Lady of Battle

Lady of Battle

~*~*~*~*~The Fault is Not Yours
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 arrival of the cavalry was met eagerly as elves rushed to the courtyard to greet the returning soldiers. Brenauth dropped from her mount, the March Warden standing slightly behind her, as they looked to the steps of the Royal halls, an elf quickly walking toward them.

“My Lord Celeborn requests the presence of you both immediately in the Royal Hall,” the elf left as fast as he had arrived. Without a thought, the Lady Seneschal followed, the March Warden trailing close behind.

Rounding the corner and walking directly into the great hall, Brenauth saw that her Lord and Lady, as well as Erestor, Thranduil and many others, had been awaiting their arrival. Some sat about the large table while others stood; Thranduil stood back in the corner behind them with a troubled brow.

All present appeared uneasy and anxious, which they wore plainly on their features. Brenauth looked to Galadriel who, usually would greet her Lady Seneschal with a warm smile upon her return, but did not give her the usual welcome; Brenauth sensing their worry, walked calmly to the table and stopped, while Haldir remained standing behind her. Celeborn spoke,

“Lady Brenauth, why did you not consult us before setting out for our border?” His voice was stern and demanding, it took on a tone which Brenauth had never heard before, “Please clarify why you did not find it necessary to alert us that you were leading more soldiers to the border.”

Brenauth did not understand these questions. Never did she have to explain her decisions when it came to defending the golden woods of her realm. For centuries, the actions concerning the safety of this realm had been entrusted to the Lady Seneschal and had never been questioned. Brenauth, slightly taken aback, retreated into that cold soldier that they all knew too well and choose her words carefully,

“I have displeased you, My Lord?” her indifferent tone pushing Celeborn a little too far.

“Displeased?” Celeborn’s voice gradually grew louder, “Lady, your actions had dire consequences this day…!” He cut himself off, realizing his own harshness. He stepped forward to place his hands flat on the table and allowed his head to fall forward, looking at the smooth surface.

Brenauth, contemplating her Lord’s words and realizing his accusations, stiffened and slowly felt herself growing defensive. Although she managed to keep her cold stare and her reserved demeanor, she grew warm inside and, unbeknownst to her, her eyes began to shine with resentment; Erestor, recognizing this in his old friend, broke into the conversation.

“My Lord and Lady…,” he bent to them as if to ask permission, “…if I may.” Standing tall, he took a few steps toward Brenauth and began to speak,

“My Lady, dire events occurred during your absence,” he stopped and peacefully, continued to explain, “While all eyes were turned to the border, during the absence of a large number of the guard, a theft occurred as well as the slaying of an eldar…” solemnly he trailed off, sighed, and began again, “One of the Greenwood delegates must have stumbled upon the thief and was murdered.”

Thranduil’s brow rutted at hearing of the death of his friend again. Retaining his composure, he stood proud and only nodded to Brenauth in confirmation.

“Murdered?” Brenauth whispered back, as she realized the gravity of the situation, “You mean…?” She trailed off, shocked, trying to accept this. Haldir interjected,

“Lord Erestor, by stating it was murder… do you mean that you believe an elf was behind this?” Haldir hardly believed that he had to ask this dreadful question. In his entire life, no kinslaying had occurred in Middle Earth and to think that an elf of the Golden wood could be responsible… he couldn’t bare the thought.

“My Lady…,” Galadriel finally spoke, “…we believe that perhaps the border attack was a diversion…” she paused, being interrupted by Erestor,

“Lady Brenauth, they took the scrolls, the documents, the notes, even the armor.”

Brenauth’s face remained stern as she thought on the events. She remained quiet as her thoughts turned to the night before, remembering what the orc had said,

‘For you, we come.’

Could this have been what the orc had meant? These foul creatures had turned all eyes to the border enabling this traitor to easily steal all possible answers for this growing evil that now threatened their lands.

“Did no one see who this traitor was?” Haldir could hardly contain his fury as he spoke.

“I’m afraid that the only one who saw it is now in Mandos Halls,” Thranduil spoke with underlying remorse, “it appeared as if he tried to stop the thief.”

Thranduil’s strict stare was aimed directly at Brenauth, his intensity could be felt throughout the hall. He shifted, exposing his long sword beneath his garb; it caught her eye, she hadn’t seen him wear it before,

“May Mandos keep him well,” he said, lowering his head briefly. When his glance once again fell on Brenauth she could see the guilt on his features; he was obviously taking the responsibility of this elf’s death onto himself and the need to avenge shone in his eyes.

