Lady of Battle

The Border

Quickly she ducked to avoid the silver blade being thrust toward her head; rolling onto the ground and regaining her stance on the other side of her opponent. She stood readied for another attack and appraised her opponent. The two warriors slowly circled each other, Rhokrist smiling confidently and Brenauth bearing her usual statue-like expression. They had been sparing all morning and had yet to speak. It was Brenauth's way and Rhokrist had been trying to understand it for centuries. She knew her tutor must still be angry with her, and had yet to mention the issue. And asking Brenauth before she was ready to discuss it would not be wise. Her tutor was not one that would be rushed. It was simply understood that she was an elder and the elder way, being put simply, was the meek way.

Yet, Rhokrist had always disagreed with these ways. She found the ways of the elder unnerving and reclusive, finding her mentor's actions the most aggravating of all. It was no secret that Rhokrist was a passionate elf and had shown this in every skill, every lesson learned, every training session, and even in personal matters; this all being contrary to her mentor's ways. It would seem they were complete opposites in every way. Even in looks, Rhokrist's golden hair offset Brenauth's spectacular, midnight mane.

Rhokrist had stayed after class hoping to be given resolution for her actions the previous week and still had received none. Brenauth's silence was disturbing her so much, that it was beginning to weaken her sparring. She had begun to tire both physically and mentally, so she began to angrily lash at Brenauth, bringing blow after blow down toward her opponent. It only served to anger her more when Brenauth effortlessly warded off her attacks. Her fatal mistake was seized and Brenauth brought her own sword to Rhokrist's throat.

"You loose control of your sword and allow it to lead you." Brenauth broke the silence while turning and walking to her belongings, while sheathing her sword. Her prize student was always letting her own emotions break her concentration. It was a weakness that she hoped to rid her student of, but she knew Rhokrist was strong-willed. Her strong feelings only reminded Brenauth how young her student was and she was realizing it would only be lost with age and experience, something her young friend had plenty of time to gain. But it was not a flaw Brenauth took lightly. She knew it could be her young students undoing, as it had been for someone she knew once, long ago.

Brenauth started to walk toward the royal halls when Rhokrist spoke.

"Will you not speak with me?"

She was always so blunt. Brenauth swore to herself at times that her young friend was human. She certainly did not have the patience the other elves possessed at her age. Brenauth slowly turned and, with her head hung wearily, she approached the young one. She gazed into Rhokrist's deep, brown eyes and without realizing it herself let an expression of sadness fold over her face. Rhokrist remained still, stunned, while receiving this intimate exchange.

"I have nothing to say to you, Galell." She used her student's birth name, which she had not done since her student had acquired the name, Rhokrist. The fact that she had chosen to use it, expressed her sincerity. She calmly walked to her student and handed Rhokrist her cape, turned, and quietly walked away. Rhokrist was relieved at this and let her head sink.

"You had better hurry Rhokrist, or you will be late as usual." Rhokrist heard this yelled back to her from the trees where Brenauth had retreated. She smiled to herself and happily started to walk toward the stables. She was pleased to be getting nagged by her mentor and friend, yet again.

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


Brenauth sat at her desk reading through the translations the historian and she had been working on, constantly for days now. It had, indeed, been a strange find that day. They had discovered a new name written in the ancient scrolls, which had been retrieved from a party of orcs, sent to scout the borders of Gondor. The leader of the guard who had retrieved them, a human, had been wise to send them to Caras Galadhon for translation. They were very old and Brenauth was still unsure why a scouting party had been carrying them. Strangely, they had been wrapped in a way that would signify a teaching manual, or to give a sermon. An even stranger question; when had orcs cared for such things? When had they even cared to learn to read and write?

The name, on the other hand, was one she had never come across. That is, a name that she had never seen translated from the tongue of Mordor. It could be any name for all she knew, but it was not a given orc name. It was a name that had come into Mordor and had been translated into their tongue. This she was sure of for it was not the dialect of a Mordor based name. And this was very rare; orcs killed everyone and nearly everything they found.

Still, she had not been able to translate its name and an eyebrow rose, accompanied by amusement showing in her eyes.

‘A challenge.’

She always welcomed a challenge.

