The scout rushed into the hall, demanding to know where the master of Thargelion was. All arms pointed in the direction of the gardens. The scout nodded, and shot off again, to the gardens.
The sound of boots faded as the scout left the garden, his news delivered. Caranthir made his way to his rooms. The Haladin were under attack by Orc raiders in the southern woods. He cared nothing for the Edain, but the presence of warring Orcs on his southern border infuriated him. He called a meeting of the lords of his house, determined to exterminate the marauding Orcs.
"Are we all agreed, then?" His right hand, Faelon, asked. All nodded their heads, and some even spoke their ascent. Caranthir was quiet, brooding away in his chair. He shot up, spewing orders to muster his people for battle.
"We ride before the week is out."
Caranthir halted his army on a ridge overlooking the battle. They would only stop long enough for his heralds to unfurl his banners and sound the trumpets. The banners flapped in the growing wind, and Caranthir raised his hand in signal. The trumpets rang loud. The army watched as both Edain and Orcs froze in place to glance up at the approaching Elves. Caranthir laughed to see fear upon the faces of the Orcs.
As his army followed him to the battle, he looked in horror numerous bodies of men, and even some women and children, scattered across the field, broken and defiled. Quickly, his anger grew.
Suddenly he was there, fighting his way through to the stockade the Edain had built. Who is leading these people? he wondered. He must be great indeed. Hours passed, and he found that he had weaved his way through, and finally reached the walls of the stockade.
Suddenly, he heard a voice issuing commands. It seemed strange, for the voice was higher than a man's voice ought to be. He looked about, and saw where the voice was coming from: a woman clad in mail. She was mounted upon a great horse, and had a sword in hand. Her dark hair lashed as her head sharply turned his way. From the little he knew of the Edain, he wondered at a woman leading in a battle. It wasn't uncommon among Elves for women to fight among men, but among the Edain he knew it was.
He nodded in her direction, and turned back to the battle.
In a few hours' time, the armies of Caranthir and the Edain had driven the remaining Orcs to the river. They pressed one final time, forcing the remaining Orcs into the raging waters. The battle was over.
Caranthir heaved a sigh of satisfaction and looked around the battlefield. He didn't have to go far to find what he was looking for. She was alone, but for
a young boy beside her horse. The boy reached up and handed her a ladle of water, which she took gratefully. She finished, and as she handed the ladle back to the boy, she noticed Caranthir's approach.
"Thank you, Haldan," she said, dismissing him.
The boy nodded and disappeared into the crowd. Caranthir walked over to the woman and helped her down from her tall horse. She was small, but sturdy. He saw in her midnight blue eyes a sadness that moved him. Her young face was weary and blood, sweat and tear stained. He found himself shaking her outstretched hand.
"Haleth," she said, her voice low and husky, "daughter of Haldad, of the Haladin."
"Caranthir, son of Fëanor, of the Noldor."
"Ah, a son of Fëanor. Yes, I know of you." She smiled, though there was no feeling in it. "Now, my lord, I'm weary, for I've had little rest in the last fortnight. If you'll excuse me, I'll retire to my father's tent." She turned to leave, but he gently grasped her arm to halt her.
"By your leave, lady, when all the dead have been buried and the battlefield burned, we shall remove to Thargelion, where my healers are waiting. In the meantime, the seriously wounded will be moved there at this moment, if you desire it?"
She nodded her head, stunned. "Thank you," was all she could reply. His brow furrowed in concern, for her face had paled. She wavered and half sank, half fell to her knees. Caranthir reached over and helped her to her feet, but she collapsed and lost consciousness. He mounted his horse, hoisting her up in front of him, and ordered his men to help the rest, and to lead those bearing wounded back to Thargelion.