“Keep your eye at the target at all times. Up with that left elbow. Control your breathing. Now in a single fluent motion pull the bowstring backwards and release…” An arrow raced through the air overshooting the archery target by a mile. “Lady Estelle, too eager as usual.” The other students laughed as Estelle smiled with great satisfaction at Kyran. “Now to finish my sentence, release when you have fully exhaled.” Estelle took another arrow, took aim and shot her target dead center. Ireg jumped up, “Go Stella, show them how it’s done.” Estelle laughed and curtsied to Ireg. Kyran, the King’s master archery trainer, snapped his fingers. “An excellent shot Lady Estelle, excellent but not perfect.”

Ireg shouted from the side of the training grounds disguising her voice as that of a man, “Yes it was.” Kyran turned around trying to determine who said that. Ireg looked to the air pretending not to be interested in Estelle’s longbow practice in the slightest. Estelle behind Kyran’s back made a ridiculously overacted stance as if aiming for some bird high up in the sky. Ireg burst into laughter at the sight. Kyran, observing Ireg, became aware of the prank the two best friends were playing on him, and in a flash turned around. Estelle had just in time regained her posture of innocence testing the tension in her bowstring avoiding eye contact with Kyran. Kyran walked to the side of the field trying to hide his smile from the other students. Estelle chuckled as she triumphantly waved her fist in the air causing Ireg to roll in the grass with laughter.

“You sure have developed a good aim”, Ireg said as she and Estelle walked from the training grounds to Ireg’s home, the forge in the commoners district. “How long have you been training now?”, she inquired as if she didn’t remember the day of Estelle‘s first lesson. Estelle gazed into the distance, “one year, two months and nineteen days. I started the day I after my sixteenth birthday.” “And what a day that was”, Ireg added. Estelle looked at Ireg. Being a dwarf she was almost half Estelle’s length. Her sandy curled hair danced on her head as she wiggled back and forth on her short legs. “What’s wrong?”, Ireg asked gazing up at Estelle with her sparkling green eyes. “Nothing”, Estelle replied, “nothing at all. As long as we are together nothing is ever wrong.”

They walked through the noble’s district with their noses high in the air. The people they passed didn’t dare place any comment or show any sign of disapproval at the sight of Lady Estelle and her dwarven friend. A young girl, no more than five years old, stared at the duo with her mouth wide open. “Look mommy, a dwarf and a lady soldier.” The child’s mother quickly took her by the hand and shushed her. “I’m going to be just like them when I’m big”, the child stated to her mother. Estelle felt intensely proud of herself.

They passed the gate into the commoners district, or the commons, as most people called it. They turned right and directly left onto the long narrow street leading to Ireg’s home. Estelle spent a lot of time at Ireg’s, trying to spend as little time as possible with her parents. Through the years she unwillingly had learned all the lessons necessary to turn her into a fine noble’s daughter, and was quite adept at acting the part. She had pulled up a veil in front of her parents eyes that prevented most of the conflict and made her life at home somewhat bearable. She did feel sorry for neglecting her bond with Anna, but felt sure Anna would understand. She felt like she was just living in the same house as the people that gave birth to her. But there wasn’t the slightest hint of love or respect between her and her parents.

Estelle loved the commons despite its unclean appearance. All the different smells, the kids playing outside, the carts and wagons and merchants and shops. The commons were bristling with energy and the sounds of people laboring and living their lives. A strong contrast to the orderly ways of nobility. And clearly audible over the cacophony of noise, the rhythmic clanging of hammer and anvil coming from the smithy. A sound that Ireg had become immune to, and sounded to Estelle like the baseline of the music of the commons.

“Hi dad!”, Ireg shouted trying to outvoice the hammer and anvil’s deafening symphony. She walked around the anvil to face her father, keeping a safe distance to avoid the slags of molten metal burning holes in her clothes. Balog caught her sight and stopped hammering. “Hey there love!”, he shouted, “How was your day?” The years of working as a smith had taken their toll on Balog’s hearing.“Fine dad”, Ireg shouted back. “Can Stella join for dinner?” Balog shook his head while clearing his ears with his fingers. “What! you saying I got thinner?” Balog responded while slapping his round belly with a hand pitch-black with soot. Stella giggled and stepped forward putting her hand on Balog’s shoulder. He jumped up in the air and turned around, “What the bloody hell…”, he swallowed his sentence when he saw it was Estelle. “Oh sorry lass, you scared the bonkers out of me. Will you join us for dinner?” Estelle laughed as Ireg slapped her forehead in disbelieve. “I’d love to”, Estelle shouted back. Ireg and Estelle made dinner while Balog finished the last of the horseshoes ordered by Head of household Shin for King Khaleid, who demanded nothing but the best for his daughters horse. Balog did all the forging for the King and his soldiers and beasts. His dwarven craftmanship was simply no match for others, and he and Ireg were the only dwarves in the kingdom, as far as he knew.After cleaning himself to a degree that was just acceptable for sitting at the dinner table, but thoroughly scrubbed to the average dwarf male, Balog joined the two ladies. “Nothing fancy, just a stew and some bread to dry your plate”, Ireg announced. “Just the way I like it”, her father replied while loudly slurping up a spoonful of the stew into his mouth. Estelle loved this pure and uncomplicated way of eating a meal. No strange protocols on how to eat what with which tool. Just sit and enjoy. The three of them as usual shared the stories of the day and Balog had a good laugh when hearing of the prank they pulled on Bow-master Kyran.

