Lady of Battle

Lady of Battle

~*~*~*~*~Forest Scum
by Cheiron

Rating: NC17

~*~*~*~*~

Legal disclaimer:
Characters, places, events from JRR Tolkien's Lord of the Rings and Silmarillion used without permission, no attempt has been made, nor will be made, to copyright these characters and no profit is being made from this work. All other non-Tolkien characters are of my own invention.

Feedback appreciated :) ... Enjoy!

The sense of excitement and urgency was palpable in the forest that afternoon. A thunderous roar had been moving through the wood, shaking the ground, rocking the trees. Brenauth and a legion of the Galadhrim were riding hard for the border; they were riding to battle.

She was bent over the neck of her horse, her intensity spurring her mount – indeed, all the mounts to greater speeds. There was no need to conserve the strength of the horses, the March Warden’s message had been clear:

“Ride fast. They are coming. We shall meet them in the trees.”

No cavalry for this fight, no need for mounts.

Brenauth focused only on the path ahead, looking for the smoothest ground, the easiest path.

When the call for aid had come in, she had leapt into action, quickly ordering the muster of the Galadhrim. She took command of this mission, not waiting for, nor seeking permission from the Lord and Lady. She had a score to settle with the orc, many scores. The soldiers of the Golden Wood had responded to her determination with commendable speed. Not an hour had passed from the arrival of the messenger, to the departure of the reinforcements.

Brenauth had surprised herself, despite the tumult and the distractions of the past weeks, her mind had remained clear, her resolve unwavering. Her focus was as sharp as the blade at her side.

‘No mistakes this time. No losing control. No rescues. This time I am ready.’

A league before they reached the rendezvous point, she ordered the column to slow. It would not do to announce their arrival to the enemy with a full gallop. A mile out she signaled for silence and a dismount; the horses would be left here, they would go in on foot.

Brenauth crept through the trees and spotted Haldir. She climbed the tree with a speedy grace and pulled herself onto the flet. The March Warden sensed her presence and turned in surprise.

“Impressive, my Lady,” he whispered looking at her with an arched brow, “we did not expect you for some hours.”

“Why waste time?” she responded, “I didn’t want to let you have all the glory.”

Haldir stared at her for a moment longer, and then looked to the ground to signal her troops to take position. They were no where in sight. He turned back to Brenauth.

“I ordered them in place as soon as we arrived.” she answered the question on Haldir’s mind.

Haldir nodded in reply.

“Enough of our soldiers remain just inside the border to offer a credible resistance. I have instructed a few to let themselves be seen by the orc scouts,” Haldir focused harder on the troops; her presence distracting him slightly.

The March Warden’s plan was simple:

When the orc attacked, the Galadhrim on the edge of the forest would deal them enough of a blow to anger them and then the forward troops will fall back, leading the orc deeper into the trees. Brenauth’s reinforcements gave them enough soldiers to encircle the enemy once they were under the eaves of the trees; Vastly outnumbering the intruders, enabling an easy capture. They had hoped that pulling the raiders into a trap might allow them to capture one or more of their officers. The last few attacks had been costly; somehow the orc had known the plans of the elves; they needed answers.

“How many approach?” Brenauth inquired.

“Only three score. They are lightly armed and moving with great stealth. Our scouts were lucky to have spotted them,” Haldir half closed his eyes and mentally gave thanks to the Valar for that bit of luck, “This band clearly has something in mind other than the blatant slaughter of elves.”

Brenauth noticed the concern and puzzlement in the March Warden’s voice. She new all too well what orc could do to elves beyond killing them. She forced herself to relax and remain calm; they would be coming soon enough.

She didn’t have to wait long; less then an hour had passed when the distant sounding of horns, both elf and orc, came echoing through the trees. No sound came from the trees around her, but Brenauth could feel the Galadhrim steeling themselves for combat.

Although it seemed an eternity, a few moments later the first of the border guards appeared, stopping now and again to fire arrows back at their pursuers. They soon disappeared around a bend in the forest road. Seconds later the orc came into view, there were noticeably fewer than sixty; the elves had given them a proper Lothlorien welcome. Brenauth smiled grimly to herself, this would be an easy fight.

