Under the Sun
Third Age of the Sun ; 2760 - A Chance Meeting
There was once a young prince of an old dwarven kingdom, he was proud and tenacious, a true son of the house of Durin. He stood tall as he looked out over the land in which he would one day rule. Beside him was his father, Thráin, his hand resting on his son's shoulder with pride. It was an important occasion in Erebor, the birth of Dís, the younger sister of the prince. She was the first daughter of Durin born in centuries, and it was to be her eldest brother's duty to hunt the meal meant to honour her in the celebration of her birth.
"Here, my son." His father offered with crossbow in hand. "You are still young, but I know you are capable of this task given to you."
The prince nodded, smiling grateful as he accepted the weapon given to him. "Thank you, father. I will not fail you."
With determination, he left the ramparts to retrieve his chainmail and trek out into the wilderness. First, he had to pass through the bustling streets of Dale. As he passed, men and women bowed in respect of the alliance between their peoples, between Lord Girion and the King under the Mountain, the prince's grandfather. He bowed in return for their kindness before making for the woods at the edge of the kingdom.
Once he broke the treeline, his attention narrowed. He knew what needed to be done, what was expected of him, and nothing could break his iron-clad purpose. With his weapon raised, his senses honed in on his surroundings, he trained his focus towards the slightest sound, letting lesser game escape his clutches but keeping his attention on his desired prize.
Several hundred paces in and he was no closer to finding his target. The forest was still, the bigger game had perhaps sensed him approach, scurried to the far edges of the Greenwood, but failure was not an option. His brethren were relying on him, counting on him. Shaking off the negative air sticking to his skin, he set his resolve, secured his grip and trekked even deeper into the woods, deeper than he'd ever been before.
Finally, he caught sign of something worthy enough to feast on. Fresh tracks in the dirt pointed to the possible location of his prey and he followed them as best he could. There was excitement in the princes eyes, this would be the first time he would down such large game on his own, and he couldn't wait to present it at the feast. The look on his father's face, his brother's, it was enough to fuel him further. But first he had to find it, and he knew he was close.
Then, without warning, he saw the prongs of a large buck not twenty paces in front of him. The light of a mid-afternoon sun shone against the silhouette of the creature, giving the young prince a perfect target. He raised his crossbow, trained the sights on his prize, tightened his grip and pulled the trigger. He watched it as it struggled, watched it stumble and limp off a ways before settling helplessly in the brush.
Securing the bow to his back, he approached his kill, a smug look on his face. He pushed past low hanging branches, following the trail of blood until he came to a clearing in the wood. All around him, flowers of every colour reaching up towards the sun, small animals scurrying every which way, butterflies flitting around like playful wisps. He's passed the deer he felled, but for the moment he didn't remember what he came into the forest to accomplish, didn't even care.
He wasn't caught up in the splendor long as a light off in the distance caught his eye. It was the envoy from the Elven kingdom at their borders, come to give tribute to the arrival of his sister. They each noticed the prince, bowing their heads slightly with gentle smiles on their ethereal faces. He offered similar gestures in return, until he met the gaze of a young woman walking abreast her mount.
She paused, just as he. Something about her entranced the prince, she was beautiful, yes, but it wasn't just her beauty that caused him to stop in his tracks. The way the sun shone on her golden hair, it reminded him of the metals buried deep in the mountains he called home. Home. That is perhaps what he felt when he gazed upon her, something he only felt in the embrace of his mother, or the booming voice of his father, the curious inquiries from his brother, the lightest touch from his sister. There was something about this girl that felt - like anything the young prince did, if he did it by her side, he would never fail.
"Anariel!" Someone called out at the head of the envoy.
Startled, and perhaps just as confused as he was, she stole one last glance at the young prince before scurrying off towards those who wished for her presence. Feeling an odd warmth he hadn't noticed seep from him, he shook his head in bewilderment, wondering who the young woman was, and if he'd be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of her once more.
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