Warrior's Heart

Prologue

Arielle Greenleaf shivered as she huddled beneath the tallest of the trees at the edge of the forest. She could go no further to the east. Should she set foot in Mirkwood, she had no doubt her father would set the entire guard upon her. She was under no circumstances to ever set foot inside the wood again. He'd made that plain.

Well, that was fine with her. She never fit in as it was, and thought perhaps being on her own would be far preferable than being around others who constantly looked down their noses at her.

At least, that was what she'd told Thranduíl when he'd calmly banished her from the Kingdom of the Wood-Elves. Pride was her greatest weakness, as it turned out, for being alone was far more difficult than she'd ever imagined it would be. After all, she'd spent all of her life being watched over and cared for and pampered to a certain degree. She'd been taught how to hunt, only to find she was far too soft-hearted to kill anything. Fortunately, she knew how to forage, knew which mushrooms were safe and which would kill her and such things, but as the wood gave way to the plains, there was less and less in the way of forgeable items.

She could return to Mirkwood and beg her father's forgiveness, but it would be all for naught. Should she return, she would no doubt be cast into the dungeons and left to rot. As it was, her father made certain to break her bow over his knee before her, and did the same with each of the arrows in her quiver. Then he ordered her to leave.

That was nearly four weeks ago and while she thought to go west, to see what else she might find, the sounds of battle kept pushing her back toward Mirkwood. The only thing that terrified her more than her father's rage were the Orcs. She didn't want to think what they would do, should they get their hands on an elven princess. Especially one exiled from the Royal family.

Death was preferable.

Of course, it was also slower. Exposure. Hunger. Thirst. These were her trials, and they showed her that not only was death slow, it was painful.

So, there she huddled against the base of a gnarled tree. The rain came down so hard, seeing was almost impossible. It actually fell sideways from the force of the winds whipping through it. Her entire body ached. Her hair streamed over her shoulders, seemingly adding more weight than she could bear on her small frame.

She heard the voices before she saw their faces and her teeth chattering had nothing to do with the cold. She pressed herself into the rough, twisted tree trunk even harder, willing herself to become invisible in the growing darkness. The only weapon she had was the small dirk she'd kept hidden in her boot, but her fingers seemed unwilling to obey her, barely closing about the dirk's handle to slip it free. If her company was Orcs, so be it. They would not take her without a fight...