Balog hung back in his comfortable well-worn chair stuffing his pipe while Estelle and Ireg took care of the dishes. It didn’t take long seeing how so little cutlery was used for their delicious diner. The two girls sat down on the soft leather couch opposite of Balog, while the fireplace crackled, its warmth covering the three of them like a winter blanket. Balog puffed circles of smoke into the air which made his scarred face look somewhat silly. His belly was a bit too thick for his shirt and revealed a bit of hairy skin and a deep bellybutton. “So ladies”, he said while rubbing his broad and tangled beard. “Shall I continue last week’s story?” Estelle nodded fanatically in anticipation of what was to come. Ireg had heard it oft enough, but knew Estelle loved her father’s stories, so she nodded as well. “Now where was I?”, Balog said to himself. Estelle responded immediately. “You had just explained about the Goldenhammers, the best craftsman and forgers of all time, who used the ancient ways of runic stonecutting and forging to instill their creations with magical powers. You were about to tell about the work they did for this kingdom before the time of the great wave and you…” Balog laughed out loud, “Well, I guess we won‘t be needing any books for history class anymore, just ask Stella.” “Anyways, you are right. Let me tell you of the Goldenhammers work regarding the protection of this kingdom.” Estelle leaned forward sitting on the edge of the couch while Ireg refilled their cups with ale. “It was under the reign of King Sizaron the Unveiler, several centuries ago, when the Goldenhammers created their greatest work known to men.”

~

The Scriptures of Laz’Nagul.

During the reign of King Sizaron the Unveiler the people of what is now known as Paradise first started exploring the interior of The Twins, digging deep into the mountains with the help of the craftsmanship and stonecutting skill of Clan Goldenhammer. In those days Clan Goldenhammer was the only dwarven clan that had spread throughout the known world. During these explorations in a natural cave deep under The Twins, a jewel of unbelievable size was unearthed. It was a sapphire of the deepest blue with a hue so intricate and detailed even the Dwarfs of Clan Goldenhammer had never seen. King Sizaron claimed this jewel for his kingdom officially naming it ‘The Jewel of the North’. This name later, generations after king Sizaron’s reign, became the name of the kingdom ‘s capitol. The dwarves of Clan Goldenhammer recognized the sapphire’s potential. Using their knowledge of ancient dwarven runic magic they constructed a pillar of power in a cave specifically carved out under the capitol ‘s palace. The jewel combined with the runic magic protected Paradise from harm and the forces of evil.

Right next to the jewel an ancient tome was found, The Scriptures of Laz’Nagul. Little attention was payed to them, the jewel capturing everyone’s imagination. The scriptures were stored in the dusty palace archives and were soon forgotten being deemed irrelevant and untranslatable. Several generations later it was the great grandson of King Sizaron, King Sirazion the Wise who ordered the scriptures to be translated to increase his wisdom of Paradise and its history.

Since no scribe or even forger in the kingdom was able to translate the ancient texts, the aid of a centuries old elven wizard was arranged, Tar’Malielidir the Seer. During the process of translation the elven mage aged at a terrifying pace. Before his untimely passing he came to the following conclusion, ‘The Jewel of the North is a ward against that which lives below the mountain. A place of darkness and malevolent evil’. In his final living hour the elf revealed one last translation to Sirazion the Wise. ‘In this place of evil resides the source of eternal life’.

Obsessed with this final revelation Sirazion the Wise started to explore the depths under the mountain again. The revelation consumed him, causing him to abandon his people, his throne and slowly turning him insane. He is therefore often remembered as Sirazion the Mad.

