Mandos's Embrace

A/N: Warning. Graphic battle scenes...not for those with a weak stomach....don't say I didn't warn you.


Chapter Three

The bathouse was pleasantly deserted when Glorfindel arrived early that morning. He slipped out of his tunic and leggings and eased himself into the magically heated water. The water eased his muscles, still tense from practice earlier. He'd been up since before dawn, working on new techniques with his sword, as well as his twin daggers. Leaning back against the embankment, he sighed in contentment. It had been a week since his arrival in Lothlorien, and he was enjoying himself immensely. The Galadhrim were indeed some of the finest archers the elven race had to offer, which was quite extraordinary to begin with. He had spent much of the past two days on the archery fields, honored to practice side-by-side with them. Soft footsteps alerted him that someone else had entered the room. He looked up to see Haldir. "Good morning Marchwarden." He said congenially.

"Oh, Glorfindel. I'm sorry I didn't realize anyone was in here so early. If you want your privacy, I can go."

He shook his head. "No, by all means." He motioned for Haldir to join him. "I don't mind a little company."

Haldir nodded and slipped into the water as well, emmitting a sigh quite similar to Glorfindel's. "I saw you practicing with the Galadhrim yesterday. You're extremely good."

Glorfindel smiled. "Why thank you. I have heard though, that you are considered one of the best, Marchwarden."

It was Haldir's turn to smile. "Perhaps we should have a competition. Then you can see just how skilled I am." They shared a laugh. Soft footsteps, two pairs of them, bolted quickly past the outside of the tent. The elves shared a look.

"I don't think I even want to know what they're doing up so early." Glorfindel said with a groan.

"We are lucky my brothers are at the Fences, and that Prince Legolas is not here. The twins are trouble enough, but for each one of the other three you add," he grimaced. "trouble multiplies exponentially."

He turned a wry grin to Haldir. "It seems as though you speak from experience." Haldir turned to him and just quirked an eyebrow. They shared another laugh. Glorfindel pulled open one of the pouches of cleansing sand and proceeded to scrub himself clean, Haldir following suit.

"I heard Elrond decided to extend your stay." He rinsed the sand from his hair.

Glorfindel nodded. "He intends to stay until summer's wane. I can't say as how I blame him. Lothlorien is a beautiful place indeed."

Haldir swelled with pride at the compliment. "Thank you." He stood up and exited the pool. "I must be going. I have to return to the border this morning. An orc attack is due mid-afternoon."

His eyes widened. "Orcs? An attack, and you don't seem the least concerned?" He rinsed the last bit of the sandalwood-scented sand from himself and got up from the pool as well.

"They come occasionally from Moria. None last very long, and no orc is ever left alive." He slipped into his Galadhrim attire and buckled on his weapons. "We rarely sustain injuries, but there is risk. Do not worry, it is all well in hand." He nodded to Glorfindel and left the tent.

He stared bewildered after Haldir. Perhaps he had been too long in Imladris to fully realize the harsh realities in the world around him. An attack at the border? Azalea was at the border! The thought of her engaged in a horrible battle with orcs made him feel faint. Taking a calming breath he forced it to the back of his mind. He had a meeting with Celeborn this morning, better to focus on that. Yes, much better. He proceeded to dress for the day.

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Azalea crouched in the tall grass just outside the treeline. She was downwind of the approaching orc party, over a score of the foul beasts. Her hands gripped tightly around the shaft of her mithril hammer. She had opted for it today instead of her sword. Sensing others of her group moving into position, she let a grin spread across her face. Haldir had arrived at the border just in time to get everyone into position. The orcs were now only feet from her, she could smell their reek. Her body tensed in anticipation, awaiting the shrill whistle that would commence the fighting. The party was halfway past her position, when she heard the call.

Her muscles sprung into action only seconds before the rest of her caught up. An orc was directly in front of her, a pleasant start, she thought to herself. She hurled herself into a graceful spin, crashing her hammer into the pitiful creature's skull, splattering both herself and the startled creature next to it with black, sticky, gore. She smiled menacingly at the next creature, who was frozen in horror. That is until she brought an overhead swing down on it and ended it's pitiful existence in another spray of foulness.

