The Girl of Ossetia

Chapter Two

Two

            When she awoke the next morning, she noticed how incredibly tired she was, not just physically but mentally. Arrana inhaled the hard scent of a nights old ash, and with it swung her legs out from the cool sheets and rested her bare feet against the cold wood floor. A hand rose to her forehead as the letter came rushing back into her memory, and her eyes fixated on the envelope that laid half unsheathed from the quilt. She sighed, pushing it back under, before rising up and pursed her lips in thought.

            Arrana was the quiet sort- if it hadn’t been for her powers and prophecies- she would’ve been a secluded girl. She looked out her window, squinting her eyes at the white flags that sailed high above the tents set up down in the commons area. She pulled forward and propped open the door and out into the hall to the kitchen. She looked at her mother, who was cleaning the sink basin hurriedly, her eyes flicking to her daughter, a weak smile pulled at her lips, and she walked to the auburn haired girl, embracing her in a hug.

            “Happy Birthday.” She whispered quietly, before stepping away and pointing to a bagged dress hanging over one of the dining room chairs. “Your Father and I got it for you… we would love it if you wore it to the party.” Her eyes were large and hopeful, and Arrana pressed towards it, looming over the chair. She was not one to wear the frilly dresses, but perhaps today could be an exception.

            She unbuttoned the bag, revealing the dress. At first, her jaw unhinged and she stared for a moment. The top of it was silk white, no frill, just simple with silver lacing. She inhaled slowly, pulling the rest of the dress out, watching how it flowed elegantly. It was plain white for the rest of the skirt, besides two silver roses set towards the waist of the dress. She smiled a large genuine smile and looked at her mother, nodding.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.”

            She emerged from her room again, now clothed in her dress, which gleamed on her bird-boned body. Her marble skin gleamed under the small candle lit upon the kitchen counter. Her mother was waiting by the door, long fingers stretched out to escort her daughter out the door. Arrana’s eyes flickered to her fathers looming figure by the blazing living quarter’s fireplace. His dark eyes flicked back, his wind bitten face pulled into a large smile and he made his way to his daughter, kissing her forehead and wrapping her in a large hug, whispering her a happy birthday.

            The autumn haired prodigy had her attention turn to her sister perched upon the rug in front of the fire, looking blankly in on it’s flames. Arrana couldn’t have said she had noticed her until now, as she now rose to her feet, turning slowly. Her face was hard, white eyes staring at nothing and no one. Arrana had never been close to her sister- Imogen, for she had always been quiet and must’ve resented her prodigy sister. And now as the blind girl’s eyes roved uselessly, the prodigy felt overly uncomfortable, gulping dryly, before turning back to her mother, giving a weak smile.

“Shall we?”

            Walking out upon the stone streets, many people waved to her, cheering loudly, some approaching slowly and kissing her hands. Her eyes narrowed occasionally, small twists forming in the pit of her stomach- for she did not enjoy the mobs. She let out a chalky sigh, putting a tight smile, as they rounded one of the corners, the street ended in a dusty curb, then rolling green hills filled with beautiful blooming wild flowers- and the now very large white tents and milling people. One tent instantly catching her eye- the present tent, which was nearly brimming with glossy bows and gleaming paper, another nervous roil of her stomach.

            When everyone noticed their savior was in the midst, they all nearly came running, forming a large circle around her, yelping cries of joy and approval. A small line parted for the King and Queen who were grinning ear to ear, and came to stand beside the girl, wrapping their hands around her shoulders, waiting until the crowd quieted down. It was only now that Arrana noticed that everyone held small copper mugs filled with one of the many brews in Ossetia.

“To Arrana: the savior of Ossetia!”

            Everyone screamed and hoisted their mugs to the sky before chugging. Rose cheeks were accompanied by the butterflies that tickled Arrana’s innards, she gave a small smile, before being swept off to the nearest tent.

            By the second hour, she had had enough Spring Brew to make her a bit more malleable. She was perched upon a table, fat glossy eyes admiring her annually. She was chatting with an older hobbit affectionately named Ducky- for he raised quite the many of them- when the slightest flicker of silver blue fabric upon the slacked bodies of her guests caught her eye, before it was gone. Arrana pursed her lips before returning her lost gaze back on the gray hobbit.  

            After her long conversation with Ducky, the girl wound her way back to the Brewery tent. As she plugged her mug full, a reflection in the copper caught her eye and she turned around quickly, her eyes widening to large saucers.

            A woman cloaked in layers of flowing silver blue silk that tenderly flowed in an inexistent wind. Her hair was a dark oak color, curling around her face, her eyes were possibly the darkest the girl had ever seen, nearly black, glinting with every reflection that danced before her. Her skin was sun-worn and wrinkle etched. She grinned tartly, making the girl take a small step back into the table, her jaw becoming slack. The woman loomed over her, exhaling slowly, her breath was warm and smelt of jasmine and spring brew.

“Hello Arrana, I am Loriata.”