His brother rose to power, and he was all but Wise. He became known as Sinarioz the Greedy. He discarded the revelations of the scriptures all together, going against the will of his most trusted and wisest advisors. He kept the Jewel on its pedestal under the palace, unwilling to return it to the darkness of the earth. He coveted it more than anything in his kingdom. Fearing Sinarioz would destroy the scriptures, a secret cult emerged that hid the scriptures from Sinarioz. They were commonly known as The Covenant of Unveilers, who dedicated their life to translating the entire works in secrecy. They are said to have had a secret city under the mountains, close to the site where the jewel and the scriptures were found. No one ever found such a place and by the end of Sinarioz’ reign, the Scriptures were returned to the palace archives, the covenant of Unveilers never heard of again.

Today the scriptures are on display in the palace’s halls of history. To this day no signs of evil have ever been reported coming from under the mountain,. nor has any great evil befallen Paradise. Was the elven wizard simply tricking Sirazion the Wise, seeking revenge for his rapid aging, or does the evil still slumber somewhere deep in the dark chasm waiting for the right time to stir the world of light?

~

Estelle hung at Balog‘s lips absorbing every word he said. Her imagination, well-trained during her childhood’s fantasy adventures with her doll Lady Braveborn, helped her visualize the story. When Balog finished she stared in the distance her thoughts lingering on these mysterious times and places. Ireg had fallen asleep under the influence of the heat from the hearth and her familiarity with the story. It was obligatory material for a dwarf’s education. Estelle felt her heart yearning for adventure and excitement. She looked at Ireg and smiled, than turned to Balog. “Thank you Balog, I love this story.” “Don ‘t mention it, I love telling it. A true tale of dwarven skill and honor.” Estelle finished her ale and could feel the alcohol was affecting her senses. It was already passed midnight and she was expected to be home directly after her archery training. She carefully stood up making sure not to wake Ireg, then walked over to Balog and kissed him on top of his head. “I have to go home, my parents are probably pretending to be worried”, she said. “Go on then lass, want me to walk you home?” Estelle laughed, “Thanks but no thanks. I will be fine.” She stepped into the dark of the commons, not being lit by lanterns like the noble’s district.

She passed one of the narrow alleys not noticing a hooded figure observing her from the shadows as she made her way down the empty street. Halfway down the street a man walked towards her with a quick pace. Light from one of the houses fell on his face, it was Algernon. “Young lady, where in God’s name have you been all day.” He sounded angry, but Estelle was no longer scared of that. “Ireg’s”, she simply replied. “You will come home at once. You may think you are an adult, but as long as you live under our roof, you will abide by our laws. Move!” Estelle stopped. “What are you waiting for? I will drag you home like a little child if I have to.” The shady figure had followed Estelle and was hiding behind a wagon loaded with hay. “You cannot command me, so ask politely or leave me be”, Estelle replied. “Why you little…!” Above them a window opened. “Oi, be more quiet you street rats.” One of the locals had woken up from their discussion. Algernon stepped closer to Estelle and sneered at her in a tempered voice, “when will you stop bringing shame to me, you worthless…” Estelle turned around and walked back where she came from ignoring her father. The hooded figure crawled behind the wagon to avoid being seen. Algernon stamped his foot. “Have it your way, the door is closed for the night”, he shouted. Above him the window opened again. “This will teach you street rat.” A splash followed as the commoner emptied a bucket of dishwater onto Algernon. “I’ll have you hanged”, he shouted in anger, as he turned to reveal the signet of House Opalos on his cloak. The commoner quickly closed the window. Algernon noticed Estelle had left his field of view and turned back home. “We’ll see how soon she comes begging for mercy at the door”, he mumbled to himself while nodding to the guards at the gate to the noble’s district.

Estelle strolled around the commons, taking peeks through scarcely lit windows at lives she wasn’t living. Her distracted mind still hadn‘t noticed someone was following her. Not paying attention to where she was going she suddenly realized she was in the poorest part of the commons, the slums. She remembered all the warnings that were given to her about roaming around this area at night. She looked around slightly panicked. The shady figure halted standing with his back flat against a dark wall. Estelle heard voices coming from a well-lit building further up ahead. She could just read the sign above its door, The Beggar’s nest tavern. She paced back and forth a bit in doubt, than decided to let go of the prejudice taught to her by her parents and see what the place was like. Just as she started to move towards the light a heavy thump, a sudden rush of pain in her head. Her vision started to blur and a sack was pulled over her head. She was dragged off and before she lost consciousness heard a voice. “This one should fetch us a good price, and if not we will still have our fun“. The voice faded and the streets stayed quiet. Things looked very bleak for Estelle.

