The Eastern Woman

The young prince

The Elf did not keep his word.

As soon as Goneril had turned her back, the creature gave the alarm, playing the little horn that he carried with him.

"Coward." she murmured. Then she began to run, trying not to hurt herself as she passed close to the dry branches of the frozen shrubs. She absolutely had to reach the river Celduin, she had to get out of that forest, she had to see the sun again, whose light filtered impertinent among the leaves.

But the sound that came from the wood was not at all reassuring. Someone was running after her, and he was not a lonely and wounded Elf ... they were many. Many more.

That soldier had recalled his whole cohort and had played his instrument three times: a signal that probably meant the intrusion of a foreigner into their territory. And now there could be six, ten, twenty Elves on her trail.

Goneril ran at breakneck speed among the boulders, on the slippery moss, avoiding the tree trunks with the same agility of a squirrel. All right, she thought. Do you want to catch the human? Try it. Run, run ... your hearts will explode sooner or later.

The darkness of the woods did not allow her to distinguish the path beneath her feet, and for a moment she feared that she was on the wrong road, while behind her the screams of approaching soldiers became louder.

"Reach her! Don't let her escape!" shouted a voice, in elvish. They were close now, too close.

Goneril saw from a distance the trunk of a tree torn from the ground. It was empty: the woodworm and mold had consumed the pulp. She had the sudden idea of hiding inside it and waiting for that group of Elves to pass by without seeing her.
She was heading to that giant wooden corpse, when three arrows flew by her ears and fell into the ground.

"Don't move. Or the next one will end up in your back." A voice commanded.

Goneril froze. They had reached her, as she had expected.

She sighed, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Throw down that sword. Don't mess with me." the voice repeated. Goneril turned around.

She saw an archer with a stern and authoritative expression. He was tall and well built, he had long black hair, dark as his eyes. Had it not been for his pointy ears, she would have almost taken him for a human man. He held a golden bow and already had the next arrow in his hand. The one destined to her.

He must have been the captain of that company.  Around him, the other soldiers gathered, all armed with bows and darts already aimed at the intruder.

"You are the great Commander Feren, I guess."  Goneril said, shaking her head.  For a very short moment, she had hoped to escape from that damn forest.

The Elf smiled.  "You know our people, I see. But you're wrong: our Commander never comes to patrol the woods. My name is Varian."

Goneril answered.  "I wish I could say  it's an honor to meet you, but it's not a pleasure at all."  she said.  "And if you think I'm going to let you tie me up and drag me into a cell, you're even more stupid than you seem."

Without saying a word, Varian approached her and punched her in the stomach.  Goneril bent over, and fell on her knees.

The Elf grabbed her by the hair.  "Do not believe that just because you are a female you will be protected here. I know who you are. I know what you did for great part of your existence. How many lives you have taken, how much violence you have been responsible for. You will rot in our dungeons ... unless ... our King won't decide to kill you in person. You know? He's quite nervous lately. We all believe he needs some ... amusement."