Baptized in Blood and Flame

Chapter 5: A Flame To Be Struck

Third Age: 2480

The days grew colder and darker.

The Ettenmoors were behind her, and much beyond that, Rivendell. Everything Tauriel had ever known in her 2000 years could be pointed to with one hand.

It was a sobering thought.

75 leagues east lay the place that had killed her mother, and many others in a bid to rescue her. Best not to dwell on that. But the further she traveled, the less certain she was. Dread had started to seep into her being, corroding the courage she had held so close. Faith in a wondrous destiny no longer burned so bright.

Sword gripped tight, she had been walking for two weeks, gnawing anxiety not allowing her to rest. Finally though, exhaustion won out, and she collapsed at the foot of a cliff face. Drawing herself into the darkest shadow, she did her best to warm her hands without the risk of a fire. Every hiss of biting wind through stunted trees pushed her more on edge. 

Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, so fogged it could fit no more than one thought at a time. Had that star been in the sky farther south? No, certainly not. Why were there no stars on the northern horizon?

In her mental battle, paranoia again bested sense, and she dragged herself to her feet, forcing them to move against another wave of biting cold.

This isn't safe, the bit of wisdom in her brain yelled. You can barely stay on your feet, you can hardly walk. What good is this?

But her numbed feet moved of their own accord, the sick force that had been guiding her for years tugged her forward. The deep pit in her gut ached, and her mind wept in anticipation.

In her addled state, she didn't notice the orcs swarming over the dark hills until they had been in front of her eyes several seconds. She drew her sword and tried to swing, but the blade grew heavier with every second, as if the tip were determined to drive itself into the dirt.

They'll never know you died, a voice in her mind chanted. They'll never know you died. Dead with a legacy of abandonment.

The self-pity, pathetic and childish as it was, made her angry enough to lift part of the fog. Her sword swung with new vigor. 

But a small spark is not enough to drive away the night. The dark, starless night that swirled before her eyes. In all honesty, she could barely tell the difference between the night and unconsciousness, only that one was peaceful.

Sort of a filler chapter this time, but I've been writing more and I'm going to switch to a more regular update schedule now that I have the initial few chapters out. Also, we're starting to get into the plot of the story (you can expect a bigger kickoff next chapter).