Slowly she opened her eyes. Her head was hurting like mad and a stream of dried up blood lined her left cheek. As she touched the lump on her had she noticed the blood had made her hair sticky. She was in a small cell with stone walls, locked inside behind an iron barred door. She was shivering with cold and noticed she was only wearing her fine linen undergarment. The cell was dimly lit by a torch on the wall opposite of the cell. There was an old wooden bucket in the corner of the cell and some straw on the ground. She couldn’t see anything beyond the dim light cast by the torch. Beyond that just blackness. “Hello”, she shouted. Her voice echoed through the dark damp corridor. “Anybody there!” Footsteps came towards her from the right. A black hooded man walked around the corner carrying a bucket. “Hey, let me out you scum, my father…” The man walked towards her and suddenly shouted, “Shut your mouth or I will gag you.” Estelle cried, “Let me out of this cell right now, or I will have you hanged!” The man chuckled. “I’m warning you”, Estelle threatened. “Shut your stinking hole wench”, the man cried back in anger. He threw the contents of the bucket over Estelle. She bounced backwards. “No water for you filth”, the man said. Estelle’s undergarment was soaking wet. The man noticed that and took the torch from the wall to take a better look. The light of the torch revealed the men’s chin and mouth. His lips were crackled and dry and his stubbled chin pointed slightly forward. The man looked at Estelle in her soaked linen. He grumbled and licked his dry lips. “Some fresh young meat for me, we could have some fun. I see your nipples are already hard from the cold water.” Suddenly Estelle became aware that her wet undergarment was sticking to her skin revealing her body through the thin linen. She put her arms in front of her breasts and turned around. She realized she was really in trouble, deep trouble. “And a very tempting round bum too”, the man made a gobbling sound. “I think I’m going to feel them for a bit.” Estelle looked over her shoulder and saw him reaching down his trousers. She quickly turned away again. The ringing of a keychain, the sound of a lock opening, followed by the sound of her cell door squeaking as it slowly opened. Estelle’s mind was desperately trying to think of a way out of this situation.

Her eyes fell on the bucket in her cell, and suddenly she turned around ripping her shirt open revealing her soft skin and well-rounded breasts. The men froze in confusion. Estelle pulled down her shorts and sat down on the floor spreading her legs in full view of the man planning to rape her. She slowly moved backwards against the wall. “Come here then and take me now on the floor”, she said while pushing up her breasts with both hands. The man chuckled. “It must be my lucky day”, he said while quickly unbuttoning his pants and taking his cock in his hand, dropping the torch on the floor. Estelle managed to suppress throwing up, mostly thanks to the adrenalin racing through her body. She did her very best to give the disgusting man a tempting look. “Put that sword of yours in my mouth now and fuck me”, Estelle yelled. The man took another step and let his trousers drop to his ankles sticking his swollen phallus forward.

“Now”, Estelle screamed inside while reaching for the bucket she had sneakily crawled towards. She grabbed the bucket and with all her strength smashed it into the man’s crotch. The crude wooden bucket broke into pieces and blood started to flow down the man’s inner thighs as large wood splinters had penetrated his manhood. He leaned forward over Estelle, who froze in place. A gurgling sound escaped his mouth as his eyes turned around in their sockets as he slowly fell forward on top of Estelle. Estelle screamed in agony and terror as her naked unspoiled body came into full contact with the trembling body of her rapist. She pushed him away with hand and feet in a frenzy of anger and terror and disgust.

She crawled back away from the unconscious man gasping for air while covering her breasts with one arm. In the corner of her eye she noted her still open cell door, and like a flash of lightning her mind took command over here body again, blocking out her emotions. She jumped up and quickly put her shorts back on. Without hesitation she jerked the pants from under the man’s feet and put them on herself. She tore of the sleeves of his shirt and tied them around her still naked breasts. She took his hooded cloak, put it on and her face deep inside the hood. She looked around the cell, grabbed the torch and keychain and stepped outside closing the cell door behind her. The man’s belt was on the ground just outside the cell, a sheathed dagger attached to it. She tied the belt around her waist. Holding the torch in front of her, she looked left and right, but couldn’t see an exit on either side. She stopped and listened, her heart pounding in her throat. Nothing, no sound. “Think Estelle, what would a ranger do”, she whispered to herself. “What would lady Braveborn do.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

She took a second to arrange her thoughts, then noticed the torch’s flame dancing to the right. “Airflow, of course you stupid woman”, she cursed herself. She walked into the left side of the corridor. Her mind sharpened and her awareness heightened as she followed the corridor‘s slight bend left. A door barred her way. She listened. “Nothing.” she carefully tried opening the door. It was locked and with trembling hands she tried a key from the keychain. It didn‘t fit the lock. “Next one, keep calm”, she whispered. The third key slit into the lock. She turned it, the door opened, revealing a narrow passageway. At the end she could see a torch burning next to another door. She sneaked forward noticing a large crevasse in the wall on her left. She passed it and moved on to the second door. She stopped again and listened. Her heart froze, “Footsteps.” She listened for a second, “they are closing in, what to do.” She felt panic trying to take over her body again. “The crevasse”, she turned around and hurried towards the crevasse snuffing her torch. She stepped inside and pressed herself against the wall. It was pitch-black. She took the dagger and held it tightly in her fist.