When she saw the discipline with which these strange, new orc were moving, Brenauth reconsidered her assessment. This would be a challenge and a welcomed one at that.

When the main body of the orc regiment was directly beneath their flet, Haldir gently touched Brenauth on the shoulder and nodded. Now the trap would be sprung. He lifted a silver horn to his lips and a clear, bright note called out. It’s clarion call inspired courage in the hearts of the Galadhrim and filled the remaining orc with an immediate dread.

Before the first echo of the horn’s blast had returned, Brenauth launched herself off of the platform. Ricocheting with elegance and grace from a lower branch, she turned and leapt into the ranks of the now anxious enemy. With her sword held high in both hands and a cry of “Ecthelion!” on her lips*, she crashed into the enemy. Her sudden appearance in their midst startled and scattered the orc.

Around her the Galadhrim dropped from the trees like a vengeful hailstorm. Within seconds the orc were enclosed in a tightening ring of elvish steel. With the attention of the orc momentarily off of her, Brenauth laid into them with furious sweeps of her blade.

Haldir was briefly taken aback by Brenauth’s leap, his heart quickly filled with fear that the berserker rage that she had shown before had returned. Once on the ground, Haldir’s fears were quickly abolished. He was stunned by the style and grace of Brenauth’s movements. In one sweep of her sword she seemed to sever a limb, parry a returning blow and stab deeply into the gut of another attacker. Reassured that, for the moment at least, she needed no assistance, Haldir entered into the fray.

Stepping over the bodies of the orc she had felled, Brenauth looked about; searching for whatever orc was in command. Turning to block a blow to her left, she spotted him. This one stood a head taller than the rest of the orc. He barked out commands in his foul language with clarity and power, unlike the usual Mordor leader; this one seemed confident and in control. Brenauth relieved an enemy of the burden of his legs and stepped up behind the leader; with a skill rarely found in the soldiers of the Enemy, he had sensed her approach and pivoted to meet her. For one split second, Brenauth saw the look on his face; he hesitated for a heartbeat and gave her an opening. Brenauth brought the flat of her blade down upon his neck, dropping him like a speared stag. As he fell to the ground, his face met her rising boot, and he collapsed unconscious and unmoving, but alive.

The fall of their leader panicked the few remaining orc and in their attempt to flee they were cut down by the archers in the trees above. The battle was over; the Galadhrim had achieved their goal - The Lady Brenauth had captured one of the orc captains.

Haldir wiped his blade clean as he approached Brenauth where she stood looking down at the body of the orc she had felled.

“Congratulations, my Lady…,” his words of praise faltered seeing her expression and intensity, “What is it?” he asked softly.

She stood silent for a moment, her expression deadened.

“This one recognized me,” Brenauth had known this when the orc had turned and stalled.

Mystified, she circled the orc slowly; she couldn’t take her eyes off of it, fighting the overwhelming urge to bury her sword into its skull. Her hatred coursed through her and was radiating. All who were nearby, felt its power, including the March Warden who stood next to her, bewildered. All despised these revolting creatures, but a deep, pure hatred and wrath unconsciously flowed from Brenauth as her eyes stayed fixed upon this fiend. Haldir, still perplexed, looked on in silence.

Twice now he had seen her reaction to these creatures, although the outcome this time was much better. He had never seen such personal hatred for the enemy from any elf, and to see such fury contained within such a beautiful elleth seemed contradictive.

Brenauth stood still, her face expressionless and without color. She was statue-like, her breathing undetectable, her long black hair parted, and forward over her shoulders. All seemed to slow down as she stared at this creature. Nothing else existed at the moment as she tried to discern her own feelings.

Haldir waited behind her, watching her. He noticed her battle garb was hardly soiled which further impressed him, but upon further inspection, he noticed a slight marking on the nape of her neck. He leaned slightly closer and could see the tiny silver diamond drawn there.

