Rising Storm in the Elven Realms

The birds stopped singing. The silence echoed down through the empty skies into the deep, green forest below. It spread across the long, winding river that ran eternally through the Elven land, and continued onto the hill-covered plains of a neighboring kingdom. It was this silence that caused a slim, fire-haired Elf to turn her face away from the river to the sky, and listen. She cautiously scanned the riverbank from where she sat. There was no wind, no rustling of leaves. There was only the sound of the rushing river. “What is it, Niamh?" her honey-blond companion asked, pulling her hand out of the water, slight concern in her sapphire-blue eyes. The sky began to dim as clouds began to form. Niamh frowned, sniffed, and slowly stood up. She raised a finger to silence the noble elfmaiden beside her. Three dark riders appeared at the top of the far hill, and a threatening rumbling began rolling on behind them. The three figures sat silent and still, swiftly surveying the field, trees, and river. They seemed to ignore the two sitting by the water. “Who do you think they are, Niamh?" The younger one whispered nervously. “What are they doing?" Niamh straightened her soft, blue dress and shook her brilliant red hair, before turning her storm-blue eyes to her friend. “I don't know, Eithne, but I do think we need to head back and tell your father." As they rose to leave, the rumbling they heard earlier increased on the other side of the hill, and suddenly there were shouts and clanging of swords. Horses and soldiers began to spill over the hills from the depths of the forest. “Come," Niamh said firmly to Eithne. Niamh took the other's hand and ran toward their horses, who had stopped their grazing to prance nervously and pull against their ropes. Eithne struggled to mount her horse, her hands beginning to shake as the noises grew louder. Niamh grabbed the horse's bridle to steady it, and used her other hand to push Eithne up and into the saddle. “Now ride home!" Niamh ordered. She mounted her own horse effortlessly, her elven years giving her the advantage she needed to catch up with Eithne. They paused as they reached the treeline, and Niamh cast one more glance behind them as they entered the forest's welcome cover, Niamh saw an elf-lord, clothed in black and silver, on a dark horse cresting the hill, his sword glistening in the fading light. The horse reared as the elf avoided the swing of an attacker, and as the horse returned to the ground, two tumultuous blue eyes rested on Niamh. He reined in his horse and looked at her fully. She gasped at their intensity and turned her horse towards home once more. Before the horses had gone far, flaming balls fell from the now-murky sky. The ground shook, and the horses snorted in fear. Trees burst into flame. “Niamh!" Eithne screamed. Men and Elves, and things in between, entangled in the depths of battle, spilled from the field into the forest between the fleeing elf maiden and the road. Immediately, Niamh swerved her horse to change direction, but the battle and flames made escape impossible. Suddenly, in a flash of black and silver, the elf Niamh had seen cresting the hill charged through the chaos. “Lorcan!" came a cry. Niamh watched as the elf turned in his saddle to nod at those who called. His black armor glistened, and the silver shone, especially on the elegant tree portrayed on his chest. The dark eyes once again fell on Niamh, and she caught her breath. The elflord understood the situation immediately. He swung his sword and used his horse to make a narrow route for the elf maidens to take. As a path appeared, he nodded towards it sharply. Little encouragement was needed. Niamh didn't hesitate and urged her horse forward, but Eithne was too terrified to make her horse move. “Niamh… I can't…" Impatience flared in the dark eyes. The elf looked at Niamh, her red hair glowing as bright as the fire, and turned back to the battle. Their escape route began to close. Niamh felt a pang of frustration, but it was cooled by her ability to feel the fear in Eithne's heart. “Come on, Eithne. Let's get out of here," Niamh called gently as she grabbed the other horse's reins and pulled them after her. The elf-maiden and her companion rode hard. They galloped over and through the burning, narrow trees, down familiar winding paths, and onto the well-worn road that led to the humble keep. Eithne's father, the half-elven, Lord Gordon Tigherneach, strode out from the main hall, a broad smile on his face and a twinkle in his blue eyes. The color had faded from his head, but Niamh still remembered the reddish-blond hair of his younger years. Before she could say a single word, Gordon Tigherneach took hold of Eithne's horse's bridle, giving it a hearty pat. “How was your day at the river...." His face froze when he saw his daughter shaking. His tone went cold. “Why are the horses winded? What happened, Eithne?" His daughter tried to speak, but nothing came out. She dipped her head and sniffed. Lord Tigherneach looked up at the sky and then dropped his gaze to Niamh. She put her arm around her friend's disheveled form. “We were by the river when fighting broke out," Niamh spoke breathlessly. “It started suddenly, we had no warning." “Fighting?" Lord Tigherneach's voice was harsh and sharp. “One group had black armor, the other had a reddish-brown," Niamh frowned. The Lord of the keep brought a thoughtful hand to his chin, “Sounds like an ambush, but why? Why would Broin and Breathnach fight?" His blue eyes looked swiftly at his daughter and his charge, then his Captain of the Guard. “Shobryne, prepare the Keep." “What for?" Niamh blurted. Lord Tigherneach turned and Niamh saw the irritation in his eyes. She grimaced and opened her mouth to apologize, but the Lord of the Keep suddenly gave a sharp laugh. “Oh, Niamh. No one could ever hide anything from you. You are your father's daughter." Ever since her father suddenly passed over a decade ago, Lord Tigherneach had taken over Niamh's care. He and his wife, the half-elven Lady Enid, treated Niamh like a second daughter. Niamh knew she was lucky to have the pair as her adoptive parents. She became close friends with the Lord's daughter, Eithne, and soon found herself in the position of a court lady. A messenger came running to the Lord and tried to pant out a message. Lady Enid appeared and guided Eithne into the Great Hall, leaving Niamh to exhale loudly and slip away to the stables. “Here," Niamh said, coming up to the stablehand brushing her horse. “I can do that." The stablehand paused and cast a questioning glance at the Horsemaster who stood at the barn door. “Oh, let her brush her own horse," the old elf laughed. “No one challenges Niamh Aidhne!" The Horsemaster winked at Niamh, “He's new." Niamh turned to the elflord leaning on the wall. “What's going on, Horsemaster Taron?" “Well, it's never good news when King Lorcan rides out," Taron said grimly, looking out at the sky. Niamh frowned, “Why?" Taron didn't answer right away. He watched people jog back and forth on the Keep's walls. “Horsemaster Taron?" Niamh questioned. There were sudden shouts from the north wall and increased activity. Just as quickly, silence fell in the courtyard outside, causing Niamh to look up. The old horse master scuffed the ground with his boots and mumbled into his chest, “Hurry and finish brushing your horse." Niamh looked at him sharply. Taron rolled his eyes back to meet the young elfmaiden's gaze. “Lady Enid is heading this way." “Oh…" Niamh gave her horse a pat and kiss before dashing out of the stall. An elegant half-elf with ash-blond hair and crimson lips appeared at the stable's door. “Lady Enid," Niamh nodded curtly. “Come," Lady Enid's normally-friendly brown eyes were tense with worry. Niamh immediately joined Lady Enid at the door and they began walking back to the main hall. The courtyard was clear, but horses with armed men waited entry at the gate. Lady Enid took Niamh's hand and quickened her step. They reached the hall's strong, oak doors as the riders congregated in the courtyard. Lady Enid paused with the grand doors open a crack. Niamh peeked out. Neither let go of the other's hand. A familiar form rode among the guests. A faint ray of sun shone down through the clouds and onto the silver tree on the leader's chest. Letting her gaze rise, the young elf maiden found the unforgettable dark eyes staring right into hers. Niamh gasped. Lady Enid shut the doors hastily. Lady Enid whispered. “King Lorcan has decided to pay us a visit."