*GASP* by now you've probably realized I'm a Tolkein head...oh well. This story can stand alone whether or not you are familiar with the books but by all means...go read them! In any case, I am not entirely sure where I'm going with this yet, I have an ultimate goal in mind. Please bear with me.
Hey, I do not own or claim the magic that is the sole property of the dearly departed Tolkein, his seasoned son Chris or the lovely Peter Jackson. I just put my own spin/backstory to something I love...and made it better!
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
The morning greeted Goza already coated in a light sheen of sweat from his morning exertions. He always rose with the sun. By the time it breached the horizon Goza had already dressed and scaled the side of his mountain to the training grounds. By the time his feet hit the ground the men were scrambling into formation; fierce punishment awaited anyone not ready for battle at daybreak. The fresh rays bathed Goza's unusually pale musculature in a golden glow; he squinted his silver eyes in the harsh light but his stature remained firm. Today he would demonstrate with the double edge sword. He maneuvered the massive weapon with ease, hacking at the stuffed figure with frightening precision--the arms and head were severed in short order. The eyes of the troops widened with fear and admiration. He turned towards them, ‘Any questions?’ It was an eventful session from there. There were the usual wounds and injuries, and at midday the men broke, either hunting for food or taking part in the mountain rations.
Goza sat on the edge of The Perch and tended a rather deep gash along his arm in silence. He was no stranger to bodily damage. A lesson was not fully learned without pain. He had finished wrapping his arm in a cloth soaked with nettle when a sentinel announced his arrival below. 'Sir! I received word that the gift is on the horizon. Will you receive it in the great hall?' 'Indeed,' Goza returned tugging the knot secure with his left hand and teeth. He stood and turned towards the mountain, he smirked. Today was shaping up well.
She ran through the forest as fast as she could. Under normal circumstances she would have been a blur to the naked eye but the wound in her side slowed her down considerably. She had long since lost her arrows and her bow itself was her last means of open defense. They were gaining on her. She had ripped her beautiful tunic, the strips helped staunch the bleeding from the slash in her arm. She ran on. There was no certain safety in either direction she chose but maybe if she were far enough away they would find someone else. Doubtful. She knew she should go peacefully instead of fighting but it was in her nature to rebel. She heard shouts which meant they were recruiting more to find her, maybe even some of her own people. If that were the case she would never escape. She knew this forest like the back of her hand and if she could just make it to the big Silva...she crashed into something large and unmovable. She quickly bounced up from the ground and wrapped her bow around his neck, using the metal crest in the center to crush his windpipe. Fitting. But before she could relish this small victory five more surrounded her. She rushed at the first one but was stopped by her own village leader coming from her left. ‘Let’s not be difficult hmmm? You know this is the only way. You must save our people.’ ‘Traitor!’ she yelled angrily and was overcome by the veritable animals that disarmed her and tackled her to the ground. ‘I will never submit! Never!’ she yelled fiercely before all went black.
A harsh movement of the cart roused her from her induced slumber. She tried to sit up but encountered some difficulty when she noticed her previously tied wrists were now also secured to her ankles. She attempted to look around with one eye (the other was nearly swollen shut), but black curtains had been draped over her “would be” prison. Her face felt tight from the swelling. She cracked her jaw back into place and winced from the strain. Doing a brief inventory of her other injuries she became aware of the numbness in her left foot signaling a few ankle bones had been broken. No matter, she would mull over heavy thoughts and give her body a rest for a while.
They should have known she would never willingly go along with such nonsense. And since when was it acceptable to give one person to another? The person in question was reputed as the fiercest warrior in the land, but she was more concerned about her enslavement itself than who it was to.
It almost, no it definitely was, more than she could tolerate. If her captors thought for a moment they had witnessed the worst of her fight they were sorely mistaken.
Even so, she was in a faraway land, with no help and no means to return home. The crippling thought that she may never see her family again assailed her. She choked it down. There was no room for tears or weakness where she was headed...wherever that was.
And so she trundled along in the cart, laying still for the best benefit. Her options and uncertain future weighed heavily on her mind. No matter what, she would be no man's slave.
As far as intros go...?