Clashed

Chapter One

"Stop! Thief!" the Guards of the Citadel cried behind me.  I looked back and laughed at them as they tried to sprint towards me in their clunky armour and waving robes.  On their chests was embroidered a white, blossomed tree under a crown and stars.  Their black robes often swooped in front of them, slowing them down, but they were still as determined as ever to catch me.  This wasn't my first time stealing from the Steward.  I had become the most wanted she-elf in the land and honestly, I liked the sound of that.  

As I started to sprint faster, I heard the sound of an arrow notching into the string.  I took a glance back and saw one of the guards take aim and fire at me.  As the arrow approached at super speed, I ducked and dodged the arrow.  

"Oh, please you fools," I called to them.  "You're going to have to do better than that!"

I started running across the rooftop of the Steward's Citadel again, hoping to lose them, but to no avail.  I heard them notching another arrow and began to think fast.  Ahead of me was the Steward's flag with the white tree sewn in.  I lept towards it and used the flag to help me leap on to part of the White Tower of Ecthelion.  As I gripped the tower for stability, an arrow flew over my shoulder and hit the tower.  I looked back over and saw that the guards were firing their arrows at me again.  I started to climb to escape the arrow's short range. Despite the fact that the arrows weren't reaching me, the guards continued to fire.  Soon, the guards ran out of arrows, for their main weapon choice was a sword, not the arrow.

"Elandriel!  You won't get away with this!" the main guard shouted.  He tilted his head up to look at me and I couldn't help but laugh.  All of the guards wore helmets with wings protruding.

"Oh, but I already have," I shouted back.  "Now why don't you just take your wings and fly away you stupid oaf?"

I looked around for my escape, but there was none.  The only escape from the Tower was to jump to the next level, one hundred feet below.  I looked back down at the guards again and thought about killing them.  There were only four, easy enough.  But I wasn't a murderer, just a thief.  I looked past the guards and down below to the next level.  The only way I was going to survive was if I used some of the city to deflect my fall or if I had an obscene amount of luck on my side.

I looked down into my old, worn satchel and dug around, looking for anything that could help me.  I smirked and pulled out my old, elvish cloak.  I draped it around my shoulders and pulled the hood over my white-blonde hair. I dug deeper and found my thick leather gloves and slipped them on.  I looked up to the sun and whispered the Elvish word for 'Please'  and simply took one breath in.  And I jumped.  

As I fell through the air, I looked down and held my hands out to help break my fall.  When my hands made contact with the white stone, pain shot through my hands and wrists, causing me to let out a cry.  I knew I had to keep my hands against the stone to keep my from dying, so I fought through the pain and soon landed on another rooftop of the sixth layer.  I landed not so gracefully on my buttocks and began to slip down the angled roof, but dug my heels into the roof to stop it.  

I looked up at the Citadel and saw no guards.  I smiled at myself because I had finally lost them for the millionth time and then tended to my wrists and hands.  I slipped off my leather gloves and looked at the wreck that was left of the lower half of my arms.  The thick leather protected them from being cut up or losing any fingers, but there were plenty of bruises and probably plenty of broken fingers.  I slipped the gloves back on, jumped down from the roof, and walked through the city with my hood drawn close to my eyes.  

Throughout the city of Minas Tirith, I heard whispers in the streets of my latest plunder and how the guards were still looking for me.  The guards and their attempts to catch me humored me and simply motivated me to continue my work.  The Steward was a selfish man and all he ever did was do what was right for him and his son Boromir.  Boromir wasn't a horrible man, but he wasn't any Prince Charming.  Boromir was the favored son of the Steward and while Boromir was a great leader, he was often arrogant.