The sound of a lock, the door opening. A voice, the same as in the slums. “I will check on the prisoner. Stay here and don‘t let anyone in or out.” Footsteps closing in, the flickering of a torch brighter and brighter. The air moved slightly as a masked figure passed Estelle’s field of vision. She couldn’t breathe and had never felt more alone in her entire life. She wasn’t spotted. Her mind raced and suddenly she realized her escape was about to be discovered. “It’s now or never Stella, this is your only chance. Fight or die.” She looked around the corner of the crevasse and saw the door was still open, light shining down on a narrow staircase. She took a deep breath, exhaled, than stepped out of the crevasse and sprinted to the door and up the staircase. She kicked open a door at the top and daylight flooded the staircase. It took her eyes only a second to adapt. A small wooden house, the living room, the door to the outside. Her mind processed the images at a terrifying rate. To her left a man jumping up from his chair. She dashed forward pushing him hard. He tumbled over the side of the chair landing on his back. Estelle leaped towards him burying the dagger deep in his left upper leg. She rolled towards the door leading outside. “Unlocked“. She opened the door and ran into the sunlight. She just ran, her surroundings nothing more than a blur. She looked back, no one followed, it didn’t ‘t matter. She kept running anyway.

Running until her muscles gave up, and her knees buckled. Her bare feet bleeding from the sticks and rocks she had stepped upon. She fell face first in the grass right next to a group of trees. With her last ounce of strength she dragged herself to the trees and hid in the thick underbrush. She sat silent as the night listening for what seemed an eternity, but not a single sound indicated she was being pursued. Finally, after more than two hours, she relaxed her body and allowed her mind to calm down. “I have to get home”, she thought, “I have to get to Ireg.” Slowly and carefully she crawled out from under the bushes. She took her time to observe her surroundings, but had no clue where she was. She suddenly remembered a ranger’s trick. Using the sun‘s shadow and a wooden stick, she managed to determine which way was north. She investigated her surroundings. “Aha, a game trail.” Her mouth was dry and she needed water. ‘Follow the animals and you will surely find water’, one of the king’s rangers had told her once, so that is what she did. Inside she felt the urge to burst into tears and she recognized her hearts need for grief, but her focused mind wouldn‘t allow that, not yet.

She followed the game trail and surely enough it led to a watering hole. She knew drinking water from a pond wasn‘t wise, but she felt she didn‘t have a choice. She took the cloak’s hood and tore it off. She put dry sand in the hood and covered the sand with moss, than used her hands to scoop water onto the moss soaking it and the sand below it. She held the hood above her head squeezing water through the fabric into her mouth. It was the best tasting water she ever had. Instinctively she looked around trying to find a highpoint that would give her a wider view of her surroundings.

She noticed a rocky outcropping further ahead and made her way to it. She climbed the rocks and looked around. “There, in the distance, a shimmer to the northwest. Could that be the palace?”, she wondered. “Come nightfall I will be sure, I had better rest and regain some strength.” She sat down at the bottom of the outcropping facing the watering hole and covering her back. While waiting for nightfall she realized that she was doing what she always had wanted to do. “I’m a ranger”, she said to herself. She felt a deep pride and satisfaction befalling her, drowning the anger and fear and grief that were still trying to get a hold of her. The warm sun and utter exhaustion got the better of her, she fell asleep on the mossy grass at the bottom of the outcropping.