The Lord and Lady had requested that she have them translated already but she had not been able to as quickly as she had anticipated. She sat back into her chair and rested her head. What could these scrolls signify? They told of a mighty spirit, born of an outer realm, where it had fought against its rightful brothers. Until its brothers were able to set it free and bring it unto its true home and enable it to fulfill its true destiny.

‘Orc prophesies?’

"Absurd." She said out loud to herself with a chuckle. These beings were incompetent and ignorant, incapable of knowing of spirits and brotherhood. She had just begun to discern whether these were scrolls were stolen from one of the other realms, possibly Morian, some old Dwarve’s tale. They like their tales. She heard the sound of heavy hooves on the stone courtyard. The sound was increasing quickly as the horse approached and Brenauth knew by the speed it was urgent. She quickly strode to the royal halls' entrance and arrived just as the rider dropped from his mount.

He was from the border patrol and it was obvious that he had been involved in a fight. The rider weakly, but in a determined fashion, strode to her and handed her a parchment.
"I was bid to place this into your hands, Lady Brenauth." He spoke between gasps of air.

Lord Celebron arrived and slowly walked up to her from behind.
"What news does he bring from our borders?" He asked calmly.

"It would appear, my lord, that a large party of orcs have migrated south, about 5 hundred leagues from our southern border. There have been many scouts sighted and it would seem, by their behavior and numbers, they are planning something significant." She handed her Lord the parchment as she spoke to him and walked past him. She immediately began to give orders along the way.

"Soldier, see to your wounds." She said this without looking at the carrier but instead turned to Lord Celebron.

"Can my Lord spare me to the borders?" She had an eerie feeling about the behavior of the orcs lately. She felt that it, somehow, was connected to her mental distress as of late. She would see this dealt with herself.

"Of course, Lady." He began to walk back to his halls. She immediately left for her own quarters and on the way gave orders for preparation.

"Prepare the horses and alert the Calvary; they ride for the border." She walked quickly and never stopped while speaking, Servants bowed toward her, and busily raced to complete their tasks.

She walked to her rooms and went to her wardrobe. She opened it to reveal a sword and armor; unlike any in Caras Galadhon.

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


They had been riding all day and she had decided to ride on through the night toward the south border, where the scouting party had been sighted, just the day before. She felt it imperative they arrive as quickly as possible. The carrier who had brought her the parchment had told her that he had been one of the party which had ran into the orc scouts and had told her that these orcs were very difficult to bring down.

"They had moved in Elvin ways; fast and powerful." He had told her that the orcs had killed three of them before the elves had been able to kill them.

She led the Calvary through the forest and allowed her horse to set the pace. It walked carefully over the fallen limbs and brush on the forest floor. The rest of the horses followed closely behind in single file. She looked up and noticed the full moon and let her head fall back. She knew they were still well within the borders of Lothlorien and she felt there was no reason to be on alert at this point.

She felt at home out in the forest at night and even thought she knew that the reason which had brought them out this far was not pleasant, she was glad to be out in the forest. She missed being out here when she was back in the city. Her duties hardly allowed her to accompany patrols and she was slightly excited to be going to the border. She could feel that the others were not as pleased to be going. She even felt a tinge of fear coming from one of them which none of the others would notice; the elf showed no physical evidence of it. It hadn’t occurred to her that the others would feel that way. It had been so long since she had felt fear; not since she was very young had she felt that horrible emotion and even though she no longer allowed herself to indulge in it, she tried not to forget the time in which she had no control and could not keep it at bay. She glanced, once again, at the moon and the memories of that fateful day in Gondolin…

The stone was hot beneath her feet as she raced through the streets, dodging the enemy, searching the many faces for what remained of her family. Elves raced radically, some to the fight, some to the gates, and some searched as she did, for their loved ones. As fast as she could, she squeezed through mazes of struggling elves and orcs, but it seemed that she made no headway.

She knew she would not find her little brother like this and knew she could not win him back alone. She had to find her father and older brother, and she knew where to look first; in the heat of the battle. It was their duty. Her father, Leader and Lord of the house of the Fountain, would have taken position near the seventh, innermost gate, to which their house had been assigned to protect; the Great Gate of Gondolin. This gate was the last gate that stood between an enemy and free reign of their home. Her father and brother had pledged their lives to the safety of the city and would see it done or fall.

