Kitra's eyes welled up with tears as she gazed upon her old village, the memories of its vibrant and bustling streets flooding back into her mind. The familiar sight of her childhood home, now in ruins, stood down the road, surrounded by charred debris. Slowly, she walked through the town, taking in every detail - the worn cobblestone paths, the colorful stalls of the market, the quaint buildings that housed her neighbors.
Kitra stood in the midst of a quaint village, the winding road lined with homes and stalls. The familiar sight of her old house brought tears to her eyes as she remembered how it once stood proudly before its destruction. As she walked through the village, she took in every detail of the bustling scene - the blacksmith hard at work, the leather smith chatting with a customer, and the smoke rising from the chimney of the baker's shop. Two children zoomed past her, their laughter filling her ears as she watched from the sidelines.
The village was alive with bustling activity, the houses and shops intact, the cobblestone streets lined with people going about their day. Kitra's old home stood down the road, its sturdy walls and familiar wooden door a bittersweet sight. The smithy's hammer flashed in the sunlight as he furiously worked on a sword, and the leatherworker's tools glinted in the midday light. The baker's chimney puffed out fragrant smoke, tempting Kitra's senses with the memories of fresh bread. The children, with their rosy cheeks and playful laughter, raced past her in a blur of motion.
She was dreaming. She knew that she was dreaming. And that scared her. What was her mind trying to show her?
She ran forward looking for her house. It didn't take long before she was standing in her old house watching her parents fight. They were yelling at each other in front of the fireplace. She turned around towards the staircase that led to her room and there she saw her seven-year-old self. She looked sad watching her parents fight. "I remember this fight. I never understood what they were saying though. It was some foreign language."
"I WILL NOT GIVE OUR DAUGHTER UP AS A VESSEL FOR HIM!" Her mother's voice echoes through the house and she looked up at her parents suddenly. Her seven year old self didn't understand what had happened that night, but seeing this memory again as an adult with her knowledge, her eyes teared up at her mothers ferocity.
She blinked and suddenly she was back in her younger body, her small frame trembling with fear. There was a frantic pounding on the door, accompanied by blood-curdling screams from outside. She sat on her bed, huddled next to her weeping mother with the door tightly shut behind them. Her mother clutched onto her tightly, their bodies shaking together as if trying to ward off the danger outside. On the bed beside them lay a sharp sword, glinting in the dim light of the room. Her mother kept repeating apologies over and over, as if begging for forgiveness. But at this young age, she couldn't comprehend the gravity of the situation and just kept assuring her mother that everything would be okay. Suddenly, the door burst open with a loud crash, revealing two monstrous orcs snarling and dripping with blood.
A deep, guttural growl reverberated through the room. "Give us the child or die," one of the orcs snarled. Kitra's mother set her down on the bed and stood, her stance unwavering as she drew her sword and faced the menacing creatures.
"Over my dead body," her mother challenged, determination etched into every line of her face.
Without hesitation, the orcs launched their attack. Kitra screamed, the sound piercing and desperate, as she somehow managed to maneuver around her mother and the frenzied orcs. In a panic, she ran down the stairs towards where her father was also engaged in a battle with the invaders. The once peaceful home now raged with fire, flames consuming any wooden surface they could reach. Billowing smoke filled the air, choking and disorienting. Kitra covered her face with her arm, but it provided little protection against the thick tendrils of smoke seeking to suffocate her.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the front door, but it wouldn't budge. Panic rose in her chest as she frantically searched for another exit. Her eyes landed on the fireplace and horror raced through her veins as she watched a sword plunge into her father's abdomen. She let out a blood-curdling scream.
She turned to flee, her heart pounding in fear, and her gaze landed on a decorative dagger hanging on the wall of the stairs. Without hesitation, she snatched it and charged towards the orc attacking her father. With a fierce thrust, she drove the blade into its back. The orc roared in pain and turned to face her. But now she was unarmed, so she sprinted towards the kitchen, forgetting completely that it was engulfed in flames.
But before she could make it far, the fire had spread throughout the house, blocking all possible means of escape. Trapped and helpless, she could only watch as the orc stalked towards her with sinister intent.
"Come here, little girl," it sneered, its hot breath reeking of death and decay.
She shook her head in terror and stumbled backwards as the creature advanced on her. Its growls echoed off the walls and sent shivers down her spine. Just when it was about to pounce on her, a loud crash interrupted their deadly dance. A beam from the ceiling crashed down between them, knocking both of them to the ground.
