𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗 | 𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘳 -DISCONTINUED-

{𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓊𝑒}

Animalistic screeches tore through the midnight air, sending goosebumps across Tirana's skin. Fear pumped through her body; an orc raid was something no-one had anticipated, and something that no-one was prepared for...

Her daughter's soft cries echoed from Tirana's arms as she cradled her to her chest, in search of the girl's father, her husband.
As she ran, Tirana used everything she had to her advantage to survive: her increased senses, the visible cover offered by the tents in their forest camp and the pools of darkness where their lamps' light could never reach.

Weaving in and out of cover was time consuming but necessary; something that did nothing to comfort Tirana, but rather irked her.
Reminding herself that her person and emotions were not the priority, Tirana glanced reassuringly down to her little one, who was secured in a cloth wrapped around Tirana's chest, before continuing her search.
After more heart-pounding moments and close-calls, Tirana found her husband, but she was too late.

The sight of his battered and mangled corpse was an image that Tirana knew would never leave her.
Blood was splattered across the left side of his face, his legs were thrown carelessly across the ground at unnatural angles and his eyes stared glassily to the sky, blindly looking past the arrows sticking out of the centre of his chest.
He had died heroically, sword in hand as was traditional, but this was a small comfort to the hysterical Tirana.

Grieving wails tore through her throat and acidic tears seared her eyes as her knees gave out beneath her; she fell, holding the last fragment she had of her love tightly against her, swaddled inside of the fabric cradle that secured her tightly to her mother.

Now desperate, she clutched onto her daughter, (the only family she had left now), and ripped herself out of the trance his death had put her under; she wouldn't let the hurricane of emotions that surrounded her kill her, not yet- not when she could still save Allyria. Her daughter deserved to live.

Fiercely, she pressed one last kiss of goodbye to her departed husband's forehead.
Gathering control of her limbs once more, Tirana pushed herself off the ground and proceeded to sprint from the fire of perilous battle and danger, towards her horse.
With no time to saddle the stallion, Tirana threw her legs over the top of the beast bareback, before urging it on.
Dirt and dust bellowed from below Aeno's hooves as he darted between the trees before shooting out of the forest, and gathering speed across the grassy plains.
Tirana knew her destination. It was set from the beginning of her group's endeavour... Rivendell.

The Elves of Rivendell posed the only hope for answers, answers to the questions posed by a small babe- the very child Tirana held close to her heart as she whispered encouragement to Aeno, willing him to go faster and carry them all from danger and towards relative safety.

As Tirana raced by on Aeno, moonlight reflected by the dew on blades of grass created the illusion of lightning bolts on the plains.
A storm in the ground to mirror the storm above.

Suddenly, the moonlit plains hosted more than just the fleeing Elleth and her family- two hunting Orcs had followed her, and were now racing behind her, howls and screeches tearing through the air. Their lit torches cast horrific shadows across their faces, displaying torn wounds and weeping hacks that littered their faces; rotting teeth and puss-filled wounds adding to the terror they generated.

Desperation rolled through Tirana as she racked her brain for any semblance of a plan; she knew Aeno could go no faster and she herself was weaponless save for a small dagger hidden on her belt.

As panic nauseated her further, and the blankness in her mind terrified her, she surveyed the predators behind her: the Orcs were gaining on her.