Her rest was shallow and uneasy, images of her attacker kept appearing before her mind’s eye causing her to wake up heavily gasping or in tears. This went on for a few hours until she noticed the sun was setting and darkness was covering the landscape around her. She climbed back up on the rock after drinking again, and looked to where she had seen a shimmer before. This time it was very clear that what she saw earlier was indeed the royal palace. “That will be a long walk”, she mumbled, “I have to think of something to protect my feet.” She looked around and spotted some bamboo. “Not going to work, I only have a dagger”, she concluded. “Let’s just walk and see what I find along the way.” She carefully climbed down the other side of the outcropping and slowly started to walk towards the place. She stayed on the grass as much as possible though even then her injured feet hurt like mad. The pain became unbearable, forcing her to stop and sit down. “Damn it all, at this rate it will be days before I reach the capitol. Think this through Stella, there has to be something to solve this.” Suddenly she heard noise coming from a nearby group of trees. In a reflex she lay down flat on her belly while keeping her eyes fixed on the sound’s place of origin. “There it is again” she whispered to herself. She noticed a shadow moving through the brush, twigs snapping. She instinctively took her dagger in her hand and maneuvered herself so that she could jump up and run at a moment’s notice. Her breathing sounded like thunder to her and she felt the ground shaking with her every heartbeat. Again movement, louder this time. She saw the brush moving, something stepped forward, it was big. Estelle‘s muscles tightened as the figure moved fully out of the brush. She tried to discern whether she had been spotted. The figure turned. Estelle let out a sigh of relief. “A bloody wild horse, Estelle you paranoid fool.” She slowly stood up, the creature hadn’t noticed her. Then all of a sudden Estelle realized this was her way out.

“Now how do I do this?”, she asked herself as she was trying to recall what she had learned about a ranger’s skill in handling animals. She clicked her tongue to draw the animal’s attention. She took notice of the wind direction and slowly moved so the animal would catch her scent. While doing that she softly sung a gentle tune. The one Anna had sung to her on her twelfth birthday. She did this to bring herself in a mental state of kindness and to let the animal constantly be aware of her position, and allow it to start perceiving her as something familiar rather than threatening. As the animal caught her scent it threw its head up in the air and bristled.

Estelle knew this was a critical moment, and immediately clicked her tongue again to trick the animal’s flight response. “It worked”, she thought slightly baffled. The animal looked right at her as she clicked her tongue, than started grazing. Estelle stepped a few feet closer, the animal looked up. Estelle reacted by bending over and pulling a handful of grass from the ground. The sound of grass tearing sounded familiar to the animal and would cause it not to perceive her as a predator. She moved closer again until there was only about twenty feet between her and salvation. “And now for the pivotal moment”, she whispered. She took one step closer, the animal looked up at her. She looked back straight into its eyes, relaxed all her muscles than bowed forward while bending her knees, making her smaller. At the same time she stretched out her hand holding the pollen of grass and offered it to the animal. She didn‘t look up but heard its hooves treading the grass moving towards her. She felt the warm damp breath from the animals nose sniffing her hand. Its warm soft lips gently touched her fingers as they grasped the grass. “Now”, Estelle thought.

She let the grass go and immediately stroked the animals head with her hand palm. The animal waved its head back a bit, Estelle responded by putting her other hand palm against it mouth and making a step closer. Another trick to suppress the animals flight response by making it belief it is handed food. Estelle could feel the animal was calm and started singing softly again. It soothed the animal completely and after a couple of minutes Estelle decided to go for it. She stroked the animals back and manes, then hopped and jumped on its back. First it let its backside drop down, Estelle leaned forward maintaining her position, then the animal wanted to bolt off. Estelle squeezed her thighs against the animal and tapped his neck. The animal shook it’s head. Estelle clicked her tongue again twice, then finally the animal calmed down. Estelle could feel her task was completed, and she relaxed stroking her horse’s neck.

She whispered in the horse’s ear, “thank you for your trust, friend. You bring hope to my heart in my darkest hour.” She paused. “Please be so kind and carry my broken spirit home.” She didn’t know how exactly, but the horse seemed to understand her words, turned carefully then moved off into the night. Estelle wasn’t very well trained in horseback riding, and riding without saddle, bit and bridle required her full concentration and strength. The horse moved swiftly and gracefully through the night, quickly closing the distance between Estelle and her salvation. “I will never forget what you are doing for me, Brave.” She leaned forward resting her exhausted body on the horse’s shoulders and manes. “And that shall be your name, Brave. The noblest of his kind.”

Brave was tireless in his tread and seemed determined to bring Estelle home as fast as he could. Estelle however was not as tireless as Brave. She slowly felt her strength waning and her will to carry on was losing the battle against her emotions that were clawing their way to the surface of her inner being. Her muscles refused to act any longer and a crippling feeling of utter despair took hold of her mind. She started to fade from consciousness causing her to lose her balance. Brave immediately noticed, adjusting his speed and direction preventing her from falling off his back. All light faded from her sight and mind and she was left at the mercy of her Brave. The last thing she consciously saw was a farmhouse against the background of a fragile dawn.

