Quest of Peace

Okay, so I won't go into too much detail about how I got this one. Let's just say I had a really stupid dream about dog kings (you read right, dog kings), elves, an Aragorn looking-dude, and Zac Efron (no joke!). Well, I finally (after a very large amount of clawing at it) made it into what I perceive as a good story. I'm calling it Quest of Peace.

Quest of Peace portrays a time when war ravages between the elven and human lands. However, no one seems to know why they are fighting.

Then, one night young Aspen and her friends are hurtled from their peaceful lives and into a world full of obscure riddles, legends of an evil sorceror's whereabouts, and a legacy strewn with legends. The following is how the story begins:

Aspen’s feet sped down the path, mud splashing at her ankles. Rain spilled gently from the clouds above, cutting puddles into the earth below. Her hair clung to her face in wet clusters. Her fair hand clenched a bow. A quiver dangled from her shoulder.

She glanced nervously behind her. Swiftly firing two arrows at her enemies, she hurled herself at the trunk of a tree. Thrusting down her bow, she clutched the slippery bark with her slim fingers.

As she observed the soaked land about her, her heart sank. This was her home. And to think she was leaving it; to think she’d never return.

She suddenly went rigid. Hoofbeats. Quickly, she turned around, crouching behind the shrubbery.

Three magnificent steeds rounded the bend, their riders bearing the standard of the royal elven family. Their leader, a tall man with extensive white hair and deep hazel eyes, glanced about himself. Aspen felt a pond in her eyes, which were not unlike the man’s, that was about to flood.

“That’s it, Sire. Your daughter is gone,” said one of his companions.

The man pursed his lips. He nodded slowly. “Let it be so. Due to her disloyalty, Aspen is henceforth banished from this land. She will come back only to find death waiting for her.”

With a saddened countenance, she witnessed the riders turn back. Rivers streamed down her face as she sobbed silently. “I’m not disloyal. I’m not disloyal.”

Why had she been banished, anyway? She hadn’t meant to shoot her fellow soldier; it was the wind!

As the drizzle escalated into a pour, she wept on. Oh, if only she could run to her father, if only she could see her mother!

“But the king’s word is spoken,” she whispered, “and according to the law it can not be undone.”

Several minutes passed before she picked herself up from the muddy soil. Grasping her bow, she looked at the path in front of her through tear-obstructed eyes. Sighing, she made for the road.

I’d better go before someone finds me and has me executed.

She began to run once more. Suddenly, she stopped. Flicking out her dagger, she went off of the trail and knelt beside a little green plant. The stem coated itself in fuzz, and the petite white flower peeked out its head.
Sawing away ruthlessly, she severed the attachment between roots and stalk until the plant lay in her hand. She proceeded to perform the operation on several more before tucking them into the pouch that dangled from her waist.

A tree from above allowed a single droplet to cascade downwards, landing in Aspen’s hand. Struggling to fight the tears, she forced herself to run down the path, blundering into her uncertain future.