CHAPTER 1

The winter was coming to the kingdom of Mirkwood more commonly known as the Woodland Realm. Its inhabitants, the immortal beings of surreal beauty and great wisdom dwelled there under the rule of King Thranduil and his noble line. The King's Halls were the far most magnificent dwelling of elves in the Middle-Earth apart from maybe Lothlorien and Imladris itself.

King Thranduil was a strange combination of wisdom, cunning, coldness and compassion which made him a good ruler of his people, yet he had great sense of his own importance. Many years ago, as they waged war on the fortress of Gundabad, the stronghold of the witch king of Angmar, his wife tragically lost her life and her body was never recovered. There was no grave, no memory of his Queen. Her spirit would be forever trapped. The King grieved for her death greatly for many years yet to pass.

There was no telling what Thranduil would have done upon his return to Greenwood if it weren't for his son who at the time was only a small elfling. He found comfort in him and loved him above anything else in the world. He was a kind father and his son grew up to be a fearsome warrior, bravest in his kingdom apart from the king himself. But alas, Legolas was so much more like his mother in personality. While his father sealed himself in Greenwood, the young Prince wanted to see and learn everything, but his duty to his people and his king stopped him in his dreams at least for a while.

During his reign, packs of orcs, goblin mutants and giant spiders kept coming from the South. Spiders dwelt mostly in the forests of Greenwood which is why the people called it Mirkwood nowadays. Those horrible creatures were easy enough to exterminate, but they kept coming back every time the forest guard thought to be rid of those foul creatures. Sauron's vile slaves were another matter altogether. King Thranduil underestimated their numbers which lead to the greatest catastrophe ever to come in many centuries. A horde of orcs, approximately counted up to forty or fifty of those foul creatures, suddenly came from the south. They were hungry and wild with fury after being unleashed by their master after long years of captivity.

They attacked at twilight, the Sun was setting and the villagers were slowly making their way home. The wild horde of orcs burst from the trees in the matter of minutes and started burning the settlements without mercy. There was screaming as the blood of Eldar was spilled that evening. Very few of those people were warriors; the most dangerous of them was Dehael, the retired warrior who served in the King's armies for many years. His wife Melenath saw their end come nearer and nearer. Dehael ordered her to take their only daughter and run to the forest in the direction of King's Halls, but it was a long run and the time was very scarce.

His little daughter held on to his leg and didn't wish to let go. Dehael knelt down in urgency and kissed her forehead one last time. He gave her his dearest possession for safe keeping, his own magnificent blade. It wasn't too difficult to convince her to run and protect her mother, but Tauriel kept pleading for her father to come with them.

Melenath was resistant to the idea of leaving, but when she looked at her daughter with chestnut red hair and green frightened eyes, she took her by the hand and they raced towards the forest. Dehael's fight gave him honor, but they were greatly outnumbered and he soon fell to his death only hoping that his family was far enough to be found or tracked down.

Tauriel and her mother ran for their lives, the first only armed with her father's sword and the latter with no weapons at all. Two orcs were pursuing them, but they still kept a little advantage. However, orcs were ruthless, but swift and Tauriel was only seven years old at the time, her short feet couldn't make her go any faster. Their enemy kept this chase for many hours, but soon they caught up on them. Melenath knew that if she didn't do something, her daughter would die so she picked the little frightened elfling up and ordered her to climb the highest branch of a tree and not look back..

Tauriel was crying and tried to stay with her mother, but Melenath was firm and soon enough Tauriel obliged and started climbing fast while tears streamed down her face. The clouds which threatened all day with bringing a storm finally gathered and unleashed their contents on the Earth. Tree branches soon became too wet, the dawn was coming so at least Tauriel could see her way as the night was replaced by day, but to no avail. She was exhausted and freezing and soon tripped when she didn't see a finger in front of her.

She hit the ground forcefully, but fortunately wasn't too high to do any serious damage. Her back was now throbbing, her left arm broken and wet grass was freezing. As she was drifting out of consciousness, she heard the evil sound and something moving a few feet away from her. She had no voice to scream, but when the first attacker made his move, her survival instinct took over and she grabbed her fathers' sword. The pain was nothing at that moment and with the last ounce of her strength and reason she pierced the orc's chest and laid completely still while the rest of her reason was slowly fading away along with her consciousness.

The orc of course, totally unprepared for the attack, was an easy target. Not only did he believe his victim to be nearly dead, but also nobody would expect such a little girl to know how to use a weapon of any kind. The second orc however came forth with more caution, but Tauriel was too weak to move a muscle so she was an easy target. He was about to pierce an axe through her skull when two arrows hit him straight into the head and he fell dead.

Tauriel could barely register her savior apart from the fact that he moved swiftly and gracefully toward her as he blew something that she recognized as the horn of the Woodland realm. "Av-'osto, Amin naa sinome." his voice gentle and the nearly unconscious girl felt safe, for the first time since last night. He was speaking elven language. She heard herself mumbling incoherent words and vaguely remembered a soft hand within her own before she blacked out completely.

Translations:

Av-'osto. Amin naa sinome. - Don't be afraid. I am here.

Author's note: I've been in this story for a while, but did not publish it until now. I hope that there are no grammar errors for I revised it multiple times. The vocabulary I used is limited, but I hope that as the story progresses so does my word fond. There are already a lot of chapters ready for sharing. The story follows the pre-Hobbit timeline, mostly Tauriel's childhood and her begginings as the member of the Royal guard. I won't tell you anymore in advance in order not to ruin the plot for you. Sequels are part of the plan, but for now enjoy the stories I decided to share with you. Chapters will grow longer as the plot moves on. Read and review, your advise will be taken into consideration and I will try to make improvements. Thank you.