She continued to push her way through the crowds rushing toward the last gate. The air was hot from the fires which were eating at the city, growing by the second. Elleths cried out all around her as they were taken or slaughtered on the streets by the few orcs that had found other ways in. It was disastrous and Melisalda knew that should her father and brother fail, the city would be lost to ruin. The defenders of Gondolin could not keep them out much longer; time was running out, to find the youngest of their family.

As she turned the corner, finally arriving at the Great Gate of Gondolin, she gasped in horror at what she saw. Elven soldiers bravely fought massive odds as she witnessed these valiant warriors fight three and four to one. They poured in from the streets and were attempting to reach the towers of the gate in order to activate the mechanism to open the gate.

The gate was wrought of Maeglin steel. The towers were of great height, two tapering in seven stories of bright steel; between them, a mighty fence of steel with seven great pillars of steel ending in a spike that rose to a sharp point. One would have thought it impregnable but she couldn’t believe her eyes.

It glowed hot, almost to a white and gold hue and would not keep whatever sorcery was at work on the other side, out for long. She searched quickly and, to her relief, her eyes suddenly fell on her brother. She quickly ducked and rolled under a cart to avoid the sword of one of the hideous creatures and tried to think quickly. She had to get his attention.

She could scarcely see him, while he hacked through the orcs as they filed into the area in hoards. Many had fallen but she was convinced, even the Valar had never witnessed this amount of orcs in one place. She would have thought that there would have been no possibility that the elves of Gondolin would be defeated by these inferior creatures, but who would have thought there were so many.

Bravely, her brother and his warriors fought against the intruders. It was a magnificent sight. They wore their house colors, white and black, and the evening sun reflected off of their silver armor and their longswords as they hacked mercilessly through the evil demons as they advanced. She already felt better being near him and briefly watched, while trying to think of how to gain his attentions. She jumped out from under the cart and climbed atop of it in order to call out to him.

“Ecthelion!” His dark head jerked suddenly and immediately he saw her.

“Melisalda, tiro!” (Look out!) She turned to meet the blow of an orc mallet in her abdomen. The pain course through her chest and she felt a rush to her temples, as she collapsed to the ground. The blow had taken her wind and she struggled to gaze up to see where her attacker was.

She finally was able to look up and meet the eyes of her attacker, his yellow eyes scowling at her with disgust as a swift kick to her ribs followed. She felt bile begin to fill her throat and struggled to keep it at bay in order to gain control of her body. Again, another blow met the back of her head and she lay flat on her stomach. With her head turned to the side, her cheek flat to the ground, she was barely able to focus on the orc standing above her.

He had his weapon raised above his head and was prepare to bring down the killing blow when Ecthelion caught the swing with his own blade. Her brother gritted his teeth, failing to hide the barely contained rage. With a loud grunt he turned and imbedded his sword deep into the orcs chest.

Before the orc had reached the ground he was kneeling to her, pulling her to her feet. He pulled her to a building and they both crouched low to avoid bringing attention to themselves.

“yassen atar?” (Where is father?) She asked. She was still struggling to breath and it was apparent to them both that she had received substantial injuries. He placed his hand over her lower ribs and quickly tried to assess how bad they were. He looked up at her a few seconds later and after several moments of eye contact he simply shook his head in order to give a negative response.

“Vá.” (No.) She whispered it under breath as the realization hit her. No more smiles, no more kisses, no reconciliation. He had fallen before she could resolve their disagreement.

“Naneth?” He asked calmly as he ripped his cape and began to bind her ribs. They were broken, that much she was sure about.

When she gave no answer, he paused and looked up to find his answer in her eyes. He froze for a moment and his head dropped, not so much in grief, but to contemplate their situation.

“Toron? Seler?” (Brother? Sister?) His eyes pleaded with hope, while waiting for her answer.

“Vá, toron collenta.” (No. Brother was taken.) Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke the words. Her head fell limp and he raised her forehead to lean against his, as they mourned together silently. They knew they could not find him and weeped while they silently prayed for him to not suffer.

A large crash at the door brought their attention back to the struggle. The gate was giving and all the elves knew what this meant; they had lost the city. The soldiers began to fall back and Ecthelion rose up bringing Melisalda with him.

‘We must go to the Square of the King.’

