The Lost Princess

Chapter Three: The Thief

Eramire sat in silence by the fire, watching the flames. They had only left Gaearost two days ago, but the ground they had covered left her feeling fatigued. The state of her home city had shocked her. It was nothing like it had been all those years ago. And as they walked through the once-familiar streets, she had felt unfriendly eyes watching her. She was relieved to be moving on. Even though the city had once been her home, it wasn't any longer.

She thought over her reason for returning to the land of Rhovamben: finding the meaning of her dream. It had plagued her for weeks, and she'd sought counsel with some of her kingdom's elders. She was shocked to learn each of them had seen the same vision. But she was the only one who seemed to have it incessantly. She shivered even now as the haunting images seemed to rise out of the fire.

They'd considered for many months what to do until word had come from Rhovamben that Calathil had been overthrown. Fear had spread through the kingdom as they'd waited for word from Celeblas, but Goroth did not try and capture the elf kingdom, and even when he reached for control of Gaearost, they waited. The evil wizard remained in his newly claimed territories, only seeking control over the men of the eastern coast. Celeblas was safe, and any interference seemed unnecessary.

But the dream had been constant, and Eramire had begun to feel the pull to leave and return to Rhovamben. After many meetings, she had made her decision and had set out for the land of her birth. It was strange, however; since she had arrived, she hadn't had the dream once. Not that it mattered; she would never forget it. Every detail was burned into her mind. Like a hot brand from a fire.

***

Thorindir noticed Eramire's exhausted countenance. He spoke to his men, sending them scrambling to prepare her tent. Earwen had slipped off into the woods to shoot arrows. She wouldn't want her sister to see her doing such an activity. He smiled in spite of himself. Earwen was probably hoping brigands would assail the camp so she could use her weapons in actual combat.

He turned his attention back to Eramire. "You look tired, Your Highness," he said, sitting next to her.

Eramire looked up from the crackling fire. "I am just realizing the monumental task I have been given."

Thorindir nodded his understanding. "Find the meaning of a vision that you don't have the slightest clue about." He smiled at her. "No easy task there. Not to mention convincing a council of elders about as proactive as sloths to help you."

Eramire glared at him. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Thorindir gave her an apologetic look. "I'm just happy to have you both back. That's good enough for me."

Eramire smiled, then frowned again. "I didn't expect to come and have so little to go on, but then again, what could I have expected? Everyone and everything I need to just fall into my lap?"

Thorindir studied the young queen. He had known her since she was just a girl, and he had known, when he met her in Gaearost, that she would be a great ruler. But the Duvain had hit, and she was evacuated across the sea along with Earwen. Thorindir had missed them both so much. He had been a young soldier at the time. They had requested he come with them, but he could not flee the land he loved.

He had suffered for his decision to stay behind. The scars that ran across his face were one of the few signs that remained of the plague. He had burned for weeks with fever and sores. Thankfully the mages had found a cure, and the land had been washed clean. Goroth had been defeated, or at least they had thought so. Thorindir should have known it was a blind hope of the battered land's inhabitants that the dark wizard would never return.