Until then, Brenauth had not thought of Thranduil as such a leader. She had been fond of his disposition but hadn’t viewed him as a ruler, but just a regal participant; one who just acted the part of prince. It was at this moment that she realized that he would one day be a great king, for in him was love and responsibility for the people of his realm. He would serve them and protect them, even if it cost him his life.

“May he walk peacefully with his brethren,” Brenauth’s reply was solemn.

“This traitor must be found,” the March Warden’s voice fell on all ears as Brenauth and Thranduil continued to look at each other. With a soft look and warm eyes she allowed the prince to hear her thoughts,

‘I will aid you in this time of dismay. We are all responsible for the life of your friend. Together, we will seek justice in his name.’

Though Thranduil’s face showed no signs, Brenauth could detect a spark of acknowledgment in his eyes – there was now an understanding between them.

“My faithful Warden, your devotion does you credit,” Galadriel spoke directly to Haldir, “I have searched the hearts and minds of our people. The one, who committed this atrocity, has fled from my sight.” Galadriel’s soft voice continued to sooth her subjects, “I do not believe this elf was of our realm.”

“Lady Galadriel…,” Thranduil’s disbelief lay heavily upon his words, “…are you saying that a foreign elf has crept into Caras Galadhon and left with little detection?”

“Impossible,” Haldir’s hiss displayed his discontent at such an insulting statement, “we guard this realm well,” he glared at the prince with open hostility; Thranduil calmly returning his stare.

“Warden, I assure you, it is so,” Galadriel spoke sternly, bringing her hand up and placing it on her chest, her brows furrowed, “The evil I felt was ancient and dark and comes from beyond our borders,” her small motion signified the pain of the evil she had sensed. All present knew she could not be wrong, for Galadriel’s sight had protected this realm, as well as saw for the other’s, for centuries. Her judgment was held most high; her ‘sights’ most honored, but none, save Erestor, knew that within the Golden woods, another dwelt – capable of this ‘sight’, yet she had sensed nothing.

Brenauth had turned her back from all elves in the room, slowly walked to the back and paused in contemplation. Her thoughts rambled, her mind searched, realizing how this could have happened. Fury arose within her as she turned around and faced the table.

“This was my doing, my Lords…,” her commanding voice had snapped everyone to attention, “…this was my failure,” abruptly she turned, her face showing her strain and strode to the doors, her voice echoing back over her shoulder, “It shall be mended.” She disappeared through the doors and around corner.

Erestor had seen her mind working and had recognized immediately what she was doing. He knew well that his old friend would take this onto herself. He knew that she had the ability of sight, though he did not know her limits, but had noticed her distraction after arriving in Caras Galadhon; her mind was not as sharp as of late. He could only conclude that it was due to the news he had brought her of Glorfindel’s return. He immediately left to follow her, as others took their leave.

Haldir watched the retreat, turned, and focused onto Celeborn and the Lady. He had faithfully served the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien his whole life, accepting their judgment with no question. Today marked the first time he did not agree with their actions.

“We needed the soldiers at the border,” he kept his voice low, his countenance neutral, “without them, we would never have captured it.”

“You succeeded in capturing one?” Celeborn asked, “Alive?”

“Ai… though he did not live the night,” Haldir knew there would be no understanding the Lady Brenauth’s hastiness in killing the orc. He decided to keep it from Celeborn.

“So…” Celeborn added with obvious frustration, “…it is true,” he turned to face the Lady Galadriel who stood motionless and quiet.

“It was all in vain and now one’s blood has spoiled our noble realm,” he looked to the Lady for a short moment and then left.

Haldir and Galadriel stood in silence. He bowed slightly and turned to leave when she spoke,

“I know what it is you hide,” her voice was somber and low.

“I do not believe it would have given us any information,” Haldir had expected the Lady would know the truth. He slowly turned back to face her.

“Perhaps not,” Galadriel coolly replied. She turned smoothly and began to retreat to her halls. Haldir turned as well and had walked to the doors, when he heard her beautiful voice echo over the hall,

“But I speak of other secrets.”

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

Brenauth moved quickly as she stomped through the barracks, tidying and arranging weapons, pretending to inspect them as she worked. The quartermaster watched her with questioning eyes, unsure why the Lady had chosen to labor with him. It was not a job befitting a Lady of her station and she knew this, but she simply needed something to keep her mind off of her troubles.

After leaving the Royal Hall, she hadn’t known where to apply her frustration and anger. Turning it inward was something that she no longer wanted to make a habit. For too long, she had kept her rage trapped inside and she simply refused to become that elleth again, yet her senses were weak and her mind clouded; she couldn’t let go of the thought that she might have seen this coming had she been more focused.

