The Blood Flower

The Blood Flower

She was beautiful. Her long pale gold hair whipped across her face. Her pale blueish grey eyes watered as the powerful wind hit her.

Her curved elven ears caught the sound of wind whistling between the trees.

Her clothing rustled in the wind. They were that of a wanderer or ranger. Battle worn and torn.

But her features were soft and beautiful and scarless. Those of a lady.

But she was alone. All alone. She knew that. She also knew that what ever she did or where ever she went. She would always be alone.

She sat and cried as she remembered what had happen. How when she was young, orces attacked her village, and how she was the only survivor.

She sat with tears streaming down her face for about a minute or two, then wiping them away stood up and kept walking. Always to keep walking.

She had walked through the days and the seasons and the years and the centuries alone. Always alone.

That Evening

As she stirred the steaming soup, she jumped, then turning her eyes towards the soup realized that she was making the same soup that her mother would every time her father came back from his many trips.

Tears welled up, then pushing them back, she stood up, her elvish blood sensed something was wrong.

Whirling around, an arrow just barely scratched her neck.

Her pale eyes focused on a single orc, with a crude bow and 3 arrows.

But the weapons meant nothing, the only thing she noticed was the face.

The same cruel face that had cut down her mother and father.

She drew her sword and screaming a war cry, charged at the murderous orc.

Stunned by the charge, the orc tried to put a new arrow into the crude crossbow.

Finally he raised the deadly bow and she broke it in pieces with her curved elven sword.

Twisting the sword she brought it down on his shoulder, then placed a fatal blow into his side.

She watched as he sank to the ground.

"You murdered my family," she said with a voice like ice.

The orc's face, twisted in pain changed to almost fear.

Then after a moment it changed to humor, and a evil grin crossed his face.

She wondered what in death could he find so funny.

Pain split across her left side.

The pain and the force of the blow caused her to fall to the ground on the left side of the cruel orc.

Looming above her was a large Urik Hi wielding a bloody ax.

Her blood stained it.

Gripping her sword tighter, then before the Urik Hi could blink, she stabbed him through the heart.

Falling back she twisted, just barely getting hit by the falling Uric Hi.

Laying on her back she felt debris enter her wound.

Twisting more, she saw that much of her vibrant red blood covered a small plant that was used in mourning ceremonies.

Her last thought was "I will not die alone."

Many Years Later

"I'm alright, we must try to keep going."

"Oh! Mr. Frodo! A red Snowflake flower!"

"What is wrong with it being red?" he said with some amusement.

"But, these only come in white!"

"Sam, it almost is... well, the color of blood.”

“I think I found the strength to go on. Come on."

As they walked away, the one turned and whispered.

"'Thank you, who ever you were..."