The Girl of Ossetia

Chapter One

One

            The autumn haired girl swung down from her perch in one of her favorite Beeches that outlined the Elven city. From there she could see as much of Ossetia as she pleased without being disturbed by the warriors that marched the higher mountains in watch. The land below her was a gutted out mountain, with high arching, beautiful stone buildings and pillars. On some of the ledges of the Valley were mossy moors and clear ponds that some of the Elders fished in on Sundays.

            Arrana often enjoyed the company of the song thrushes and deafening silence; her seclusion from the awaiting Kingdom below her. She leaned against the rough bark of the Beech tree and looked out over the raised peaks of the Valley- which reminded her of the back of an angry Dragon- and saw that the grass had faded away to curls of brown and soon to nothing. She knew that beyond those ridges, it was ashen, blood stained and to stay that way for years. She was the one that kept her Kingdom alive. She was worshiped for it.

            She now began to lankily walk down the ridge, stones crumbling underneath her leather boots. Sharp green eyes like chunks of emerald looked warily about for any sign of people before she reached behind her and drew her white oak bow, fingers tracing the beautiful etching in it; a gift from the newest King. She inhaled deeply, reaching back again, letting her fingertips graze the feathery bonds of the arrows. She pulled one from it’s sheath, loving the sound of wood upon leather. She placed the notch on the binding, drawing it back, feeling it tense with the coil of a snake, cracking and stretching. She closed one round eye, focusing on a fat squirrel resting at the base of a Barberry bush. Her mother would be pleased with the kill. She let out a long sigh before releasing the arrow, watching it glide through the air, zipping like an arm of lightning at the squirrel, which was quickly maimed and sat still in the grass.

            The girl glided over to her kill and lifted it upon the end of her arrow, then walked quietly back down the ridge home, pale skin glowing under the low gray clouds.

            Tomorrow was Arrana’s birthday to the becoming age of 30. She would be an official adult now, and the Royalties of Ossetia were hosting a massive celebration. Most everyone was invited, the highland Elves that lived in the stony ridges of the valley, the woodland elves- which Arrana herself was born into, the hobbits and the few midland Humans. But personally, the autumn haired girl was not overly excited. It did not seem fair that she was the one from prophecies, the one where if she glanced behind her, a rose bush had grown in a matter of her walking by. She had the burden of living and keeping her Kingdom on her shoulders.

            After dinner with her family of her parents, and one sister who was blind, Aranna craned to her room without much chatter. As always she found numerous vases of wild flowers from the Moors and letters piled upon her desk, but she did not feel obliged to read them tonight, for she knew what all of them said; either a thank you or a happy birthday.

            The thin, tall frame of the girl roached her back and looked in the mirror, pressing pianist fingers against her pale freckled cheeks, letting them trail to her wavy chestnut hair. She let out an audible sigh before shuffling to her bed by the one large window in her room and fell back, kicking off her boots, taking note her mother had set kindling by the small fireplace in the corner.

            Arrana dropped the lit match in on the dried kindling that instantly caught fire, and laid her wet boots out to dry under the warmth. She stood there for a while, staring into the crackling fire that licked out at the stone walls of the fireplace before looking up into her mirror. Something glowing silver in the light of the fire caught her eye on the windowsill. She turned on her heels, glancing at a beautiful deerskin envelope with a large silver stamp upon its corner, engraved with a large, fancy ‘L’. Long fingers reached out to it sheepishly, picking it up. It was much heavier than she expected. She sat on the edge of her bed, looking down at it. No return address, just the name Arrana engraved in that mesmerizing silver stain. A knock rapped on her bedroom door and her mothers questioning tone caused the girls mind to reel and her body to snake-like snap the letter under the quilt of her bed just as her mother poked her head through a now opened door. Why the girl had hid the letter was foreign to her.

“Your father would like to see if you would like some raspberry jam on your favorite rolls before bed?” Her wide brown eyes and raven black hair had a candlelight tone to it under the soft glare of the fire. Arrana shook her head abruptly in the invalid and her mother ducked out.

            She was hesitant to reach for the letter again, for those adrenalin filled emotions racked through her veins. She snapped it out from under the floral quilt and flipped it around, a waxy red stamp held the flap closed and she quickly ran a thumb under it.

            She peered inside, pulling out an age stained piece of paper, once again hesitant to unfold it. She drew in a sharp breath, and then did so. Her eyes roved the page, taking in the perfectly written letters, and clean black ink.

Dearest Arrana,

I would like to address myself but I simply cannot. I have been saving this letter for the right time and today- or more or less tomorrow, shall be the day that you will meet me; for we have much to discuss. I am not merely one of your petty fans, but possibly someone that holds your destiny, but please know I hold you in the highest of respects. I will not tell you where to meet me, or what my apparel will be tomorrow, because you will simply find me on your own. Do not go looking for me, for then you will never find me. I have waited many a year for this day to come.

I wish you the best,

L

Ps. Please do look deeper into the envelope, for there is a present that may help you along your ways.

            A strangled feeling came creeping up her throat, and she looked around quickly, as though ‘L’ would be standing in the dusty cupboard corner by her door awaiting her. But of course- they weren’t. She tenderly grabbed the deerskin envelope again, and reached inside, pulling taught a chain from its innards. A beautiful rose crystal pendent hung from a silver capping with a clip that held a small hinged top closed. She stared at it for a second, before carefully maneuvering the cap open, beautiful blue water reflecting off the roof of the silver top. It rippled and shined, producing much more light than expected from such a small drop of water. A small tag drifted down onto her lap and she grappled for it, closing the cap to the necklace and hanging it over her neck.

A faerie tear. Use it when you really need it. L.

She felt all of a sudden disgusted by herself, and considered throwing the beautiful present and letter into the fire, but the lustful fingers of her magical soul scolded her for such a thought. Instead she pushed the pendent under the throat of her vest to be unseen and pushed the letter under her bed.

Arrana settled back onto her pillow, sliding into her soft sheets after much thought and stared at the ceiling. She pulled out the pendent to take a long look at it, running her fingers along the rosy pink shaft of it, breathing out sharply.

“I’ll see you tomorrow… L.” Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as though she was speaking to the flickering shadows of her room. And with a soft hush of the wind down her chimney, it silenced the fire and the room dimmed to darkness and her steady breathing.

---

More coming! Hope you liked it. :)