“Thank you for your blessings Father Peter, I will see you in two weeks.” Elanor pushed open the large church door causing a cool morning breeze to make its way into the sanctuary. “Be safe my child, I will keep watch over Gidock, God rest his soul.” It had been over a month since Elanor’s husband had drowned at sea. She had grieved but thanks to the guiding wisdom of Father Peter she was ready to pick up the pieces of her life. She had promised herself never to give her heart to a man of the sea again. “Thank you father”, she replied while looking back into the chapel. She stepped outside, the streets were still quiet and the morning fog hadn‘t dissolved yet. As she walked down the narrow gravel covered path, her eye caught a strange sight. A wild horse standing in the mist, pushing his nose against something. “A woman!”, she uttered in amazement. She sprinted towards them while shouting for Father Peter.

Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach churned at the sight of Estelle. She fell to her knees, and carefully turned Estelle on her back. She screamed from the top of her lungs, “Father hurry, help me!”, while holding Estelle’s dirt covered head between her hands in her lap. Estelle was cold and lifeless, her body feeble. Elanor shuddered at the sight. The improvised stained bra, male trousers and her feet dark with dried up blood and earth. She heard Father Peter’s voice, “what is wrong my child, I’m coming.” “A girl and a wild horse, I don’t know if she is still alive”, Elanor replied.

She looked up at the horse. “Did you bring her here? “, a mixture of gratitude and confusion on her face. Brave pushed Estelle towards Elanor as if answering her question and asking her to help Estelle in one simple gesture. “Thank you”, Elanor whispered. Brave pawed the ground with his foreleg as if urging them to hurry, than turned and raced away from Elanor, quickly fading into the mist.

Father Peter fell to his knees beside Elanor. “Bring her inside quickly”, he commanded Elanor while checking Estelle’s pulse. “Is she…?” “No”, Father Peter replied, “she is unconscious and very cold. We must warm her quickly, help me.” They laid Estelle down on Father Peter’s bed. Elanor held her hand while Father Peter hung a large kettle of water over the fire. “Can I do anything?”, Elanor asked desperately. “You can, crawl up against her and cover her with blankets. She needs to warm up as fast as possible.” Elanor obeyed without hesitation lay down on the bed, rolling Estelle on her side and pressing her body against Estelle’s back, than pulled the blankets over the both of them. She put her arm around Estelle’s waist. “My God child, what has happened to you?”, she thought while rubbing Estelle‘s leg with her hand. After a few minutes Elanor felt some life returning to Estelle’s body. She started to shiver and her breathing became stronger and more regular. “I will be right back”, Father Peter said, “I need some herbs from the garden.” Elanor gently removed the filthy rags and trousers from Estelle. When she saw her torn undergarment she shuddered as she realized what might have happened to this girl. She pulled the blankets back over them and spooned herself against Elanor’s naked body again. The softness of Estelle’s skin surprised her. “Who are you”, she wondered while Father Peter came back. He walked straight to the kettle of hot water. He tossed the herbs he had gathered into a mortar and added a spoonful of the hot water, then started grinding. He quickly finished the brew and tasked Elanor to give it to Estelle. Elanor caringly rolled Estelle on her back and started administering the warm brew while making sure Estelle stayed covered under the warm blankets.

Father Peter took some towels from his dresser and placed them on his nightstand. He put the back of his hand on Estelle’s forehead and checked her pulse again. “I think she will live”, he said. “What do you think happened?”, he asked Elanor. The image of the Estelle in torn undergarment flashed before her. “Something very bad that involves men”, she answered in disgust. Father Peter looked at her in shock, hardly able to utter a word. In his head he wished the wrath of the Gods unleashed on whoever was responsible for this. “I will leave you for a few minutes, clean her up while I get some fresh clothing for her.” Father Peter lifted the kettle from the fire and placed it next to the bed, then left the room.

Elanor started washing Estelle‘s feet. “Poor thing, you must have been running in blind fear if you endured this kind of injury”, she mumbled as she soaked a towel in warm water. She very gently wrapped the warm drenched towel around Estelle’s feet, leaving it there. She took another wet towel and started padding Estelle’s forehead. She lovingly swiped the dirt and blood from her face, than continued down her neck and chest. Elanor was awed by the beauty of this young woman. Her sensual curves and soft skin, her delicate and beautiful face, “I can imagine a man falling for her, but forcing himself onto her.” She felt her blood boiling with anger and disgust, but maintained her calm. After she had finished cleaning Estelle top to bottom, taking extra care of her feet, she covered her again with the blankets and washed her long Auburn hair with yet another wet towel.

