Chapter 1: Origins

A young looking, curvaceous woman sat in a dimly lit tavern. She wore her hood up, hiding her auburn shoulder length locks, her coat was damp from the rain and mud was trodden into her well-worn boots. She sat alone in a dark corner of the room, fiddling with the braids in her hair and sipping at her pint of ale every now and then, watching the drunkards stammer and argue among themselves. She received a few unnerving glances from some brutish looking men, but on seeing the small armoury by her side they soon returned to ignoring her.

She sat and pondered them and their trouble-free lives. She envied them, she yearned for a true family and a place to call home, to belong, but all of that was lost to her long ago.

Fire blazed in every inch of her field of vision, the searing heat against her flesh made her scream out but no one could hear her. Over the screams of panicked mobs nothing could be heard, save the wretched howls of this newly arrived enemy and the loud crashes as buildings toppled like dominoes.

The small thriving city, that was once Dale, was ablaze, its residents either lying dead in the streets or fleeing into the surrounding hills. Among the crowds a young girl, no older than 10, ran for her life through the throngs of bodies.

She kept looking out for her father, who she had lost in the fray, the last time she'd seen him he was packing a small satchel with food, he had handed it to her and said, "Take this and go, get as far away as possible, don't stop until you're safe. Do you understand?" She had looked at him confused, she didn't fully understand, why wasn't he coming, but she nodded none-the-less. "Good Girl" he had said, and then the building creaked. Her father looked up, "GO, NOW!" he yelled.

She turned and ran to the open door and out of the house, just as she left the roof caved in. She leaped out of the way of falling tiles and the door as it collapsed. She saw her father trapped between fallen support beams, the debris around him was quickly catching fire. She moved forward to help him.

"No, do as I told you, GO! I'll catch up!" he managed to say between deep bloody breaths. She turned reluctantly and ran. He shouted one last piece of advice to her as she disappeared from view.

She dodged under toppled carts and over fallen neighbours. She remembered the last thing he had told her, "Don't stop running! You hear me?!" his voice echoed in her head, "You stop and you're dead!" The last part had scared her most and she didn't stop, not for anything or anyone.

The wind rushed around her, in synch with the incessant wing beat of the beast above. Fountains of flame and tongues of fire swamped the once peaceful streets. The guards had tried their best to fend off the invincible threat but to no avail, they were no match for the fearsome fire-drake. The mighty beast circled the feeble mess of flaming buildings once more before settling down some distance away, Dale had merely been an obstacle in its way, and had been swiftly removed, this creatures true goal was not the destruction of the once beautiful city, but the vast mountains of gold that lay deep within the halls of the great dwarf kingdom that lay on Dale's doorstep… Erebor.

The young girl ran, she ducked and dived and rolled her way to safety, all the while crying out for survivors, she had learned this from a story her father had told her, 'great heroes never just save themselves'. She screamed at the top of her lungs. No answer came. She passed through what remained of the main gate into the city, barely missing some falling masonry as it melted and crumbled under the intensity of the fires heat.

She approached a few scattered crowds of people in the flat plains outside the walls, so few had escaped, less than 100 by the looks of it. She scanned their faces looking for a familiar one that could sooth her racing heart, and calm her electrified nerves. No such face was among those in the small panicked crowds moving away from the ruined metropolis. She quickened her pace and sprinted onwards towards other citizens who were taking refuge from the flames in the wide expanses beyond the city of Dale.

She slowed to a stop, and breathed deeply and heavily, she was beginning to lose hope, dark thoughts crept into the recesses of her mind, 'maybe he's dead, maybe he's still stuck in there and is screaming for you… begging for help!' , all these and a million other thoughts raced through her brain. She turned to take in what was left of the place she had called 'home' her entire life. So many memories, both good and bad, this was where she had been brought into the world, this is where she had lost her mother to sickness, this is where she had been raised and schooled and now… it was gone, a pile of rubble heaped in a forgotten landscape. She had lost so much this day; she didn't want to lose her father too.

Inhaling deeply she prepared for the long run back into the city, she wanted to save him, she had to, he was all she had left in the world. Then she was off going as quickly as her short legs would let her. She sprinted past the people and stopped when she heard a familiar voice call her name through the muffled, angered babble of the remaining people of Dale. She skidded to a stop and looked around, she heard but she could not see who it was, "Come this way, over here" she heard, she followed the voice to find Marsha, her nanny.

Happy to see a familiar face she buried herself into the middle-aged woman and breathed in, the woman smelt of ash and brimstone, not what the girl had expected, she recoiled in disgust at the severity of the stench although there was no escaping it, it was all around her.

"Thank-goodness you're alive!" exclaimed Marsha, evidently relieved. She stroked the young girl's ashen hair revealing some of it true auburn tones. "Where is your father?!" she asked.