Erestor entered the Barracks and paused just inside the door, watched her a few short moments and began to chuckle under his own breath,

“Lady, what are you doing?” he slowly and casually walked to her, while she continued to stack the shields in a fast pace.

“My job,” she replied in a cold, determined tone.

“Since when, do your duties as Seneschal include housekeeping?” Erestor laughed harder as he tried to take a shield from her grasp. She gripped it tighter as he latched on and a battle of tug of war ensued; Erestor’s laugh impairing his performance as he gasped for air.

“Let go,” she demanded through clenched teeth, giving a powerful, sudden tug; Erestor losing his clasp and footing, falling back onto his rear. A sudden look of surprise on her features, Brenauth stopped and watched him, his laughter unhindered, but stronger as his struggles to stand again were futile. Erestor’s laughter became contagious.

Her stern countenance failed as Brenauth let out a sudden burst of air following him into hysterics. She stumbled back into the table behind her, clutching her abdomen, her laughter taking her balance; for long moments their laughter filled the barracks, while others slowly but cautiously joined in.

Slowly Erestor’s laughter subsided; his smile diminished, resulting in a subtle grin. He sat up, pulling his legs back and crossing them, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked up at Brenauth, who saw her old friend’s sudden gravity and slowly began to regain her composure.

“What is it?” Brenauth breathlessly questioned between chuckles.

“It is not your fault. You do yourself a great disservice by taking the blame.” Erestor’s eyes shone with sincerity and care. “The Lord Celeborn spoke too rashly; he is greatly troubled with this kinslaying in his realm.”

Hearing these words, and considering the repercussions this killing could have, Brenauth became quiet, her smile slipping from her face as she dropped her head. She knew Erestor was trying to put her at ease, and that his words carried some measure of truth. There was no guarantee that her presence would have prevented the death of the Greenwood elf, but she could not completely absolve herself of the guilt she felt.

Brenauth looked back to her friend and saw him sitting on the barracks floor, leaning forward, an eager, hopeful look on his face; she could not help but grin. She was grateful for Erestor’s compassion, and acknowledged it by stepping forward, extending her hand, and pulling the elf to his feet. Brenauth smiled into his eyes, nodded in agreement, and patted Erestor’s shoulder.

With a reassuring smile, she left the barracks and headed for her rooms to have a warm meal, a soothing bath, and a long rest. She intended to put this day behind her as soon as possible, but what she would find once she entered her parlor would be entirely opposite of comforting.

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


Haldir’s eyes scanned the forest floor closely as he walked carefully through the area. Knowing that the guards had already searched and cleaned the area thoroughly, he felt compelled to recheck a larger region, his desires for answers driving him to look deep into the forest, along the possible escape route of the killer.

Slowly, he continued, his eyes roaming down the path; a spark caught his eye only a few strides away. Bending, he carefully plucked the tiny shard from the leaves, letting it roll into the palm of his hand.

Still joined to a small piece of its setting, the tiny pink diamond reflected the sunlight as he studied it. Still clutching the jewel in his hand, he glanced around and ahead, catching a glimpse of a larger piece of metal only a few steps away. He picked it up and immediately recognized where he had seen it before – The Lady Brenauth’s necklace.

Without a second’s thought, He quickly hid it in his hand and immediately strode toward the rooms of the Lady Seneschal.

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

Brenauth stood among the disastrous mess, overwhelmed and unable to comprehend what she had found; her rooms had been ransacked. Her books and scrolls lay about, shredded and discarded without care. Her desk overturned and her clothes had been shifted through and thrown, covering the floor and furniture.

She had sent an elleth to retrieve Erestor immediately. She desperately needed her friend’s comfort, advice, and assistance, for, at the moment, the room reflected a mirror image of her mind. She wondered about her room, randomly picking up items, unsure of what to do or where to start. She couldn’t understand why this had been done or who was responsible. Feeling defeated, she sat an overturned chair upright, dropped down and slumped onto it.

The clamor of rapid footsteps sounded outside her rooms, followed by the appearance of the March Warden, who stopped abruptly in her doorway. Taking in the disarray, he glanced at Brenauth who sat, obviously distraught, in the center of the room.

“Warden…,” her surprise of his arrival, hidden by her numb expression, “I’d offer you a seat, but…,” she trailed off while turning to look around the room once again.

Haldir, impressed with Brenauth’s ability to jest, entered the room with an amused snort, stepping cautiously over to where she sat. He paused, standing in front of her and with a small sigh, extended his arm out, and opened his hand to reveal the fragments of her necklace.