Pain exploded through her body as she hit her head on the hard floor. Dazed and disoriented, she saw stars dancing before her eyes. When they cleared, she realized that the beam had fallen on top of her, pinning her left side beneath its weight. She screamed out in agony and struggled to free herself before it was too late.
Agony seared through her body as she lay on the ground, her arm twisted at an unnatural angle and her ribs screaming in protest. Her vision blurred with tears of fear and pain as she whimpered, unsure if she would survive this ordeal. Glancing over at the unmoving orc, she felt a momentary relief before realizing that something worse was approaching.
The wooden beam above her was engulfed in flames, the fire quickly spreading towards her vulnerable form. She struggled to free herself from under the weight of the beam, but every movement intensified her agony and caused spots to dance before her eyes. A guttural scream tore through her throat as the flames licked at her skin, their heat drying her tears before they could even reach her cheeks.
In a moment of surrender, she accepted her fate and prepared for the worst. But suddenly, the pressure of the beam was lifted and a man's voice echoed in her ears. With renewed strength, she managed to scramble out from under the burning beam and stood up with great effort. Her entire body felt as though it was on fire, but she knew she had to escape the burning house. However, she didn't know how until a strong arm lifted her over their shoulder and carried her away.
As she caught a glimpse of her uncle's face, she felt a mix of gratitude and disbelief. He was rescuing her from certain death. With every step he took towards safety, she could feel herself slipping away into darkness, but somehow his determination kept them moving forward
As she whimpered, her small frame huddled close to her uncle's chest for comfort. The chaotic scene unfolded around them, with fallen items and debris scattered throughout the house. Through the gap in the mess, she could see the front door and a glimmer of hope sparked in her mind.
But just as they were about to make their escape, her uncle was thrown to the ground by a falling beam. She cried out in fear as he let out a mangled cry. Her heart raced as she turned to see that the heavy beam had landed on top of him, crushing his body. She frantically tried to lift it off of him, but it was too heavy for her small frame.
"GO!" He yelled at her with what little strength he had left. "Get out of here! Leave me." She hesitated, torn between saving herself and staying with her beloved uncle. But his urgent plea echoed through her mind and she sprinted towards the door, flinching as the cool air hit her burned skin.
Outside, she saw her aunt and cousin standing amidst the chaos, both covered in soot. As she stumbled towards them, mumbling about her injured uncle, she collapsed just short of reaching them. The last words she heard before succumbing to unconsciousness were her aunt's cruel accusations that it was all her fault that Uncle Tarron was dead.
END OF DREAM
Kitra jolted upright in bed, her heart racing and a gut-wrenching scream escaping from her throat. Fear gripped her as she struggled to catch her breath, gasping for air as if she had been submerged underwater. The darkness of the room felt suffocating, and she could hear the sound of her own heartbeat reverberating in her ears. She clutched at the sheets, trying to ground herself and make sense of the nightmare that had just woken her up. But the fear lingered, a cold sweat covering her body, as she searched for any signs of danger in the stillness of the night.
Kitra sat trembling in the darkness, the nightmare still fresh in her mind. She tried to calm her racing thoughts, focusing on the familiar surroundings of her room in Rivendell. The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the window, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the cool stone floor. She stood on shaky legs and made her way to the window, desperate for fresh air. As she pushed open the shutters, a gentle breeze caressed her face, carrying with it the soothing scent of night-blooming jasmine.
She breathed deeply, trying to center herself. It had been years since she'd had such a vivid dream of that fateful night - the night her village was attacked and her life changed forever. The memories still haunted her, the guilt and pain never far from the surface. She leaned against the window frame, gazing out at the tranquil beauty of Rivendell. The soft gurgling of the nearby stream and the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze helped soothe her frayed nerves.
As she stood there, lost in thought, a quiet knock at the door startled her. She turned, her heart racing once again. "Who is it?" she called out, her voice sounding small and unsure.
The door opened slowly, revealing the concerned face of Aragorn. He stepped into the room, his eyes filled with worry as he took in her disheveled appearance. "Kitra, are you alright? I heard you scream."
She looked away, embarrassed that he had witnessed her moment of weakness. "I'm fine," she mumbled, wrapping her arms around herself. "Just a bad dream."
Aragorn moved closer, his presence comforting in the dim light. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked gently, searching her face.
Kitra hesitated, unsure if she was ready to share the painful memories that plagued her dreams. But as she met Aragorn's steady gaze, she felt a sense of safety and understanding. With a shaky breath, she nodded and gestured for him to join her by the window.