“Does it breathe?” Rhokrist briskly marched toward the pair, followed closely by Rumil and Orophin.

“It does,” Haldir answered, walking around the orc. “Bring rope,” he called out to a Galadhrim nearby.

Snapping out of her haze, Brenauth turned toward Haldir, her expression plainly showing her distaste for letting the orc live. She craved its death. Abruptly, she turned to walk away, disappearing into the mass of soldiers, leaving the group to wonder.

“What… she can kill it later,” Rumil shrugged giving the others a look of feigned innocence, to which he received a sharp elbow from Rhokrist and a stern, warning stare from Haldir.

~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~


The smiling faces of the elves were illuminated by the fire as they laughed at Rumil’s joke. The success of the day’s skirmish had lifted the spirits of the Galadhrim and the mood was one of merriment, for they had lost no brethren in the fight. Wiping away tears of mirth, Rhokrist teased,

“Ai…indeed. Your swordplay was much improved today, Rumil,” she said sarcastically, smacking his shoulder playfully as she walked past to settle by the fire, with a slight jokingly suggestive glance.

He winced slightly at the sting of the blow, his smile never fading, as he watched her pass by. He remembered the day they were teamed together. He had made it clear that he did not want to be paired with an elleth on the battlefield, believing that no elleth could compete with his skills. He smiled as he remembered their first spar, Rhokrist having bested him within minutes; he had quickly learned that he would be the one trying to match her skills; this, of course, he would never admit aloud. Rumil had known that day, that he would always be safe with her at his back. Her performance in today’s skirmish had served to further deepen his trust.

It was apparent to all that these two had a strange and intense bond. Their skills had been well matched upon the day were assigned as Cenellon to each other. Together, on the battlefield, they were near flawless, as today’s demonstration had shown well.

“Ai… well, someone suggestive I practice,” Rumil replied slyly, settling next to Rhokrist.

“Hmmm…,” Rhokrist in a jesting tone, “…have you, been practicing with your sword?” With an inquisitive brow arched, she stared and waited for Rumil to reply.

He returned Rhokrist’s look with a long, numb stare, reached into his goblet to wet his fingers and playfully flicked the liquid into her face, his silent reaction acknowledging her witty victory; they joined in laughter together.

Appearing into the light, on the edge of the clearing, the March Warden looked over the reveling elves. Scanning slowly he found Brenauth, lying back over the leaves, her shoulders lifted and propped back onto a log. She smiled with delight, her silver eyes bright, as she watched her young friend and the other Galadhrim. For reasons he didn’t understand himself, he had decided that now was the time to try to make peace with this Lady.

Haldir moved slowly around the fire, stopping occasionally to offer small words of praise to his solders, all the while making his way to her. Coming up behind her, he watched her shoulders shake with silent laughter as he stepped over the fallen limb,

“Mae govannen, Lady,” he casually positioned to sit next to her.

Looking up to see who was joining her, Brenauth met the eyes of the March Warden with a bright and free smile. This endearing him to her even more; she had never looked as beautiful as now. Although her smile diminished slightly, she didn’t seem to mind his presence.

“Well met, Warden,” she adjusted in her spot and made room for him to settle in.

Once sitting, they shared silence for a while, watching the elves laugh and joke. Her close presence was invigorating to him. He contemplated for a long while, staring into the fire, before he finally chose his words,

“You fought well today,” Haldir never looked at her when he spoke, keeping his head forward, and brought his goblet to his lips.

“I only served my realm, as did you,” Brenauth, also, kept her eyes forward watching the Galadhrim, as she spoke. Her tone had sounded somewhat dry, but, nevertheless civil. The March Warden’s complement had taken her off guard and, for some strange reason, had suddenly made her feel uncomfortable again.

They continued to sit in silence, sipping their cups and watching the elves around them. Brenauth sensing that Haldir wanted to say something and, becoming intolerant to the discomfort their silence caused, she shifted position and was preparing to stand and leave when he spoke again,

“Your skill is notable,” he leaned and sipped his drink again, keeping his eyes fixed forward. Brenauth had turned toward him and only looked on him, waiting – for what, she did not know.