Estelle started mumbling deliriously, “No don’t I’m….let me….Ireg help…” Father Peter knocked on the door, “May I enter?” “Yes father, we are discrete.” Father Peter carried a white church robe, a pair of soft boots and a piece of hemp rope. He walked over to the bed putting the clothes on the nightstand. When he looked at Estelle’s now cleaned face and brushed hair, he froze. “But… but, this is Lady Estelle of House Opalos. By the Gods I should warn her parents immediately.” Estelle slightly opened her eyes and tried to sit up. She didn‘t have the strength, but reached out to Father Peter. “Ireg… Balog…”, she mumbled. Elanor turned to Father Peter. “What is she saying? Who are Ireg and Balog?” Father Peter stroked his long grey beard. “The smith and his daughter from the commons”, he replied. Estelle mumbled again, “Ireg…please…friend”, the strain was too much and she slipped back into unconsciousness.

Elanor looked at Father Peter, “Father please, try and get this friend of hers, Ireg, to come over here.” If my feelings about what happened are correct, she needs someone she can absolutely trust. I will get Estelle dressed in the meantime and get rid of anything that could remind her of what happened. She need not see these rags. Please hurry Father.” Father Peter lifted the front of his church dress and sped out of the church as fast as his boney legs could carry him. Elanor managed to get the church dress on Estelle, which was a struggle but executed as a labor of love. She kissed Estelle on the forehead, “You are so beautiful, how could anyone do this to you.” She looked at Estelle with pity and great concern. Estelle regained consciousness again and Elanor immediately took her hand, “you are safe now my child, you are in the church and I will not let anyone harm you. I’m Elanor, and Father Peter is on its way with your friend Ireg.” Estelle tried to sit up again but fell back into the mattress. “Thank you Elanor”, she barely audible replied a faint smile on her lips. Elanor stroked her hair and kept holding her hand until finally she heard the voices of Father Peter and another woman.

“Easy there Ireg, don’t startle Estelle”, Father Peter said while opening the door. Ireg stepped into the bedroom tears gushing from her eyes while still holding the calipers she was using to help her father in at the forge. Elanor stood up and gestured Father Peter to follow her out of the room. “Best leave them alone for a while”, she whispered.

Ireg carefully approached the bed. Her heart was racing and she was shaking all over, but managed to restrain herself. She silently placed the calipers on the ground and sat down next to Estelle. “Stella, it’s me Ireg. Are you awake?” Ireg caressed Estelle’s cheek with her hand. “Please come back to me Stella, come back to Ireg, I love you.” Estelle slowly opened her eyes. “Ireg? Oh Ireg how foolish I have been”, Estelle said with a feeble voice. Ireg couldn’t hold back any longer and lifted Estelle closing her arms around her best friend. “Estelle, oh Estelle”, Ireg whispered while holding her in a warm and desperate embrace. “What has happened, I was so worried, I thought I lost you.” They both cried, overcome with emotions. Ireg lay down on her side next to Estelle. “You can tell me, no matter what it is, you can tell me everything”, Ireg said while holding Estelle’s hands. Estelle regained some of her strength and sanity in the presence of Ireg, and hesitantly started talking and reliving her ordeal. Ireg’s heart ached at the horrible facts that had almost cost her best friend her life. She comforted Estelle, and guided her through the harshest most emotional parts, until they both finally fell asleep in an intimate embrace.

Elanor came in to check on them, and saw them sleeping. “Best leave them be for now”, she said to Father Peter peeking over her back. “I can’t stay any longer or my cargo will not be in Azaya on time Father, please look after them and wish the poor Estelle all the best and a swift recovery.” Father Peter nodded, “Go now child, I’m glad you were in the right place at the right time.” Elanor gave him a meaningful look. “May innocence and purity find its way to your heart again, if the Gods will it.” He held his hands up to the sky, “Bless you Elanor.” Elanor smiled at this blessing. “Someday maybe, though I can ‘t see it now. Purity, innocence”, she thought to herself.

Father Peter closed the church doors for the day and placed his chair next to the bed. He threw some wood into the hearth and lit some candles, than sat down and prayed watching over the young women until he also passed into a vigil slumber exhausted of what had happened this day. “Tomorrow I will inform her parents”, was his final thought.

Four months had passed since that unfortunate day. Estelle and Ireg found themselves sitting down again with Balog at Ireg’s home. Estelle had fully recovered mentally and physically, and in a strange way was grateful to her parents for being who they were. She doubted she would have lived through those days had they not hardened her spirit the way they did. She was told her parents were sick with worry in her absence, but doubted there was any truth to this. She presumed they were sick with worry about their lineage.

Balog had a great respect for Estelle and her resilience, but most of all, for her ability to reflect on the events and actually finding a way to get a laugh out of it. Estelle referred to the incident as ‘my first real adventure’, and stated that her ordeal gave birth to the ranger Stella. Still Balog could tell that the last remains of the girl Estelle had disappeared forever, cut from her being by the brutality of men. This cut through his soul carving a wound he knew would never fully heal, but he never mentioned it.