As The World Comes Crashing Down: 1

Summary: Ishleen's family is torn apart by orcs only three days after her sixteenth birthday. With her village destroyed, Ishleen sets out to make her way in the world by herself. However, she never expected to be thrown into the war of the Ring. And yet, through all this darkness, Ishleen unexpectedly finds love...

I run through my destroyed village, Kyria. Houses have been reduced to smoking piles of rubble, fertile fields turned yellow by foul orc poisons. This is all that remains of my childhood paradise, smoking skeletons and sickly fields. And dead people, like my mother and father, ans my little sister, Ashling. All gone.

There is nothing left here for me now. The only possesions that survived the sack of Kyria were the clothes on my back and the charred basket of food I have tucked under my arm. How can this have happened to me? I was Ishleen Galrin, daughter of Maeve and Fingal Galrin and loving sister of Ashling Galrin. Now I am just Ishleen. Ishleen with nothing.

I can feel the sharp crunch of gravel through the worn parts of my boots, the icy bite of wind through the charred holes in my linen shirt and dirty leggings. I adjust the blanket that covers my elvish bow and make sure that my sword and knife are muffled by grimy rags. Female warriors are not accepted in society, and orphaned sixteen-year-old female warriors are probably killed.

With nowhere else to go, I head down towards the river. In the crepuscular light, I cannot see much. However, I have hunted along these banks for most of my life. I could make it here drugged and bound.

Finding a suitable place to sleep along a sandy spit, I curl up. For the first time since the attack, the full force hits me. Ashling is gone. Ashling was my everything, the very essence of my being ever since she was born. For her third birthday, I made her a bow and taught her to hunt. Of all the people in Kyria, we spent the most time together. And now, she is gone. Burned without the honour of being buried. I let out a wail and push my head between my arms.

"Ashling, where are you? Why did this happen to me? Why did I have to live while you died?"

My curly brown hair tumbles over my face and sticks to the wet tear-tracks. My hazel eyes shine out of grief. And that is how I fall asleep.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

When I wake, there is light streaming up at me from the center of the sky. I have slept into the afternoon, an unheardof for me. Usually, I can barely fall asleep in the evenings. But so much has changed since then. That Ishleen was a different person.

I stand up slowly, stretching my sore muscles. When I get to my arms, I notice a twinge, and look down to see a giant red cut gaping up at me like an obscene mouth. Bracing myself, I un-tense my muscle and watch at blood pours out of the open wound. I rip of off a corner of my shirt and bind it tightly. I wonder how it happened.

As I prepare myself to leave, I happen to glance down the river, shining pale blue against the sharp granite walls. There is something floating towards me, shaped like a man. Rushing down the river, I kneel and meet it.

It is a man, haggard and wet, barely breathing. He has curly brown hair that reminds me a lot of my own, except slightly more stringy, although that might be the wetness, too. Or the fact that I haven't seen myself in a mirror for over a week, and I probably look like a nightmare come to life.

Carefully, I lift the man out of the river and set him gently on the sand. He groans softly, and something in that groan touches my heart. But I can't afford to forget myself. Love is false, and it always is. Besides, I don't even know who he is.

"Wha...Happened?"

Not knowing what to say, since I have never seen this man before, and actually never even bothered to ask myself how he ended up in the river in the first place, I content myself with this:

"I'm not sure. You floated down the river to where I happened to be camping, so I pulled you out. What's your name?"

"What is yours?"

"Ishleen...Daughter of none."

"That is an interesting name, Ishleen, daughter of none. But how do I know you are not a servant of the Dark?"

"Because not four days ago my village, Kyria, was sacked by orcs. If you don't believe me, that is no fault of mine."

A weak smile lights up his lips.

"My name is Aragorn...Son of Arathorn."

A sound of trotting grabs my attention like the drunk men at the inn in Kyria used to grab their next drink. Turning, I see a riderless horse coming towards us. Upon arrival, the horse nuzzles Aragorn with enthusiasm and, bending its' knees in a very disarming fasion, flops down next to us.

"Do you know this horse?"

"I do not know. However, he has come at the opportune moment. He will bear me back to Helm's Deep."

I am absolutely petrified. As one of the Rohirrim, Kyria and her people would have been alerted by now if Helm's Deep was in use once again. Aragorn makes it sound as though the people of Rohan are already there. Why was Kyria not alerted?

"Do you mean to say that Helm's Deep is in use once again?" I try not to let the anger of my question show, but Aragorn picks it up anyways.

"Yes. The cities and villages of Rohan were evacuated three days ago. Why does this trouble you?"

"Because I am the sole survivor of the sack of my village, Kyria! No word came to us of the evacuation, and now my whole village is gone. How could the king have forgotten us?"

However, Aragorn does not deign to reply. Laying a battered hand on my shoulder, he pulls himself onto the horse, going pale at the effort. I ease myself on in front of him.

"I am coming with you. You are in no state to travel by yourself, and being the last survivor of Kyria, it would only be logical for me to regroup with my fellow Rohirrim.

"Do you want me to tie you onto my person so that you can rest?" I turn around to see my new friend slumped, barely concious, on the back of the horse, and decide that it is the appropriate choice, like it or not. Turning away from the banks, I kick our horse (who from now on we will just call Arath) into a fast-paced canter across the plains. I try not to look in the direction of Kyria as I ride.

So, please please pretty please review and I'll try to put responses up in the next chapter!