise and shake hands with her men, who were assisting his own in burning the bodies of fallen elves and goblins alike. Thranduil's men seemed wary, until they saw him with Gehenna, then they seemed to relax into cautious conversation; they were right to be wary, human men were to never be trusted.
When Gehenna returned her attention to him, he sighed but gave her a small half smile. "Well, I'm sure we'll figure out the details back at camp. I believe rest should come first, though."
She smiled, cheeks dimpling. "I couldn't agree more."
So, this is going to be redone, the next chapter is already in editing and hopefully I can keep up the pace. I know many were waiting for me to continue this, but I got so busy with other big names coming out around the time like Avengers, Walking Dead, Supernatural and Fallout. But I am going to try and stick with this until the end, because I had big plans for this and need to gather my notes on what I had planned to do with this, but it may have to be completely redone from the ground up.