Daughter of Flame

Rivendell

Updating and changing lots of things.

Story currently undergoing changes and rewrites.

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Night had been beginning to fall as the Elleth had wandered into a tavern. She sat alone, her hood darkening her features. No one here would approach her knowing the rumors that circled about the ruby haired ranger. Some thought her a witch and others just wanted to avoid any contact with suspicious figures.
She listened to the men gossip or argue trying to conduct business in hushed voices. Her keen elven ears could pick up every sound echoeing in the small tavern.

"I've never seen her 'round 'ere before." Words spoken a little too loud caught her interest.

"Shh! Are ya daft, lad. Quiet down, you don't want to be drawing her attention." An older man spoke, his brown stubble giving him an Awkward shadow across his face. A regular at this establishment she supposed.

"Why not? who is she?" The young boy questioned, clearly oblivious. It was always intriguing to hear what they would say about her. Always there was a new rumor or two circulating to be heard. Curiosity stirred within her patient being as she awaited the answer.

"A ranger. She travels without leaving tracks, never staying put. Folks 'round here call her the Scarletfox." The man answered before taking a large gulp of his ale. He slammed the tankard down harshly afterwards.

"The scarletfox?"

"Aye. Hair as dark as blood and anger kindled like fire."

"Some say it was stained that way from the blood of her victims." Another man chimed in earning a gulp from the young lad. She smirked underneath her hood.

"V.. victims?" He stuttered.

"They're just stories, lad. Passed on for generations and generations." The darker haired man reassured clapping the man on the shoulder. The men chuckled seeing the young man stir uncomfortably in his seat.

"Now how 'bout another ale?" She let her ears leave the conversation with a small smile on her face.

The Scarletfox. They still called her such then. A fitting name as any.

-

Weeping. Everything around her crumpled in the devouring flames, reduced to ash and soot. The bright scarlet flickered around her blinding her with its bright flashes. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she heard the screaming.
From her place on the floor she could see a mother screaming trying to reach her. Yet a fathers strong arms pulled his wife back trying to pull her away from the girl and out of the house.
"Amalia!! Amalia!" The mother cried out. Another scream in fear, crying out for her. She stood coughing from the dark smoke entering her lungs Dizziness was over coming her and the house groaned in protest to the heat. The girl tried to reach her mother, scurrying through the ash that her hands stirred up. An awful groan above her followed by the snapping of wood as the roof collapsed burying the parents alive in a heap. Dreadful muffled screams filled her ears matched only by her own as the horror befell those loved ones. Then silence. Eerie, lonely silence. Only the crack of the fires could be heard over the girl's desperate cries.
She could feel the heat and the pressure of wood as beams above her collapsed suddenly.

Then nothing.

-but that was hundreds of years ago.

The ranger woke in a cold sweat. Her breathes were short and quick at the visions that haunted her dreams. Every moment her eyes were closed she could see their faces and the many others that had burned. Always in her dreams but the memories not her own... or at least she did not think they were her own memories. The names not hers. Yet this one vision was different. It felt closer to her, somehow more personal. Over the years she had decided it was only because it was the vision she saw most often.

Let all she touches wither
until her heart doth grow bitter
let all she touches burn
and her every move grow stern

And so it has been for as long as she can remember. A killer, a murderer. Be it her or be it another, it mattered little, only that there was still death. Flames of anger engulfed all and her actions drained the life of everyone she knew. Fire had taken everything and to fire she would succumb one day. It was only by luck, she thought, that she had survived the flames all these years... the flames that claimed lives. It followed her like a plague. A curse. A reoccurring nightmare always within in her mind, one she did not have to be asleep to see.

So the only thing she was seeking was solitude ever since ... as the years passed all knowledge of her name faded. The legend of a girl of fire became a myth and the stories of the Scarletfox took their place. For hundreds of years she had been only that with no plans to change it.

----

The Scarletfox followed a trail, red curls let free but her steps so smooth that they stirred not as she moved. The blood red locks glimmered in the sunlight revealing a dark crimson glare. She wore a pair of dark elven trousers that fit flush to her skin and a long green tunic with a belt of auburn. A cloak of dark ebony was clasped around her shoulders with an autumn leaf clasp. Knee high boots that matched the autumn leaves adorned her graceful feet. A dagger was sheathed at her hip for precautionary measures.
This was how it had been for many years. traveling alone, living alone and staying alone. That was where she belonged, it was in solitude that she found comfort. Only in solitude.

She knelt down putting her fingers to the dirt in a wide track. They were large tracks fourteen sets, she dawned her hood concealing her pointed ears. Human folk thought her dangerous. As they should. Her mere presence was a threat. So she'd let them believe anything that kept them away from her. Not that she tried to fuel the rumors, she simply did nothing to disprove them.

Amalia followed the tracks, gripping the bow that clung around her body and adjusted her quiver of arrows. If these led to where she thought they did she would have to take a longer route and refund the trail on the other side of the valley. But as she followed the tracks another set approached from the right. Rabbit tracks led up to the group before halting. The rider had dismounted, a human, not a tall one, she could tell by the deep impression of steps. By the brushing of the dirt around the tracks it appeared they were wearing a gown or perhaps robes. A wizard possibly. She frowned. An encounter with a wizard would need to be avoided if possible. Yet with no other choice she would be forced to venture this way as this is where her search had brought her. She continued on watching the tracks as she walked. Rustavel rabbits and .... wargs? So close the borders of Imladris? Odd.

It was early dawn, the sun had just risen over the plains. The morning was cool and quiet, only a gentle breeze stirred the leaves. The fresh tracks led her to the plains not far from the forest, a vast area of only grass and occasional protruding clusters of rock. Mmmm. She hummed in thought running gracefully and quietly towards the scene of an ended battle. A very fresh one. Dead orc and wargs alike. Lithe fingers reached out to free an arrow of elven make from the head of a fallen orc. She slipped many such arrows into her quiver. No sense in leaving them here. It appears the company of dwarves had been rescued by elves on horseback... an unusual mix. Many questions formed in her mind.

Bright scarlet eyes scan over the terrain. There she knew a hidden rock pass lie, one she had used before and one where her trail ended. The tracks continued inside.

The rumors of dwarves and the stirring of the orcs had started her search and now it had led her to Imladris. The number of orcs and the stirring of creatures in Mirkwood was suspicious. The air felt warn thin and warred, the very atmosphere had changed in the past years. She was far too curious about what was going on in middle earth, and the answer, she now thought, may very well lie in the elven city.

The Scarletfox made her through the stone pass, sliding down to a small cave. Light, although fading, poured in from above where the crags opened up far above. Her light steps and lithe body made no sound as she advanced down the secret pass.
She had only been to the hidden valley once before, years upon years ago only to acquire some information. Inwardly there was the hope that this visit would go as undiscovered as the last. Her keen ears could hear loud thumping steps down the paths. Dwarves. They breathe so loudly.