She heard his thoughts and complied pushing him away, letting him know that she did not need his help. He nodded in encouragement and turned to give orders for all the soldiers to retreat. She followed him as they all made their way toward the inner part of the city. But they hadn’t gotten far when the gate gave way and one of the burning creatures burst through the remaining particles of the gate.

"Balrogs!" Her brother hadn't seen them enter the city until now.

Her brother quickly turned to face the creature and watched while it and the others which had followed it, began to swing their swords and whips, killing many of his war brothers. He ran back toward the creatures and tried to help one of the fallen soldiers when he caught a monster’s attention. He raised his sword in defense when it started to bear down on him. It slung its whip into the air and made contact with his left arm.

He stumbled back into a stone wall, grasping his arm. Upon seeing this, several soldiers charged forward, and attacked the creature, giving him time to escape. Melisalda rushed to him and immediately began to pull him to their destination. His war arm bore a gaping gash, and he had become disoriented. It would be up to her to see them to the Square of the King.

She was struggling to keep the orcs at bay as they slowly made their way. Orc after orc appeared in her path as she and Ecthelion fought. He was fighting with his odd arm, the injured one slump at his side and it impaired his skills terribly. Nevertheless, he was holding his own but was tiring quickly.

She was not a seasoned warrior and could not keep up this pace. She had not finished her training as she was not quite to her majority and the elves of this city trained well past their majority to expert defenders. Her moves were extremely sloppy and it was obvious she was beginning to struggle.

Suddenly, there he was; her love. His long, golden locks had caught her eye followed by the insignia he and his house bore on their arms and shields: a bright sun with sharp rays, the markings of the House of the Golden flower atop of gold clothing with traces of green and yellow. He fought incredibly, fiercely, with no mercy as he brought his sword down upon orc after orc; killing one after another as he kept his eyes fixed upon her.

She saw now what her father had spoken of; recklessness as he gave his surroundings no thought. He did not hide his emotion but put it into his sword. His intentions were obvious and at that moment, did she love him ever.

He strode to them and grasped Ecthelion’s arm as he motioned for her to follow.

“Do you retreat as well, friend?” Ecthelion asked as they raced to the innermost square.

“Ai. I sent for reinforcements but they never arrived. I assumed they had been intercepted.” He easily helped her brother through the streets as they neared their destination. Elves were racing in from all directions of the city and Melisalda knew that this meant the city was completely over run.

“We must find our King.” Ecthelion was regaining himself as he spoke. The gash had caused a strange effect to occur within him but he seemed to be recovering.

They entered the Square of the King and elves were laid out, covering nearly every area in the great courtyard. The amount of injured was incredible. She looked around, desperately trying to spy the uninjured soldiers, subconsciously counting the amount of able-bodied warriors still capable of defending the last of the city. Elleths and their young huddled in corners, with mothers trying to console their young. Fathers too, grasped the young as they had lost their mothers. Some had lost their children, others their parents, left orphaned to receive no comfort. She, not even knowing strategy in battle, knew they could not remain here. To do so would seal their end.

She turned and rushed to her brother.
“We cannot remain.” She said this with a hushed whisper. He only nodded and turned to look at their rescuer. He, in return nodded to her brother and they both began to stride to King Turgon’s tables, with Melisalda trailing behind.

Upon their entry a table full of distraught counsel members fell silent, seeing the two chief Lieutenants enter. On this day they both had lost their fathers, this pushing them to fulfill their father’s positions, which they both were more than capable of doing. Ecthelion wasted no time, getting straight to the point.

“It pains my heart to say this out loud but we cannot remain here. We have lost many soldiers. What numbers remain cannot secure this stronghold. We must get the females and young out.”

The table remained quiet. They were obviously considering his words very carefully. To abandon their city and home was a thought which, until this day, would have been unacceptable. They all showed pain in their eyes as none made to argue.

“We will need the Valar’s help to save the females and their young. For, to get them out, we must give them a window and to do this we all will most likely fall to ruin.” All heads turned to the golden haired warrior who spoke; his color being opposite of all the Noldor present. It had been speculated that he had descended from a noble line for his complexion mirrored the Vanyar and not the Noldorian elves in the city. His voice had been strong and direct and they all knew he spoke the truth.

“I would have had more soldiers but the reinforcements I called for never arrived.” He said it with a hostile tone as if he were asking for an answer. At this, the King intervened.