Staring up hopelessly at Marsha, who was several feet taller, the girl gave no answer. "Tell me! Please!" Marsha cried out, shaking the little girl, when she had failed to answer. There was a sudden loud bang and the screeching of metal. Marsha looked up; the child followed the woman's eyes to the onslaught taking place at the front gates of Erebor.

The great beast had torn through the mighty gates, all but tearing them to shreds, as she looked over she just caught a glimpse of the dragon's tail, as the fiery red calamity crashed its way into the dwarven stronghold. Looking down the path from the entrance she saw a small group of men, unarmed and battered from the initial attack, marching their way towards the lonely mountain to help the fleeing dwarves.

The eager youth started forward but was roughly tugged back by Marsha. "No, let me go! I can help them!" she pleaded, squirming under the nanny's iron grip. Dwarves came pouring out of what was left of the front gate, some were even sprinting, those lucky enough to survive spread out amongst the men of Dale seeking refuge from the terror within their once great paradise. The girl tensed slightly as she saw some of them were severely injured as they came out, some of these dwarves she called her friends, but were any of them still alive? She didn't know but she did know that she wasn't going to die, not today, and she would do all in her power to help.

Everything slowed, as people realised the worst was over, some lay down on the grassy slopes. Dwarves continued to come through the doors, though now their numbers were dwindling, fewer and fewer exited the once great bastion. Marsha loosened her grip on the girl's shoulder, allowing her run forward down the hill. As she approached the main entrance of Erebor, ready to help anyone, she was lifted by the collar and carried back in the direction of Dale by a strong, agonised looking dwarf, with long black flowing hair down to his shoulders. She saw their King, Thror, nearby limping down the pathway; he nodded to the other dwarf who had lifted her, as they walked down the pathway and sped onwards.

The dwarf carrying her spun around on hearing a deep rumble in the distance. It was the elven king, Thranduil and his legendary army approaching from a high cliff. The dwarf stopped a moment and shouted to them upon the hill, "Help! Help us!" The young girl clung to the ends of his tunic, taking everything in, the elf king and dwarf seemed to be locked in a telepathic battle, neither spoke but when Thranduil turned himself and his army away, the battle for Erebor was truly lost. The dwarf exhaled angrily and edged the young human girl onwards towards the crowds of men and dwarves, both groups now homeless came together in the open plains. A small number of dwarves had survived and even fewer of men.

The dwarf leading the young girl looked around in a state of disarray, nobody knew what to do and he was looking for someone, anyone, who had any authority at all. The crowds were dispersing, people who had lain on the grass got up and moved with them, the dwarves followed suit.

An older, wiser looking dwarf with a long greying beard approached him. "Balin" said the younger of the two, "What's going on?" He looked confused, 'where was everyone going?' thought the girl, still clinging to his shirt.

"The only thing we can do… moving on." answered the older dwarf, defeat clear in his voice.

The younger dwarf was furious at this. "NO! We can fight!" he retorted.

"That will only get more of us killed, Thorin, it is not wise. You have seen first-hand the extent of Smaug's strength, a small battalion of dwarves won't do much against him!" stated Balin, matter-of-factly. The small glimmer of hope that had sparkled in Thorin's eyes faded.

He looked down at the small human child beside him. He turned to her and kneeled down to her level. He embraced her tightly as if he would never let her go and he stroked her cheeks, wiping away some of the dirt and ash smeared across her soft skin. He was trying to reassure and calm her; he could sense that she was feeling anxious and worried.

"Tell me" he said gently, in his smooth, commanding tones, "what is your name?" The young girl was shy at first, not wanting to tell this stranger who she was, but he wasn't really a stranger, she had seen him about before and now she knew his name, the least she could do was tell him hers.

"It's alright little one," Balin reassured her, "we don't bite."

He grinned at her timid snigger, his humour relaxed her a bit, and she breathed a little lighter and said, "My name is Braerka, Braerka Arkensan."

"Braerka Arkensan", Thorin repeated, placing a hand on her shoulder, "That's a good, strong name, never fail it, and stay true to it always." She was confused by his words, 'fail it', how could she fail a name? In time she would come to understand but at that moment the reasoning eluded her.

"Where is your family?" he asked firmly, his tone more serious. Braerka glanced at the smouldering remains of Dale, her heart sank, she hadn't been able to get back to her father, there was no chance he was still alive now. Her eyes dropped to the ground as she tried to suppress the tears she felt swelling up in them.

Thorin sighed deeply and looked to Balin; he simply nodded to Thorin and started to walk with the rest of the crowds. Thorin looked to Braerka; he stood up straight, cleared his throat and followed Balin. Braerka looked up after him, was he just going to leave her?

She mustered her remaining strength and sprinted up to his side and took hold of his shirt yet again. He looked down at her and half smiled, though the sorrow in his eyes betrayed the happiness, "Seems I'm stuck with you!" he chuckled.