Her confused features remained fixed on him for several moments, her eyes finally rolling down, she looked at the contents of his hand. Slowly, she started to comprehend what he held and carefully took the items from him. She held them up closer to her eyes for a moment, finally turning to look back at Haldir with a furrowed brow,

“Where…?” her question was unfinished when he answered.

“Near the site of the kinslaying,” he spoke quickly with a flat voice, hoping it would lessen the impact.

“But… why?” she asked herself aloud, her confusion deepening, revealing her apparent disappointment in losing such a valuable gift. She looked down again at the remnants of the necklace.

A shuffling noise turned their attention to the door where Erestor had entered. Stepping about carefully, he maneuvered around the room, casually studying the wreckage, as he came to stand next to Brenauth.

The three remained silent as they looked about the room. Suddenly Erestor walked to the bed and glanced down over the throws, studying the it for a few moments,

“Lady, someone has rested here…” Brenauth stood and turned quickly, watching Erestor from where she stood. She watched as Erestor looked over the folds of the blankets, his eyes finally fixing on the other side of the bed. He walked around to the other side and pulled up remnants of a necklace. Haldir, recognizing the fragments, turned and went to close the door.

Erestor held out the pieces for her to see; Brenauth responded by holding out the others, her face slightly saddened, just enough for him to notice. Erestor knew she had treasured the jewel, having shown it to him and bragged of its beauty and the sentiment of the gift, the night he had arrived.

Haldir watched the two silently, trying setting aside his distrust for Erestor. He could not help but think of the possibility that anyone could be responsible for these crimes, even this elf. As March Warden it would be his job to leave no stone unturned. Again, he reminded himself that he would keep a close eye on this elf.

“I’m sure it can be mended,” Erestor reassured Brenauth as he gently cradled the pieces across his extended hands

“Not all the pieces are here…,” Haldir answered for her as he walked closer to stand by her side, explaining where he had found the fragments. Erestor appeared shocked as he came around and rested against the bed.

After several moments of deep thought, Erestor glanced up to meet the eyes of the March Warden; they both had the same question in mine, it was Erestor who voiced finally voiced it,

“Why here…?” he looked about the room, letting his eyes come to rest on Brenauth, “Why her?” Without hesitation, Haldir answered,

“I do not know,” Haldir spoke forcefully and stared almost chastising Rivendel’s Seneschal, “…but I will not stop till I know.” He turned abruptly, and left the two alone.

With a worried brow, Erestor looked back to Brenauth with questioning eyes. Obvious concern showed on his features as he had watched the March Warden retreat. But Brenauth, whose reaction was quite the opposite, felt comforted that the Warden was taking personal charge over these security issues. She felt that he would do his duty well.

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


She swam gracefully through the waters, diving deep into the water and allowing her body to float freely within the river’s depths. Slowly she surfaced, taking in the sunlight, and falling back beneath the river’s surface, allowing the current to carry her toward the center. Relaxing onto her back, she let her body float atop the water, staring into the blue sky; her raven hair flowing freely about the water. For a long while, she drifted there, allowing herself the feeling of contentment and freedom.

Sucked under the water, not knowing what had happened, she struggled to reach the surface. She managed to break the surface for only a few seconds, which enabled her to catch a quick breath before she was taken down again. She could not see what was below in the dark depths, as she fought against the icy grip that held her.

With all her might, she managed to break free once again, exploding through the surface, coughing severely and gasping for air. She started to struggle for the river bank, when a figure caught her eye.

The mutilated, eyeless figure of Rhokrist stood calmly, watching the events in the water. Brenauth, startled at seeing her, snapped back to tread the water and stared in shock at her maimed friend,

“Rhokrist…?” she asked, terrified.

“He comes for you,” her only words as Rhokrist smiled. Brenauth petrified with fear, tried to comprehend what was going on.

Suddenly, she was sucked under again and for long moments struggled to fight free of the clutches that pulled her into the blackness. Finally weakening, she gave and allowed herself to sink, as she knelt down attempting to see what held her.

A hand abruptly jetted up and clamped onto her hip. She grabbed the long powerful arm strongly and was attempting to release it when a face suddenly appeared, its empty sockets aimed directly at her.

The golden hair floated freely in the water as the Greenwood elf pulled himself up, climbing her long body, till he had his arms tightly around her waist,

“I died for you, ‘Salda.”

Brenauth’s throw had landed on the floor and she was standing several steps from her bed before she was fully awake and had stopped crying out.

