Fleeing the Past

Author's Note: This story has more than one protagonist. I introduce another in this chapter. I kind of took a basic idea of a fugitive young soldier type from a popular TV series, developed it in my own way and placed it amongst the enchantment of Middle-Earth. I'm not trying to blatantly copy anything, but this is my first attempt at creative writing and I needed something to lean on.

Oh yea, and it was really neat when I went to preview my first chapter and it was all one big paragraph. Sorry bout that.

She was running hard, stumbling over unseen obstacles, branches seemingly appearing out of nowhere gashing her face, her hands. The loamy darkness stretched out it's ghastly arms to embrace her, beckoning her to fall into it's maw, it's leering mouth gaping wide to claim her. She cared not. All that mattered now was evading her pursuers, escaping the cruel fate that surely awaited her should she be captured. She would be whipped, or worse. Maybe this time they would even set her "brothers and sisters" on her, like they had on Krynn. She harshly wiped her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tore through the thick forest, her lungs on fire, her feet and legs wearying. She forced the hideous recollections of the gruesome punishment suffered by her sister from her mind, and concentrated on making it through the woods alive. Her deep black cloak trailed her like ebony liquid, flowing out from her as she swiftly darted around and behind this tree, then that one. The cries of her stalkers echoed all around her, sweeping down from the high branches, enveloping her in their calm terror. She stopped, glanced quickly around, began sprinting again, her enhanced senses warning of barriers and stumbling blocks in her path. Suddenly, a ravine emerged and opened under her feet as if by magic, and she tumbled down the steep slope, struggling wildly to grab hold of some firm root or plant, but only snatching damp soil and rocks. She made no sound, clamping her lips tightly together as she fell, down, down, until a cushion of leaves broke her descent and halted her terrifying tumble. She lay silent for several minutes, practically holding her breath, then stealthily scrambled up the opposite side and promptly squatted on her heels in watchful vigilance, her ears straining to detect any sounds of pursuit. She licked her lips and pulled from her belt a wicked-looking throwing knife, a curved blade that reflected the waning moonlight, fingering it absentmindedly as she tensed, ready to confront the ones who wished to imprison her again. A grim countenance passed over her face, her eyes flashing with fierce determination. She would die before she would look upon that hellhole again. Mordor was better than that place, Mt. Doom itself she would rather reside in than Nencoras.

The shouts of the armed soldiers chasing her had faded into the terrible silence of the mysterious timberland, giving way to the occasional ghostly murmurings oozing from every shadow, the sounds magnifying and resounding in the marrow of her bones. She slowed and collapsed onto one knee, gasping for breath, shuddering uncontrollably. She eased herself against the base of a large tree, cradling her in it's giant roots protruding from the ground, and tightly shut her eyes, trying to gain control over her senses and fend off the panic attack she knew was approaching. She shook her head and realized that she must continue at all costs, must leave these cursed woods for safer ground. Dazed and exhausted, she rose with a small groan, then froze in horror as a new thought dawned upon her. The soldiers were no longer on her trail. They had given up and gone back, abandoning her to her own devices, leaving her alone at least for the time being. Cold sweat broke out on her brow as she pondered this. Nencoras soldiers never gave up a hunt, especially for one of their own. They would never turn away from an important mission such as this. But they had. The girl's imagination swirled in vivid shades of fright and panic as she came to the conclusion that there was something- or someone-in this forest, thus the explanation for the seemingly inexplicable abrupt change of heart in the band of soldiers that only moments ago had been hotly hunting her. The fading night breeze swam around her, it's ancient voice mocking her as she slowly became aware of the fact that she had no idea where she was.

She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, whirling about every which way searching for signs of flitting shadows spying her, or perhaps hungry ghoulish spirits streaming through the ether darkness, lying in wait for a next victim. Snatches of tales she had heard long ago sprang to her memory, tales of Elf-Witches, hidden Dwarf strongholds, evil Wights ensnaring hapless travelers. She clenched her fists even tighter, rivulets of blood flowing freely from her palm holding the blade and dripping in large, dark beads, splashing on the ground, staining the gold leaves and spiky twigs. The panic began to overwhelm her, almost toppling her backwards with it's forceful weight, squeezing her chest so tightly she felt as if she was being held in some immense vise, wringing her lifethreads out of her, wrenching her mind out of reality and hurling it into a void, bottomless, with walls formed out of despair. She fought vainly to contain the purple spark expanding inside her head threatening to explode at any moment, the harbringer of the throes that violently shook her periodically. She swallowed a knot in her throat and hurried onwards, oblivious of her surroundings, not bothering to notice the fact that she had stumbled into a mystical land, feelings of peace and well-being suddenly enveloping her. The woods thinned a little, and she saw that she was surrounded by huge, majestic trees, their strange beauty towering over her in the dusky pre- dawn glow. She sniffed, lowered her head and pressed forward, creeping as silently as she could manage, until she could not find the strength nor will to go on. The purple spark had retreated for now, sputtering at the edge of her existence, quietly looming over her sanity. She sank to her knees and wrapped her travel-stained cloak around herself, laying down amidst the leaves strewn about, their shapes unfamiliar to her. She impassively noticed the shards of dawn which were finding their way to her pallid face, dancing on her lap and illuminating the forest floor. She observed them with an apathetic eye, barely on the threshold of feeling anymore. She lay still, her eyes wandering languidly across the small clearing ahead of her.

Her eyes flew open and she bolted upright as she espied a stray arrow lying not ten paces from her. Her heart banging against her ribs, she dragged herself forward to investigate, ignoring the snatches of faint voices drifting down her way, her mind too weary to comprehend the potential threat that was now noiselessly observing her in the form of hard elven stares and bowstrings pulled taut, the deadly arrows aimed at her limp form shivering with trepidation, fearfully glancing around in the burgeoning daylight. Her trained senses had warned her too late that she was being observed, and the girl heaved herself to her feet, knife poised in one hand, bloodstained and gleaming coldly, her hazel eyes blazing with defiance as she prepared her last stand.

A tall shadow dropped soundlessly to the ground behind her and strode quickly up to her back, his bow at the ready. Without warning, the girl spun around, her knife raised to throw, hatred contorting her face. In the flash of a moment, the elf loosed his arrow straight into the girl's hand, simultaneously disarming her further with a swift kick to her sternum, sending her flying backwards to the hard ground. A shrill cry escaped her lips as the arrow pierced her palm, a look of astonishment and hopeless fear replacing the twisted leer crossing her face. All the wind flew from her lungs as she flopped hard on her back, her head striking a rock soon after. Electric blackness flowed into her skull, then a searing radiance as she spun back into reality, dangling from the ledge of awareness. The pain quickly overcame her, and she lay motionless on her back, offering no more resistance as other strange men with long hair surrounded her, their gazes intense, their bright eyes gleaming intensely as they observed this peculiar young woman staring petrified back at them. She struggled to recall the Elvish she had been taught, unable to dredge anything but broken bits from her tortured memory. Her mouth opened, but she could say nothing except utter a hoarse plea for her life in Elvish over and over again. She suddenly felt hands slide under her head, her shoulders, gently lifting them so she could look into the grey eyes of the one who had defeated her, his stare no longer glacial and hostile, but soft and concerned, the depths of his gaze revealing wisdom and sharp perceptiveness.

He asked her for her name in Elvish, then Common Speech, but his words blurred and swirled around the girl, and she helplessly stared blankly at him, lurching back and forth between consciousness and black solitude. She finally managed to murmur a reply in Elvish before slipping into the impenetrable mist of forgetfulness. "My name is Danali and I have now tasted the bitter price of freedom. No more, no more."