“They were dispatched, belegron (valiant one). I dispatched Salgant, Lord of the House of the Harp, to lead his warriors to your aid.” The king looked surprised to find that they had not shown. The counsel members looked at one another and one voiced what they all were thinking.

“huo ú-huorea!” (Cowardly dog!) They all stood frozen at this realization. How could he have abandoned his bretheren. He had knowingly left them to their deaths.

“My father’s and his warrior’s deaths are on his conscience.” The Lord of the Golden Flower spoke with barely contained fury.

“Nai Varda so tiruva.” (May Varda watch over him.) The King whispered this more to himself than to his subjects.

The King sat quiet and they all waited for his wisdom. They didn’t wait long before he raised from his chair and spoke.

“It shall be done. I would see no more young ones fall on this day.” Immediately they all went to prepare and Melisalda stood trying to contemplate what had just been decided. Was she expected to just leave behind the only two she loved? She stood rooted as her brother walked to her and placed both his hands on her shoulders. He gazed into her eyes and she raised hers to his to reveal anger for what she knew she would hear.

“It must be done.” He did not wait for her response. Quickly he turned to go to his remaining soldiers and ready them for what would be their last stand against this evil. She still stood. Her entire body felt numbed. She was not aware of her body any longer. The only thing she became aware of was rage; pure rage and hatred for the enemy. Rage for her little brother and sister. Rage for her mother for giving up. Rage for her father for falling before things could be made right. Rage for her brother for having such honor. She began to visibly shake with it.

She hadn’t noticed that he had remained behind. The golden one stood several steps in front of her and upon seeing her shake, he slowly walked toward her. He reached up and placed the back of his hand upon her cheek, slowly letting it slide down to her jaw line and tracing it to her chin. He raised her head to look into her eyes and found them empty. He started to lean down to her lips when she flinched away. He straightened and let sadness creep over his features.

“I would have one kiss from my heart before I go to my end. It is for you that I go to it.” Although his words had been chaste, they unleashed the flood of anger she had been struggling to hold in.

‘Fools! There is no reason for it. Do you really think you could make that much of a difference by staying behind and sacrificing yourselves? How long do you really think you can hold these monsters? How far would we get before being overrun by these beasts?’

He received her thoughts and felt her rage as it jolted him.

“I will muster all my strength as will the others to see you safe.” His devotion only served to anger her further. Her father had been right all along. He was young at heart and it made him irrational. He found glory in his sacrifice. She viewed it only as a loss.

‘It cannot change anything. It is useless and you all will die!’

“My mind is set. I will try.” He had recoiled into that cold soldier she knew well. She searched his face for any weakness to use to convince him otherwise. He revealed none. She realized it was hopeless and her body visibly relaxed. Her back straightened and she held her head high. There was still time to talk to her brother and make him see reason. She would trifle with this elf no longer. She allowed her emotions to sink back into there hidden haven and she leaned forward until her nose nearly touched his. Her eyes seductively scanned his eyes and lips and she slowly but barely allowed her lips to slightly glaze his for a small second. She then let her nose, barely grazing the hairs on his face, to travel up to his left ear and whispered her last words to him.

“You will fail.” His face jerked suddenly and he stepped back away from her. Her numb expression showed malice that he had not known her to have. He felt her disgust. And her eyes released to him all the care she had felt for him. In that moment he knew that his choice had driven her anger to build a wall against him and even if he did survive, he would not have her affection.

He stood rooted to his spot and she, with ease, turned and left him to his thoughts. He was crushed. With her words she had taken the great strength and confidence he possessed and he felt physically weakened. He let his shoulders fall and he stepped back to settle into a chair for he knew he would fall if not.

She crossed the courtyard briskly in long strides and approached her brother in a forceful manner. He had not seen her determined like this in all her years; usually humble and serene, these actions were opposite of her usual characteristics.

He turned from the soldiers to whom he had been conferring, when they heard a large roar. It came from the other side of the courtyard, from beyond the large gate and it was then that they all knew, their time was up.


“My Lady, are we stopping to camp tonight,” she had startled when one of the soldiers had broken the silence and interrupted her reminiscence.

“No, we ride on,” she replied.

They continued on through the night and arrived at the southern border the next morning.