Again, they sat in long silence; for several minutes, she waited for him to elaborate and get to his point. Her patience wearing thin, she watched him, wondering what it was he wanted. More and more she was feeling uncomfortable. She did not understand why this elf made her so disgruntled. She did not try to hide her stare, burning her look right at him while he continued to face the fire. He broke the silence again,

“Yes… notable. The orc still has not awakened,” he sipped his drink again.

She leaned over farther into this view, better to gain his attention. Curiousness spread over her features as she continued to stare at him and wait. Finally, he quickly glanced over and let his eyes rest on hers. Haldir just wasn’t getting the reaction he was hoping for. Still looking into her eyes, he felt a tinge of guilt arise within him.

“Umm…,” Haldir stammered as he frantically looked around, trying to find something to say.

Realizing the March Warden’s struggle, Brenauth began to skeptically smile, which turned into a slight chuckle as she shook her head,

"Were you wounded in your wit, Warden?" her chuckles evolving into slight laughter.

Haldir looked at her and was taken aback by her sudden laughter, realizing his own absurdity, he began to chuckle. Laughing louder, Brenauth thought of the ridiculousness of their situation and was grateful for this sudden relief in stress between them. Unbeknownst to them both, Haldir was feeling the same way as his laughs became still louder. It was the first time they had been comfortable in each other’s presence.

For a long while, they sat and casually watched the others’ jest and play around the fire, speaking few words but were relaxed in each other’s company.

“So, that foul beast still sleeps,” Brenauth eventually asked Haldir with a raised brow.

“I’m afraid not my Lady,” neither of them had heard Orophin’s approach, “It is awake.”

~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~

The orc lay bound, gagged and tethered to a large stake the Galadhrim had driven into the earth, near the spot where the orc had fallen. It glared at them with eyes full of hatred and the dull red reflection of the torches. It rolled its eyes around, taking in the two rings of archers that surrounded it, one on the ground and the other in the trees above. The elves were making it clear that there would be no escape for this fiend. No Galadhrim had ever been witness to an orc, let alone, an orc captain, captured alive; they were not taking any chances.

The March Warden and the Lady Seneschal stepped into the clearing, Brenauth stopping at the edge to study the creature on the forest floor. Just merely being in its presence caused a chill of fury to rise and a deep desire to destroy it; her cold stare revealing none of this to the others.

Haldir cautiously approached and circled the beastly captain, studying its restraints to assure it was secured, and then removed its gag to begin his questions. He stepped back and locked eyes with it; the two stared at one another and Brenauth was struck by the image of the stark difference of the two figures. Only one thing they shared between them – the strength of their disdain for one another.

The tall Warden’s glower was unwavering, his silent strength setting all at ease; the mighty March Warden of Lothlorien was now present and now had everything under control. For the first time in its life, the orc felt fear in the presence of this noble elf – breaking eye contact, the orc looked to the forest floor.

“I seek answers…,” Haldir’s voice was level as he spoke, “…give them, and this ends quickly.”

A deep, coarse laugh echoed inside all elven ears as the creature slowly raised its gaze to look upon the Warden; a sinister grin spread across its features as it spoke an obvious insult in its foul tongue,

“Forest scum!”

Only one of them had understood when out of nowhere a forceful kick struck the orc’s ribs, lifting him up slightly, driving the air from his lungs. It lay gasping as Brenauth planted her feet, straddling the orc’s head. She stood strong over the orc, her anger pouring from her.

Suddenly, from her lips came the darkest and most malevolent sound the elves of Lothlorien had ever heard. The fair Seneschal was speaking in the language of Mordor - the Black Speech. Many lowered their heads and shied from the retched sound, covering their faces and cringing from the discomfort and aura caused by the dark words. Haldir himself suddenly felt nauseated.

“I demand you tell, Why have you come? What do you want? You come with purpose. I will know it!”