Another orc, this one slightly larger than the two she had already dispatched, charged at her, howling in fury. Before she could react, two arrows thudded into it's chest. She turned and Rumil saluted her from a tree. "Hey! That one was mine dammit!" He winked and moved out of sight. She turned back just in time to dodge a clumsy blow from an orc thinking to avenge it's companions. Dropping into a crouch, she swung her hammer into it's knees, and broke them both simultaneously, crushed bone jutting out the backs, the creature fell to the ground with a howl. Her hammer swung again, and another skull exploded with impact. The hammer was amazingly light, but strong enough to do the job efficiently. She wiped a chunk of brain matter from her face, and surveyed the grisly scene. Most of the other orcs were downed, their dying screams being silenced one-by-one.

Rumil approached her, his face grim. "Haldir wants you. We've sustained a few casualties." With a nod she followed him to where the Marchwarden tended three wounded elves. They were younger wardens, one barely past his first year of duty. One had sustained a nasty slash wound, the other two had arrows sticking rudely from thier bodies.

Haldir took one look at her and sighed. "Played with your hammer today, I see."

She nodded. "Am I to accompany the wounded, then?" She slipped her bloodied hammer into it's sling across her back with a grin.

"Yes, I trust you to get them back to the city safely. Orophin will be going as well." Haldir wrapped the slash wound as best he could for travel. The wounded were placed on stretchers and with a bow to Haldir, they set off for the city at a swift, yet gentle run.

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The bells were tolling as they entered the gates of the city, and healers were rushing towards them. They were ushered to a temporary tent where the healers could assess the wounded. She waited outside the tents with Orophin. Other elves gathered around them asking what had happened. Finally Galadriel's voice was heard over the din. "Give them some space. I am sure they do not wish to repeat themselves many times over." The crowd parted to allow her and Celeborn to approach.

"Mae govannen." Azalea placed a hand over her heart and bowed her head. Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, and to her astonishment Glorfindel, stood behind the Lord and Lady. Here she was covered in orc gore, and she had to not only face the Lorien couple, but the royal family of Imladris and Lord Glorfindel as well! By the Valar! She turned and caught Galadriel's eye, her lips were curled a bit and her eyes twinkled with amusement. That broke the ice, Azalea grinned at her, and the two shared a knowing laugh.

With a nod, Celeborn and Elrond excused themselves to go assist with the wounded. Arwen and Galadriel moved off to a nearby bench to wait, while Elladan and Elrohir slunk off, mischief in ther eyes. Orophin stayed next to Azalea, chatting quietly with Glorfindel, who was white as a sheet for some reason. A soft breeze ruffled her cloak and she sighed into it. Although it made Orophin cough vehemently, catching her attention. She turned to look at him. "What?" she asked at his disgusted expression.

"Um...Well..How do I put this nicely? You seem to have aquired a rather, shall we say, unpleasant fragrance." He motioned to the nearly dried blood and brain matter on her person.

"Oh." Her eyes widened as realization dawned on her. "That bad eh?" He nodded. "I guess I'll go clean up, then." She chuckled and headed off to the baths.

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Glorfindel's heart had twisted when he heard the bells begin to toll. He had been walking with Celeborn through what had become his favorite garden. The elf lord had paled considerably as he stood stock still listening to the tolls. He then turned to Glorfindel. "Three wounded, two possibly poisoned by arrows." Without another word, they had both bolted out of the garden and met Galadriel and the others halfaway to the gates.

Already a large crowd had gathered around the group that had accompanied the wounded to the city. Questions abounded, he could barely hear over the din of voices, until Galadriel spoke up and the crowd parted to reveal Orophin and, to his great relief, Azalea, standing unharmed in the midst fo the crowd. The latter was covered in a great amount of blood and something else, he wasn't sure he wanted to know what that was. A mithril hammer was slung across her back, covered in much the same muck. He paid no heed to the conversation around him. When she turned to Galadriel and broke into a laugh, smiling brightly, he felt his breath catch in his throat. Even in such a state she was truly beautiful. Yet at the same time she exuded the power of a true warrior. Might as well admit it, you've got it bad. He chuckled to himself. Orophin nudged him slightly, and engaged him in conversation.

