The Star of the Fae

Chapter One

Aeowae, riding astride her white horse, Anatole, had heard the rumors.

Evil was returning to Middle Earth.

The Southlands were nothing but ashe after the volcano eruption.

And orcs, creatures who had helped destroy her entire race, had returned to wreak havoc, led by a corrupt orc lord all in black called Adar.

Men and women were taken and marked, burned, and forced to show their allegiance to the orc lord.

Or, so the men and women, humans she assisted, those who had managed to escape, had told her.

Aeowae spent most of her days riding about Middle Earth, acting as sort of emissary for her father and assisting where she could.

She felt useful this way and hoped to repay her father for trying to help save her people.

And help others as her kind had been helped.

Though she had been but a babe when here kind were wiped from Middle Earth by Morgoth, the ache was still there.

A void that could not be filled.

While most elves were kind and generous, though she was the adopted daughter of the High Elf King, she was still fae and, though she was unsure what exactly that meant, this set her apart from those around her.

For there were none alive to teach her what this was.

And, so, she fit in nowhere.

A princess of two kingdoms, one lost forever.

But today was different.

She could feel it in the air, in the sun shining on Anatole's mane.

She had given heed to the rumors and had promised her father,  who had sent word to hurry her return, and was traveling back home at his behest.

He was worried, she knew, of the threat to Middle Earth.

And her.

And the Star she carried.

Her guards, Orthelien and Constantine, not normally so, looked worriedly about, scanning the trees as the sun shone pleasantly down on them.

Aeowae had her knife at her belt and her bowstring and arrows strapped to her back just in case.

After all, they were far too close to the Southlands.

Or, Mordor, as it was called now.

A dark, dirty, smoky wasteland.

Home of the orcs.

How she despised them for their part in her people's demise.

They turned a corner, woods about them, into a clearing, and Constantine gave a shout of alarm, drawing his sword.

Aeowae drew her bow and an arrow just as Orthelien drew his sword.

For, before them was an pack of orcs.

"Behind us!" Orthelien shouted.

Aeowae turned around just in time to see another group of orcs spilling from the woods into the road behind them.

"It's  a trap!" Constantine yelled.

Aeowae silently agreed with him and, drawing her bow back, let loose an arrow.

She was an expert marksman, none better, never missing, and this arrow was no different.

It hit the target, taking down the orc.