As the orc struggled, the elves, mystified, looked to each other for answers; the Lady Brenauth spoke the dark language of Mordor? Haldir stood rooted to his spot in shock, though his features remained still.

Brenauth, now obviously angered, paced around the orc as a predator would around cornered prey, her cloak snapping with each turn. Her penetrating stare, fixed and focused on her enemy.

Still coughing for breath, the orc uttered a short reply sending Brenauth into a wild rage even before it had spoken its last word,

“For you, we come.”

She crouched directly in front of the evil captain, and with a powerful punch, pinned its head to the pole with her forearm under its chin. She leaned into its face and through clenched teeth, whispered one short word in its language,

“Why?”

Behind the lady Seneschal, an elf slightly made to advance when the March Warden stuck out his hand to hold him back, giving the elf a look of warning.

Despite the orc’s position, it gave Brenauth a defiant smirk, a knowing look in its eyes while it spoke,

“I know you,” the orc suddenly speaking in elvish, “Yes… ,” he purred as he continued, “You will make HIM a good mate.”

Without warning, Brenauth pulled a dagger from her boot and plunged the blade upwards, under the orc’s chin and into its skull. She stared into the eyes of the dying orc, its blood flowing down over the hilt, onto her fingers. As she watched the light fade from its eyes, she tilted her head, a faint smile showing on her lips. She ignored the stunned gasps from the elves around her – her pleasure would not be interrupted by these faint-hearted elves.

When the last ragged breath left the orc, she jerked her dagger free, wiped it clean in two easy strokes over its chest and sheathed it quickly, back into her boot. Without a word and no acknowledgment of the other elves, Brenauth stood and disappeared into the trees.


The elves of Lothlorien had never seen an eldar behave with such an act of savagery. No movement followed Brenauth’s exit as all eyes turned to the March Warden. The Galadhrim, stunned by what they had seen, looked to their leader for answers. At the moment, Haldir had none to give them; he above all, was most confused by what he had just seen. The March Warden felt the eyes of his soldiers and realized they needed his guidance. He ordered the troops into action; once their tasks were set, he left to find Brenauth.

~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~

Brenauth sat by the fire, leaned back onto a large branch and tried to relax. She loved being out in the forest at night; it felt like home. She laid her head back and looked up into the branches of the trees. She did not know it but in the dark, out of the firelight, she was being watched.

Only his eyes could be detected, reflecting the light from the fire. He stood with one foot atop of a fallen log and the wind blew his cloak all around. He observed her thoroughly and because of what he had just witnessed, he couldn’t remember thinking her as beautiful as she looked now.

She truly was striking. She had removed all her armor, leaving only her long shirt and leggings. Her shirt had fallen open and revealed her collar bone and the crease between her breasts, opening farther nearly to her navel. He believed she was the most incredible creature he had ever beheld. He took a deep breath, sighed quietly and leaned down onto one knee.

She took up a paper in her hand and began to read; the paper was extremely creased and showed much wear. She seemed to be entranced in it and he wondered what could have moved her so. She read for a few moments and again laid her head back to gaze at the sky, her chest heaved with a sigh. He yearned to go to her.

On the other side of the fire, the March Warden appeared and walked to where Brenauth lay, thus preventing him from approaching; with a hiss of anger and jealousy, the watcher fled into the darkness.


“Do not… Warden,” Brenauth spoke low, as she gave a short, cautionary glance up at Haldir. She knew what he had come for, “It would have given us nothing.”

She looked back down and fixed a stubborn stare on the fire. Brenauth knew that the March Warden had come to inquire as to why she had killed the orc before he had gotten to interrogate it, but she was not going to explain herself to this elf. Despite appearances, she had never ceased to be aware of what she was doing; her own carnal appetites where the orc were concern being well aware to her.

“I know,” Haldir said humbly as he sat across from her, on the other side of the fire, his inquisitive stare fixed on her.

Surprised, having expected him to argue, she looked up at him. He had lain out, on his side and was picking up small pieces of undergrowth from the forest floor, throwing them into the fire. Haldir seemed to be concentrating on his own thoughts as he stared into the flames.

