At the Mercy of a Burning Coal

Disclaimer; I don't own Tolkien...never will so don't sue me. Okay?
Note: Sorry I haven't gotten this to you all sooner, but I had the 24 hour stomach bug. Sounds like a lame excuse I know, but I seriously was throwing up my guts all night. Not fun in the least.

"Bree! Of all the darn blasted, filth infested, pest infiltrated, abusive-uncle-holding, bad memory making places! Eothain is going to get a verbal beating when I get there, and I swear he *will* turn to stone!"

Elenniel looked at Lathwen in a mix of surprise and concern. Lily rolled her eyes and Saerwen looked as impassive as normal. Nestariel sighed, "Bessie...we're almost there, so quite your harping and give us some peace and quiet!"

True...they were almost there. After hours and hours and days and weeks of traveling, they were at Weathertop. Lathwen glared at Nestariel but shut her mouth quickly, not wanting to incur the wrath of the always calm and resonable Nestariel. There had been quite a few mishaps along the way to.

Orcs, wolves, hungry-wolves, flesh-eating-wolves, another orc or two...rain, mud, snow, snow, more hungry wolves...all in all, the Outlaw Maidens were *not* happy. At all. They hadn't stopped in Lorien per se, but they had acquired provisions from pleasant March Wardens who took pity on them. Either that, or they were intimidated by the lethal glares all five of them were sending their way.

Guess what happened after Lorien? Rain, more rain, snow, snow, rain, snow, wind, ice (lovely), and more bloody wolves! The abundance of these evil creatures scared the Outlaw Maidens somewhat...why were there so many all of a sudden?

Were the Valar punishing them for something they had done in a past life? Or was this their idea of having fun? Lathwen had voted on the latter, growling that Arda was the god-children's playpen.

At that comment, the three elves in the group had looked around fearfully, most likely waiting for lightning to strike their leader dead. Lily hadn't bothered waiting for the lightning, she had reached over and given Lathwen a bip on the head.

"Pull yourself together girl!" Lily roared, "We all know your situation, but make the best of it! Honestly, ever since Glorfy left Imladris you've been all out of sorts." Lathwen glared at Lily. If looks could kill, Lily would have been ash in ten seconds flat.

Lathwen gritted her teeth, "It has nothing to do with *him*" she hissed. (yeeaaahhh...) Lily sighed, "Want to bet?" Lathwen ignored the jibe and concentrated on steering Rosethorn around the various mud puddles and ice patches. Honestly, it was like a mine field! (Not that they'd know what that was)

Lathwen called a halt and told everyone to rest and eat on the summit of Weathertop. She looked around and shivered, the desolation of the hills causing chills to creep up and down her spine. Of in the distance, she could hear shouting. Bless her mother for being elven...

Lathwen instantly strung her bow and brought an arrow out from her quiver. The others followed her example.

"Where?" Lily asked in a clipped tone. "In front of us." Lathwen answered shortly.

"How far?"

"Maybe a quarter mile or so."

Lathwen and Lily mounted up. Nestariel explained quickly to Elenniel and Saerwen what they were about to do, and then they too mounted up on their steeds. "Let's go girls!" Lathwen shouted and spurred Rosethorn foreward in a gallop, going as fast as she could.

The wind wipped at their faces, chaffing them until their skin was dry, despite the moisture dripping from their eyes. Lathwen winced as the wind stung her sensative ears. Ten minutes later they could hear the shouts and grunts loud and clear. Five minutes later, they could see the fight.

Orcs. Elves.

Elves outnumbered, 3 to 1.

GGG.

Evil goblins.

Perfect welcome to Bree don't you think?

Without thinking, the Outlaw Maidens flew down the slopes and hills, letting their arrows fly.

/Protect the innocent...protect each other./

"There are weak spots in their armour!" Lathwen shouted as they slowed to a canter. The others listened intently, "The neck and under the arms! We have a better chance if we aim there!"

Lathwen looked at her group and said, "And those of you with swords...you'll be able to get them. Valar bless!" Lily grinned and shouted, "Ready girls? NOW!" With a whoop, Lathwen rode down the hill at a gallop, wind causing her hair to flutter and tangle itself until she no doubt looked possessed.

All other sounds and sights were zeroed out as Lathwen took part in the battle. She heard nothing except the thundering of hooves, grunting and screaming of goblins, and the tired gasping of Glorfindel's elves.

Lathwen aimed arrow after arrow, knowing that she would soon run out. Battle Fever trickled into her veins, incensing her to a higher level of prowess. Her elven blood sped her on, causing her accuracy to become lethal...she never missed, not once. She looked around once in a while, assuring herself that her girls were okay before plunging back into battle.

Sweat and dirt mingled in the air...Lathwen didn't remember much of the battle except the flashing of blades and the cries. She didn't know how much time had passed because her instinct had taken over. Kill, or be killed.

Which was why it came as such a surprise when Rosethorn suddenly neighed shrilly and stumbled onto her knees. Lathwen gasped and tumbled over her mare's head, landing in a heap on the ground in front of her.

She staggered upwards with a groan, knowing that it invited certain death if she stayed on the ground for even an instant. Looking at Rosethorn, Lathwen saw that a black feathered arrow protruded from her elbow. (Yes, horses have elbows.)

She knew that she couldn't leave the others...but Rosethorn's wound was most likely poisoned. Judging from the dullness of her mount's eyes, the wound was lethal. Lathwen's face twisted in a grimace as she fought back tears. Perhaps it was ridiculous to cry over a horse, but she felt bad all the same. Rosethorn had been a good friend...

