PROLOGUE

So. Another story in my head and I just had to publish it. The synopsis sounds like crap but you gotta give me a chance here.

By the way, dating is nothing like in the books or in the movies. I just figured that out yesterday. I'm too goddamn awkward for this world, so why don't we drop everything and go to Middle-Earth, huh?

Leggo.

Xoxo E

Kingdom of Arthedain, November 14th, 1946 T.A.

Fornost was in chaos.

Another attack by orcs and trolls made even the thick walls made of stone tremble, and citizens fled the streets of the city in panic and in fear of the rocks thrown over the wall. Even though they knew the wall would keep the monstrous creatures out, soldiers inside the city felt their grip on their swords become clammy.

And inside the castle up on the hill, on the north side of Fornost, preparations were made in haste. Maids sped through the broad halls to the kitchen, to the nursery and to the Crown Hall, fetching this and that by order of the King and Queen.

"Aranarth," the Queen called to her eight-year-old son and beckoned him over. "Aranarth, come."

Queen Fíriel crouched in front of her precious children, looking them both in the eyes with an urgency that made four-year-old Ariel shudder. "This is what is going to happen, children," she said with a clear voice, taking their arms. "Lord Brychan is taking you both to Lindon, where the elves are and where you will be safe. It is a dangerous journey and you need to listen to everything Lord Brychan says."

"I don't understand," Aranarth said confused. "Why do we have to go?"

"I don't want to go, mommy," Ariel whined, a sob escaping her mouth as she threw herself around her mother's skirt. "I don't want to go!"

Queen Fíriel shook her head, and probably only her husband could read her face and see the underlying fear in her bright blue eyes. "I know you don't," she said and pulled them in for a tight hug. "I know, I know. It's the only way to stay safe. Captain Dylis will go with you."

She pulled away and straightened Ariel's cloak. Footsteps resonated in the Hall and she stood up to watch her husband, Lord Brychan and his daughter Dylis stride in. Queen Fíriel squared her shoulders and pushed away all her fears, taking two packs the maids had put together. "Arms up," she said to the children and put the packs on their backs.

"Are they ready, dear?" the King asked and placed a hand on her shoulder with a knowing, sad look.

The Queen placed her hand over his, looking back into his grey eyes lovingly. In all this chaos, those eyes offered her calm, they were her rock. She nodded quickly, and looked back at Aranarth and Ariel, who were steered to the Lord and his daughter by their handmaidens. "They will be safe."

She seemed to say it more to herself than to King Arvedui, but he nodded at her with an apologetic smile. "It is for the best," he said softly. "We have to be quick. I must go down to the city."

"I understand," Fíriel said, worry etching on her face even more. She turned to Lord Brychan. "To the stables. Quickly."

With that, they all but ran down the hallways to the lower grounds where the stables resided, followed by Lord Brychan and his daughter, holding their children's hands. Even though Queen Fíriel and King Arvedui knew they had no choice but to be as fast as possible, it felt all too soon when Lord Brychan helped Aranarth mount their grey steed and Dylis did the same with Ariel. The little girl looked at her mother with wide eyes, tears threatening to fall down her face. "Mommy… what is going on?"

Queen Fíriel smiled and reached out to hold her hand. She squeezed it. "You are going to see the elves, dear," she assured her. "And Captain Dylis cannot wait either, which is why you will ride fast." Only Dylis saw the pointed look the Queen gave her.

The mention of seeing elves made little Ariel lighten up a little bit and she looked up to Dylis, who nodded with a grin. She didn't see how forced the grin was.

In the meanwhile, King Arvedui moved to his son, who did his best not to appear afraid. "Watch over your sister, son," the King said. "Your mother and I shall write to you." He looked to Lord Brychan. "Use the Hill Pass. Make haste. I trust you with this, my friend."

"They are safe with us, Arvedui. We will protect them with our lives," he replied solemnly.

The King nodded with a grateful smile. "I know," he said. He clapped him on his arm and then went over to Ariel. "Hello, little princess," he spoke softly.

"Papa," she asked with big grey eyes, "are Aran and I really going to see the elves?"

Arvedui willed himself to chuckle and smile. "Yes, you are, princess," he said.

"Why are you not coming?"

"Because I have to protect our city, sweetheart." He put a strand of her dark brown hair over her shoulder. She inherited that colour from her mother, and her light grey eyes little Ariel had from him. "But I will see you soon."

She looked down at him and held up her little finger to him. "Pinkie promise?"

The King laughed softly and hooked his with hers. It was something they always did, a father and his little daughter. "Pinkie promise."

Then he stepped back next to his wife. "We love you both," he said to Aranath and Ariel. "Remember that. Be safe." He looked at Lord Brychan with a meaningful look and nodded. "Go."

And as the horses leapt out of the stables to the secret Hill Pass, Queen Fíriel and King Arvedui turned and held onto each other until duty called.

Two hours later, Queen Fíriel was helping the nurses tend the wounded. This was why the citizens of Fornost loved and worshipped their queen: she never stayed within the castle walls or hid away in the Crown Hall. That was not her. She rolled up her sleeves, wore a simple dress that looked like the ones the common people wore, and got to work. Fortunately, there were few wounded, and from what she and the nurses heard from those who were less wounded and were still able to speak well, Fornost was nearing victory.

Finally, the cry of victory was heard, and the horn was sounded. But Queen Fíriel could not put her heart at ease yet, for thoughts of her husband and her children quelled her mind.

She was just about to stitch a deep cut when a guard strode over to her.

"My Queen," he addressed with a bow, "Lord Brychan requests for your presence. It is urgent."

Fíriel's face paled. "They should not be here," she said, but more to herself. Her heart drummed in her chest, and concern and fear etched her countenance. "Gwenda," she called. "Stitch this wound for me, will you?"

With that, she hastily walked out of the Healer's House. Outside, she saw Lord Brychan and Aranarth on their horse. She was almost relieved. Then she saw that Aranarth was crying. And that there was only one horse. "Where is Ariel? Where is Captain Dylis?" she demanded, looking around.

They were not here. They were nowhere in sight. Only Aranarth and Brychan.

"I did everything that I could, my Queen," he began, head lowered in shame. "We were ambushed. One moment, they were there. The next moment, they vanished in plain sight. I could not be more ashamed…"

Queen Fíriel did not hear the rest. Her knees buckled and she vaguely saw—no, sensed someone hold her steady. The only word she heard over and over in her head was 'vanished'. Gone. Little Ariel, her little princess. Killed by orcs. She could not accept it.

She never accepted it, nor did King Arvedui when he came back from the front and heard the news. Years after years they sent out search parties, desperately trying to find both Ariel and Captain Dylis back.

But they never saw them again.