TA, 𝟐𝟗𝟒𝟎
THE BURDEN OF ROYALTY no longer weighed down on syrena's shoulders, no longer stopped her from fulfilling her dreams. she had broken the chains that bound her and she was truly free. eryn finally felt like herself. like she was a young elfling traipsing through the forest with her older brother once again, giggling as she hopped over the roots that delved deep into the soil.
some may label her former status as a blessing, but syrena had another word entirely for it. cursed. it wasn't always like that, though. she used to be happy. she used to find joy in even the smallest things. the beams of sunlight that seeped through the forest. the ancient trees that decorated greenwood. the wisps of wind that gently shook the leaves.
in truth, she was happy until her mother died. the elven queen was slain in the orc stronghold of gundabad. that day changed everything. when the group of elven warriors returned without their queen, the king was distraught. he became cold and callous, not once shedding another smile. syrena's father no longer loved her. it took years for him to even look at her, let alone speak a word to her.
she was always told she looked like her mother, and it used to be a good thing. so naturally she grew up cursing her features that resembled those of her mother.
but none of that mattered now. she was finally free from the confines of mirkwood. free to explore as she pleased. and that is what she planned to do.
the former princess sat upon her horse, ares. he was a beautiful brown stallion, with a hazelnut main, and deep black eyes. she and ares were cantering over the dewy fields of grass through the lands of middle earth, heading back to the camp where the rangers of the north resided.
she remembered the day she rode into a group of them, who were overwhelmed by a horde of orcs. it was the dead of night, and even syrena's elven eyes found it difficult to distinguish friend from foe. so she allowed her intuition to guide her. three of her arrows pierced the heads of the foul creatures, before she drew her sword to behead more of them. this allowed the four men to regain themselves and slaughter the beasts threatening their lives.
an amused smile painted on her face when she saw the looks on the men's faces, at their confusion. they were on their deathbed, yet their hearts were still beating. all thanks to a she-elf who just so happened to be passing. fate can be a funny thing.
they had questions, of course. they asked her who she was and why she helped them instead of turning a blind eye. thats what her father would have done, and many believed elves only cared for their own kin; the immortal race being too superior to help useless mortals, who would die anyway. so, in response, she told them her name was syrena and she was looking for a place to stay.
welcome arms accepted her into their community. they were weary at first, but they owed eryn their lives. many in the community had never laid their eyes upon an elf before. some weren't even sure they were real, instead just living in bedtime stories of the great battles of the past.
during the first few months, she was an outcast. syrena resided to herself, as she was still not fully accepted into the rangers. but she proved herself time and time again. she was by far the most skilled fighter among them, having centuries of practice over the men in the group. she knew healing magic that could mend previously fatal wounds.
but many years later, she was one of the most respected members of the community; people smiled at her as she walked past, she had a say in the rules, and the destinations they travelled to. syrena had lived through generations of men living and dying. she had attended far too many funerals, but she prevailed. she transformed her grief into anger, taking it out on the packs of orcs she came across. she left each scene a bloody mess of strewn body parts, with not a scratch on her.
at first, her ruthlessness scared her. but now, she had accepted it as part of her. her bloodlust was just like her thirst for water, she craved the sight of black blood dripping from her elven blades. it made her feel in control. she was the one in power. she felt good killing orcs. it gave her a purpose.
syrena often chose to go alone on these expeditions, or with cassius. he had descended from the númenóreans, and was one of the dúnedain, men blessed with the gift of a long life-span. he had been a ranger with her in her almost three decades, and the two had become extremely close friends. he was the only syrena confided in with the details her past. and vice versa, cassius had told eryn about his troubled past. he was orphaned at a very early age; his mother died of a deadly illness when he was merely eight months old, and his father slain by an orc when he was nine. he had lived with his uncle ever since, who was a master blacksmith with a desire to avenge the death of his brother by killing as many orcs as possible.
cassius grew up wielding weapons and hating orcs, learning proper fighting stances from his deranged uncle to seemed to be slowly losing his mind.
the duo of warriors sat in cassians tent, cleaning their blades stained with the blood of their victims. there seemed to be more orcs poisoning middle earth. darkness was looming. eryn had seen it once before. it was only a distant memory, from when she was just a child. the battle against mordor. sauron. the being who threatened to take over the once pure world.
"so, 'rena." cassius begun, looking up from his axe, his shaggy brown hair almost covering his dazzling jade green eyes. once eryn silently acknowledged him, he continued, "i do believe i won our little competition." he grinned smugly.
syrena rolled her eyes at him, "no, cass, you didn't." she was sure she had won. she always won.
the man patted her on the shoulder, "oh no, syrena. i counted." he winked at her, "i killed eleven orcs, you dealt with the other ten." he recalled. "and i know your large elven brain can handle some basic arithmetics and must know that eleven is, in fact, more than ten." he smirked, eyeing syrena amusingly.
"you counted wrong." syrena pried her best friends arm off her shoulder, going back to scrubbing her twin blades. every drop of blood had to disappear. her knives had to be pristine. they had once belonged to her mother, and had been carried back from gundabad. from that day, eryn decided she would specialise in knives, following in her mothers footsteps.
"that doesn't mean it is impossible for me to win. you need to face it, blondie, you simply aren't on my level."
"you're right." she cocked her head at him. shallow grey eyes meeting his which glistened with both shock and pride.
