(CHAPTER ONE)
Long ago the Fairies ruled the woodland realms. Known for their magic as well as ferocity, they were respected by all, well, almost all. An ancient evil had crept across the lands of Middle Earth first taking a foothold in the realm of the fairies. The Fae King, Carpus, knew that the fae's magic must be kept from this great evil. Without giving in to the dark lords demands that the fae join him, the fairies were slaughtered one by one. The King's son, Prince Morel, was the only fae to escape. His only chance of escape was to take human form, but for fairies they can remain in such a state for only a day before their lives are spent. In his last moments he fled to the realm of men to find the one he loved. A young human maiden, Amara. Spending their last day together, Amara and Prince Morel conceived a child of with one of Fae and human blood. In order to keep magic of his people hidden, Prince Morel decreed that none of his bloodline would be granted the powers of his people until needed and deemed worthy of such a gift. As the sunset over the horizon Prince Morel breathed his last under the colorful and bright sky of the setting sun with his Amara by his side.
Hundreds of years past and the dark lord fell. Word had spread that his great deeds of evil were because of the aid of the fae people. Rumors spread of how the fae encrusted his ring of power with a curse to corrupt even the purest of hearts, but such is rumors. Some even believe the once placid fairy folk turned so dark that the transformed into the hideous fire breathing beasts, much like the one that had destroyed the city of Dale and hoarded the gold of Erebor. Anyone who held the mark of a fae were to be slaughtered, written off as enemies of Middle Earth, but that was then, and this is now. While the story of the fairies become tales of legend, the story went on. Years after the passing of Morel and Amara their bloodline grew producing dozens of different generations of sons and daughters. Non had ever been deemed worthy of their great grandfathers' gift until one cold February morning when a country maiden gave birth to her first child, a daughter, Amelia.
(CHAPTER 2)
*Amelia*
I can still see the fire in the trees. As I stand on the blackened cobblestone, I feel the heat of the fire around me. No matter how hard I try I can't move. My feet refuse to run and my eyes freeze looking up to the burning sky. Dozens of frightened and injured people run past me and some even through me. I'm invisible, but not to the beast in the sky. Raining his fire down he resorts most of the city to ashes with no regard of the innocent lives fleeing for safety. Just ahead, on the horizon of the view from the center of the city I see the mountain. The dragon stamps his way to the gates blowing rolling waves of flame against the doors before knocking them down. Trembling I can only watch in my frozen state as the people of the city and Kingdom of Dwarves burn alive whilst their families flee in hopes of escaping the winged furnace, the bringer of death, Smaug.
Screaming I sit straight up in bed. Clutching my chest, I feel the pounding of my heart knock against my ribcage waiting to burst at any given moment. Almost every night I dream of the dragon attacking the city. It has been sixty years since Smaug attacked Dale before setting his sights on the lonely mountain. I had been there those many years ago. I was a young woman of Dale. Living with my mother, her husband, and my little sister. When the dragon came, I had been wondering the streets away from my family. As the city went up in flame, so did our home. I had no time to return to see if my family had survived for, I had been a victim to the flame. Alone I had wandered the forests aimlessly until finding my way to open fields leading to nowhere. After some time, dehydration had set in as well as infection causing me to collapse. It wasn't until nightfall that an Elven lord returning home had found me.
In order to help me survive he was forced to cast a sleeping spell upon me, only allowing me to wake when strong enough. It took me fifty-five years to awake again. If my family had indeed survived the attack, my mother has long since been dead, and my sister would be an old woman. Still, to see her face again rather it be wrinkled old woman, or the same freckled nose teenager would be enough for me. Sleeping through so many years without aging had it effects on me the nightmares being the most prominent. It hadn't been long after I awoke that I found myself in the city of Elves, Rivendell. Lord Elrond had saved my life with the help of one of his friends, Gandalf the Grey, a wizard of Middle Earth. Once strong enough I had traveled with the wandering Wizard visiting places of Middle Earth I never knew existed. Still, the question remained, did my family survive the Dragon fire, or succumb to it? The only way to have my answer is to leave the safety of my hut, follow the wandering wizard, and help the Dwarven King reclaim the lonely mountain.