Of War and Roses

Prologue Pt. I: Roses

"A flower unplucked is but left to the falling, and nothing is gained by not gathering roses."
Asking For Roses
Robert Frost

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A light breeze rustled through the branches of a large oak tree and past the sleeping form. The figure shifted from the cold and slowly cracked her eyes open, turning to sleepily assess her surroundings in search of her missing blanket. The sight presented to her was one of a single red rose, the sun's rays dancing on its petals as the tree shielded its surroundings from the harsh light. Birds chirped cheerfully from their nests and the tree's branches swayed gracefully in the wind. Wait. Tree? Birds? Jolting upright, the girl gazed around, taking in more of her environment.

"Yang? Yang!" The girl called out loudly. Nothing but the birds answered her. "Guhh..." She rolled her eyes with a huff and struggled upright, despite the dizziness it brought.

Lush green grass surrounded the area, small flowers pushing up here and there. Rolling hills and fields stretched as far as the eye could see. There were patches of trees in different areas farther away, and purple-tinted mountains leagues beyond that.

Below, at the foot of the hill the girl found herself on, sat a quaint little town, unlike any she'd seen before. For one, the homes she gazed upon seemed to be built into sets of small hills, with colorful round doors and lush gardens out front. Beyond that was a wide river; and a mill with a tall wheel that churned round and round, the wooden mechanisms giving dull thuds; and farmers fields of barley along with other things.

Sliding down the grassy slope, she jogged to a halt inside the fence line of the house below. Cupping her hands to her mouth, the girl hollered again, "Yang?! Weiss?! Blake?!" Once again getting no response, the girl weighed her options. Carrying her compacted weapon at her side, if only for caution's sake, she carefully picked her way through the gardens to a small stone footpath and climbed up to the door.

The girl raised a fist, giving a series of short taps on the beautiful deep green wood. She held her breath as the sound of feet shuffling came from behind the door. There was a creak as it was pulled open to reveal a short man; one with slightly pointed ears, large hairy feet, a mop of grey hair and inquisitive blue eyes.

"Oh, hello." He said somewhat awkwardly, straightening slightly, looking her over.

"U-um..." The girl stammered, staring at the man who was easily a foot shorter than her. She quickly remembered her manners and smiled, "Hi! Sorry, I - I think I'm a bit lost. Could you... tell me where I am?"

"Why, miss, you're in Hobbiton! The Shire?" The man gave her a startled look, and opened the door a little wider. "Please, please, come in! To forget you're in the Shire - must've been through some nasty business. Bilbo Baggins is my name, at your service. I'll put the kettle on, and we'll see if we can't sort this out."

"Uncle?! Who is it?!" An younger sounding voice rang from inside the home. Bilbo glanced over his shoulder and called back,

"We have a guest!" Bilbo turned back to the young, silver-eyed girl, regarding her with a bit more scrutiny. She was dressed in a black blouse and skirt with red trimmings, complete with a red cloak. Even her shoulder-length hair was black with a red tint to it. The older Hobbit smiled kindly, gesturing to the interior, "Come in, Miss..."

"Oh!" The girl stuck out her hand,

"I'm Ruby. Ruby Rose."