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


The Lady Brenauth strolled slowly through the trees, comforted by their presence, taking long, slow breaths, silently seeking refuge within the power of the great Mallorns. The trees were usually quiet this night, as they had sensed the mourning of the elves of Lothlorien. It seemed that even the usual forest sounds of animals and insects were subdued with sorrow.

She too, mourned for the death of the elven brother of Greenwood; her dream this night had made her realized her suppressed feelings concerning this loss. Her initial shock, and her defensiveness upon hearing of it, had prevented her from seeing the reality of the kinslaying; it was the first in Middle Earth.

‘No wonder Lord Celeborn was so distraught,’ she thought, ‘to have it occur within his own realm…’

Brenauth wandered on, so lost in her thoughts and in her grief that she didn’t realize she was not alone until she heard a voice calling to her softly.

“My lady, it is late.” Haldir stepped from the shadows. “What troubles you?”

Brenauth stopped and looked up at the March Warden. She smiled briefly and was suddenly glad for his company.

“My dreams have been dark this night.” She replied with a slight shudder. “What of you? What keeps you from your rest?”

Heaving a deep sigh, Haldir slumped down onto a large stone. Brenauth noticed how weary the March Warden looked.

“I see your thoughts have been dark too,” she walked over, adjusted her cloak, and took a seat, only inches from him. He concealed his pleasant surprise that she should feel comfortable enough to sit so near him.

They sat in silence, as they usually did when together, neither knowing what to say, but at the same time, comfortable with the quiet. Brenauth glanced in the direction of the boots and leggings the March Warden wore, noticing how muscular his legs were, which for an elf was uncommon amongst the more slender built elves of Lothlorien; his build more like the elves of her homeland, Gondolin. Taller, and broader, his physique reminded Brenauth of the warrior elves she watched as a child in her home, especially her father. This served to further her comfort in the Warden’s presence.

Her eyes moving up to his face, she realized that he had not met her eyes this evening. He had immediately turned from her and had not looked to her since. His head hung low as his vacant stare stayed fixed on the ground. Although his face showed no evidence of any feeling, his behavior led Brenauth to believe that guilt plagued his conscience. She concluded that he too, was feeling the responsibility for the life of the Greenwood elf. She decided to console him,

“I feel your guilt,” his head snapped up and met her gaze, “you are not alone in it,” her head turned forward as she searched the forest floor for the words. He continued to watch her, the vacant expression still present.

“It was as much my fault as yours,” she trailed off allowing these words to sink in. He kept his sharp stare fixed on her as she looked out into the forest. Though he was appreciative for her kind words, his guilt had nothing to do with the death of the elf. It further troubled him that she was unknowingly consoling him for an offense he had committed toward her, for his guilt surrounded his offenses toward the Lady Brenauth.

His mind turned in confusion with the situation and the Lady’s words only served to further aggravate his current mental state; to think the victim of his appetites was trying to console him. He could hardly take it,

“Lady…saes,” his whisper had struck Brenauth as odd; she was moved by his sensibilities. To think the mighty March Warden could have such compassion for the subjects he guarded moved her indefinitely. It was apparent to her that he truly mourned for the departed one. She was now reassured that the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood had chosen well.

“The burden is not all yours, warden…” somber and soft, her magical voice caressed his ears as she spoke, “…I would aid you in finding this criminal. Evidence points that I have ties in this.” She turned her body slightly and faced the warden as she spoke,

“Tell me Warden, what is your name?” her longing eyes, filled with empathy, stared, unknowingly seducing him. Now, more than ever, the sight of her was mesmerizing. Her silver eyes, radiant in the moonlight, beamed at him, entrancing his thoughts.

“Haldir, My Lady,” he spoke softly, suppressing his surprise at her sudden interest.

“Haldir,” she said his name under her breath. ‘Tall one, it suits him,’ she thought.

“Haldir, please call me Brenauth,” she smiled softly which added to her beauty. He glanced over at her. She sat tall and straight, leaning back onto one hand. Her cloak had fallen open, revealing her sheer gown, her raven hair, framing her face and cascading down over her breasts.

“Brenauth,” he nodded, trying to hide his excitement at hearing her speak his name.

She leaned closer, reached and gently rested her hand atop of his,

“This grief will pass,” gracefully she stood and walked away.

He watched her retreat, appreciating her grace and the way her body moved. With no more control over himself, he committed her exquisite beauty to his memory; the way she sat, the way she moved, the way she looked at him when she said his name, her eyes and even the small scar above her eye – all of this adding to her allure.

But the warming effect soon left and leaving him with only his guilt and hunger,

“No Brenauth, it will never pass.”