The memory dimmed and faded as the woman came back to reality. Back then, on that very day decades ago, everything had changed for her, and not necessarily for the better. Those events and many others thereafter, had forged her into who she was today, tenacious, ruthless, and full of mystery and hope. She had learned to keep to herself. She had had to be mature from an early age, she was used to change and understood the world and the people in it, better than most, and sometimes it wasn't a nice place.

She had once been that little girl, innocent and afraid, she had witnessed the wrath of Smaug, survived it and lost everything she'd held dear in the process. But she wasn't that little scared child anymore; she was a fully grown woman, an assassin by trade. She had survived for almost two centuries, not knowing how, and she would continue to do so for as long as fate would allow.

She twitched in the direction of some rough-looking men, they had just said her name or something very like it, her heart raced, but she breathed deeply and calmed herself. She gulped down the rest of her ale and stood up. She slipped her travel pack over her shoulder, lifted her bow and knotted her sheathed blade to her belt. She made for the exit, as she did the group of men also stood up and followed, 'how am I going to play this?' she thought, smirking under her hood at the thought.

The biggest and roughest of the men menacingly came up to her, stopping her advance. She was small next to him as she was next to most people, she was only 5 foot and that was small for a human. 'Curse my height!' She kept her eyes down and eyed the exit, a plan was coming together.

"Well, well…" he spat at her, "what do we 'ave 'ere?! A woman… a woman alone!" he turned to his group, "This little lady is one of a kind my friends! You're too young to be left alone in a place like this!" he winked at her as he said the last sentence trying to win her heart and failing miserably. She was used to it by now; she'd been around long enough to have had more than her fair share of men like this approach her.

"You up for some fun, honey?!" he said, licking his lips and chuckling. His men joined him in his laughter, she looked up to the barkeeper, he looked concerned and worried but he couldn't do much to help her.

All eyes in the tavern were now aimed at the spectacle in the centre of the room, everything was silent. She bowed her head, peaking past the corners of her hood at the other men.

"Cat got your tongue?" he sniped at her. "Maybe she's a mute!" suggested another from behind. The rest laughed, she was surrounded by 5 men now, things were getting tense, she had to act and soon. She stepped forward, trying to avoid a confrontation but they didn't make it easy.

"Where d'ya think you're goin' sweetheart?!" he walked up to her and grabbed her hips, that was it she'd had enough. She waited a few more seconds, dropping her bow to the floor as he caressed her curves, letting him think he'd won her over.

The other men got rowdy, he shut them up with a quick, "Yous can 'ave her when I'm done!" he leaned in to kiss her with his big greasy lips, his eyes were shut and that's when she struck.

With his arms loosely placed on her shoulders he had nothing to defend his pride with. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders and brought her knee up, with all her strength, into his crotch. He dropped in agony. The rest of his troop pounced on her, ready to take her on, she dodged their badly time punches and blocked their pitiful kicks.

She swung her left fist through the air, it collided with one of the men's faces, and his body flew backwards and slid over the top of the bar crashing into the glass bottles stored below. Another swung a knife in her direction, she grappled his wrist and pulled it hard, she twisted it and he lost his grip on the blade, she turned pulling his body to her back and elbowed him in the throat as she did, he also dropped, gasping for air and clutching his throat.

Only two left now, they stood there shaking nervously in front of her, they were afraid. She stood opposite them ready for anything. They nodded at each other and then both came at her at once. The smaller of the two swung his arms low; the other grabbed a nearby empty chair and raised it high above his head. She sidestepped the small man; he tripped forward, his fists meeting only air. Then she laid a powerful kick into the stomach of the other man, he doubled over in pain clutching his sides, consequently allowing the heavy chair to fall on his smaller ally, who was still recovering, neither of them would be getting up any time soon.

She lifted her bow, reached into her pocket for a few coins and left them on the counter in front of the owner, "For the chair" she stated plainly. He nodded, speechless. She turned and walked towards the exit, the man she had kneed in the crotch was getting up as she passed him. He lunged at her from behind letting out a battle cry of sorts.

With her lightning fast reflexes she grabbed a nearby bottle of ale from the table beside her. She swung around letting it connect with his head, it smashed against him, sending glass and ale everywhere.

He fell to his knees and leaned forward resting against her legs, quickly losing consciousness, "Who the 'ell are ya?!" he gasped, she shoved him backwards and he finally dropped into a heap on the floor, as he did she said, "My name is Braerka Arkensan, and you better remember it!", she announced it to the whole tavern as a message… and a warning. She tossed another coin at the barkeeper, to make up for the wasted ale, and with that she left.

The doors of the tavern swung shut behind her, those inside sat gawking at the pile of unconscious men, amazed by her actions. Each had the name 'Arkensan' burning into their cortexes. They were soon drowning themselves in ale again and mumbling amongst themselves about the night's events. No-one was forgetting that show in a hurry, especially those men lying on the floor.