"you've really turned over a new leaf. hah, pun inten-" he begun to laugh at his own jokes, before syrena cut him off.
"i wasn't finished. what i was going to say, before your relentless, draining voice interrupted me, was that you're right, i'm not on your level, because i am simply that much better than you." she mused, smirking at cassius, who's expression twisted into one of utter betrayal.
"you wound me, blondie. your harsh words cut like knives." he held the back of his hand to his head as he wailed dramatically.
"good. that was my intention."
before cassius could respond, a boy no older than thirteen burst into the tent, allowing the oranges of the setting sun to seep through the open flap. "miss syrena, there is someone here to see you. he says his name is gandalf." he breathlessly told, not looking the elf in the eyes. cassius often told her she scared people, but not him as he was made of steel and was not frightened by her icy stare.
"did he mention as to why?" syrena raised her eyebrows at the boy, she had not heard from the grey wizard in many years. she drew a blank when she attempted to reason why he wished to see her.
the boy shook his head, "he said it was urgent." he offered, before scampering out of the tent, leaving it open behind him.
cassius glanced at syrena curiously, "what does gandalf want with you?"
syrena shrugged before placing her knives in the straps on her back, she rarely went anywhere without them. she'd lose her mind if she lost them or if they were stolen from her. some had tried, but all had failed.
she stood from her stool, turning her back to the male ranger, who called out to her, "we didn't finish our talk, i expect to hear you say it." cassius said in a singsong voice.
syrena rolled her eyes once again, "in your dreams, cassius." he wanted her to agree that he was the superior warrior. but syrena didn't like to lie, and she would be on her deathbed before uttering those words.
"oh trust me, it is." she could tell he had a boyish grin on his face, even though she couldn't see his features.
the platinum blonde elf didn't bother to respond, instead she stepped out the tent, closing it behind her. worry had stricken her, sending a shiver down her spine. she refused to let it show, her face remained hard and stoic as she traversed through the camp to the tent the grey wizard resided in.
her eyes must have been more intense than previously, as people rushed to get out of her way.
"ah, eryn, it is lovely to see you again." gandalf spoke, removing his pipe from his lips and blowing out a puff of thick smoke. syrena never did understand why men were so captivated by cigars, cassius seemed to jump for joy whenever he came across pipe weed. mortals never did fail to amuse the immortal elf. "you are fairing just as your mother did all those years ago." he commented, with no malice in his tone.
yet venom seeped into syrena's eyes, "if you are fond of your limbs i suggest you don't mention my mother." after all, no matter how much she denied it, she was very much her fathers daughter. she may look like the elven queen, but much of her character came from the king.
gandalf let out a humourless laugh, "note taken. but please, sit." he gestured to the stool opposite him, "we have much to discuss."
"why are you here, mithrandir?" her native language rolled peculiarly off her tongue. due to spending so much time among men, she had to switch from sindarin to westron, also named the common tongue. syrena eyed him curiously, "i am certain you did not come for a friendly catch up."
gandalf cleared his throat, placing his wrinkled fist on his chest to aid him in this. "i require your help." he said, getting straight to the point. he was wise to not beat around the bush with syrena, she already wasn't overly fond of the wizard.
"with what?" syrena's curiosity piqued.
"there is a company, who require a guide to lead them through the least dangerous pass." he responded vaguely, his voice slow as it seemed he was leaving out key details on purpose.
"if you require my aid, i would like to know what i may be getting myself into. what are you not telling me?" she stared at him, practically into his soul.
"well, before you immediately decline my request, i ask that you let me finish." he told, waiting until syrena nodded her head in agreement before he continued. "there is a group of, erm, dwarves that are going to reclaim erebor." he begun, wincing internally as syrenas expression darkened. it was no secret she had a distaste for dwarves. "and they need a guide." he gestured to eryn.
"why me?"
"the road will be dangerous. i am sure you are aware of the darkness dwelling on this earth. there are few warriors among them, you are one of the best fighters i know. i fear they may not make it to the mountain alive, and the journey be for nothing." he explained.
"i care not for a gaggle of mindless dwarves going on a foolish quest to slay a dragon."
syrena replied bluntly, her nimble fingers finding one of her daggers to twirl. she knew much of the beast smaug that laid in his peaceful slumber, and the dangers of waking him from it. "their lives are none of my concern." dwarves had never helped syrena before, not even when she was beaten and bloody at their doorstep. no, they laughed in her face and left her to die. she wasn't going to help them after that, no, they had made their bed, now they had to lie in it. if those dwarves died, then so be it, syrena could not care less.
she sounded so much like her father, and that scared her deeply. their attitudes were now one the same, but that didn't mean she was going to risk her lives for some greedy, foolish dwarves.
"syrena, i did not wish to do this." the wizard begun, staring deeply into the elf's eyes, "but you owe me a debt, this is how you will repay me."
syrena internally groaned. she had completely forgotten about her and the wizards last encounter, where she would be dead if he had not intervened.
she swallowed hard before meeting his gaze, "when do we leave?"
a small smile danced across the greying mans features, "ten months from now, at bag end in hobbiton, in the shire. there will be a mark on the door of the hobbit hole - that is where we will embark from." he informed.
"i will see you there." syrena said, officially agreeing to the role of guiding a group of dwarves from the shire to the lonely mountain.
what on earth had she gotten herself into?