Brenauth, astonished that he was not going to push her for an answer, quietly chuckled in amazement. Shaking her head, she relaxed back and lay opposite of the March Warden. For a long while, they watched the flames, comfortably sharing the quiet crackle of the fire. Haldir finally broke the silence,

“What did it speak of?” he kept his eyes on the down, only glancing at her quickly to ascertain that she was not angered by the question. She seemed to be thinking on it as she rolled to lie on her back.

“Nonsense… absurdities…,” the tone of disgust lay thick on her words.

He watched her as she lay looking up into the trees, her eyes pensive and dreamy as she unconsciously twirled a finger in her wavy raven hair, which lie spread out over the forest floor. She seemed an innocent elfling as she lay there, yet only moments ago this beautiful elleth had delivered a most calculated and primitive death to their captive. Deadly, then peaceful and all the while beautiful; her extremes further intriguing the March Warden. He noticed her shirt had fallen open slightly, revealing the strong curve of her breasts at the middle; one of her many enticing assets not common among the elleths of Lothlorien.

His eyes moved over her body, lingering on the swell of her breasts, moving to her neck, the shape of her ear, the soft lines of her face, the smallness of her hand and fingers as she twirled; he longed to take those hands, he longed to touch her face, whisper in her ear, kiss her neck and bury his face in her hair.

Turning his attention away and laying back onto the forest floor, he stared up at the trees, clearing his mind of the lustful thoughts that always seemed to plague him in the Lady’s presence. Now was not the time to entertain such notions.

They lay there, taking in the sounds of the night, relaxed and strangely at ease. Unbeknownst to the other, each of them, for the first time, felt comfortable in the other’s company. Oddly, Brenauth was even starting to feel thankful for the Warden’s company. Moments later, Haldir broke the silence again,

“Never have I known one who knew the dark speech,” Haldir casually continued, “How…,” he trailed off as he turned his head toward her.

Brenauth closed her weary eyes and exhaled slowly, some moments later she replied in a quiet voice,

“Olorin.”

Haldir lay silent, trying to place the name, searching his memory, but was unable to recall having heard the name before. After several moments, Brenauth could almost feel the puzzlement coming off of the elf. She turned her head to look at him and smiled to herself.

“You may know him as Mithrandir.” she clarified with a quiet laugh.

Haldir’s eyes opened wider as he stared up into the sky, he knew that Brenauth had traveled long before she settled in the Golden Wood, but he had not imagined that she had spent time in the company of the Istari. To think that she had been tutored by one the Wise deepened Haldir’s respect for her. He turned his head to look at Brenauth, intending to ask her about Mithrandir but she had already slipped into slumber, a slight smile on her peaceful face, her fingers were still entwined in her hair.
Haldir rose and stepped over to the sleeping seneschal; he was glad she, at least, could rest easy after the night’s events. A new worry filled his mind as he reflected on what the orc had said.

“But a mate for whom?” the Warden wondered aloud.

Shaking his head at the orc’s enigmatic statement, he unclasped his cloak, pulled it from his shoulders and spread it over Brenauth’s sleeping form. Haldir watched over the lady as she slept until dawn’s first light.


TBC…



Translations:

Cenellon = sight elf; taken from cened – sight, cellon – elf

Mae govannen – Greetings

Olorin — Derived from the Quenya word olori, meaning 'dreams. A Maia of the people of Manwë and Varda, Olórin was said to be one of the wisest of his order. He came to Middle-earth in the Third Age in the guise better known as Gandalf.

Note: 'Dreams' is really an inadequate translation of olori, but there is nothing in English that comes close to this concept. To the Elves, memory and imagination presented a mental image that had the clarity of reality - it is to these clear perceptions that the word olori actually refers

Notes:

*It was said that after the bravery and sacrifice he had shown in battle during the fall of Gondolin, Ecthelion’s name, became a battle cry for the eldar for centuries to come.

– The Book of lost Tales II