As they sat together on the wide stone sill, Kitra began to recount the events of that horrific night. She described the attack on her village, the fierce battle her parents fought to protect her, and the devastating loss of her uncle as they tried to escape the burning house. Tears streamed down her face as she spoke, the emotions still raw after all these years.
Aragorn listened intently, his hand resting reassuringly on her her leg. When she finished her tale, Kitra drew in a shaky breath, feeling both drained and oddly lighter. She glanced up at Aragorn, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. He met her gaze with a look of profound understanding and compassion.
"Kitra," he said softly, his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand. "You're safe."
Kitra felt a warmth spread through her at Aragorn's reassuring words. She took a deep, steadying breath, focusing on the feeling of his strong hand gently holding hers. Though the nightmare still lingered at the edges of her mind, his presence helped anchor her to the present moment.
"Thank you," she whispered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I hope I didn't wake anyone else."
Aragorn shook his head, a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "No, I don't believe so. The others are still resting peacefully."
Kitra nodded, relieved that her nightmare hadn't disturbed the entire household. She turned her gaze back out the window, taking in the serene beauty of Rivendell at night. The stars twinkled brightly overhead, their constant light a comforting presence in the darkness.
As they sat together in the tranquil stillness, Kitra found herself drawn to Aragorn's steady presence. His hand, still resting reassuringly on hers, felt like an anchor in the turbulent sea of her emotions. She turned to face him, her eyes searching his in the soft moonlight that filtered through the window.
Aragorn met her gaze, his own eyes filled with a depth of understanding and compassion that took her breath away. In that moment, something shifted between them - a subtle change in the air, like the first whisper of a breeze before a storm.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, Aragorn raised his free hand to her face. His calloused fingers brushed lightly against her cheek, tracing the path of her tears. Kitra's heart raced at his touch, a shiver running down her spine despite the warmth of the night.
Kitra's breath caught in her throat as Aragorn's fingers gently caressed her cheek, his touch both soothing and electrifying. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, savoring the sensation of his rough, calloused skin against her own. When she opened them again, Aragorn's face was mere inches from hers, his eyes dark with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
Kitra closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his in a soft, tentative kiss. Aragorn stiffened for a moment, caught off guard, but then he melted into the kiss, his hand sliding from her cheek to tangle in her hair.
As their lips moved together, the kiss deepened, growing more passionate and urgent. Kitra's hands slid up Aragorn's chest to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. His strong arms encircled her waist, pressing their bodies flush against each other.
The world fell away as they lost themselves in the kiss, the nightmare and all their worries fading into the background. In that moment, nothing existed but the two of them, their hearts beating as one.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathless. Kitra rested her forehead against Aragorn's, her fingers playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Aragorn's hands remained at her waist, his touch warm and reassuring. They stayed like that for a long moment, simply breathing each other in, their foreheads touching. Kitra felt a sense of peace wash over her, the lingering fear from her nightmare dissipating in Aragorn's comforting presence.
Slowly, reluctantly, she pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes were filled with a tender affection that made her heart skip a beat. A soft smile played at the corners of his mouth as he reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"Will you stay with me?" She asked.
Aragorn's eyes softened, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he nodded. "Of course," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "I'll stay as long as you need me."
Kitra felt a wave of gratitude wash over her, the knot of fear in her chest loosening at his words. She took his hand, intertwining their fingers, and led him back to the bed. As they settled under the covers, Aragorn wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. Kitra nestled into his embrace, her head resting over his steady heartbeat.
In the safety of Aragorn's arms, the remnants of the nightmare began to fade, replaced by a sense of calm and security. His presence was like a balm to her troubled soul, chasing away the shadows that had haunted her for so long.
As she lay there in Aragorn's comforting embrace, Kitra felt herself finally start to relax, the tension gradually leaving her body. The warmth of his strong arms around her and the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek began to lull her back towards sleep.
Aragorn gently stroked her hair, his fingers running soothingly through the long strands. "Rest now," he murmured softly. "I'll be right here. You're safe."
Kitra let out a deep, exhausted sigh, her eyes drifting closed as she gave in to the overwhelming emotional exhaustion brought on by the nightmare. With each beat of his heart, she felt herself being pulled deeper into a peaceful slumber. The thumping rhythm was like a soothing lullaby, calming her racing thoughts and guiding her back to the land of dreams. She could feel the warmth of his body next to hers, comforting and reassuring in its steady presence. With a contented smile, Kitra finally drifted off into a peaceful sleep, grateful for the comfort and safety that his heartbeat provided.