The breeze broguht both of their attentions back to Azalea, Orophin turned out to be quite vocal concerning the subject. He tried to repress a laugh at her slightly suprised reply. He watched her turn and head to the springs. "Follow her. You know you want to." Orophin whispered in his ear with a grin. Glorfindel turned to him, trying to look shocked, he didn't seem to do very well, for Orophin clapped him on the shoulder and wandered off muttering something about twins. He rolled his eyes and snickered, remembering what Haldir had said that morning.

He stood for a moment, determining not to follow the retreating figure, but soon his conviction wavered and he set off to follow her. From a distance of course, if not simply for the fact that she did smell a bit unpleasant.

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Azalea made her way to the baths without running into many elves. Which was perfectly fine for her. There would most likely be no one bathing at this time of day, another small relief. She was in no mood to wait for a bath, the foulness on her was indeed getting to her. She slipped inside one of the tents and deposited her bow and quiver on the ground by the door. Removing her stained cloak, she tossed it over a stool. Bottles of flower essence and small sacks of cleansing sand lined a delicate table near the steaming water. She sorted through the bottles until she found the one she wanted, popping the cork, she inhaled the luscious scent of lilacs. "This should take away my foul odor." She said to no one in particular as she poured it into the water. Letting it diffuse in the water she began to undress. First dropping her hammer to the ground with a muffled thud.

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He crept silently up to the tent. She hadn't seemed to notice him. He couldn't believe he was going to do this! It had been centuries since he had crept up to spy on a maiden taking a bath. Glorfindel silently berated himself for invading her privacy in such a way. The scent of lilacs wafted out to greet him as he crouched near a gap in the fabric of the tent. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he peered inside. There she stood in the middle of the room. She tossed her heavier grey tunic aside, and stood for a moment in her clingy black under tunic. Her defined muscles, and round breasts stood out against the fabric. Pulling a stool to her, she proceeded to remove her boots, dropping them to the side. Standing up again, she began unlacing her leggings. His breath caught in his throat as they soon joined the rest of her clothing on the soft ground.

His eyes traced her form and his trained eyes noted her tightly toned muscles. She moved with the grace of a hunting cat as she stretched. Very few ellith ever chose the path of the warrior and as a result, their bodies were softer, more delicate to look at, but they all seemed the same. Something about female warriors attracted him more. Perhaps it was the understanding they could share, yet, he thought it was more likely the lithe muscles, and battle scars as opposed to the softer, frames of those brought up to be ladies. Next to a battle-seasoned warrior he could allow his own imperfections to show.

He closed his eyes for a second, trying to regain his calm. He opened them again to see her shed her under tunic. She was turned slightly to the side, with her back to him. The barest curve of her breast was visible, but that wasn't what drew his attention. Marring the creamy skin of her back was a set of six parrallel scars. They were visible for only a moment, before she released the clasp holding her braids up in a knot at the back of her head. They cascaded down to her waist, blocking the view of her scars. He watched her for a few more moments before slipping back from the tent to wait for her to exit. What were those scars from? He sat pondering it for many moments until Orophin came along.

"Didn't expect to find you over here." He crouched down on the grass next to Glorfindel. "Something wrong?"

"Where did she get those horrible scars from?" His voice was barely a whisper, fearing the answer, but needing to know it.

Orophin sighed. "I should not speak of this in length, for it is really her tale to tell." He leaned back against the mallorn trunk. "I will put it like this. Azalea was ambassador to Moria. When it fell, the remainder of Durin's folk fled. Azalea led one party through Khazad-dum, and was assailed by a Balrog of Morgoth. The scars you saw are remnants of the wound it gave her with it's whip. We were lucky to get her back alive." Glorfindel shuddered. He knew all too well how horrifying those creatures were.