Lathwen sobbed once before reaching back into her quiver and pulling out the last arrow. She shot it angrily at an orc who was sneaking up behind Nestaron. The March Warden turned and nodded his thanks wearily before returning to the fight.

Lathwen dropped her bow and quiver near Rosethorn and briefly placed a comforting hand on her muzzle before bounding over to Nestariel and rummaging in her friend's saddlebag for a spare weapon...anything. She dogged arrows as her friends formed a protective half circle around her, ensuring that she wouldn't be harmed during her search.

With a curse, Lathwen found nothing, and shouting a brief thanks to her girls, looked around for another option.

Oh Valar.

Glorfindel.

His bow had been knocked to the ground, and he was bending over to pick it up. As fast as he was, the orc charging at him would be faster, and Lathwen knew it. With a battlecry, Lathwen ran over as fast as she could, and nimbly pulled Glorfindel's twin daggers from his belt, just in time to block the orc's blow. (Sonario sound familiar? Check ch. 14)

Lathwen was astounded by this creatures brute strength. She had never actually come up against an orc physically with blades or hand to hand combat...she had always used arrows. Silently, Lathwen thanked Nestariel and Edhelwen for teaching her a bit about using blades.

Lathwen swept her right hand back and delivered a sidehand cut, which would have been deadly if the orc hadn't had any armour on. The metal rang against the orcs protective covering like a gong. Judging by the crack Lathwen heard, she had fractured a rib or two.

Good.

She thrust the right dagger towards the goblins face, while swinging the other one toward its underarm. The orc was so preoccupied in blocking the right dagger, that he didn't see the other one coming. The elven tempered metal bit through the armour and pierced the orc's arm. It let out a wild scream and fell to its knees in pain.

Breathing hard, Lathwen looked behind her to check on the others. Her stormy grey eyes met bright blue ones.

The bright blue ones were panicked, in turmoil. They held, fear, concern, anguish, thankfulness, rememberance...and love. She vaguely heard a voice cry out her name.

A blinding flash of pain in her left arm caused her to scream loudly. She reflexively threw her other dagger toward the source of the pain, and sighed in relief as another scream of pain outlined her own. It was dead. Glorfindel was safe.

Good...good...

Lathwen dropped to her knees and bit her lip so hard it bled. Comfortingly strong arms encircled her, and she leaned into the source of warmth.

"Shhh...shhh...all will be well melda."

Funny...that voice sounded familiar. She smiled slightly and breathed in the smell of pine...of the outdoors.

"You're safe love."

Lathwen snorted at that, "Since when have I ever been safe?" She said faintly. She lifted her head off of that persons chest and looked into bright blue eyes. "Glorfindel?"

"No...its Eru."

Lathwen blinked, not fully comprehending the sarcasm, "Eru? Really? So you have a sense of humor....that explains a lot." She went on, only half concious of the battle raging around her and her ramblings, "Well then Eru, I suppose you've come to tell me I'm being banished to Mandos' Halls or some such nonsense. Can't say I don't deserve it, considering everything I've done to hurt the poor elf's feelings in my lifetime. Not that its been much, because really, up until a year ago, I didn't have much of a life..."

"Lathwen...?"

"That's me! Of course, being Eru you must know all about what happened to me up until then..."

There was silence, "No...I don't. Tell me."

"An order? Oh goody! I get to take orders from the creators of the god-children who've been punishing me ever since I left Imladris. Oh well...I'll tell you anyway because now is a good a time as any."

Lathwen looked down at her arm and grimaced, "I do believe I'm going to die soon, judging by the amount of blood gushing from my arm. Ah...the gash is from my shoulder down to my wrist. An arrow would have been less painful, but at least I get to talk to you before I die. Of course, I may be able to see you after I die so do I really have to tell you now?"

"Yes...yes Lathwen. Stay still."

She felt a hand on her arm, poking and prodding and asked suspiciously, "What are you doing?"

"Healing you." 'Eru' answered.

Lathwen shook her head, "Fine by me. Anyway...as I was saying, in Bree I was a servant girl in my uncle's tavern. My parents were murdered by the Mori Fea curse when I was thirteen. That was a horrid, scary day...I felt so young and alone." Lathwen frowned, bracing herself against he wave of pain.

"My uncle employed me...and by employment I meant being enslaved. I was a slave to his bidding. He beat me like a dog...whipped me sometimes."

The hand on her arm stopped examining for a moment. "What?" Came the horrified voice. Lathwen nodded.

"Of course, it wasn't out of the ordinary, he treated everyone like that. He kept me in a state of near exhaustion and almost death. Who cared if I bled to death or not? Anyway...until I was eighteen I stayed there. One day I guess I just snapped, because I shouted and screamed like a madwoman and threw a plate at my uncle. I declared that I wasn't going to let him treat me like this anymore, and I ran away."

The hands stopped the examination and rested gently on her gash. Suddenly, they felt hot.

Lathwen, oblivious to this went on,"Of course, I bought a bow and arrows and stole a horse, but you aren't going to condemn me to Mandos just for that are you? Doing things like Feanor, I can understand being sent there, but all I did was escape from an almost certain death. Anyway, I met Lily in Imladris, and she came with me because she was in a similar situation. And it all snowballed from there."

The heat grew until Lathwen grew uncomfortable, and then it stopped. She shifted and all of a sudden she realized that there was silence.

She looked around, as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes. The orcs were all dead, and everyone else was staring at her.

Lathwen winced, "Oh...I suppose it wasn't only Eru listening then, was it?"